"Six twenty-one!" growled Big Medicine.
"Six twenty-five!" quickly added his antagonist.
Big Medicine glanced heavenward, and for a moment allowed his eyes to follow the flight of a great blue heron that slowly winged its way, high up in the yellow summer reaches of splendor, toward the distant swamps where the white sycamores spread their fanciful arms above the dark green maples and dusky witch-hazel thickets. The auctioneer, a close observer, saw an ashy hue, a barely discernible shade, ripple across the great Roman face as Big Medicine said, in a jerking tone:
"Six twenty-five and a half!"
The stranger took his cigar from his mouth and smiled placidly. No more imperturbable countenance could be imagined.
"Six twenty-six!" he said gently.
"Take the ole house an' be derned to you!" cried Big Medicine, looking furiously at his antagonist. "Take the blamed ole shacke-merack an' all the cussed blue-birds an' peer-weers to boot, for all I keer!"
Everybody laughed, and the auctioneer continued:
"Agoing for six twenty-six! Who says seven hundred? Bid up lively! Agoing once, agoing twice—once, twice, three-e-e-e-e times! Sold to Abner Golding for six hundred and twenty-six dollars, and as cheap as dirt itself!"
"Hooray for the man who hed the most money!" shouted the tallow-faced boy.