“Yes, we will, if you bid against me. The auctioneer is coming. You mind what I say. If you bid against me, you will repent it as long as you live.”
Such language from an ordinary boy would have been very remarkable; from Waddie it was not at all so. It was his usual style of bullying. It seemed very strange that the young gentleman should attempt to bully me into silence when he could outbid me; but I ascertained afterward that his father objected to buying the boat, and even refused to furnish the money, so that Waddie could only bid to the extent of the funds then in his possession. However weak and indulgent the colonel was, he had not sunk into the condition of subserviency to his son into which the major had fallen.
The auctioneer, followed by only a small portion of the crowd from the house, approached the spot where Waddie stood. I jumped ashore, and secured a place on the wall. The auctioneer took his stand on the stern of the Belle; but none of the attendants upon the sale felt interest enough to go on board, or even to examine the craft. It was plain enough that the competition lay between Waddie and myself alone. I had made up my mind to lose the boat, and I felt badly about it. I could not expect to bid successfully against the son of the rich man. However, I meant to try, and I only hoped that Waddie would keep his temper. He had certainly given me fair warning; but perhaps it was my misfortune that I did not happen to be afraid of him.
While I stood there, I could not help thinking that I was spoiling all my chances of a situation in the future on board of the Ucayga, if the colonel should again be disposed to repeat his munificent offers. But I had a dream of doing even a better thing with the Belle than I could on board of the steamer or on the Lake Shore Railroad, and without being subject to the caprices of either of the young gentlemen who were so potent in both.
The auctioneer gave us a grandiloquent description of the “fairy pleasure barge” which was before us. He was not a nautical man, and sadly bungled in his terms. She was the fastest sailer on the lake; was a good sea-boat. She was right and tight in every respect.
“For, gentlemen,” he added facetiously, “a boat, unlike a man, is a good deal better when she is tight than when she is not tight”—a witticism at which the auctioneer laughed much more heartily than the auditors. “She is copper-fastened, besides being fastened to the wall. Like myself, and some of you, gentlemen, she is very sharp. And now, how much am I offered for this magnificent yacht, the finest, without exception, on the lake. What shall I have for her?”
“Twenty-five dollars,” said Waddie Wimpleton, who could not conceal his interest and anxiety in the result.
“Did you say twenty-five dollars, Mr. Wimpleton?” said the auctioneer, with a look which was intended to manifest his astonishment at the smallness of the bid. “Why, she cost over six hundred dollars! You can’t mean that, Mr. Wimpleton.”
“Yes, I do mean it!” said Waddie smartly.
“Twenty-five dollars is bid for this splendid yacht, sharp as a Yankee pedler, and copper-fastened, besides being fastened to the wall. Who says a hundred?”