“Sixty-five!” repeated the auctioneer, more hopefully.
Waddie was beginning to warm up again, and had actually ceased to shiver. He spoke to the bystander with whom he was acquainted, and then bid seventy dollars. I immediately advanced to seventy-five.
“Seventy-five!” shouted the auctioneer. “Gentlemen, this is a shameful sacrifice of valuable property.”
I saw Waddie’s friend shake his head, as though he was not willing to risk more than twenty dollars on the speculation; but while the young gentleman was arguing the point with him, the Belle was struck off to me. The scion of the house of Wimpleton swore like a bad boy when this result was reached. He shook his fist at me, and raised a laugh among the bystanders, not all of whom appeared to reverence the idol which had been set up in Centreport. My purchase included the small boat which served as a tender to the Belle, the mooring-buoy, and other appurtenances.
The auctioneer’s clerk gave me a bill of sale of the boat, and I paid the cash on the spot. I was the happiest young man on the shore of the lake. Waddie had disappeared as soon as the sale was completed, and I was subjected to no further annoyance from him. Having finished my business in Ruoara, I was ready to sail for home, and astonish the Middleporters with the sight of my purchase.
“That’s a fine boat you have bought,” said one of the half-dozen persons who stood on the wall watching my movements.
I looked up and saw that the speaker was Dick Bayard, a Wimpletonian, and the senior captain in the Centreport Battalion. He was a leading spirit among the students on his side of the lake. He had been the actual, though not the nominal, leader in the war on the Horse Shoe, and had distinguished himself by his energy and enterprise in that memorable conflict. His father lived in Ruoara, which accounted for his appearance there when the institute was in session. I had a great deal of respect for him, after I saw how well he bore himself in the silly war, though he had always been a strong and unreasonable supporter of Waddie, and had aided him in persecuting me before I was driven out of Centreport.
“Yes, she is a first-rate boat,” I replied; for speaking well of my boat was even better than speaking well of my dog.
“Are you going down to Middleport now?”
“Yes; right off.”