“Cut it out!” roared Matt Peasley. “We've all read the list of creditors, and you're only gumming up the game. Come down to business Jim.”
“Good boy, Peasley! Sure! Cut it out, Jim! Get busy!” A dozen voices seconded Captain Matt Peasley's motion and Jim Searles rapped for order.
“How much am I offered?” he cried.
“One million dollars!” roared Matt Peasley.
On the fringe of the eager crowd Cappy Ricks leaned up against his friend Redell and commenced to laugh.
“The young scoundrel!” he chortled. “He never said a word to me about this auction; he was afraid I'd butt in and block his purchase; so, for his impudence, I'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget. Bid, Gus! Bet 'em as high as a hound's back.”
“Captain Matt Peasley, representing the Blue Star Navigation Company, bids one million dollars. Chicken feed! Won't some real sport please tilt the ante?” Jim Searles pleaded. “Don't waste my time, gentlemen. It's valuable. Let's get this thing over and go back to our offices.”
“One million five hundred thousand!” called J. Augustus Redell.
“I called for a sport and drew a piker,” Jim Searles retorted. “Mr. J. Augustus Redell, of the West Coast Trading Company, bids a million and a half.”
Young Dalton Mann, representing the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, raised his hand and snapped his fingers at the auctioneer.