“I must be going.  Turn the canoe over to my son.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the auctioneer’s clerk.  “Men, haul out the truck that has the canoe on.”

Mr. Prescott had already walked away.  Dick and his chums greeted the coming of truck and canoe with a wild whoop.  Then they piled up on the truck to inspect their treasure.

Fred Ripley, returning with Mr. Dodge, a local banker, saw the six youngsters climbing up to look at their purchase.  A broad, malicious grin appeared on Ripley’s face.

“Sold! sold!” gasped Dave Darrin.  Then his face flushed with anger.  For the canoe, which looked well enough on exhibition, proved to have three bad holes in her hull, which had been carefully concealed by the manner in which the craft had been propped up on the truck.

The great war canoe looked worthless—–­certain to sink in less than sixty seconds if launched!

CHAPTER II

“Rip” Tries out his bargain

Had a meaner trick ever been played on boys with whom it was so hard to raise money?

“Ha, ha, ha!” chuckled Fred Ripley, so loudly that the dismayed, angry boys could not fail to hear him.

“You sneak!  You knew it all the time!” flared Dave Darrin, gazing down in disgust at the lawyer’s son.

“Maybe I did know,” Fred admitted, yet speaking to Mr. Dodge.  “You see, one of my father’s clerks served the papers which attached the show.”

There was no help for Dick & Co.  They had parted with their money and their “property” had been turned over to them.

It is an ancient principle of law that the buyer must beware.  The auctioneer had been most careful not to represent the canoe as being fit for service.  He had offered it as an historical curiosity!

Dick & Co. looked at the canoe anxiously.

“What shall we do with it?” asked Dave Darrin moodily.

“Make a bonfire of it?” asked Danny Grin.

“Might as well,” Greg nodded.

“No, sir!” Dick interrupted.  “Tom, what do you say?  You’re one of the really handy boys.  Can’t this canoe be patched up, mended and put in commission?”

“It might be done,” Tom answered slowly.

The other five stood regarding him with eager interest.

“But we’d have to get an Indian here to show us how to do it.”

“Where are the Indians that were here with the show?” asked Harry Hazelton.

“They went away as soon as the show was attached,” Dick answered.  “Probably they’re hundreds of miles from here now.  They were only hired out to the show by their white manager, and they’ve gone to another job.  Besides, they were only show Indians, and probably they’ve forgotten all they ever knew about canoe-building—–­if they ever did know anything.”

“Then I don’t see but that we’re just as badly off as ever,” sighed Greg.  “We’re out eighteen dollars and the fine canoe that we expected would provide us with so much fun.”