Fred tried vainly to persuade the auctioneer to lower the price of the saddle, but finally concluded to pay ten dollars for it and two dollars for a bridle.  A worn saddle cloth was “thrown in” for good measure.  Ripley handed the money to the auctioneer’s clerk.

“Saddle up,” directed Fred, tossing a quarter to the man who held the pony’s bridle.

Though flushed with his bargain, Fred was also feeling rather solemn.  He had parted with nearly all of the sixty dollars his father had handed him that morning as his summer’s spending money.  He was beginning to wonder if his pony would really take the place of all the fun he had planned for his summer vacation.

“Here is your mount, sir,” called the man who had done the saddling.  “Now, let’s see what kind of a horseman you are.”

“As good as you’ll find around Gridley,” declared Fred complacently.

Putting a foot into the left stirrup, he vaulted lightly to the animal’s back.

“He has a treasure, and we’re stung,” muttered Dave Darrin in a low voice.  “Those that have plenty of money and can afford to lose don’t often lose!”

Before starting off Fred, glancing over at Dick & Co. standing dolefully on the truck, brayed insolently: 

“Haw, haw, haw!”

Dave clenched his fists, but knew that he could do nothing without making himself ridiculous.

“Get up, Prince!” ordered young Ripley, bringing one hand smartly against the animal’s flank.

“He’s going to call his pony ‘Prince,’” whispered Danny Grin.

“It looks like an appropriate name,” nodded Dick wistfully.

For some reason the pony didn’t seem inclined to start.  Fred dug his heels against the animal’s side and moved away at a walk.

“A-a-a-ah!” murmured a crowd of small boys enviously.

“Now, show a little speed, Prince,” ordered Fred, digging his heels in hard.

The pony broke into a trot.  Someone passed Ripley a switch, with which he dealt his animal a stinging blow.  Away went pony and rider at a slow canter.

“Fine gait this little fellow has,” exulted Fred, while cheers went up from the small boys.

Suddenly the animal slowed down to a walk.  Fred applied two sharp cuts with the switch, again starting his mount.  Fred turned and came cantering back toward the group, feeling mightily proud of himself.

Suddenly the pony stopped, trembling in every limb.

“Get off, young man!” called someone.  “Your pony is going to fall!”

Fred got off, feeling rather peculiar.  He wished that the six fellow high school boys over on the truck would move off.

Mr. Dodge hurried over to the young man, looking very much concerned.

“Fred,” murmured the banker, “for all his fine looks I’m afraid there is something wrong with your pony.”

“What is it?” asked Fred, looking, as he felt, vastly troubled.