“Ponies are no good in this town,” cried one man.  “Lead ’em away.  Come on, neighbors.”

“Wait, wait!” urged the auctioneer.  “There are some bargains yet to come that will interest you all.  Since we have the ponies on the spot let us begin to run them off.  It will teach you all how to bid quickly when you see wonderful bargains bought up under your noses!”

The bidding, however, was lax at first.  A stable boy mounted one of the little animals, riding about at reckless pace.

“Now, start the bidding!”

After five minutes talking an opening bid of five dollars for the pony had been made and this had been advanced to seven.

With all the zeal at his command the auctioneer drove the bidding along.  It reached fourteen dollars, and there stopped.  At last the pony was knocked down to a man who thought he could use the animal in a very light delivery wagon.

“Now, gentlemen, wake up!” begged the auctioneer.  “Let us have some bidding worthy of the fair name of Gridley for good judgment in business matters.  Lead the roan pony forth.”

Undoubtedly the first pony had been a fair bargain at fourteen dollars.  The bidding on the second animal began at ten dollars, going quickly to eighteen.  From that point the offers traveled slowly until twenty-six dollars had been named.  At this price the pony was sold.

From that time on the ponies were “knocked down” rather briskly, though the highest-priced one of the first seven brought only thirty-one dollars.

Now came the eighth.

“You see what this animal is for yourselves, gentlemen,” declared the auctioneer.  “We don’t need to have this sleek little animal’s paces shown.  We are in a hurry to get through.  Who opens with twenty dollars?”

“He is a handsome little animal, isn’t he?” exclaimed Dick Prescott, crowding forward and gazing at the pony with glistening eyes.

“I wish I had the money to buy him,” whispered Dave Darrin.

“Maybe I couldn’t use that kind of a cut-down horse!” glowed Tom Reade, while Harry and Dan looked on longingly.

“That’s what the muckers are here after!” thought Fred Ripley, who had been watching them closely.  “Now, no matter how much money they may think they have, I’ll show them how easy it is for a fellow of my financial standing to step in and get the chestnut pony away from them!”

“Who starts the bidding with twenty dollars?” demanded the auctioneer.

“Ten,” finally responded a man in the crowd.

“Thank you.  But, gentlemen, ten dollars is a shame for a beautiful animal like this.  Who makes it twenty?  Start it right up now!”

Presently the bidding had reached sixteen dollars.  Dick and his chums had crowded still closer to the pony, looking on with lively interest.

“Here’s where I sting Prescott and his crew!” muttered Fred Ripley under his breath.  Then, aloud, he called: