All eyes were now fixed on Baker.  He seemed to put a dramatic climax to a varied entertainment, and appeared unconscious of everything except the package Bart held in his hand.  His eyes were fixed upon this steadfastly—­they seemed to burn right into it.

Lem Wacker had also arisen to his feet.  Bart noticed him intently studying Baker, sidling up to him and sinking to the bench directly next to him.

There was a suspiciousness in the action that enhanced Bart’s interest and curiosity, but he preserved his composure.

“Three dollars, did you say?” he inquired, in an insinuating and soothing, but strictly business tone.

“Yes!” gasped out Baker.

“I am bid—­”

“Four.”

Bart looked fixedly at Lem Wacker, for it was he who had spoken.  Darry
Haven dropped the cover of the cash box, and also stared at Wacker. 
There was something suggestive in the sensation of the moment.

Lem Wacker’s face was as bold as brass.  He was dressed pretty well and looked prosperous, and there was a mean sneer on his lips as he shamelessly returned the glance of the boy he had wronged, defiantly relying, apparently, on some reserved power he fancied he possessed.

Baker did not even look at the rival bidder.  His very soul seemed centered on the package in Bart’s hand.

“Five,” he uttered with an effort—­“six, seven!”

“Eight,” said Wacker calmly, striking a cigarette between his lips.

“Ten.”

“Twelve.”

Baker was silent.  A frightful spasm crossed his face.  He swayed from side to side.  Then, grasping at the bench rails to steady himself, he came up to the platform.

“Stirling!” he panted hoarsely, “I have no more money, but I must—­must have that package!  Lend me—­”

“Whatever you wish,” answered Bart promptly.

“Fifteen dollars!” said Baker.

Lem Wacker jumped to his feet, excited.  He shot a hand into a pocket, drew it out again holding a pocketbook, ran over its contents, and shouted!

“Sixteen dollars!”

“Twenty!” cried Baker.

“I am offered twenty dollars,” said Bart, outwardly cool as a cucumber, inwardly greatly perturbed over the incident in hand, and hastening to close it in favor of a friend.  “Twenty dollars once, twenty dollars twice—­”

“Stop!” yelled Lem Wacker.

“Do you bid more?” asked Bart.

“I—­I do!”

“How much?”

“Double—­treble—­if I have to!” retorted Wacker.  “Only I want you to wait until I can get the cash.  I have only sixteen dollars with me—­I can get a hundred and sixty in two minutes, I—­”

“Terms strictly cash,” said Bart simply.  “Going, going, at twenty dollars—­”

“Hold on!  Don’t you dare!” raved Wacker, swinging his arms about like a windmill.  “I demand that this sale be suspended until I can get further funds.”