right and left he could find nobody, to his great wonder, who knew even the master’s name.  In the middle of the afternoon the country people began to leave town and Cheapside was cleared, but, as Chad walked past the old inn, he saw a crowd gathered within and about the wide doors of a livery-stable, and in a circle outside that lapped half the street.  The auctioneer was in plain sight above the heads of the crowd, and the horses were led out one by one from the stable.  It was evidently a sale of considerable moment, and there were horse-raisers, horse-trainers, jockeys, stable-boys, gentlemen—­all eager spectators or bidders.  Chad edged his way through the outer rim of the crowd and to the edge of the sidewalk, and, when a spectator stepped down from a dry-goods box from which he had been looking on, Chad stepped up and took his place.  Straightway, he began to wish he could buy a horse and ride back to the mountains.  What fun that would be, and how he would astonish the folks on Kingdom Come.  He had his five dollars still in his pocket, and when the first horse was brought out, the auctioneer raised his hammer and shouted in loud tones: 

“How much am I offered for this horse?”

There was no answer, and the silence lasted so long that before he knew it Chad called out in a voice that frightened him: 

“Five dollars!” Nobody heard the bid, and nobody paid any attention to him.

“One hundred dollars,” said a voice.

“One hundred and twenty-five,” said another, and the horse was knocked down for two hundred dollars.

A black stallion with curving neck and red nostrils and two white feet walked proudly in.

“How much am I offered?”

“Five dollars,” said Chad, promptly.  A man who sat near heard the boy and turned to look at the little fellow, and was hardly able to believe his ears.  And so it went on.  Each time a horse was put up Chad shouted out: 

“Five dollars,” and the crowd around him began to smile and laugh and encourage him and wait for his bid.  The auctioneer, too, saw him, and entered into the fun himself, addressing himself to Chad at every opening bid.

“Keep it up, little man,” said a voice behind him.  “You’ll get one by and by.”  Chad looked around.  Richard Hunt was smiling to him from his horse on the edge of the crowd.

The last horse was a brown mare—­led in by a halter.  She was old and a trifle lame, and Chad, still undispirited, called out this time louder than ever: 

“Five dollars!”

He shouted out this time loudly enough to be heard by everybody, and a universal laugh rose; then came silence, and, in that silence, an imperious voice shouted back: 

“Let him have her!” It was the owner of the horse who spoke—­a tall man with a noble face and long iron-gray hair.  The crowd caught his mood, and as nobody wanted the old mare very much, and the owner would be the sole loser, nobody bid against him, and Chad’s heart thumped when the auctioneer raised his hammer and said: