"Well, of all--" began Andy, but Sam Snedecker dragged him back.

"You haven't got any more money," said the bully's crony. "Better stop
now."

"I will not! I'm going home for more," declared Andy. "I must have
that boat."

"It will be sold when you get back," said Sam.

"Haven't you got any money you can lend me?" inquired the squint-eyed
one, scowling in Tom's direction. "No, not a bit. There, some one
raised Tom's bid."

At that moment a man in the crowd offered a hundred and eighty-one
dollars.

"Small amounts thankfully received," said Mr. Wood with a laugh. Then
the bidding became lively, a number making one-dollar advances.

The price got up to one hundred and ninety-five dollars and there it
hung for several minutes, despite the eloquence of Mr. Wood, who tried
by all his persuasive powers to get a substantial advance. But every
one seemed afraid to bid. As for the young inventor, he was in a
quandary. He could only offer five dollars more, and, if he bid it in
a lump, some one might go to two hundred and five, and he would not get
the boat. He wished he had secured permission from his father to go
higher, yet he knew that as a fair proposition two hundred dollars was
about all the motor-boat in its present condition was worth, at least
to him. Then he made a sudden resolve. He thought he might as well
have the suspense over.

"Two hundred dollars!" he called boldly.

"I'm offered two hundred!" repeated Mr. Wood. "That is something like
it. Now who will raise that?"

There was a moment of silence. Then the auctioneer swung into an
enthusiastic description of the boat. He begged for an advance, but
none was made, though Tom's heart seemed in his throat, so afraid was
he that he would not get the CARLOPA.

"Two hundred--two hundred!" droned on Mr. Wood. "I am offered two
hundred. Will any of you go any higher?" He paused a moment, and Tom's
heart beat harder than ever. "If not," resumed the speaker, "I will
declare the bidding closed. Are you all done? Once--twice--three
times. Two hundred dollars. Going--going--gone!" He clapped his hands.
"The boat is sold to Thomas Swift for two hundred dollars. If he'll
step up I'll take his money."

There was a laugh as Tom, blushingly, advanced. He passed Andy Foger,
who had worked his way over near him.

"You got the boat," sneered the bully, "and I s'pose you think you got
ahead of me."

"Keep quiet!" begged Sam.

"I won't!" exclai