the
gentlemen were willing to pay for a bay gelding of this description.

Someone on the outer edge of the crowd said, "Ten dollars."

At this the man on the box grew quite indignant. He asked if the other
man wouldn't like a silver-mounted harness and a lap-robe thrown in.

"Fifteen," said another man.

Somebody else said "Twenty," another man said, "Twenty-five," and still
another, "Thirty." Then there was a hitch. The man on the box began to
talk very fast indeed:

"Thutty-thutty-thutty-thutty--do I hear the five?
Thutty-thutty-thutty-thutty--will you make it five?"

"Thirty-five," said a red-faced man who had pushed his way to the front
and was looking Skipper over sharply.

The man on the box said "Thutty-five" a good many times and asked if he
"heard forty." Evidently he did not, for he stopped and said very slowly
and distinctly, looking expectantly around: "Are you all done?
Thirty-five--once. Thirty-five--twice. Third--and last call--sold, for
thirty-five dollars!"

When Skipper heard this he hung his head. When you have been a $250
blue-ribboner and the pride of the force it is sad to be "knocked down"
for thirty-five.

The next year of Skipper's life was a dark one. We will not linger over
it. The red-faced man who led him away was a grocer. He put Skipper in
the shafts of a heavy wagon very early every morning and drove him a
long ways through the city to a big down-town market where men in long
frocks shouted and handled boxes and barrels. When the wagon was heavily
loaded the red-faced man drove him back to the store. Then a tow-haired
boy, who jerked viciously on the lines and was fond of using the whip,
drove him recklessly about the streets and avenues.

But one day the tow-haired boy pulled the near rein too hard while
rounding a corner and a wheel was smashed against a lamp-post. The
tow-haired boy was sent head first into an ash-barrel, and Skipper,
rather startled at the occurrence, took a little run down the avenue,
strewing the pavement with eggs, sugar, canned corn, celery, and other
assorted groceries.

Perhaps this was why the grocer sold him. Skipper pulled a cart through
the flat-house district for a while after that. On the seat of the cart
sat a leather-lunged man who roared: "A-a-a-a-puls! Nice a-a-a-a-puls! A
who-o-ole lot fer a quarter!"

Skipper felt this disgrace keenly. Even the cab-horses, on whom he used
to look with disdain, eyed him scornfully. Skipper stood it as l