ick
Prescott's good points that he generally knows what he's doing."

"But we have only-----"

"Never mind if we're worth a million, or only a single dollar,"
interrupted Reade impatiently. "Watch the battle between our
leader and Rip, the Mean!"

Now the bidding became slower, fifty cents at a time being offered,
bids coming only when the auctioneer threatened to "knock down."

"I don't want to get this confounded canoe fastened onto me,"
grumbled Fred Ripley to himself. "I want to stick Prescott and
his crowd for all I can, but I must look out that I don't get
stung. I know better than to want that canoe, no matter how good
it _looks_!"

"Sixteen," said Dick at last, feeling more desperate inwardly
than his face showed.

"Sixteen-fifty," from Ripley.

"Seventeen," offered Dick, after a pause.

"Seventeen-fifty," announced Fred, after another long bait.

"Eighteen!" followed up young Prescott. He was in a cold perspiration
now, lest the fight be forced too far.

To his astonishment, Fred Ripley, an ugly sneer on his face, turned
his back on the bidding.

"Are you through, gentlemen?" demanded the auctioneer, after a
keen look in the direction of the lawyer's son.

"I am," Ripley growled over his shoulder.

"I am offered eighteen! Eighteen! Eighteen! Who says nineteen?
Make it eighteen-fifty! Who says eighteen-fifty? Eighteen and
a quarter! Are you through, gentlemen? Then going, going---gone!
Sold to Master Prescott at eighteen dollars. Young man, I congratulate
you. Walk right up and pay your money! All, or a deposit?"

Dick, who had been collecting loose change from his chums, now
came forward.

"I'll pay a deposit of seven dollars," he announced.

"Hand it here, then. Seven dollars; thank you. Here's your receipt.
Now, remember, Prescott, you have until the end of one hour after
the sale closes. Then, if you're not here with the other eleven
dollars, you must expect to forfeit this deposit."

"I know," Dick nodded.

Then he hurried off to his chums.

"Come along," he said, with desperate energy, as he led them away
from the field. On the sidewalk he halted.

"We've got it, fellows!" he exulted. "We've got it! Hooray!"

"Yes; we've got it, if we've got eleven dollars more---which we
haven't," Greg remarked.

"We've eleven dollars more to raise," Prescott went on hurriedly.
"Roughly, that's two dollars apiece. We must hustle, too."

"No hustle for mine," yawned Dan