ided Flannery, "but he was
that a long time ago. He's about twenty-five or twenty-six years
old."

"_What_!" exploded young Ripley, growing very red in the face.

"Thinking of buying him, sir?" asked the chauffeur respectfully."

"I've already bought him," confessed Fred ruefully.

Flannery whistled softly. Then he took the pony by the bridle,
dragging him along over the ground at a trot, the crowd making
way for him.

"Wind-broken," announced the ex-coachman, leading the trembling
animal back. "Bad case, too."

"A veterinary can cure that," Fred declared, speaking more airily
than his feelings warranted.

"Hm!" replied Flannery dryly. "You find the veterinary, Master
Fred, and I'll show the gentleman how to make his fortune if he
can cure wind-broken horses."

"Then what good is the pony?" demanded Fred in exasperation.

"Well, the hide ought to fetch three dollars, and there are a
good many pounds of soap fat in him," replied Flannery slowly.

"And is that all the good there is in this pony?" cried Ripley.
He felt like screaming.

"It's all the good I can see in him, sir," replied Flannery.

"Then I won't take this pony," young Ripley declared, flushing
hotly. "It's a downright swindle. Here, my man, hand my money
back and take your old soap box."

"Not to-day," declared the auctioneer briefly. He and his clerk
were now preparing to depart.

"You'd better!" warned Fred.

"I won't."

"Then I'll have you arrested."

"Try it."

"Run and get a policeman," Fred ordered, turning to a crowd of
small boys.

"All right," smiled the auctioneer. "If you'll be quick about
it I'll wait for your policeman."

But Mr. Dodge, who had shaken his head toward three boys who had
shown signs of being willing to run for a policeman, now led young
Ripley to one side.

"No use making any fuss about it, I'm afraid, Fred. You saw the
pony when it was offered for sale, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't ask to have him run? You didn't demand the privilege
of trying him yourself?"

"No, sir."

"What representations did the auctioneer make about the pony?"
pressed Mr. Dodge.

"Why, he said the pony was a fine-looking animal-----"

"And that's no lie," responded Mr. Dodge gravely. "What else?"

"That's the only representation that I did make," broke in the
auctioneer, who had strolled slowly over to them. "I also said
that the pony showed all of his good points."

"I'm afraid you'll have to