" At this modest
computation the roof immediately above the speaker's
head (I suppose, through the intervention of a
spectator of ventriloquial tastes) uttered a clear
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"--whereat all laughed, the
auctioneer himself obligingly joining.
"Now, gentlemen, what shall we say?" resumed that
gentleman, plainly ogling Pinkerton,--"what shall we
say for this remarkable opportunity?"
"One hundred dollars," said Pinkerton.
"One hundred dollars from Mr. Pinkerton," went the
auctioneer, "one hundred dollars. No other gentleman
inclined to make any advance? One hundred dollars, only
one hundred dollars----"
The auctioneer was droning on to some such tune as
this, and I, on my part, was watching with something
between sympathy and amazement the undisguised emotion
of Captain Trent, when we were all startled by the
interjection of a bid.
"And fifty," said a sharp voice.
Pinkerton, the auctioneer, and the boys, who were all
equally in the open secret of the ring, were now all
equally and simultaneously taken aback.
"I beg your pardon," said the auctioneer; "anybody
bid?"
"And fifty," reiterated the voice, which I was now able
to trace to its origin, on the lips of a small unseemly
rag of human-kind.
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