you, my young friend," remarked the auctioneer. "Will you have the goodness not to interrupt me, except when you want to bid?"
"Well, I offered sixty," said the squint-eyed bully, while his crony, Sam Snedecker, was vainly pulling at his sleeve.
"I know you did, and this gentleman went above you. If you want to bid more you can do so. I'm offered sixty-five, sixty-five I'm offered for this boat. Will any one make it seventy-five?"
Mr. Wood looked at Tom, and our hero, thinking it was time for him to make a bid, offered seventy.
"Seventy from Tom Swift!" cried the auctioneer. "There is a lad who knows a motor-boat from stem to stern, if those are the right words. I don't know much about boats except what I'm told, but Tom Swift does. Now, if he bids, you people ought to know that it's all right. I'm bid seventy—seventy I'm bid. Will any one make it eighty?"
"Eighty!" exclaimed Andy Foger after a whispered conference with Sam. "I know as much about boats as Tom Swift. I'll make it eighty."
"No side remarks. I'll do most of the talking. You just bid, young man," remarked Mr. Wood, "I have eighty bid for this boat—eighty dollars. Why, my friends, I can't understand this. I
