"And some one will go above you—maybe Tom will," was Sam's retort.
"I don't believe he can afford to," Andy came back with. "I'm going to call his bluffs. I believe he's only bidding to make others think he wants it. I don't believe he'll buy it."
Tom heard what was said, but did not reply. The auctioneer was calling monotonously: "I'm bid a hundred and twenty-five—twenty-five. Will any one make it fifty?"
"A hundred and fifty!" sang out Andy, and all eyes were directed toward him.
"Sixty!" said Tom quietly.
"Here, you" began the red-haired lad. You"
"That will do!" exclaimed the auctioneer sternly. "I am offered a hundred and sixty. Now who will give me an advance? I want to get the boat up to two hundred, and then the real bidding will begin."
Tom's heart sank. He hoped it would be some time before a two-hundred dollar offer would be heard. As for Andy Foger, he was almost speechless with rage. He shook off the restraining arm of Sam, and, worming his way to the front of the throng, exclaimed:
"I'll give a hundred and seventy-five dollars for that boat!"
