“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 swallow your loss, Fred,” suggested the banker.  “I’m sorry that I had even an innocent part in this trade.”

“Trade?” screamed Fred, now losing all control of himself.  “It wasn’t a trade at all!  It’s piracy!  It’s highway robbery!  It was a barefaced swindle, and this swindler”

Fred glared at the auctioneer.

“Go slowly, young man,” advised the salesman of the afternoon.

“You’re a swindler, and a mean one, taking downright advantage of other folks,” stormed young Ripley.  “But you won’t get away with this swindle.  My father is a lawyer—–­the best lawyer in the place—–­and he’ll give you good reason to shiver!”

“All right, young man.  Send your father after me—–­if he’ll take the case.  But I’m going down to see him, anyway, for I must give him an accounting of the money taken in this afternoon.  Come along, Edson,” to his clerk.

Very red in the face, Fred Ripley stood with his fists clenched, trying to avoid the eyes of the many grinning men and boys gathered around him.

Dick & Co. had gotten down from the truck.  They did not join in the fun-making at the enemy’s expense, though naturally they did not feel very sorry for young Ripley.

“Will you ride your pony home, sir?” asked the man who had done the saddling.

“No,” said Fred shortly.  He felt tempted to tell the man to lead the worthless animal away and shoot it.  Then he changed his mind.

“Take this half dollar,” he said, “and take the pony down and leave it in our stable.”

For another thought had just occurred to Fred Ripley.  If he kept a close mouth, and watched his chance, he hoped that he might yet be able to make some sort of “trade” with the pony as an asset.

CHAPTER III

Buying Fuel for A bonfire?

“Well, what are we going to do with our magnificent war canoe?” asked Greg Holmes dolefully.  “Does the bonfire idea go?”

“It doesn’t,” Dick retorted.  “Although we don’t know anything about such a job, and though it is supposed to need a sure enough expert to do it, we’re at least going to try the thing out and see if we can’t make this canoe float, and carry us safely, at that!”

“We’d better decide how to get it away from here, anyway,” proposed Tom Reade.  “We haven’t any lease of this lot.”