“That’s queer,” murmured Tom.  “I guess that was his limit, yet if he wanted the boat badly that wasn’t a high price.”

“Who’s going ahead of me?” demanded Andy in loud tones.

“Keep quiet!” urged Sam.  “We may get it yet.”

“Yes, don’t make so many remarks,” counseled the auctioneer.  “I’m bid a hundred and five.  Will any one make it a hundred and twenty-five?”

Tom wondered why the man bad not remained to see if his bid was accepted, for no one raised it at once, but he hurried off and did not look back.  Tom took a sudden resolve.

“A hundred and twenty-five!” he called out.

“That’s what I like to hear,” exclaimed Mr. Wood.  “Now we are doing business.  A hundred and twenty-five from Tom Swift.  Will any one offer me fifty?”

Andy and Sam seemed to be having some dispute.

“Let’s make him quit right now,” suggested Andy in a hoarse whisper.

“You can’t,” declared Sam’

“Yes, I can.  I’ll go up to my limit right now.”

“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!”

“Good!” cried the auctioneer.  “That’s the way to talk.  I’m offered a hundred and seventy-five.”

“Eighty,” said Tom quietly, though his heart was beating fast.

“Well, of all—­” began Andy, but Sam Snedecker dragged him back.

“You haven’t got any more money,” said the bully’s crony.  “Better stop now.”

“I will not!  I’m going home for more,” declared Andy.  “I must have that boat.”

“It will be sold when you get back,” said Sam.

“Haven’t you got any money you can lend me?” inquired the squint-eyed one, scowling in Tom’s direction.

“No, not a bit.  There, some one raised Tom’s bid.”

At that moment a man in the crowd offered a hundred and eighty-one dollars.