"Seven dollars' worth! That's fine, Matt! You must be a born salesman. Keep right on, by all means."

"But I don't expect any such luck every time," returned the boy, and then he told the story of his troubles in the first restaurant he had visited.

"It was plucky in you to stick out as you did," was Andy's comment. "I don't believe I could have done it. I would have gone out and picked up the things myself."

"I wouldn't, never!" cried Matt, and his whole face showed the spirit within him.

It was only four o'clock in the afternoon, and Andy suggested that they continue to try their luck until sundown. So they drove on down the street slowly, visiting every restaurant and many stores on the way.

In one place Matt sold a dozen spoons, and in another a fancy water-pitcher. Andy sold some spoons also, and a cheap watch and chain, which the buyer explained he intended to sell to some customer for double the money.

At the last place at which they stopped Andy made arrangements to remain all night. A stable was also found for Billy and the wagon, and by eight o'clock the partners found themselves free from business cares. Matt moved that they have supper, and to this Andy willingly agreed.

While the two were waiting for their orders to be filled, Andy brought out a bit of paper and a pencil and began to figure.

"The net receipts for the day were eighteen dollars and a half," he said, when he had finished. "The goods and the license cost thirteen dollars and sixty cents. That leaves a profit of four dollars and ninety cents, which is not so bad, considering that we only worked about five hours all told."

"And what were our expenses?" asked Matt.

Andy did a little more figuring.

"Expenses from this morning until to-morrow morning, including this supper, about two dollars and thirty cents."

"Then we have two dollars and sixty cents over all?"

"Yes, that is, without counting wear and tear on wagon, harness, and so forth."

"Of course. But that isn't so bad."

"Indeed it is not," returned Andy. "If we do as well as that every day we shall get along very well, although I trust to do even better."



CHAPTER XIII.

THE CORN SALVE DOCTOR.

After supper the two partners found that time hung a little heavily upon their hands. Matt suggested that they walk around the city a bit, taking in the sights, but Andy was too tired.

"I'll tell you what I will do, though," said the older member of the firm. "I'll get one of the accordions out and you can get a banjo, and we can practice a little. There is nothing like being prepared for an emergency, you know."

"That is true, and we'll have to brush up quite a bit if we wish to play in public," laughed Matt.

He accompanied Andy to the barn where the wagon was stored, and they brought not only the accordion and the banjo, but also a violin and a mouth harmonica.

These instruments they took to the bedroom which had been assigned to them, and here, while it was yet early, they tuned up and began to practice upon such simple tunes as both knew by heart. Matt first tried the banjo, and after he had it in tune with the accordion, the partners played half a dozen selections quite creditably.

"We wouldn't do for grand opera soloists, but I guess it will be good enough to attract crowds in small country towns," laughed Andy, as he ground out a lively German waltz.

"Supposing we try the violin and banjo," suggested Matt, and Andy took up the king of instruments.

But this did not go so well, and it was not long before Andy turned back to the accordion, which, according to his statement, half-played itself. Matt tried the mouth harmonica, and surprised not only Andy, but half a dozen listeners, by the wonderful effects he produced upon the little instrument.

"Good for you!" shouted Andy, as Matt finished a particularly clever selection. "If the auction business fails, you can go on the variety stage."

"No, thank you," returned Matt. "I understand enough about it to know that it is little better than a dog's life. I just as lief stick to what I'm doing, or become a traveling order salesman for some big New York house."

"Well, I don't know but what that shows your level-headedness," returned Andy.

The two slept soundly that night. Matt was up at five o'clock the next morning, and he at once aroused his partner. They had an early breakfast, and then walked around to the stable where the wagon was housed.

While they were hitching up Billy a middle-aged man, rather slouchy in appearance, came shuffling in.

"Are you the two young fellers what's running this here auction wagon?" he began, addressing Matt.

"We are," returned the boy. "What do you want?"

"Pretty good business, ain't it?" went on the stranger, without answering the question which had been put.

"Sometimes it is."

"I reckon there's a heap of money in it," proceeded the shabby stranger.

"Well, we are not yet millionaires," put in Andy, with a pleasant laugh.

"I know a feller what made a pile of money in the auction business," remarked the man as he ejected a quantity of tobacco juice from his mouth. "He was a rip-snorter at it, though—could talk a table into walking off—and keep it up all day and half the night."

To this statement Matt and Andy made no reply. Neither liked the looks of the newcomer, and both wished he would go away.

"Say, you don't want to take a fellow in, do you?" asked the man, after a slight pause, as he came close beside Matt, who was nearest to him.

"No, we haven't any work for an outsider," returned the boy.

"I'm a rustler when I get a-going, let me tell you. I can tell stories and sing and sell more goods than any one has any idea of. Besides that, I've got a new corn salve I put up myself which goes like hot cakes. Barberry's Lightning Salve, I call it—my name is Paul Barberry, you know—Dr. Barberry, most of 'em call me. Say the word, and I'll go with you and put up my salve against your outfit, and we'll share and share alike."

"As I said before, we have no room for an outsider," returned Matt, while Andy nodded approvingly. "The wagon seat only holds two, and besides, our plans are all completed for our trip."

"Humph!" The man's face took on a sour look. "You are missing the chance of your lives."

"We'll risk it," laughed Andy.

"I can sell more salve than you can sell other goods every day in the week—and make more money, too."

"Then you had better start alone—and at once," returned Andy shortly.

"I will—if you fellers won't take me in as a working partner. I made the suggestion only because I thought it would be more pleasant to travel in a company of three."

"We are satisfied to go it without outside assistance," cried Matt, as he hopped on the seat. "All ready, Andy?"

"Yes, go on," returned his partner, climbing up beside him.

"Then you won't make a deal with me?" questioned Paul Barberry more sourly than ever.

"No," replied Matt and Andy in a breath, and while one gathered up the lines the other spoke to the horse, and the turn-out began to leave the stable.

"All right," shouted Paul Barberry. "You may be sorry for it. You young fellows think you know it all, but you may get tripped up badly before long," and picking up an ancient and decidedly rusty traveling-bag which he possessed, the corn salve doctor trudged away up the street.

"What a forward man!" exclaimed Matt, as they moved off. "Why, he actually wanted to force himself on us!"

"There are a good many such fellows on the road," returned Andy. "The moment they see some one who appears to be prospering, they try their best to get in with him. I dare say that Dr. Paul Barberry is about broke, and would consider it a windfall of fortune to be taken in by the owners and managers of the Eureka Auction Co."

"I wonder if we'll meet him again," mused Matt, as he looked back just in time to see the shabby figure disappear around a corner.

"Oh, he may turn up again; such fellows very often do," replied Andy.

But neither he nor Matt dreamed of the peculiar circumstances under which they would again come in contact with Paul Barberry.

The day was warm and bright, and Billy, the horse, appeared in excellent spirits by the way he trotted along over the macadamized road from Newark to Elizabeth.

It was not their intention to stop at the latter place, but just as they reached the outskirts of the city Billy began to limp, and they saw that one of his shoes had become loose.

"We'll have to take him around to a blacksmith shop," said Andy, and they accordingly drove on until such a place was reached.

Here they found they would have to wait until dinner-time before the shoe could be refitted. Rather than go to the trouble and expense of getting a license, however, they decided to spend the time in walking around.

"This is one of the oldest towns in New Jersey," remarked Andy, as they walked around the depots and down Broad Street, the main thoroughfare. "Down along the water front is one of the largest sewing machine factories in the world. I was through it once and I can tell you it was a sight well worth seeing."

Just before twelve o'clock they stopped in a restaurant not far from the blacksmith shop, and had dinner. By the time this was over Billy's shoe had been readjusted, and once more they were off.

It was easy driving along the smooth country road, and after passing through Cranford, Westfield and several smaller places, they struck out for Plainfield, which Andy declared was to be their first regular stopping place.

"It is a fair-sized city," he said. "And if we can strike the right stand we ought to do well there for several days or a week."

"I hope we do well," returned Matt. "We need a good start, for as yet our ready funds are rather low."

"You will have your first chance to do a bit of regular auctioneering," smiled Andy. "I trust you are not nervous over the prospects."

"Never mind if I am," returned Matt bravely. "I am going to do my best. If I get nervous I'll get over it just as quickly as I can."

Some time before sundown they entered Plainfield; half an hour later they found a suitable stopping place, and then Andy went off to secure some stand where they might do business.

He came back in an hour and stated that he had secured an empty store, which would be much better than selling from the wagon.

"The store will only cost us a dollar a day as long as we use it, and we ought to be able to make that much more out of it," he said.

They went to work that night transferring the stock from the wagon to the store shelves, and when this was finished both set to work to wash and dress the show window.

On the following morning at ten o'clock, they hung out a red flag, and then the Eureka Auction Co. was ready for business.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE YOUNG AUCTIONEER.

"I feel like a cat in a strange garret!" exclaimed Matt, as he walked up and down behind the counter on a raised platform he and Andy had placed there. "This is like going into cold water an inch at a time. I would rather plunge in head first."

"Then here goes," cried Andy, catching up an accordion that stood close at hand. "Let us see what we can do toward drawing a crowd in. There must be something going on, for the streets are filling up with people."

"There is a cheap circus to exhibit. I saw the posters. Perhaps they intend to give a parade."

"Most likely. Get your banjo, Matt, and let us give them our best selection."

Matt did as requested; and as the music rang out those on the pavement began to pause, and half a dozen stopped at the open door and peered in.

"Come right in! Come right in!" shouted Andy. "The auction is now about to begin, and you don't want to miss the chance of your lives!"

"Plenty of room for everybody!" shouted Matt directly after him. His voice was a trifle unsteady through excitement. "Don't wait outside, but secure a good place, where you can hear and see all that is going on. You need not buy if you do not wish. One more tune, ladies and gentlemen, and then we will show you the best bargains ever exhibited in this city. That's right, come right in!"

Thus urged, the folks began to drift in, singly and in pairs, until, when the next tune was finished, the store held perhaps twenty-five men, women and boys. Several children had tried to enter, but Andy had shook his head at them, and thus kept them outside.

"Say, what's them pocket-knives worth?" asked one old man evidently from the country, as he pointed to a board stuck full of the glittering blades.

"Which knife, sir?" asked Matt, in a business-like way.

"That one with the buckhorn handle and prunin' blade."

"That sir, is one of our best knives. Well made, of the best steel, and one that ought to last you a good many years. What do you offer for it, sir?"

"Offer?" repeated the old man in astonishment.

"Yes, sir, make an offer, please."

"Ain't you got no price sot on it?"

"No, sir; this is an auction store, and we take what we can get for a thing. Come, make an offer."

"I'll give ye a quarter for it," said the old man after considerable hesitation.

"A quarter I am offered for this beautiful knife!" shouted Matt, taking up the blade and holding it up so that all might see it. "It is a knife with four strong blades, a buckhorn handle, well riveted, and extra-tempered springs, fully warranted. A quarter, ladies and gentlemen; who says thirty cents?"

"Thirty!" returned a young man, after an examination of the knife.

"Thirty cents I am offered. Thirty! thirty! Some one make it thirty-five——"

"Thirty-five cents!" put in the old countryman. "I guess that knife is wuth that to me."

"Forty!" said the young man promptly. He appeared to be rich, and was bidding more to tease the old countryman than because he desired the knife.



"Forty I am offered!" sang out Matt, who did not care who obtained the knife, so long as a good figure was reached. "Forty! forty! Come, gentlemen, a bit higher than that, please!"

"Forty-five cents, and that's more than a good price," grumbled the old countryman, who had, however, set his heart on the knife the moment he had first seen it.

"Half a dollar!" sang out the young man promptly.

"Fifty cents I am offered!" went on Matt, in a business-like way. "Fifty cents, gentlemen, for a knife that ought to be in every one's pocket—a knife worth having! Who says seventy-five!"

Matt knew very well that no one in the crowd would make such a jump, but he hoped to cause the old man to bid again, and his hope was realized. Instead of going to fifty-five, the countryman offered sixty cents.

He had hardly made the offer when the young man, thinking he had aroused the old man to a state of recklessness in which he would keep on bidding, offered seventy-five cents for the knife.

"Seventy-five cents I am offered!" cried Matt. "Who makes it a dollar—ninety—eight-five—eighty?" and he glanced inquiringly at the old countryman.

But the old man shook his head.

"Not a penny over seventy-five cents," he muttered in a low tone.

"Seventy-five!" went on Matt. "Come, now, raise it just a bit! The knife is really worth it. Who says eighty? Seventy-five-five-five! Last call, remember! Going, going—gone! to that young man for seventy-five cents!"

And Matt held out the knife to the last bidder, and motioned to Andy to collect the money.

The young man grew red and drew back.

"Oh, pshaw! I didn't want the knife!" he grumbled. "Put it up again, maybe you'll get a bigger price for it," and he began to edge his way toward the door.

"Hold on! Not so fast!" said Andy, in a low voice, as he caught him by the arm. "This company doesn't do business that way. If you did not wish the knife you should not have bid for it. We are not running this store for fun."

The young man looked at him impudently. But the clear, stern eyes of Matt's partner made him wilt, and muttering something under his breath about getting square, he paid over the amount, took the knife, and sneaked out of the now crowded store.

In the meantime, the old countryman was about to leave, disappointed over his failure to secure the prize he coveted. He wished just such a knife, and knew that he would have to pay a dollar or more at the hardware store for it.

"Wait a minute, please," said Matt to him. "I have another such a knife. If you wish it you can have it at the same figure that the young man paid."

"Let's look at the knife."

The countryman made a careful examination of the blade, and finally agreed to take it.

"I'll send my son Tom around for an accordion," he said, before leaving. "He's dead stuck on music, Tom is."

"Thank you, we shall be pleased to see him," returned Matt politely, and the old countryman went off much pleased over the way he had been treated.

At a word from Andy, Matt brought the entire board of knives out so that all might examine them.

"Seventy-five cents was the auction price," he explained. "So any one can step up and take his or her choice for that amount. They are well worth your inspection. Any of the knives will stick, but you can't get stuck on a single one of them."

This little joke made the crowd laugh, and a dozen or more pressed forward to look at the knives. One young man bought a pearl-handled article, and a young lady bought one which contained a lead pencil and a button-hook.

While Matt was making these sales Andy was busy showing off the merits of several articles of bric-a-brac which a bevy of ladies were admiring. He told them how he had obtained them at a sacrifice sale, and was thus enabled to sell them quite reasonable. The lady who led the party did not wish to bid on the articles at auction, so Andy very obligingly set a figure, and after some little haggling, the lady took three dollars' worth of goods, to be delivered at her house on the outskirts of the city.

By this time both of the young auctioneers were certain that they were going to have a good day's sales.

"That circus has brought the people out," whispered Andy to Matt. "We were very fortunate to strike here when we did. We must make the most of the day."

"What shall I try next?" asked Matt. "I have sold four of the knives."

"Try something small, for they won't want to carry bulky packages with them. I see there are a lot of young fellows drifting in. You might get out the mouth harmonicas and interest them in them. I'll show those ladies the jewelry, and try to make some more private sales."

To this Matt agreed, and he was soon playing a lively air that caused all of the young men and boys to gather around him.

"Any one can play if he has music in him and such an instrument as this in his possession," he argued, after he had finished. "To show that it is all right and in perfect tune, I will put up the one I have been playing upon. How much am I offered?"

"Ten cents!" cried a boy standing close at hand.

"Ten cents I am offered. Ten ce——"

Matt got no farther, for at that moment a loud cry upon the street drowned out every other sound.

"Look out for the bear! He is mad!"

"He is coming this way!"

"Scatter for your lives!"

These and a hundred other cries rent the air. Then came a crash of window glass, and the next moment a huge brown bear leaped into the show window, not over two yards away from where Matt was standing.



CHAPTER XV.

THE CHARMS OF MUSIC.

For the moment after the brown bear crashed through the glass and landed in the show window of the auction store Matt was too astonished to move.

The entrance of the great beast, which had undoubtedly escaped from the circus men during the parade, was so totally unexpected that all in the place were too paralyzed with fear to move.

Screams of terror rent the air, and to these the brown bear added a growl which was both deep and angry.

Andy, who stood some distance behind Matt, was the first to do any rational talking.

"Grab the pistol, Matt!" he exclaimed. "Grab it quick!"

The weapon to which Andy referred was lying under the counter, just in front of the boy. It had been purchased by the firm and placed there in case some ugly person raised a dispute, or a sneak-thief tried to run off with any article. Andy had said that the mere sight of a pistol would often bring matters to terms when words had no effect.

Matt understood his partner's cry, and he lost no time in acting upon it. He caught up the pistol, and at once aimed it at the bear's head.

Whether or not the beast understood that his life was in danger would be hard to say, but no sooner had the weapon been pointed at him than he arose on his hind legs and emitted a growl that was fairly blood-curdling to the involuntary listeners.

Matt did not claim to be a crack shot, having had but slight experience in pistol practice, and, even in that moment of peril, he hesitated to shoot, fearful of missing the bear and striking some one on the sidewalk outside.

"Clear the way out there!" he cried. "Clear the way, or you may get shot!"

His words had the effect of scattering the few venturesome persons who had collected to see what the bear might do. In the meantime those in the store ran out of the open doors as quickly as they could. Andy alone remained with his partner, arming himself with the longest carving-knife the stock afforded.

Once on his hind legs the brown bear hesitated in his movements. He was separated from Matt by five feet of space between the show window and the raised platform upon which the boy stood. He did not seem to wish to leap the span, nor did he appear inclined to step down to the floor and then up upon the platform.

"Why don't you let him have it?" yelled Andy, as he saw Matt raise the pistol and then lower it again.

"I don't believe he's so mad after all," returned the boy. "I'm not going to shoot until I have to. Say!" he went on suddenly, "give him a tune on one of the accordions."

"What's that?" gasped Andy in astonishment.

"Play him a tune. He may be a trained bear, and if so, the music may soothe him."

Andy at once caught Matt's idea, and, taking up an accordion which stood close at hand, he began a lively tune of a popular sort.

At the first bars of the tune the brown bear appeared surprised. He raised himself up higher than ever on his hind legs, until his head touched the top of the show window. Then he started as if to dance, crashing over every article which was on exhibition. Finding he could not dance in the limited space around him, he leaped to the pavement outside, and there, to the bystanders' amazement and relief, began to execute a clumsy jig.

"He's dancing, sure enough!" cried Andy. "That was a good idea of yours, Matt."

"Keep it up until his keepers come," returned the boy. "Lively, now, Andy, for playing means something."

Andy continued to play, and as the brown bear began to dance more heartily than ever, the people, who a moment before had been so frightened, gathered about and began to laugh.

"That's better than shooting him," remarked one man.

"Indeed, it is," returned another. "Keep it up, young fellow!"

And Andy did keep it up until two keepers appeared, hatless and almost out of breath, and took the bear in charge.

"Doxie would have been all right," one of them explained; "but while he was performing on the square below some mischievous boy threw some pepper in his mouth."

"Yes, and Doxie went after him," added the other. "It's lucky for the boy that he got out of sight, for had Doxie caught him he would have chewed him up."

"I am very thankful that he did not do any further damage," said Matt. "I thought I would have to shoot him," and he exhibited the pistol.

"It's lucky for you that you didn't shoot Doxie," cried the head keeper. "You would have been a couple of hundred out of pocket."

"That reminds me," put in Andy. "Who is going to pay for that smashed show window and the ruined goods?"

At this the faces of the two keepers fell. The brown bear had been in their keeping, and they knew that the proprietor of the circus would hold them responsible for any damage done.

"Well, that is not our fault," returned the head keeper blandly. "I reckon you will have to bear the loss yourselves."

"Indeed, not!" cried Matt. "The owner of this bear will pay every cent."

"Well, go on and see him, then," returned the keeper curtly, and throwing a chain over the bear's head, he started to lead the animal away.

"Hold on," said Andy quietly but firmly. "You will not take that bear away until this matter is settled. Matt, see if you can find a policeman."

A policeman was close at hand, and he was at once summoned. A long altercation followed, in which the keepers tried to disown any responsibility in the matter.

"Whom does the bear belong to?" questioned Andy at last.

"Mr. Menville, the proprietor of the show."

"Then you leave him here until Mr. Menville comes for him," was the quick reply. "Mr. Officer, please see to it that the bear is not taken away. I think he might very easily be chained to that hitching-post by the curb."

"Sure, an' Oi dunno about this!" exclaimed the policeman, an old Irishman. "Ye had better let him take the baste away."

"No, he'll stay here until damages are settled," said Andy. "They do not own the bear, and if they attempt to take him away arrest them both."

Andy did not know if he was acting according to law or not, and, for that matter, neither did the policeman. But the auctioneer's firm stand had the desired effect, for the two keepers presently weakened, and asked what it would cost to replace the window and the goods spoiled.

A glazier was called in, and while he was figuring Matt and Andy went over the stock. At the end of ten minutes it was found that sixteen dollars would cover all loss. With much grumbling the circus men paid the amount, and they were then permitted to lead the brown bear away.

"Quite a bit of excitement, I must say," was Matt's comment after it was all over. "I don't want to go through any such scare again."

"Nor I," returned Andy. "But, see, there is quite a crowd gathered around yet. Let us make the most of the chance."

"I am too unstrung to auction off any stuff," admitted Matt. "That first scare was enough to take the heart right out of a fellow. You go ahead if you wish, and I'll clean out the window and get things ready for that new frame and glass."

So without further delay Andy began to address the people, and soon he had the store once more filled. He kept on auctioning stuff off until one o'clock in the afternoon, when the crowd thinned out, being composed principally of folks who had come into the city to visit the circus.

By that time Matt had set the carpenter and the glazier to work, and the new woodwork and the glass were in. All it needed was a couple of coats of paint, and the show window would be as good as new. The owner of the building, having heard of the affair, came around to view the situation, and expressed himself perfectly satisfied with what had been done.

"And I'm glad you made them pay up on the spot," he said. "For if those circus people had been allowed to leave town I would never have gotten a cent."

And to show his gratitude, he bought a razor and strop for himself, and a pair of scissors for his wife.

"There will not be much doing now until evening," said Andy to Matt. "So we will have dinner and then one of us can deliver those articles that lady bought."

"I'll deliver the stuff, Andy. I fancy the walk will brace me up more than anything else would."

"Well, go on then," said Andy, and so, after he had had dinner, Matt set out with the bundle of goods under his arm.

The way to the lady's house led past the circus, and with a natural curiosity to see what was going on, Matt pushed his way through the crowd to where a number of banners were stretched containing vivid pictures of the many wonderful sights which the ticket seller said could be seen within.

The boy was much interested in the slick way of speaking which the ticket seller had, and to "gain points," as he called it, for the auction business, he remained almost an hour listening to all that was said.

He was about to leave the crowd when a well-dressed man who was standing beside him pushed him a bit to one side, and then stooped to pick something from the ground at Matt's feet.

It was a large pocket-book, and apparently well filled.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE CONFIDENCE MAN.

"By Jove! look at that!" cried the man, in a low tone, as he picked up the pocket-book and surveyed it. "That's a find, isn't it?"

"It is, indeed," returned Matt. "How much is there in it?"

"Come with me and I'll see," said the man, and without waiting for Matt to offer a reply, he caught the boy by the arm, and forced him through the crowd to an open spot behind a large tree.

"I would like to know who lost this," went on the man, as he opened the flap of the pocket-book, and gazed inside at the contents. "By Jove! look at that pile of bills!" he went on, as he turned the pocket-book around so that Matt might catch sight of what certainly did look like twenty-five or thirty bank bills tucked away in one of the pockets. "Must be a hundred dollars or more in it."

"The owner of that pocket-book will miss it," returned Matt. "You ought to make an effort to find him."

"Of course! of course!" assented the man heartily. "I don't want to keep anybody's money—not if I know it is theirs. Let me see if there is a card in it."

He turned the pocket-book around and put his fingers first in one pocket and then another.

"Not a blessed thing but that pile of bills," he went on. "Now, isn't that strange?"

Then he suddenly drew from his vest pocket a gold watch and looked at it.

"Quarter to three!" he exclaimed in a startled tone. "And I must catch the three o'clock train for Baltimore! I haven't time to look up the owner of this pocket-book, valuable as it is."

"You might take a later train," suggested Matt.

The man shook his head.

"No, I have an engagement in Baltimore immediately upon the arrival of this train which I would not miss for a dozen such pocket-books."

"Then you'll have to take the money with you."

"I wouldn't feel just right about doing that," returned the man with a bland smile. "I would feel like a thief. I'll tell you what I will do," he went on smoothly and earnestly. "Give me twenty dollars, and you take the pocket-book. Perhaps you won't be able to find an owner, and then the money will all be yours, and if you do find an owner, he will certainly offer more of a reward than twenty dollars."

"I take the pocket-book?" said Matt, considerably surprised by the offer.

"Yes; I really can't wait, and I do not feel satisfied to take that money with me."

"But, supposing I do not find the owner, do you not want part of the money?"

"No; you can keep it all."

This certainly seemed a very liberal offer, and had Matt had less experience of the world at large, he might have accepted on the spot. But the apparent open-heartedness of the stranger only served to make him more cautious.

"Let us count the money and see how much there is in the pocket-book," he remarked, hardly knowing what else to say.

"No, I haven't time to do that," said the stranger hastily. "As it is, I have now barely ten minutes in which to get to the depot. If you want to accept my offer, give me the twenty dollars, and I'll run for the depot."

And the man moved around as if in the greatest hurry of his life.

"I haven't twenty dollars with me."

"Indeed! I thought you looked like a well-to-do young man——"

"I have twelve dollars——"

"Well—let that do, but be quick!"

And the stranger held out his hand for the amount.

"Never mind," remarked Matt, struck with an idea which he resolved to carry out if he went into the scheme at all. "I'll take the money from the pocket-book, and if I find the owner I will tell him how I came to do it."

"No; don't you touch the contents of the pocket-book!" exclaimed the stranger, hastily snatching the article in question from Matt's hand. "That would not be right!"

"Yes, but I will make it right with the owner, if I——"

"I can't wait any longer for that train!" cried the stranger, and without another word he placed the pocket-book into his coat-pocket and disappeared into the crowd.

For the instant Matt stared after him, and then a light burst upon the boy's mind.

"He is a confidence man and was trying to swindle me!" he murmured to himself. "If that pocket-book contained much it was a single dollar bill on a pile of green paper! How lucky I was not to jump at his offer when he first made it!"

As soon as he had reached this conclusion, Matt made after the man. But the crowd was too thick and too large to find him, and after a quarter of an hour's search the young auctioneer gave it up.

It was now getting late, and as soon as he was satisfied that the confidence man was gone, Matt hurried along on his errand.

He found that the lady who had purchased the goods had just reached home. She had heard of the brown bear episode, and insisted upon Matt giving her the particulars, which he did. She was very much interested in his story, and after she had heard how the affair terminated she plied him with questions concerning the auction business.

"You may think me very curious," she said at length. "But the reason I ask is because my only son, Tom Inwold, ran away with a traveling auctioneer about three months ago."

"Ran away?" repeated Matt.

"Yes; he got into a difficulty in school, and when I insisted that he apologize to his teachers, he grew angry and left the house."

"How old was he?"

"Tom was fifteen last May."

"He was very young to become an auctioneer," smiled Matt. "I am hardly old enough for the business."

"He has made a friend of this auctioneer—who used to stand up in a wagon and sing songs, and then sell cheap jewelry—and he went off with him one Saturday, when I thought he had gone to New York with his uncle."

"And doesn't he want to come back?" asked Matt, deeply interested.

"I have never heard of him since he went away." Mrs. Inwold put her handkerchief to her eyes to dry the tears which had started. "One reason I wished these goods delivered was because I thought I might get a chance to talk to you about Tom. You intend to travel from place to place, do you not?"

"Yes, madam; we shall remain here but a few days."

"Then, perhaps, in your travels you may run across Tom. If you do I wish you would tell him to send word home. He ought to come home of himself, but I suppose he won't do that, he is so headstrong."

"I should think he would prefer a good home to traveling around with a cheap jewelry man," was Matt's comment, as he looked around at the comfortable house Mrs. Inwold occupied. "I know I would."

"Boys do not always know what is best for them," sighed the lady. "Tom generally had his own way, and that made him headstrong. He is my only son, and as his father is away most of the time, I suppose I treated him more indulgently than was good for him."

"You have no idea where he and the jewelry man went?"

"Not the slightest. I notified the police and sent out several detectives, but could learn nothing. The detectives told me that the jewelry man was little better than a thief, and always covered his tracks when he left a city, so that his victims could not trace him up."

"That's most likely true. But I trust you do not take my partner and me for such fellows," added Matt honestly.

"No; you look like a young gentleman, and the other young man was one, too, I feel sure."

"We try to do things on the square. We never willfully misrepresent what we sell—as many do."

"That is right, and if you keep on that way you will be bound to prosper. No one ever yet gained much by resorting to trickery in trying to get along."

Mrs. Inwold talked to Matt for quite awhile after this, and promised to come down to the store and buy several other articles of which she thought she stood in need. It was nearly five o'clock when the boy left the mansion.

"A very nice lady," thought Matt, as he hurried back to the auction store. "I hope I meet her son Tom some day. I'll tell him how she feels about his going away, and advise him to return home without delay. My gracious! you wouldn't catch me leaving a home like that in order to put up with the hardships of the road!"



CHAPTER XVII.

THE STORM.

That evening Matt and Andy were kept busy until nearly eleven o'clock selling goods to people that came from the circus. They put up nearly every kind of article on their shelves, and only about half the stock remained unsold when they finally closed and locked the doors.

"That circus was a windfall to us!" exclaimed Andy. "We would not have done half as well had it not been in town."

"Maybe it would be a good idea to follow up the circus," suggested Matt. "That seems to draw out the people more than anything else I know of."

"We will follow the circus as much as we can, Matt. But there is one thing I must do first."

"And what is that?"

"Take the first train back to New York in the morning and buy more goods. Some of our best sellers are entirely gone."

"Then go by all means," returned Matt quickly.

"But can you get along alone?"

"I guess so. If I can't I'll lock up till you get back."

"All right, then. Now let us go over the stock and I'll make out a list of what's wanted."

"Let us figure up what we have made," returned Matt quickly, for he was anxious to know what the exact amount would be.

"Very well; I would like to know myself."

On a sheet of paper they had kept a record of every article sold, with the price. Opposite these, Andy, who was more familiar with their cost than Matt, placed the amount of profit on each. Then with his partner leaning over his shoulder, he added the column up.

"Thirty-one dollars and a quarter!" exclaimed Matt, as he surveyed the result of Andy's calculations. "Did we really make as much as that?"

"We did. Of course we must take out our personal expenses and Billy's keep. That amounts to four dollars and a quarter nearly."

"That still leaves twenty-seven dollars for one day's work. At this rate we'll get rich fast."

"We must not expect such luck every day, Matt. Remember, to-day was circus day. We will have rainy days, and days spent in traveling, during which we will not take in anything, while our expenses go on just the same."

"But it's a good thing we didn't have that kind of a start, Andy. We would have been 'busted' otherwise."

"You are right there," returned Andy.

By seven o'clock on the following morning he was on the way to New York, leaving Matt to open the store alone. This the young auctioneer did, and as trade was very quiet, Matt spent the time in cleaning up such goods as had been handled, and tidying up generally.

Compared with the day before, the street was almost deserted, but during the noon hour, when people were going to and coming from dinner, Matt managed to start up a sale which lasted until nearly two o'clock, and by which he disposed of over three dollars' worth of goods at a good profit.

It was nearly seven o'clock when Andy returned. He had rushed matters in New York, but had bought several bargains, especially one in imitation cut glassware, which, when it arrived the next day, made a pretty showing in the window.

They remained in Plainfield two days longer, and then loaded their wagon once more and started on the road. They made brief stops at Bound Brook and Somerville, doing fairly well at both places, and then, just ten days after leaving the city, struck Flemington.

At this latter place they again came across Menville's circus, and as a consequence did a big day's business. They intended to leave Flemington on the day following, but after talking the matter over decided to remain until the following Monday.

"On Monday morning you can strike across the country for High Bridge alone, if you will," said Andy. "I can take another trip to New York, and buy more goods and have them shipped direct to that place, or else on to Phillipsburg, which shall be our last stopping place in New Jersey."

To this Matt agreed, and on Saturday night all was made ready for an early morning start on Monday. Sunday was a quiet day for both, although they attended divine services, and took a long walk among the farms outside of the town proper.

"By creation! but it looks like a storm," exclaimed Andy, on Monday morning, as he jumped out of bed and aroused Matt.

"Well, if it rains we will have to make the most of it, I suppose," returned the boy philosophically. "It's a pity we haven't any umbrellas to sell!"

"There! I'll put them on the list at once!" cried Andy, with a laugh. "I declare, Matt, you are getting to be more of a business man every day."

"If I am it's because I have such a good partner for a teacher, Andy."

"Oh, nonsense," returned the young man, but nevertheless considerably pleased to learn that Matt appreciated his efforts. "You are as bright as any one on the road."

When they went down to the dining-room of the hotel at which they were stopping it certainly did look like rain. Yet there was a brisk breeze blowing, and several expressed themselves as certain that it would pass around to the north of them.

Less than half an hour later Andy was on his way to the depot to catch a train, and Matt hurried to the stable where Billy and the wagon were.

"I'll get to High Bridge just as soon as I can," he said to himself. "I have no desire to be caught in a thunder-storm on a strange country road."

"You may get a bit wet, but that's all," remarked the stable-keeper, as he saw the boy glance at the heavy clouds scurrying across the sky. "That there storm, if it comes, which is doubtful, won't last half an hour."

With this reassurance, if such it could be called, Matt saw to it that all was in good condition, and sprang upon the seat. He had made careful inquiries concerning the road, so that he might not go astray—a thing easy to do in most parts of the country—and in a short space of time he was out of the town and on the turnpike.

Had it been a pleasant day the boy would have enjoyed that drive thoroughly, for it was through a most beautiful section of the country. On both sides of the road were broad fields, dotted here and there with patches of woods and bushes. Several brooks were also crossed, and at one of these he stopped for a few minutes to watch a trio of boys fishing.

But then the sky seemed to grow darker suddenly, and somewhat alarmed, Matt whipped up Billy. The wind died out utterly, and the air grew close and sultry.

"That means a heavy thunder-storm and nothing less," thought Matt. "I wish I was near the journey's end instead of only about half through with it."

Presently came a sudden and quite unexpected rush of wind, and a second later a heavy dash of rain, which drove almost into the boy's face.

Matt at once stopped driving, and adjusted the rubber blanket in front of his seat. This was no easy job, for the wind kept increasing in violence. He had barely completed the work when there came a crash of thunder, and then the rain came down harder than ever.

"I wish I could find some shelter," he muttered to himself. "I would willingly pay to be allowed to drive into some barn until this was over. I hope none of the stock gets wet."

Matt tried to peer about him, but he could not see far, owing to the sheets of rain which fell all around.

"We'll have to stick to the road until something comes in sight, Billy," he said, addressing the shivering horse. "Get up old boy, and step lively."

Thus addressed, the animal started on once more. But the rain prevented him going as fast as before. The ground was very heavy, and the road in spots was covered with water which had not time to run off, so heavy was the downpour.

Presently they came to where the road ran through a heavy bit of timber. Here it was almost as dark as night, and the branches of the trees, laden with water, hung down so low that many swept the wagon as the turn-out went by.

"Ugh! I wish we were out of this!" muttered Matt, as he tried in vain to pierce the gloom ahead. "You must find the road, Billy, for I can't see it——"



A terrific crash of thunder drowned out the last words. Billy sprang forward in alarm, and away went the wagon over rocks and decaying tree trunks.

"Whoa!" shouted Matt. "Whoa, Billy, whoa! You have left the road, old boy! Whoa!"

But now a blinding flash of lightning lit up the scene, and then came another crash of thunder, even louder than before. Billy reared up, and then came down with a leap. On the instant he was off, like a rocket, over bushes, logs and rocks, dragging the swaying and creaking wagon after him!



CHAPTER XVIII.

A "HOLD-UP."

For the time being, Matt, on the seat of the heavily-laden wagon, felt certain that the entire turn-out must come to grief, and that very soon. Billy, thoroughly frightened by the thunder and lightning, was straining every nerve to make his way through the woods, despite brush, stones, and fallen trees.

Between the flashes of light the way beneath the trees was almost totally dark. The rain swept this way and that, and Matt, standing up on the foot-rest, was soaked to the skin.

"Whoa, Billy, old boy! Whoa!" he called again. "You are all right!"

But the scared horse paid no attention to his call. His nerves seemed to be strained to their utmost, and on he plunged, dragging the wagon along with bumps and jolts, which more than once threatened to land the young auctioneer out on his head.

Realizing that something must be done quickly if he would save the wagon from becoming a total wreck, Matt resolved upon a bold move. He tied the reins to the dashboard, and then, with a swift jump, cast himself upon Billy's back.

For the instant the horse, worse frightened than before, tore along over the uneven surface at a greater rate of speed than ever. The wagon struck a rock, and seemed about to lurch over upon its side. But it righted, and seeing this, Matt began to talk to the horse, patting him in the meanwhile upon the neck in an affectionate way.

This show of kindness soon had more effect upon Billy than anything which had previously been done. The animal slackened his speed gradually, and then, as there came a brief lull in the storm, stopped short, almost winded, but still inclined to go on at the first sign of further danger.

As soon as Billy had come to a halt Matt sprang to the ground. A tree the boy had feared they would collide with was close at hand, and to this he tied the horse, making sure that the halter should be well secured; and for the time being, the danger of being wrecked through a runaway was over.

But the trouble was by no means past. The storm still kept on, the lightning being as vivid as ever, and the thunder causing Billy to tug violently at the strap which held him. It was with a shiver that Matt wondered what the consequence would be should that particular tree be struck by lightning.

To prevent Billy doing damage to the wagon by twisting in the shafts or by kicking, Matt unharnessed him and pushed the wagon back a few feet into a somewhat open space. Here the rain came down heavier, but he felt safer than in close proximity to the tree.

Feeling that nothing was to be done until the storm should abate, Matt climbed into the wagon again and protected himself as well as he could with the rubber blanket and the lap-robe. The back shade of the wagon was down, and he was glad to see that so far the stock inside had sustained no damage.

A half-hour dragged along slowly. Several times the storm appeared upon the point of clearing away, but each time the clouds settled down heavier than before, until under the trees it was as black as midnight.

Matt wondered how far he was from the road, and if there were a farmhouse anywhere at hand.

"If I could reach a house of some sort it wouldn't be so bad," he murmured to himself. "But being out here alone isn't any fun, that's certain."

At last the clouds seemed to scatter for good. A fresh breeze stirred the trees and bushes, and ere long the rain ceased, although the drops still came down from the heavily-laden branches overhead.

As soon as he felt certain that the sky was brightening to remain so, Matt untied Billy, and harnessed him to the wagon once more.

"Now, Billy, we'll get back to the road just as fast as we can," he said to the horse. "And I trust that you will never run away again in that fashion, old boy."

On all sides arose bushes and rocks, and, although the road might be close at hand, Matt thought it best to return the way they had come. He wished to take no more chances, feeling that it would be the easiest thing in the world to get lost, or to run the turn-out into some hollow or hole from which it would be next to impossible to extricate it.

But to return by the route they had come was itself no easy task. In his terror, Billy had dragged the heavy vehicle over several very uneven places, full of stumps and rocks, and now the animal, still somewhat exhausted, had all he could do to move back over the trail which had been left.

Matt led the horse, and on more than one occasion had to place his shoulder to the rear end of the wagon to help over a particularly bad spot. Thus they moved on, taking half an hour to cover a distance which had previously been traveled in less than half that time.

"Thank goodness, we are out of that at last!" exclaimed Matt, as the road finally appeared in sight. "Now to see if any damage has been done."

The young auctioneer made a minute examination of every bolt and spring, as well as of the running gear and harness. He was overjoyed to find everything still in good order, despite the rough usage to which it had been put. The wagon body was scratched in a dozen places, but this could be easily remedied.

The rubber blankets were put away, and the lap-robe left fluttering in the rear to dry, and then Matt once more resumed his lonely journey in the direction of High Bridge.

The heavy rain had left the road deep with mud, and through this Billy plodded slowly along, Matt not having the heart to urge him to a greater speed, knowing well that the faithful animal was doing as well as could be reasonably expected of him.

"As soon as we reach High Bridge I must find a good stable for Billy, and change my clothes," thought Matt. "And something hot to drink won't go bad, either. Ugh! I am chilled clear to the bone!"

And he gave a shiver that was as genuine as it was uncomfortable.

The road now led downward and around a bend, where was situated another heavy bit of timber. As Matt approached the wood he saw some distance back from the road a shanty built of rough logs and boards, and thatched with weather-beaten shingles and bits of old tin and oil-cloth. There was a rude chimney upon the outside of the rear of this shanty, and from this a thin cloud of smoke was issuing.

"Humph! here is somebody's home, but a very poor one," thought Matt. "I shouldn't wonder but those inside got a pretty good soaking, by the looks of things."

At first the young auctioneer determined to stop, but upon second thought, he concluded to go on, satisfied that no accommodations worthy of the name could be had there.

"If I can't strike something better, I'll keep right on to High Bridge," was his thought, and he was just about to urge Billy on once more, when the door of the shanty opened and a man came out.

The man was apparently fifty years of age, and rough in looks. His beard was long, as was also his hair, and both seemed to be much in need of shears and brush. His clothing and his face were dirty, and altogether he presented a decidedly ill-favored appearance.

"Hullo, there, stranger!" he called out. "Where bound?"

"Bound for High Bridge," replied Matt as he drew rein. "How many miles is it?"

"Not many," was the rather indefinite reply. "Suppose you got cotched in that storm, eh?"

"Yes, I got the full benefit of it."

"It was a heavy one, no mistake about that. What sort of a turn-out have you got there?"

"An auction goods wagon."

"Carrying stuff around the country to sell at auction?"

"Yes."

"I see. Say, maybe you've got something you would like to sell me," and the man, after speaking to some one in the shanty, stepped up closer to the turn-out.

"Perhaps I have, but it's pretty well packed up," returned Matt, who was not at all taken by the man's manner. "We'll be open at High Bridge this evening, or to-morrow, if nothing happens."

"We? Got somebody else with you?"

"Not on the wagon, but I have a partner."

"I see. What line of goods do you carry?"

Matt named over a number of articles. The man's eyes brightened as he listened.

"Let me have a pair of suspenders," he said. "I need them worst way. And if you've got a good pocket-knife I'll patronize you so much more. Drive up in the back of the house and tie fast anywhere."

"Excuse me, but I would prefer getting to High Bridge. I am wet to the skin, and I want to change my clothes."

"That's all right, young fellow. We've got a fire inside, and you can dry yourself there just as well as not."

"But my horse——"

"I'll take care of the horse. I've got a shed a bit back of those bushes. Come on in; what are you afraid of?"

Thus urged, Matt sprang from the wagon seat to the ground. As he did so he noted a look of satisfaction gleam upon the man's dirty face, and he saw the fellow wave his hand toward the shanty's one window. He turned swiftly in the direction, and was in time to see two equally repulsive heads dodge aside out of sight.

Only for a second did the young auctioneer hesitate. Then something warned him to beware of danger, and he turned again to the wagon and placed one foot upon the shaft step.

"Hi! what are you going to do?" cried the man, in surprise.

"I guess I won't stop," returned the boy. "That storm does not seem to be quite over, and I do not wish to catch a second dose."

"But you will stop, sonny!" exclaimed the man, with a sudden change of manner. "Hi, Jake! Baldy! Come out here and help me manage this young fellow!" he went on, in a louder tone.

The other men at once rushed from the shanty, and in a trice Matt was surrounded.



CHAPTER XIX.

OUT OF A BAD SCRAPE.

It did not take the young auctioneer long to understand the true nature of the situation in which he now found himself. The three men who had surrounded him were nothing more or less than tramps who had undoubtedly sought shelter in the shanty from the storm. That they were thoroughly unscrupulous men went without saying, and it must be confessed that Matt's heart sank within him as he realized the danger in which he was placed.

"Let go of me!" he said sternly to the first man, who had presumed to catch him by the arm. "Let go, I say!"

"Don't you do it, Crabs!" put in the tramp called Jake. "Hold tight to him while I tie up the hoss."

"What do you mean to do?" demanded Matt, as he struggled to free himself, but in vain.

"You'll learn fast enough, sonny," returned Crabs, with a wicked grin. "Just keep quiet now, will you?"

"I certainly shall not!" retorted the young auctioneer hotly. "Do you suppose I am going to submit tamely to being robbed?"

"Who said anything about robbin' you?" demanded the third tramp, he called Baldy, although his head was covered with a shock of hair twice as thick as either of his companions. "You had better act civil-like, sonny, if you want to get off without a licking."

"You let me go!" went on Matt, paying no attention to the last remark. "Let go, I say—or take the consequences!"

"The consequences?" sneered him called Crabs.

"Yes—there!"

And without further warning, Matt drew back with his clinched fist and gave the tramp a stinging blow between the eyes, which caused the much surprised individual to let go his hold and stagger back to the shanty's side.

"Ho—what—what do you mean by hitting me?" he howled.

"I told you to let go," retorted Matt; and free from his tormentor, he essayed to leap to the wagon seat and gain possession of the heavy whip, with which he might keep the tramps at bay.

But hardly had he placed his foot on the rest than Baldy, who was now close at hand, caught him by the ankle and gave a sudden jerk, which brought Matt down on his chest and face, scratching his left cheek in two places, and giving him a severe shaking up.

"Hold the horse, Jake!" cried Baldy. "Hold the horse, and I'll hold the boy."

"Let me get at him!" cried Crabs, in a rage. "Just let me get at him, and I'll teach him to strike me between the eyes!"

As he spoke he rushed past his companion, and was on the point of kicking Matt in the side when Baldy stopped him with a side dig of his ragged elbow.

"Don't strike him if it ain't necessary," he said. "I'll hold him all right enough. Come, be still now," he went on to the young auctioneer.

Matt was on his face on the ground and Baldy was sitting on top of him, but, nevertheless, the boy did not intend to give up the struggle.

He squirmed and twisted this way and that until finally free, and then, before the tramp could catch him again, he sprang to his feet and leaped upon the foot-rest of the wagon.

"Stand back there, all of you!" he cried determinedly, and the next instant had the whip and was flourishing it over the heads of those below him.

"See that! he's got away from you!" cried Crabs to Baldy, in tones of deep disgust. "Now don't you wish you had let me tend to him?"

"Stick to the horse, Jake!" cried Baldy, ignoring the last remark. "I'll soon have the young fellow on the ground again."

"Let go of that horse!" commanded Matt. "Let go, or I'll lash you right and left!"

The tramp called Jake looked up into the young auctioneer's face at these words. Evidently he did not like the looks of the set lines about Matt's mouth, for without delay he obeyed the order, and stepped back. Lie had hardly done so before Matt struck Billy a light blow, and off went the horse at quite a respectable gait, leaving the three would-be plunderers standing staring after the turn-out in wonder and disgust!

"Phew! but that was a narrow escape!" gasped Matt, to himself, as he caught up the lines and gave Billy another tap. "I suppose I ought to be thankful that I was not robbed of everything in my keeping. Those fellows looked wicked enough to do almost anything."

After he had gone on some little distance he leaned out of the wagon to see if he was being pursued. But the tramps had deemed it unwise to follow him, and once more the young auctioneer had the road to himself.

It was not long before the houses of High Bridge appeared in sight. At the first place the young auctioneer asked for directions to the hotel, and here he had the wagon and horse safely stabled, and then went to the room which had been assigned to him to change every article of clothing he wore.

He had ordered a hot meal to be served, and when he came down he found the table spread for him.

"Got caught in the shower, eh?" questioned the hotel-keeper, as Matt sat down.

"Yes, indeed," returned the boy, and he related the particulars of his adventures while eating, not forgetting to mention the three tramps.

"Those three rascals have been bothering folks around here for quite a bit," remarked the hotel-keeper after he had finished. "The constable is after 'em now, but I don't think he'll catch 'em, for they slide around from place to place. You can bet on it that they are miles away from that shanty by this time."

"Well, I trust that I never fall in with them again," returned Matt with a slight shudder.

"Going to hold an auction?" went on the hotel-keeper curiously.

"That's what I expect to do. I would like to find some good spot. Where would be the best place for me to locate, do you think?"

The hotel-keeper thought for a moment.

"Well, most of the folks come around here and over across the way to the general stores. But I reckon the store-keepers won't like you around much."

"They never do—but I can't help that. I've got to make a living as well as they."

"That's true. Tell you what you might do. There's the old paint-shop next door. You can use that for an auction place if you are a mind to be liberal for the use of it," said the hotel-keeper.

As soon as he had finished Matt went out and inspected the old paint-shop. He found it would do very well for his purpose, and on returning offered the hotel-keeper a good pocket-knife for its use for the following day. This offer was at once accepted, and Matt set to work without delay to get the place into shape.

By nightfall he was ready for business. In the meantime, he had sent a couple of small boys around to all the houses in the neighborhood to notify the folks of the sale, and as a consequence, by eight o'clock he had the shop quite comfortably filled.

Without waiting to see if Andy might return on the late evening train, Matt started up business, and inside of half an hour had matters in full swing. He opened up with a lot of goods which the folks appeared to need, and they sold readily, much to the disgust of one of the proprietors of the regular stores, who came over to see what was going on.

"Humph! it's only a boy!" he muttered, but loud enough for all to hear. "What does he know about the goods he is selling? Like as not they are second-handed, and all shop-worn."

"These goods are strictly new, and of the latest designs," called out Matt, looking squarely at the man. "They are direct from New York, and I venture to say cannot be duplicated in High Bridge at the price at which I am knocking them down for. Now, ladies and gentlemen, what am I offered for this elegant family album, bound in plush, with sliver-plated clasps?"

"One dollar!" called a rustic, standing close at hand.

"A dollar and a quarter!" shouted a farmer near the door.

"See here, Podders, you ought to buy your things of me," whispered the keeper of the general store to the latter bidder. "I trust you till the money for crops comes in."

"So you do—and I pay you for the accommodation, too," retorted the farmer.

"I can sell you an album for half the money he'll charge you."

"I don't know about that," returned the farmer, with a shake of his head.

"Yes, I can. Come on over to the store and see."

"I want to watch this sale first."

By this time another person had offered a dollar and a half for the album, and Matt was hard at work trying to get a raise on this figure. But he overheard the store-keeper's words, and his face flushed with indignation. He stopped short, and pointed directly at the man.

"Will you please come forward a moment?" he asked, in a loud and clear tone.

"What—what's that?" stammered the store-keeper, taken by surprise.

"I asked you if you would please come forward."

"What for?"

"I wish to ask you what right you have to come in here and endeavor to take away my possible customers?"

"Why, you—I ain't taken any one away."

"But you were just trying to induce that man to leave—told him you could sell him an album for half the money I would charge."

"What if I did—I can, too."

"I doubt it. If you could, folks would not flock to such an auction-sale as this. They come here because they can get things cheap—because they are not overcharged, as they are in some places—because they are told the truth about goods—because they like to see a boy get along in spite of what some mean man may do to take away his business—because they——"

But Matt could go no further. His unexpected speech brought forth a sudden applause that for the moment drowned out every other sound.



CHAPTER XX.

ACCUSED OF STEALING.

It was plain to see that the store-keeper who had thus thrust himself into the young auctioneer's business was not in high favor with the residents of the country town. To tell the truth, the man was not liked by any one, and was only patronized by force of circumstances or through long-standing habit. He was a thoroughly mean man, and the fact that his trade had been falling off steadily for several years had not tended to sweeten his temper.

"Thet's one on Ike Marvelling, sure!" laughed a young man near the auction stand.

"Yes, an' Ike deserves it," returned a woman beside him. "He has no right to come in here and abuse the boy."

"That's so, he ain't," added another woman.

"Ike was always high-priced in everything," remarked a jolly-faced farmer. "If he had Pickle Mountain to sell he would want double price for it."

This bit of humor caused a laugh at the store-keeper's expense, and put him in even worse humor than had Matt's caustic remarks.

"See here, I didn't come in here to be abused!" he cried, addressing the young auctioneer in a bullying tone.

"You were not asked in here at all, to my knowledge," returned Matt. "And you should have remained away unless you intended to do the right thing."

"See here, boy, what do you mean?"

"What would you think of me if I came over to your store and told your customers that I could sell them goods cheaper than you could? I rather guess you would be for running me out—and mighty lively, too!"

"That he would!" laughed several. "He wouldn't give you time to open your mouth."

"I came in here because I know all these auction sales—they ain't really auctions at all—are frauds!" blustered Isaac Marvelling, finding it hard to say anything in the face of so much opposition. "These chaps oughten to be allowed to sell a thing—they swindle folks so, and if I had my way, the constable would——"

"Stop right there!" interrupted Matt, his eyes flashing. "When you insinuate that I am a swindler, you go too far. You must take back those words!"

"Must I?" sneered the store-keeper. "Well, I reckon not."

"Very well, then." Matt turned to several men standing by the door. "Will one of you gentlemen kindly call in the constable or some other officer?"

"What—what do you mean?" asked Isaac Marvelling in a lower tone, and much disturbed.

"I mean to have you put out as a disorderly character, that's what I mean," returned Matt firmly. "I have paid my license, and so long as I do business on the square I do not intend to allow any one to bulldoze me or call me a swindler."

"That's right! That's right!" cried several men in the crowd, and the woman who had first spoken nodded approvingly.

"You're a mighty big boy!" sneered the store-keeper, but all noticed that he retreated several steps toward the open doorway.

"I am big enough to defend myself," replied the young auctioneer quickly. "I want you to leave. I am no more of a swindler than you are—perhaps not as much. I am conducting this business on an honest basis, and I will not stand by and let you or any one else blacken my character."

"We'll see—we'll see," muttered Isaac Marvelling, and greatly enraged, but unable to say a word in his own defense, and fearful that an officer might appear, he withdrew.

This little incident served to make Matt many friends. People always like to see persons stick up for their rights, and in this particular case they were pleased to see the mean store-keeper "talked-down," as he well deserved to be.

The album was again put up, and after considerable talking was knocked down to Podders, the very individual Isaac Marvelling had endeavored to persuade away from the sale. Matt purposely let Podders have the album quite cheaply, and as soon as it was his Podders declared he would call at Marvelling's store and see if it could be duplicated at the price he had paid.

The young auctioneer knew this could not be done, and he offered to buy the album back at double the price should Podders succeed.

This pleased the farmer, and also many others, and, as a consequence, Matt had a brisk run of luck until closing-up time. The boy felt highly elated, especially when, on counting up the cash, he found he had taken in sixteen dollars, one third of which was profit.

On the following morning another heavy rain came up, and Matt found it of no advantage to open up for business. Shortly after dinner Andy came back from New York, and to him Matt related all that had occurred.

"That's right, Matt, always stick up when you are in the right, and you'll come out on top," said the senior partner of the firm.

Andy had struck several decided bargains in goods in the metropolis, and had invested every dollar of available cash. He had had all of the goods shipped to Phillipsburg, the next stopping place, and said they would most likely find them at the freight depot upon their arrival there.

During the afternoon it cleared up, and people began to drift into the shop. Andy opened up the sale, and by evening both of the partners were quite busy. When he went to supper Matt saw Isaac Marvelling, but the store-keeper only favored him with a deep scowl.

"I suppose he would like to chew my head off if he dared," laughed the young auctioneer, as he related the occurrence to Andy.

"No doubt of it, Matt. He feels sore, especially as we are selling just such goods as he has displayed in his window, and at about half the price."

"Well, we won't worry him after to-night," smiled Matt, for the start for Phillipsburg was to be made on the following morning.

After closing up the sale that night, the wagon was once more packed, so that they might be on the way at an early hour. The stock on hand was growing lighter, and they were glad to know that more goods would await them upon their arrival.

"We are doing famously," remarked Andy. "If we keep on we shall soon be rich."

"I want to pay back Miss Bartlett what she loaned me as soon as I can."

"I reckon she is in no hurry. You had better keep some cash on hand in case of an emergency."

The work of selling goods and packing the wagon had tired Matt considerably, but his mind was too much aroused to go to sleep at once, and so he started out for a short walk before retiring.

He knew very little of the roads around the village, but he was confident that he would not get lost, especially as it was a bright starlight night.

He passed the shop where the sales had been conducted, and then branched off on a road that but a short distance away crossed a tiny brook.

At the brook he paused, and then, struck with a sudden fancy, he left the bridge to go down and bathe his hands and face in the cool, running water.

He had hardly leaped from the bridge to the rocks below when a sudden noise beside him caused him to start back. Almost at the same time a dark form passed under the bridge and was lost to view in the bushes beyond. It looked somewhat like the form of a man, but Matt was not sure.

"That was queer," thought the young auctioneer, as he paused, in perplexity. "Was that a man, or only some animal?"

Disturbed at the occurrence, Matt leaped up upon the bridge again, without having touched the water. He had hardly come up into the starlight when two men came rushing toward him from the road.

"Who's that?" cried one of the men.

"That must be the man!" cried the other, and Matt recognized Isaac Marvelling's voice. "Catch hold of him, Jackson."

In another moment the two men stood beside Matt. As he recognized the young auctioneer, Isaac Marvelling set up a cry of surprise and triumph.

"I told you so!" he declared. "I said them auction fellows weren't no better than thieves! This is the chap that broke in my store, Jackson, I feel sure of it! I want him arrested, and you had better handcuff him so that he can't get away from you! No wonder they can sell cheap, when they steal their goods!"



CHAPTER XXI.

THE TELL-TALE CAP.

For the moment Matt could do little more than stare at the two men that confronted him. In a dim way he realized that Isaac Marvelling's store had been entered and robbed, and that the mean-minded store-keeper fully believed that he was the guilty party.

"Are you a-holding him, Jackson?" went on Isaac Marvelling anxiously. "Look out, or he may slip away from you."

"I've got him, right enough," returned Jackson, one of the local constables. "He'll have hard work to get away."

"What does this mean?" demanded the young auctioneer, aroused at last to the necessity of doing something in his own behalf. "Let go of me!"

"Oh, no, not just yet!" returned Jackson. "You're wanted, and you know it."

"That's right, Jackson, don't let him slip you!" put in Marvelling eagerly. "He's a good talker, but don't let that count with you."

"Will you tell me what I am wanted for?" asked Matt.

"For entering his store and stealing a lot of cutlery and jewelry," returned the constable.

"Forty-five dollars' worth," added Marvelling. "And all new stock, too! Oh, you thought you would get away with it mighty smart-like, didn't you?" he sneered.

"I haven't been near your store, and I know nothing about the theft," was Matt's steady reply.

"But we saw you run away from the store and come down here, didn't we, Jackson?"

"We certainly did," returned the constable, with a grave shake of his head.

"You saw me?" gasped Matt, starting back.

"Exactly," said Isaac Marvelling. "I heard you run out of the yard behind the store right after I had called in Jackson to tell him about the robbery. We both saw you jump the fence and skip off in this direction."

"You might as well own up to what you have done," added the constable. "It won't do you any good to deny it."

For the moment Matt did not reply to this. He was thinking of what had occurred at the bridge just before the two men had reached it. Could it be possible that the dark object which had left the place when he had arrived was the thief, rooted out of what he had considered a safe hiding-place?

"How near were you to me when you saw me first?" he asked of Marvelling.

"We were near enough."

"Did you see my face?"

"Never mind if we did or not."

"No, I must say I didn't see your face," said the constable, who, although a friend of the store-keeper, was yet disposed to be fair and square.

"You probably saw a man, and he ran in this direction," went on Matt.

"We saw you," said Marvelling doggedly. "March him back to the store, Jackson, and we'll make him confess where he has placed the stolen stuff. He doesn't seem to have it with him."

"If you wish to get back your goods you had better listen to what I have to say," returned Matt, trying to keep down his rising temper. "I did not enter your store, but perhaps I can put you on the track of the party who did."

"Oh, pshaw! that's all talk!" snarled Isaac Marvelling. "March him back, Jackson."

"It won't do any harm to listen to his story," said the constable meekly. "I reckon you want to get the goods back more than anything."

"Of course! of course!" responded the store-keeper eagerly. "I can't afford to lose forty-five dollars' worth of stuff at once."

"You say you didn't do the job, and that you think you can put us on the right track?"

"I think I can do something for you," returned Matt.

And in a few brief words he told how he happened to be at the bridge and what he had seen. The constable listened with deep interest, but Isaac Marvelling pooh-poohed the whole story.

"He's a good one at telling 'em," said the store-keeper. "I don't place no credit in what he says."

"Well, it won't do any harm to investigate," replied Jackson. "You hold him, while I light my lantern and take a look under the bridge."

"He may try to get away from me," said Marvelling, as he surveyed Matt's tall and well-built form with some trepidation. "He would most likely do anything to keep out of jail."

"I have more at stake than you have," cried the young auctioneer.

"Indeed?"

"Yes, sir. I consider my reputation worth considerably more than a paltry forty-five dollars."

"Do you? Well, to me the reputation of a traveling and swindling auctioneer isn't worth much!" grumbled Isaac Marvelling.

"You may regret those words," was Matt's brief reply; and for the time being he said no more.

In the meanwhile Jackson had struck a match and lit the somewhat smoky lantern he carried.

Seeing to it that Matt was safe in Marvelling's custody, the constable sprang down from the bridge to the rocks below. A second later he disappeared under the bridge.

The two above heard him rummaging around in the loose stones and among the brush for all of five minutes. Both listened for some call from him, the store-keeper all the while keeping a tight hold on Matt's arm.

"Well, have you found anything?" cried the store-keeper at last, unable longer to stand the suspense.

"I have," returned Jackson, and a second later he appeared again, holding in his hand a carving-knife and two spoons.

"Found these under the bridge," he explained, as he clambered up upon the structure again. "They are your goods, I take it."

"Of course they are my goods!" cried Isaac Marvelling, as he glanced at the articles. "Is that all?" he went on disappointedly.

"That's all I could find. There may be more there or in the water."

"This young rascal threw them there!" cried the store-keeper, shaking Matt's arm savagely. "You imp! tell me where the other things are at once, or I'll skin you alive!"

"Look here, Mr. Marvelling; I want you to let go of me and be reasonable," returned Matt, as calmly as he could. "I am not a thief. If I was, would I tell the story I did, or send down your companion to find those things? My story about that object under the bridge is true, and, to my way of thinking, it was the thief you saw jump the fence and run in this direction. When I sprang down to bathe my face and hands he got scared and ran out on the other side of the bridge, and in his hurry he must have dropped the things which have been found."

"Stuff and nonsense!"

"His story may be true," put in Jackson mildly.

"My advice is to follow up the brook and see if you cannot track the thief," went on the young auctioneer. "And do not lose any time in doing it."

"And what will become of you?" sneered the store-keeper.

"I will go with you, if you wish."

"That's a good idea," said the constable. "Come, let us start without delay. If we can't find anybody we can take the boy to the lock-up, anyway."

Isaac Marvelling grumbled, but at last consented, and soon all three were down under the bridge. Here it was pitch-dark, and the feeble rays of the lantern only lit up a circle that was less than three yards in diameter.

In hopes of clearing himself, more than for the purpose of aiding Isaac Marvelling in the recovery of the goods, Matt set to work with a will.

"Here is another spoon," he said presently, and he handed over a silver-plated affair, which at the most was not worth fifteen cents, wholesale.

"Here are a couple of knives," added Jackson. "And here is a bit of paper some of the stuff must have been wrapped in."

"Look here!" suddenly cried Matt, as he pointed down into the water. "Here's a man's cap, and it looks as if it had just fallen in, for one side of the peak is not yet wet."

"Let me see that cap," returned the constable quickly.

He snatched it from Matt's hand and turned with it to the lantern. His examination lasted but a few seconds.

"Say, Marvelling, have you seen anything of old Joe Yedley lately?" he asked, turning to the store-keeper.

"Yedley? Why, yes; he was in the store begging, only yesterday," was the reply. "But what has he——"

"Did you give him anything?"

"Give him anything?" cried Marvelling wrathfully. "Not a cent! I told him to clear out; that I didn't want him to ever come in again. I have no use for beggars."

"Did he go near the case with the cutlery and jewelry in it?"

"Humph! I suppose he did. But what has he to do with this?"

"This is Joe Yedley's cap; I would know it out of a thousand. He is an old offender, and it is more than likely that he is the thief!"



CHAPTER XXII.

THE SHANTY IN THE WOODS.

The reader may rest assured that Matt listened with deep interest to the words of the constable. He knew nothing of the man that had been mentioned as the probable thief, but he was willing to believe Jackson's supposition true.

"That Joe Yedley's cap?" returned Isaac Marvelling slowly.

"Certainly. You ought to know it well enough. He has worn nothing else for years."

"Humph! how did it get here?"

"The man must have dropped it in his haste to get away when I came here," said Matt. "He left in a big hurry."

"That's most likely it," said the constable. "To tell the truth, it looks just like a piece of Yedley's work," he added slowly. "He did it in order to get square, as much as anything, I reckon. He always resented being called a beggar."

"Humph!" muttered Isaac Marvelling, not particularly pleased over the turn affairs seemed to be taking. "He may be guilty and he may not be. I rather think you had better hold this young fellow for awhile yet."

"Just as you say."

"You may hold me if you wish," put in the young auctioneer. "But if you want to get all of your stuff back you had better follow up this Yedley."

"I'll do that," returned the constable. "I have an idea I can find out where he has gone to. He has several old hang-outs here, and most likely he'll be at one or another of them."

"Are any of the places close at hand?"

"He used to put up at a shanty back here in the woods," was the slow reply. "It is possible he has struck for that place—or else for Bill Voegler's barn."

"Supposing we three make for the shanty without delay?"

The matter was talked over, and finally Isaac Marvelling, urged on solely by the desire to recover his goods and not to clear Matt, consented to accompany the others to the place the constable had named.

It was a dark and lonely road the trio had to travel. But Jackson knew the way well, and to avoid suspicion, put out the light. He cautioned them not to make any noise, and so, as silently as Indians, they filed along, Jackson first and Marvelling last, with the young auctioneer between them.

Ten minutes' walking brought them to the edge of a bit of woodland, surrounded on three sides by corn-fields. Here Jackson called a halt.

"The shanty is not two hundred feet from here. Keep quiet while I go on and investigate," he whispered.

The constable glided out of sight, and five minutes of silent suspense followed.

"It ain't likely he'll find anything," grumbled Isaac Marvelling. "This ain't anything but a wild goose chase."

"Wait," returned Matt. "He must go slow, or he may——"

The young auctioneer broke off short, for at that instant several loud exclamations reached their ears.

"Surrender, Yedley!" they heard Jackson cry. "Surrender, in the name of the law!"

"Who told ye to come here?" yelled the voice of an old man. "Git out an' leave me alone."

"I arrest you, Yedley, for stealing— Hullo! he's gone! Stop him! stop him!"

There was the banging of a shanty door, and then a crashing in the bushes. Footsteps came close to where Matt and Marvelling stood.

"He's coming this way!" cried the young auctioneer. "Let us stop him!"

"You stop him!" stammered the store-keeper. "He is—is a very ugly man to deal with."

And as the old fellow in question appeared in sight, the store-keeper dropped down behind the rail fence, leaving Matt to face Joe Yedley alone.

This the young auctioneer did without hesitation.

"Stop where you are!" he cried out, and as Yedley attempted to leap the fence, he caught the fellow by the leg and dragged him to the ground.