The auctioneer caught his eye and leant forward.
"FIVE BOB!" Dad shouted. There was a loud laugh. The auctioneer frowned.
"We're selling COWS, old man," he said, "not running a shilling-table."
More laughter. It reached Dave's heart, and he wished he had n't come
with Dad.
Someone bid five pounds, someone else six; seven-eight-nine went round
quickly, and Silky was sold for ten pounds.
"Beauty" rushed in.
Two station-hands passed among the crowd, each with a bucket of beer and
some glasses. Dad hesitated when they came to him, and said he did n't
care about it. Dave the same.
Dad ran "Beauty" to three pound ten shillings (all the money he had), and
she was knocked down at twelve pounds.
Bidding became lively.
Dave had his eye on the men with the beer--he was thirsty. He noticed no
one paid for what was drunk, and whispered his discovery to Dad. When the
beer came again, Dad reached out and took a glass. Dave took one also.
"Have another!" said the man.
Dave grinned, and took another.
Dad ran fifteen cows, successively, to three pounds ten shillings.
The men with the beer took a liking to Dave. They came frequently to him,
and Dave began to enjoy the sale.
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