The Young Auctioneers/Chapter 19

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1451327The Young Auctioneers — Chapter 19Edward Stratemeyer

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. He 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 storekeeper, 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.