Avon Fantasy Reader No. 7 — page 118: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

i FRANK GRUBER feet? It must be that, because otherwise you would be clamoring to bid for this genuine—” | : “One dollar!” said John Parker. 3 The auctioneer gave him a withering glance. “I'll pretend I did not hear that remark. I'll pretend that the gentleman was only trying to have a little clean, honest fun, because no one could be serious in offering one dollar for this beautiful, rare old treasure.” “Ten dollars!” John Parker blinked and then jerked around in his chair. No legitimate bidder would jump from one to ten dollars, particularly not for an offering “ such as this. , | _ He said: “Ten dollars and a quarter,” then kept his gaze upon the audience _ in order to find the rash bidder. He had no trouble finding him, for the man was difectly behind Parker and the moment the latter had made his offer, the other man snapped: “Twenty dollars!” | A murmur ran through the audience and even the auctioneer took a step forward on his platform and stared down at the rash bidder. Parker himself, studied the man with great care. He wasn’t a professional bidder, of course, but Parker was trying to size him up. He did not look like a prosperous individual if his clothing meant anything. He wore a rather tight hitting suit of broadcloth that had once been black but had a greenish tinge to it now, indicating age and much wear. He was a deep chested, hard-faced man with sandy hair, the latter long overdue for a haircut. He wore a battered black felt hat with a broader than usual brim. He looked like a farmer. In - that case, he might have money, despite his appearance. John Parker said: “Twenty-one dollars.” ~ Uwenty-five,” came the prompt bid from the other man. John Parker turned again in his seat, smiling pleasantly, so the other could see there was no offense in the competitive bidding. Merely good sportsman- ship. Something in the man’s face startled Parker. The eyes. They were a pale, washed out blue; they were staring eyes—and cold. | “Twenty-six dollars,” Parker said. “Forty dollars!” . e Parker cleared his throat. Of course the old gun wasn’t worth one-half of that, but then Parker wasn’t interested in the object of the bidding. He was » attending this auction sale for the same reason that some men go to prize- fights and wrestling matches. Or ball games. : He said: “Forty-one dollars.” es ECoOMichbooksacom