“I can’t. Oh, mars’r, for the dear ——” Claib began, but Harney’s riding whip silenced him and he went submissively in to Rocket, who became as gentle beneath his touch as a lamb. Loud were the cries of admiration which hailed his appearance; and Alice would have known that something important was pending without the colonel’s groan, “Oh, Rocket! Poor Hugh! It hurts me for the boy more than anything else!” With one last despairing glance up the still lonely ‘pike Alice hurried to the door, and looked out upon the eager throng. Gathered in a knot around Rocket were all the noted horse-dealers of the country, and conspicuous among them was Harney, his face wearing a most disagreeable expression, as in reply to some remark of one of his companions he said, by way of depreciating Rocket, and thus preventing bids. “Yes, quite a fancy piece, but ain’t worth a row of pins. Been fed with sugar plums too much. Why, it will take all the gads in Kentucky to break him in.” The bids were very rapid, for Rocket was popular, but Harney bided his time, standing silently by, with a look on his face of cool contempt for those who presumed to think they could be the fortunate ones. He was prepared to give more than any one else. Nobody would go above his figure, he had set it so high—higher even than Rocket was really worth. Five hundred and fifty, if necessary. No one would rise above that, Harney was sure, and he quietly waited until the bids were far between, and the auctioneer still dwelling upon the last, seemed waiting expectantly for something. “I believe my soul the fellow knows I mean to have that horse,” thought Harney, and with an air which said, “that settles it,” he called out in loud, clear tones, “Four Hundred,” thus adding fifty at one bid. There was a slight movement then in the upper balcony, an opening of the glass door, and a suppressed whisper ran through the crowd, as _Alice_ came out and stood by the colonel’s side. The bidding went on briskly now, each bidder raising a few dollars, till $450 were reached, and then there came a pause, broken at last by a silvery half-tremulous voice, which passed like an electric shock through the eager crowd, and roused Harney to a perfect fury. “Five Hundred.”