“Gentlemen,” he said, “I am now offering the hay stored in the loft above the stable. A small lot, gentlemen, but prime hay. I offer no guarantee as to the quantity in the loft; but I should guess it at anything between ten and fifteen hundred-weight.” Several of the more important farmers drew out of the crowd which surrounded Mr. Robinson. It was not worth while bidding for so small a quantity of hay. Other members of the crowd, feeling that a breathing space had been granted them, took packets of sandwiches from their pockets and sat down in one of the outhouses to refresh themselves. Mr. Robinson viewed the diminishing group of bidders with some disappointment. He was gratified to see that the new police officer from Curraghfin, a gentleman who had not so far made a single bid, crossed the yard and took a place on the steps leading to the loft. Colonel Eden, too, appeared interested in the new lot of hay. If the inspector of police and Colonel Eden began to bid against each other the hay might realize a good price. “Now, gentlemen,” said Mr. Robinson, “shall we make a start with three pounds?” He glanced at Colonel Eden, then at the police officer. Neither gentleman made any sign of wishing to bid. It was James McNiece who made the first offer. “Two pounds,” he said. There was a pause. “Two pounds,” said Mr. Robinson, “two pounds. Going at two pounds. You’re not going to let this hay,--more than half a ton of it--go at two pounds.” He looked appealingly at Colonel Eden and at the police officer. They were entirely unresponsive. “And at two pounds, going----” said Mr. Robinson. “Two-ten,” said Dan Gallaher, in a quiet voice. “Two-fifteen,” said James McNiece. Dan Gallaher, still apparently bored by the proceedings, raised the price another five shillings. James McNiece went half a crown further. Dan Gallaher, becoming slightly interested, made a jump to three pounds ten. McNiece, with an air of finality, bid four pounds. The contest began to attract attention. When the price rose to five pounds interest became lively, and those who had drawn out of the group round Mr. Robinson began to dribble back. It seemed likely that the contest was one of those, not uncommon at Irish auctions, into which personal feelings enter largely and the actual value of the article sold is little considered. There was a certain piquancy about a struggle of this kind between a prominent Orangeman like James McNiece, and Dan Gallaher, whom everyone knew to be the leader of the Sinn Fein party. Interest developed into actual excitement when the price rose to ten pounds. A half ton of hay never is and never has been worth ten pounds. But ten pounds was by no means the final bid. “Mr. McNiece,” said Mr. Robinson, “the bid is against you.” “Guineas,” said McNiece. “Eleven,” said Dan Gallaher. “Guineas,” said McNiece.