“Another mark in favor of ‘Despair,’” Ben noted. “You can’t tell anything by looks; but I don’t believe he’d do that.” It was late in the afternoon before the mule which Ben had selected--or, rather, the mule which had selected Ben--was offered. “We’ll start him at-- What’ll we start him at, gentlemen?” “Five dollars,” said a voice. “Five dollars!” The auctioneer scornfully repeated. “Somebody here expects to get a good workin’ animal for nothing just because his coat’s a little rough. Five dollars would be just a-givin’ him away. Why, all he needs to be a playmate for the children is a clippin’ and a red ribbon tied round his tail. What am I bid, bid, bid--what am I bid? Ten dollars, young man, did you say?” He pointed to Ben, and the latter nodded. “Here’s a young gentleman who knows a good animal for the saddle when he sees one.” This sally brought a laugh from the crowd and added to Ben’s discomfiture. “Ten dollars! Who’ll raise the bid? Twelve?” He pointed to a man on the edge of the group. “Who’ll give me twelve dollars for this reliable mule? Twelve dollars?” “Fifteen,” said Ben. A smile rippled over the faces of the crowd, and Ben became painfully conscious that he had made an error. He could feel his face growing uncomfortably warm. “Fifteen dollars!” called the auctioneer. “Will no one raise it? Is there no one here wants this mule more than this young gentleman? Fifteen once--fifteen twice--fifteen three times, and sold to--”--he turned expectantly toward Ben,--“Mr.--” “Ralston,” said Ben. The money was paid, and Ben started for the Works with his purchase. “You must hev wanted that mule powerful bad, young feller,” a bystander remarked, as the pair issued from the gate. “Think so?” the boy replied, anxious to make his escape. “Yes--it rather looks as though you did. To wait till the last and worst-lookin’ mule in the bunch was offered,” the man continued, “and then to raise your own bid _twice_.” There was a laugh from the crowd. “You could hev got him for twelve dollars, sure, and you might hev got him for ten.” “Well, that’s my affair,” Ben retorted. He led the mule along a street in the direction of the city, not without a misgiving, however, as to the docility of the animal. A fear that he might balk or suddenly whirl and kick, to the amusement of the spectators, made Ben eager to increase the distance between the mule-market and himself. It was a long distance from the Potrero to North Beach, for they marked opposite boundaries of the city, and Ben had ample opportunity for reflection. He made a detour and skirted the sea-wall, in order to avoid the more crowded streets. As he trudged along, the mule seemed docile and easily led; but Ben bought some carrots from a passing vegetable-wagon, to make assurance doubly sure. He regretted that he had yielded to the impulse of trusting to chance. He was conscious that the act was unworthy and degrading, that he had taken a step backward.