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It was his enemy, J. R. Taskinar, his conquered competitor, who, to be revenged, had bought a cargo of wild beasts, reptiles, and other objectionable creatures from a well-known purveyor to the menageries of both hemispheres, and had landed them at night in several voyages to Spencer Island.
"I will be avenged!" muttered J. R. Taskinar, and throwing a glance of hatred at his conqueror, he returned to the Occidental Hotel. But "hip, hip, hurrah," three times thrice, smote the ears of William W. Kolderup, then cheers followed him to Montgomery Street, and such was the delirious enthusiasm of the Americans that they even forgot to favour him with the customary bars of "Yankee Doodle."
The only difference was that here the chimney was of ingots of gold. Each time after the capping bid of J. R. Taskinar, William W. Kolderup took a few moments to reflect before he bid again. On the contrary Taskinar burst out like a bomb, and did not seem to require a second to think. "Seventeen hundred thousand dollars!" repeated the auctioneer. "Now, gentlemen, that is a mere nothing!
It is giving it away!" And one can well believe that, carried away by the jargon of his profession, he was about to add, "The frame alone is worth more than that!" When "Seventeen hundred thousand dollars!" howled Gingrass, the crier. "Eighteen hundred thousand!" replied William W. Kolderup. "Nineteen hundred thousand!" retorted J. R. Taskinar.
J. R. Taskinar at the moment when William W. Kolderup thought he had definitely secured the island, woke up with the words shouted in stentorian tones, "Thirteen hundred thousand dollars!" Everybody as we have seen turned to look at him. "Fat Taskinar!" The name passed from mouth to mouth. Yes. Fat Taskinar! He was known well enough!
There was a preliminary "Ah!" of general stupefaction, then a second "Ah!" of not less general satisfaction. Another bidder had presented himself! There was going to be a fight after all! But who was the reckless individual who had dared to come to dollar strokes with William W. Kolderup of San Francisco? It was J. R. Taskinar, of Stockton.
J. R. Taskinar was rich, but he was more than proportionately fat. He weighed 490 lbs. If he had only run second in the last fat-man show at Chicago, it was because he had not been allowed time to finish his dinner, and had lost about a dozen pounds. This colossus, who had had to have special chairs made for his portly person to rest upon, lived at Stockton, on the San Joachim.
Applause rang through the room, hushed, however, at the voice of the auctioneer, who repeated the bid, and whose oscillating hammer threatened to fall in spite of himself by the involuntary movement of his muscles. It seemed as though Dean Felporg, surfeited with the surprises of public auction sales, would be unable to contain himself any longer. All glances were turned on J. R. Taskinar.
"From Hagenbeck, Hamburg, "To J. R. Taskinar, Stockton, U.S.A." When William W. Kolderup had read these words he burst into a shout of laughter. He understood all.
And that is why J. R. Taskinar had come to the auction room among the curious crowd who could not be aware of his designs, why at all points he had prepared his batteries, why before opening fire, he had waited till his opponent had covered the reserve, and why when William W. Kolderup had made his bid of "Twelve hundred thousand dollars!"
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