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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Yes! warranted!" added Felporg, much too old at his trade to be moved by the chaff of the public. "For two years?" "To the end of the world!" "Beyond that?" "A freehold island!" repeated the crier, "an island without a single noxious animal, no wild beasts, no reptiles! "No birds?" added a wag. "No insects?" inquired another.
"An island to sell, for cash, to the highest bidder!" said Dean Felporg, the auctioneer, standing behind his rostrum in the room where the conditions of the singular sale were being noisily discussed.
Could it be possible that at the last second a higher bid would come? Felporg with his right hand stretched on the table was shaking his ivory hammer one rap, two raps, and the deed would be done. The public could not have been more absorbed in the face of a summary application of the law of Justice Lynch!
Dare any one raise his voice in answer to the voice of William W. Kolderup? He, magnificent to look upon, never moved. There he remained as calm as if the matter had no interest for him. But and this those near to him noticed his eyes were like revolvers loaded with dollars, ready to fire. "Nobody speaks?" asked Dean Felporg. Nobody spoke. "Once! Twice!" "Once!
"An island for the highest bidder!" said Dean Felporg, beginning again. "Come, gentlemen, come! Have a little courage in your pockets! Who wants an island in perfect state of repair, never been used, an island in the Pacific, that ocean of oceans? The valuation is a mere nothing! It is put at eleven hundred thousand dollars, is there any one will bid? Who speaks first?
"No volcanoes," replied Dean Felporg, "if there were, we could not sell at this price!" An immense shout of laughter followed. "An island to sell! an island for sale!" yelled Gingrass, whose lungs tired themselves out to no purpose. "Only a dollar! only a half-dollar! only a cent above the reserve!" said the auctioneer for the last time, "and I will knock it down! Once! Twice!" Perfect silence.
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.
Enormously rich were both these mortal enemies! After the first sensation, which was rapidly suppressed, renewed silence fell on the assembly. You could have heard a spider weaving his web. It was the voice of Dean Felporg which broke the spell. "For thirteen hundred thousand dollars, Spencer Island!" declaimed he, drawing himself up so as to better command the circle of bidders.
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