All silent. Buyers looked thoughtful. The auctioneer ran his restless eyes over them.
Dad and Dave held a whispered consultation; then Dad made a movement. The auctioneer caught his eye and leant forward.
"Five bob!" Dad shouted. There was a loud laugh. The auctioneer frowned. "We 're selling cows, old man." he said, "not running a shilling-table."
More laughter. It reached Dave's heart, and he wished he had n't come with Dad.
Someone bid £5, someone else six; seven—eight—nine went round quickly, and Silky was sold for £10.
"Beauty" rushed in.
Two station-hands passed among the crowd, each with a bucket of beer and some glasses. Dad hesitated when they came to him, and said he did n't care about it. Dave the same.
Dad ran "Beauty" to £3 10s. (all the money he had), and she was knocked down at £12.
Bidding became lively.
Dave had his eye on the men with the beer—he was thirsty. He noticed no one paid for what was drunk, and whispered his discovery to Dad. When the beer came again, Dad reached out and took a glass. Dave took one also.
