Page:Amazing Stories Volume 01 Number 06.djvu/39

Government to offer for sale a property situated at the North Pole, bounded by the eighty-fourth parallel of latitude, and consisting of certain continents and seas, either solid or liquid—but which I am not quite sure. Kindly cast your eyes on this map. It has been compiled according to the latest information. You will see that the area is approximately four hundred and seven thousand square miles. To facilitate the sale it has been decided that the biddings for this extensive region shall be made per square mile. You will therefore understand that every cent bid will represent in round numbers 407,000 cents, and every dollar 407,000 dollars. I must ask you to be silent, gentlemen, if you please."

The appeal was not superfluous, for the impatience of the public was producing a gradually-increasing tumult that would drown the voices of the bidders.

When tolerable quietness had been established, thanks to the intervention of Flint, the auctioneer's porter, who, roared like a siren on a foggy day, Gilmour continued:

"Before we begin the biddings, I think it right to remind you of three things. The property has only one boundary, that of the eighty-fourth degree of north latitude. It has a guaranteed title. And it will remain the property of the purchasers, no matter what geographical or meteorological modifications the future may produce."

Always this curious observation!

"Now, gentlemen," said Gilmour; "what offers?" and, giving his hammer a preliminary shake, he continued in a nasal tone. "We will start at ten cents the square mile."

Ten cents, the tenth of a dollar, meant 40,700 dollars for the lot.

Whether Gilmour had a purchaser at this price or not, the amount was quickly increased by Baldenak.

"Twenty cents!" he said.

"Thirty cents!" said Jansen for the Dutchmen.

"Thirty-five!" said Professor Harald.

"Forty!" said the Russian.

That meant 162,800 dollars, and yet the bidding had only begun. The Canadians had not even opened their mouths. And William S. Forster seemed absorbed in the Newfoundland Mercury.

"Now, gentlemen," said Gilmour, "any advance on forty cents? Forty cents! Come, the Polar Cap is worth more than that; it is—"

What he would have added is unknown; perhaps it was, "guaranteed pure ice"; but the Dane interrupted him with:

"Fifty cents!"

Which the Dutchman at once capped with:

"Sixty!"

"Sixty cents the square mile! Any advance on sixty cents?"

These sixty cents made the respectable sum of 244,200 dollars.

At Jansen's bid, Donellan raised his head and looked at Todrin; but at an almost imperceptible negative sign from him he remained silent.

All that Forster did was to scrawl a few notes on the margin of his newspaper.

"Come, gentlemen," said the auctioneer; "wake up! Surely you are going to give more than that?"

And the hammer began to move up and down, as if in disgust at the weakness of the bidding.

"Seventy cents!" said Harald in a voice that trembled a little.

"Eighty cents!" said Karkof, almost in the same breath.

A nod from Todrin woke up the Major, as if he were on springs.

"Hundred cents!" said the Canadian.

That meant 407,000 dollars.

Four hundred and seven thousand dollars! A high price to pay for a collection of icebergs, ice-fields, and ice-floes!

And the representative of the North Pole Practical Association did not even raise his eyes from his newspaper. Had he been instructed not to bid? If he had waited for his competitors to bid their highest, surely the moment had come? In fact, their look of dismay when the Major fired his "hundred cents" showed that they had abandoned the battle.

"A hundred cents the square mile!" said the auctioneer. "Any advance? Is that so? Is that so? No advance?"

And he took a firm grasp on his hammer, and looked around him.

"Once!" he continued. "Twice! Any advance?"

"A hundred and twenty cents!" said Forster, quietly, as he turned over the page of his newspaper.

"And forty!" said the Major.

"And sixty!" drawled Forster.

"And eighty!" drawled the Major, quite as placidly.

"A hundred and ninety!" said Forster.

"And five!" said the Major, as if it were a mere casual observation.

You might have heard an ant walk, a bleak swim, a moth fly, a worm wriggle or a microbe wag its tail—if it has a tail.

Gilmour allowed a few moments to pass, which seemed like centuries. The consignee of codfish continued reading his newspaper and jotting down figures on the margin which had evidently nothing to do with the matter on hand. Had he reached the length of his tether? Had he made his last bid? Did this price of 195 cents the square mile, or 793,050 dollars for the whole, appear to him to have reached the last limit of absurdity?

"One hundred and ninety-five cents!" said the auctioneer. "Going at one hundred and ninety-five cents!"

And he raised his hammer.

"One hundred and ninety-five cents! Going! Going!"

And every eye was turned on the representative of the North Polar Practical Association.

That extraordinary man drew a large handkerchief from his pocket, and, hiding his face in it, blew a long, sonorous blast with his nose.

Then J. T. Maston looked at him, and Mrs. Scorbitt's eyes took the same direction. And by the paleness of their features it could be seen how keen was the excitement they were striving to subdue. Why did Forster hesitate to outbid the Major?

Forster blew his nose a second time; then, with