Issie and the Christmas Pony by Stacy Gregg Page B

have lot number 66 into the arena please?” The auction ring remained empty and then the auctioneer called again. “Lot 66, can we have you in the arena now please! Lot 66!”
    As lot 66 finally entered through the barn doors Issie felt the blood freeze in her veins. “Here we are! Lot 66,” the auctioneer called. “A grey pony, eighteen years old, fourteen hands high-a one-in-a-million learner’s pony!” Issie couldn’t believe it. Lot 66 was Mystic!
    But it couldn’t be! This was all wrong. Mystic wasn’t 66. He was…number 99! She looked at the number on the grey pony’s rump. It said 66! But it hadn’t before: it had said 99, she was sure of it…And then she realised what had gone wrong.
    Of course! The man at the blue truck must have stuck the number on upside down by mistake! She would have realised his mistake if she’d seen the number on Mystic’s registration, but the paper had been crushed under the pony’s hay net.
    No wonder the man had told Avery there wasn’t enough time for a vet check. He wasn’t trying to put him off after all. He just didn’t realise he’d stuck the sticker on upside down! He must have only noticed the mistake just before entering the ring, because the sticker was now the right way round, but it was stuck on clumsily with the glue peeling away, like it had been hastily ripped off and plonked back on again.
    Mystic was now being led around the ring and theauctioneer was beginning his chant. “How much am I bid for this little grey pony here? Like I said, this pony is a one-in-a-million learner’s mount, worth his weight in gold no doubt. Eighteen years young, ladies and gents, every inch of him is fit and sound…and we’re going to start the bidding at $200. Will anyone offer me $200?”
    Issie didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have a clue how to bid by herself. She wasn’t even registered. She would have to wait and hope that her mum and Avery came back soon.
    â€œWho’ll give me 200? Do I have 200?” The auctioneer was calling faster and faster now, trying to stir up a bid from the crowd. “100!” he shouted. “Do I have $100?”
    Still there was silence. Maybe no one will bid , Issie thought hopefully, then we can buy him privately after the auction is over.
    In the ring, Mystic’s head was held high as he looked around at the crowd. Issie could have sworn that the grey gelding had picked her out from all the faces surrounding him and held her gaze, looking at her as if to say, Why aren’t you buying me? What’s wrong?
    â€œWho’ll give me $100? Do I have 100, 100?” Theauctioneer’s patter was getting him nowhere. No one was going to bid on this old, swaybacked grey pony. Mystic was about to be passed in with no bids.
    â€œCome on, people. I have instructions to sell this pony today!” the auctioneer shouted. “Who’ll give me 100?”
    â€œFifty!” There was a shout from the crowd and the auctioneer’s chant suddenly changed.
    â€œI have $50; the bid is now with the gentleman over there!”
    Issie turned round to see where the bid had come from. She felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach and knocked all the air right out of her. It was Nigel Christie!
    â€œI have $50, $50. Who’ll raise it to 100?” the auctioneer shouted.
    Issie felt her palms sweating, her head spinning. The knacker’s yard man had just bid on her pony! She looked frantically at the door to the barn. Where were her mum and Avery? They needed to make a bid now!
    â€œI have $50, going once, going twice…” The auctioneer was winding up and still there was no sign of either Avery or her mum. Issie realised she had no choice: she was going to have to make a bid herself.
    â€œGoing once, going twice, going three times…”
    â€œ$100!” Issie squeaked out, raising her