outh, and he gnashed his teeth
together as he kicked the ground." Moore stooped, picked up the bowie-
knife, and sent it glittering high through the air.

"Take him away," he said, and two rough fellows, laughing, carried the
bully to the edge of the fountain that played in the corner of the
square. He was still lying crumpled up there when we rode out of
Clayville.

The bidding, of course, had stopped, owing to the unaffected interest
which the public took in this more dramatic interlude. The broker, it is
true, had bid twenty-five dollars, and was wrangling with the auctioneer.

"You have my bid, Mr. Brinton, sir, and there is no other offer. Knock
down the lot to me."

"You wait your time, Mr. Isaacs," said the auctioneer. "No man can do
two things at once and do them well. When Squire Moore has settled with
Dick Bligh he will desert the paths of military adventure for the calmer
and more lucrative track of commercial enterprise."

The auctioneer's command of long words was considerable, and was
obviously of use to him in his daily avocations.

When he had rounded his period, Moore was in the saddle again, and nodded
silently to the auctioneer.

"Squire Moore bids thirty dollars. Thirty dollars for this once despised
but now appreciated fellow-creature," rattled on the auctioneer.

The agent nodded again.

"Forty dollars bid," said the auctioneer.

"Fifty," cried Moore.

The broker nodded.

"Sixty."

The agent nodded again.

The bidding ran rapidly up to three hundred and fifty dollars.

The crowd were growing excited, and had been joined by every child in the
town, by every draggled and sunburnt woman, and the drinking-bar had
disgorged every loafer who felt sober enough to stay the distance to the
centre of the square.

My own first feelings of curiosity had subsided. I knew how strong and
burning was Moore's hatred of oppression, and felt convinced that he
merely wished at any sacrifice of money to secure for this old negro some
peaceful days and a quiet deathbed.

The crowd doubtless took the same obvious view of the case as I did, and
was now eagerly urging on the two competitors.

"Never say die, Isaacs."

"Stick to it, Squire; the nigger's well worth the dollars."

So they howled, and now the biddings were mounting towards one thousand
dollars, when the sulky planter rode up to the neighbourhood of the
table--much to the inconvenience of the "gallery"--and whispered to his
ag