ent. The conference lasted some minutes, and at the end of it the
agent capped Moore's last offer, one thousand dollars, with a bid of one
thousand two hundred.

"Fifteen hundred," said Moore, amidst applause.

"Look here, Mr. Knock-'em-down," cried Mr. Isaacs: "it's hot and thirsty
work sitting, nodding here; I likes my ease on a warm day; so just you
reckon that I see the Squire, and go a hundred dollars more as long as I
hold up my pencil."

He stuck a long gnawed pencil erect between his finger and thumb, and
stared impertinently at Moore. The Squire nodded, and the bidding went
on in this silent fashion till the bids had actually run up to three
thousand four hundred dollars. All this while the poor negro, whose
limbs no longer supported him, crouched in a heap on the table, turning
his haggard eye alternately on Moore and on the erect and motionless
pencil of the broker. The crowd had become silent with excitement.
Unable to stand the heat and agitation, Moore's unfriendly brother had
crossed the square in search of a "short drink." Moore nodded once more.

"Three thousand six hundred dollars bid," cried the auctioneer, and
looked at Isaacs.

With a wild howl Isaacs dashed his pencil in the air, tossed up his
hands, and thrust them deep down between his coat collar and his body,
uttering all the while yells of pain.

"Don't you bid, Mr. Isaacs?" asked the auctioneer, without receiving any
answer except Semitic appeals to holy Abraham, blended with Aryan
profanity.

"Come," said Moore very severely, "his pencil is down, and he has
withdrawn his bid. There is no other bidder; knock the lot down to me."

"No more offers?" said the auctioneer slowly, looking all round the
square.

There were certainly no offers from Mr. Isaacs, who now was bounding like
the gad-stung Io to the furthest end of the place.

"This fine buck-negro, warranted absolutely unsound of wind and limb,
going, going, a shameful sacrifice, for a poor three thousand six hundred
dollars. Going, going--gone!"

The hammer fell with a sharp, decisive sound.

A fearful volley of oaths rattled after the noise, like thunder rolling
away in the distance.

Moore's brother had returned from achieving a "short drink" just in time
to see his coveted lot knocked down to his rival.

We left the spot, with the negro in the care of Peter, as quickly as
might be.

"I wonder," said Moore, as we reached the inn and ordered a trap to carry
our