'If you allow him to bid here, you are as bad as he,' I continued,
unintentionally fanning the growing excitement.
'Wall, we woan't.' 'Pitch inter him!' 'Douse him in th' pond!' 'Ride him
on a rail!' 'Give him a coat uv tar!' and a hundred similar exclamations
rose from the crowd, which swayed toward the obnoxious man with a quick,
tumultuous motion.
'He'm in de darky trade; leff de darkies handle him!' cried Ally,
seizing Hallet by the collar, and dragging him toward the pond.
The face of the great merchant turned ghastly pale. Paralyzed with fear,
he made no resistance.
Pressing rapidly through the crowd, and tossing Ally aside as if he had
been a bundle of feathers, Larkin was at Hallet's side in an instant.
Planting himself before him, and drawing his revolver, he cried out:
'Far play, gentlemen, far play. He's a cowardly scoundrel, but he shill
hev far play, or my name ain't Jake Larkin!'
Instinctively the crowd fell back a few paces, and Larkin, with more
coolness, continued:
'Th' only man yere thet's got anything ter say in this bis'ness ar Joe
Preston; an' _he'll_ guv even a Yankee far play. Woan't ye, Joe?' he
cried. Then, turning quickly to his partner, he added: 'Ye didn't know
th' kunditions, Mr. Hallet, did ye? Speak quick.'
'No--I--didn't know I was--giving offence,' stammered Hallet, looking in
the direction in which Larkin's eyes were turned.
Selma had taken the auctioneer's chair, and Joe stood, with folded arms,
glaring on Hallet.
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