“‘Nine hundred!’ said the Little Master.
“‘That is right!’ cried the trader. ‘In this country even the children have saddle-bags full of money. Nine hundred! I am offered nine hundred!’
“Mr. Gossett nodded his head. I was watching him.
“‘One thousand!’ cried the trader. ‘I am offered one thousand! Am I to give this man away for one thousand dollars?’
“‘Twelve hundred,’ said the Little Master in a voice as clear as a bell.
“This seemed to stagger the trader. He looked at the Little Master, and then he looked at the crowd. He shook his head, and then some of the people laughed. This made others laugh, and then the trader, very red in the face, turned to Mr. Gossett and said:—
“‘I don’t like to be made a fool of. This negro is yours, sir, for one thousand dollars.’
“This made the people laugh again, but the Little Master didn’t laugh. He cried to the crowd around. ‘Get out of the way here!’ and gave me the word to push my way through. I needed neither whip nor spur for that, and the people in front of me had as much as they could do to scuffle and scramble out of my way.
“‘Here, sir, what does this mean?’ cried the Little Master. ‘I bid twelve hundred dollars, and you sell him for one thousand dollars. What do you mean?’
“‘Don’t bother me, sonny,’ the man replied. ‘The negro is mine. I sell him for what I please. This gentleman here,’ he pointed to Mr. Gossett, ‘said you were playing one of your pranks. I’ve no time for pranks. If you are not pranking, plank down your twelve hundred dollars on that block there.’