They milled about in confusion on a large raised platform under the blue sun. A sea of impossible creatures rolled and seethed on all sides of them, shutter-eyes, pin-hole eyes, simple light-sensitive receptors, multiple-tube eyes--hundreds of varieties all intent upon them. Steve heard voices around him on the platform, confused, alarmed. "What's happening?" "This place looks like an auction block!" "Look at those creatures, will you?" "Are we for sale or something?" The human voices faded into a meaningless babble. Someone else was speaking, but not aloud. It was like Charlie Stedman's voice, that day on Ganymede. Steve heard it inside his head and this time--because they all stood about more bewildered than ever--he knew that the _Frank Buck_'s crew heard it too. "Friends of Uashalume," the voice purred mentally, "here, at opening day of the bazaar, we have a most unusual treat. Most unusual. Two of us, as you know, have already tested the models in question, and we find them entirely satisfactory." Charlie Stedman and LeClarc stepped forward, bowed. "For the rest of you, one hundred choice specimens! We set no fixed price, but let this be said about the new garments. They are unspoiled, virgin material; they've not been used before. You'll find them stimulating for that reason alone, I'm sure. As for the vital statistics, they vary in height from three and a half to five _klars_; in weight from fifteen to twenty-nine _jarons_; they are a bisexual lot, although only one female of the species is present; their intellectual capacity is on the seventh level, their better minds can attain to problems of relativity and universal field; emotionally, they have twice the range of any previous garment!" The voice paused significantly, permitted that point to sink in. "Yes, twice the range. We none of us have ever experienced such strong, vital emotions. Can you imagine, twice the emotional range of the _scouradi_ of Deneb XIX! It means a new way of life for those among us who select some of these humans for their own. "Now, the auction-master will please step forward." "We _are_ for sale," Steiner gasped. It was Charlie Stedman who came to the fore, climbing the auction-block and looking around him. After a time, he singled out Steiner and pulled the man forward by an elbow. "The first specimen is typical," he droned in English, and Steve figured he spoke mentally to the assembled throngs, reeling off the height, weight, and other vital statistics for Steiner. Finally: "What am I bid?" Mental voices sang out, one after another: "Three _char_!" "Four." "Six." "Ten _char_." "Ten?" The man who was Charlie Stedman laughed. "Ten char indeed! One hundred is not enough." The bidding continued, became hot, became a contest between two mental voices. Steiner went for seventy-four _char_, whatever a _char_ was.