At one place in particular a crowd seemed to be collected. It was a ramshackle old hotel building with a driveway leading to an inner courtyard. On the sidewalk before the building and passing in and out were little knots and groups of men, talking and smoking Havana cigars. By far the larger number of these men were prosperous-looking planters from up and down the river and the outlying parishes. They were easily distinguishable by their broad-brimmed felt hats and riding-boots, and by their talk, which was of crops and horses and negroes--mostly of negroes. Two or three printed posters were tacked up on the wall of the building, and Tad strolled over to read them. One said: “Runaway--a bright mulatto boy named Cassius, about eighteen years old, strong and large. Will probably head north, as he was Kentucky raised.” Another advertised: “For sale, a mighty valuable woman, twenty-five with three likely children. A bargain for the lot.” The third and largest poster was what particularly attracted Tad’s attention, however. As he finished reading it he beckoned to Abe. It said: “On these premises, every Tuesday and Saturday afternoon, will be held regular auctions of negroes. We have now on hand a large, well selected stock of field hands, house boys, cooks, seamstresses, etc., and will sell as low as any house in New Orleans. Fresh arrivals keep our stock in prime condition at all times, and we have our own jail and yard for boarding them.” “Abe,” Tad asked, “isn’t this Saturday?” “Let’s see, so ’tis,” responded Abe. “Want to go in?” Tad hesitated. “Not much,” said he, “and yet it’s one of the things to see in New Orleans.” Abe led the way through the driveway into the courtyard. The throng of planters and city men inside made way grudgingly for the tall young backwoodsman in his outlandish costume, and Abe edged forward until he reached a place where both Tad and himself had a view of the auction platform. The auctioneer was a big, red-faced, jolly-looking man who spoke in a loud voice and was given to coarse jokes when he found the bidding too slow to suit him. On the ground beside the block stood a row of eight or ten negroes awaiting their turn to be sold. Occasionally one of the planters would go up to a slave, poke him in the ribs, feel of his arms and legs and look him over much as a buyer of cattle would do. In the group of negroes Tad saw a bent old woman with gray hair, one or two handsome young mulatto girls, a smart-looking saddle-colored boy with the manners of a Virginia-bred house servant, and half a dozen coal-black Guinea negroes, scantily clothed in dingy cotton. On the faces of these last there was a wild, stupid, frightened look, quite different from the lazy good humor that Tad had always associated with their race. When he looked closely he saw that one staggered a little as if from weakness, and on the ankles of three or four he could make out raw, new scars--chain and fetter scars.