"See yeah, yo' ain't gwine befo' we is squar' wid yo'!" he cried, as he caught Matt by the arm.
"Let go of me!" exclaimed the young auctioneer. "I won't stand being molested!"
"We'll see about dat!" cried the second colored man, and he also caught hold of Matt.
"Close dat doah, Shelby!" went on the ringleader, to the man still at the table. "Dis is just de chance we wanted at dis yeah boy!"
The man addressed at once arose, and rushing to the somewhat rickety door, not only closed it, but also locked it.
Matt viewed this movement with increased alarm, and squirmed to release himself, but without avail.
"Yo' can't git away from us, nohow!" cried the ringleader, as he squeezed the young auctioneer's arm until Matt thought he would crack a bone. "We is gwine for to teach you a lesson, boy, dat yo' won't forgit in a long while!"
"Help! help!" yelled Matt, without more ado, realizing that the situation was becoming suddenly desperate.
He had barely time to repeat his cry when the ringleader of the negroes clapped his big hand over his mouth. Then he was forced over backward upon the floor.
