The auctioneer was surrounded by perhaps a score of lookers-on, big fellows, for the most part, of the true Western build, long in the leg, broad in the shoulder, and adorned (to a plain man's taste) with needless finery.
A jaunty, ostentatious comradeship prevailed.

Bets were flying, and nicknames.

"The boys" (as they would have called themselves) were very boyish; and it was plain they were here in mirth, and not on business.
Behind, and certainly in strong contrast to these gentlemen, I could detect the figure of my friend Captain Trent, come (as I could very well imagine that a captain would) to hear the last of his old vessel.

Since yesterday, he had rigged himself anew in ready-made black clothes, not very aptly fitted; the upper left-hand pocket showing a corner of silk handkerchief, the lower, on the other side, bulging with papers.
Pinkerton had just given this man a high character.

Certainly he seemed to have been very frank, and I looked at him again to trace (if possible) that virtue in his face.