rough the alley-way from Broad street, and between the narrow walls of
New street, surging up around the doorways, and piling themselves densely
and painfully within the cramped galleries of the Room itself. They had
made good the fresh calls for margins up to 143, the closing figure of
the night before. The paramount question now was, How would gold open?
They had not many minutes to wait. Pressing up to the fountain, around
which some fifty brokers had already congregated, a Bull operator with
resonant voice bid 145 for twenty thousand. The shout startled the
galleries. Their margins were once more in jeopardy. Would their
brokers remain firm? It was a terrible moment. The Bears closed round
the aggressors. Yells and shrieks filled the air. A confused and
baffling whirl of sounds ensued, in which all sorts of fractional bids
and offers mingled, till '46 emerged from the chaos. The crowd within
the arena increased rapidly in numbers. The clique agents became
vociferous. Gold steadily pushed forward in its perilous upward movement
from '46 to '47, thence to '49, and, pausing for a brief twenty minutes,
dashed on to 150.5. It was now considerably past the hour of regular
session. The President was in the chair. The Secretary's pen was
bounding over his registry book. The floor of the Gold Room was covered
with 300 agitated dealers and operators, shouting, heaving in masses
against and around the iron railing of the fountain, falling back upon
the approaches of the committee-rooms and the outer entrance, guarded
with rigorous care by sturdy door-keepers. Many of the principal brokers
of the street were there,--Kimber, who had turned traitor to the ring;
Colgate, the Baptist; Clews, a veteran government broker; one of the
Marvins; James Brown; Albert Speyer, and dozens of others hardly less
famous. Every individual of all that seething throng had a personal
stake beyond, and, in natural human estimate, a thousand-fold more dear
than that of any outside patron, no matter how deeply or ruinously that
patron might be involved. At 11 of the dial gold was 150.5; in six
minutes it jumped to 155. Then the pent-up tiger spirit burst from
control. The arena rocked as the Coliseum may have rocked when the gates
of the wild beasts were thrown open, and with wails and shrieks the
captives of the empire sprang to merciless encounter with the ravenous
demons of the desert. The storm of voices lost human semblance.
C