t Chittenden came along with a grip-sack in
his hand, just down from Lame Gulch. Peckham fell upon him like a
footpad, whispering hoarsely:

"For God's sake give me a pointer."

"Jove!" said Chittenden, afterward, "I thought it was a hold-up, sure as
trumps."

At the moment, however, he maintained his composure and only said:

"The smelter returns from the Boa Constrictor are down to-day. Two
hundred and seventeen dollars to the ton. I've got all the stuff I can
carry, so I don't mind letting you in. The papers will have it
to-morrow, though they're doing their best to keep it back."

Into the Boa Constrictor Peckham plunged the next morning, for all he
was worth. His money brought him ten thousand shares. The morning papers
did not have it, and all that day the Boa Constrictor lay as torpid as
any other snake in cold weather. Peckham's face had taken on the tense,
wild look of the gambler. He left the office half a dozen times during
the day to look at the stock-boards. He had a hundred minds about taking
his money out and putting it into something else. But nothing else
promised anything definite, and he held on.

The evening papers gave the smelter returns, precisely as Chittenden had
stated them. Now would the public "catch on" quick enough, or would they
take ten days to do what they might as well come to on the spot?

At nine o'clock the next morning, Peckham was on the street lying in
wait for an early broker. It was not until half-past nine that they
began to arrive.

"Any bids for Boa Constrictor?" Peckham inquired of Macdugal, the
first-comer.

"They were bidding forty cents at the club last night, with no takers."

"Let me know if you get fifty cents bid."

"How much do you offer?"

"Ten thousand shares."

"Oh! see here, Peckham! I wouldn't sell out at such a price. The thing's
sure to go to a dollar inside of thirty days."

"I don't care a _hang_ where it goes in thirty days. I want the money
to-day."

"Whew! Do you know anything better to put it into?"

"I know something _a million times better_!" cried Peckham, in a voice
sharp with excitement.

"The fellow's clean daft," Macdugal remarked to his partner, a few
minutes later.

"I should say so!" was the reply. "Queer, too, how suddenly it takes
'em. A week ago I should have said that was the coolest head of the lot.
He didn't seem to care a chuck for the whole business. Wonder if he's
gone off his base since Hillerton was laid up. H