of an agent.
Full one hundred and fifty thousand innocent shares, smoked into the
open market as the old gray buccaneer had anticipated, were also sold,
making the round total of five hundred and sixty-one thousand shares of
Northern Consolidated offered and snapped up during those three days of
fire. It was the greatest "bear" raid in the annals of the Stock
Exchange, so graybeards said; and what peculiarly marked it for the
admiration of mankind was that it had had the least success. In three
days, with five hundred and sixty-one thousand shares sold, the stock
had fallen only eleven points. The raid was over and the "bears" had
growlingly retreated thirty minutes before the close on Friday. Within
ten minutes after the last offer to sell, and when it was plain the
"bears" had quit the field, under a cross-fire of bids that fell as
briskly thick as hail, Northern Consolidated was bid up thirteen points.
It had stood forty-one at Tuesday's close; it was forty-three when,
"bears" routed, the market was over Friday afternoon. And thus
disastrously fared the osprey pool.

"We're ruined, gentlemen," coolly remarked the old gray buccaneer when,
with the exception of Senator Hanway, the members of the pool gathered
themselves together Friday evening. "We're in a corner; we're
gone--hook, line, and sinker!"

"What can we do?" asked Mr. Harley, his face the hue of putty.

"Nothing!" said the old gray buccaneer, lighting a Spartan cigar. "We're
penned up; whoever has us cornered may now come round and knock us on
the head whenever he finds it convenient."

"The market is still weak," observed one, "for all it lived through the
panic. Suppose we creep in to-morrow and cover our shorts. The shares are
forty-three; I for one think it might be wise to close the deal and take
our losses, even if we go as high as fifty."

"For myself," remarked the old gray buccaneer, with a half-sneer at what
he regarded as a most childish suggestion, "I'd be pleased to settle at
sixty-five or even seventy." Then, turning to him who was for softly
buying his way out: "Do you imagine that what has happened was accident?
I tell you there's a shark swimming in these waters--a shark so big that
by comparison Port Royal Tom would seem like a dolphin. And, gentlemen,
that shark is after us. He's been after us from the beginning; he's got
between us and the shore, and he'll pull us under when the spirit moves
him. If you think differently, go into the