ing Daylight's fate? Daylight grinned to
himself, and gave out ambiguous interviews. It helped the game, and he
grinned again, as he meditated that Wall Street would sure have to go
some before it trimmed him.

They were prepared for him to play, and, when heavy buying of Ward
Valley began, it was quickly decided that he was the operator.
Financial gossip buzzed and hummed. He was after the Guggenhammers
once more. The story of Ophir was told over again and sensationalized
until even Daylight scarcely recognized it. Still, it was all grist to
his mill. The stock gamblers were clearly befooled. Each day he
increased his buying, and so eager were the sellers that Ward Valley
rose but slowly. "It sure beats poker," Daylight whispered gleefully
to himself, as he noted the perturbation he was causing. The
newspapers hazarded countless guesses and surmises, and Daylight was
constantly dogged by a small battalion of reporters. His own
interviews were gems. Discovering the delight the newspapers took in
his vernacular, in his "you-alls," and "sures," and "surge-ups," he
even exaggerated these particularities of speech, exploiting the
phrases he had heard other frontiersmen use, and inventing occasionally
a new one of his own.

A wildly exciting time was his during the week preceding Thursday the
eighteenth. Not only was he gambling as he had never gambled before,
but he was gambling at the biggest table in the world and for stakes so
large that even the case-hardened habitues of that table were compelled
to sit up. In spite of the unlimited selling, his persistent buying
compelled Ward Valley steadily to rise, and as Thursday approached, the
situation became acute. Something had to smash. How much Ward Valley
was this Klondike gambler going to buy? How much could he buy? What
was the Ward Valley crowd doing all this time? Daylight appreciated
the interviews with them that appeared--interviews delightfully placid
and non-committal. Leon Guggenhammer even hazarded the opinion that
this Northland Croesus might possibly be making a mistake. But not that
they cared, John Dowsett explained. Nor did they object. While in the
dark regarding his intentions, of one thing they were certain; namely,
that he was bulling Ward Valley. And they did not mind that. No
matter what happened to him and his spectacular operations, Ward Valley
was all right, and would remain all right, as firm as the Rock of
Gibraltar. No; the