companies. If the
banks went, he went too. It was a case of their having to hold out.
If they smashed and all the collateral they held of his was thrown on
the chaotic market, it would be the end. And so it was, as the time
passed, that on occasion his red motor-car carried, in addition to the
daily cash, the most gilt-edged securities he possessed; namely, the
Ferry Company, United Water and Consolidated Railways. But he did this
reluctantly, fighting inch by inch.

As he told the president of the Merchants San Antonio who made the plea
of carrying so many others:--

"They're small fry. Let them smash. I'm the king pin here. You've got
more money to make out of me than them. Of course, you're carrying too
much, and you've got to choose, that's all. It's root hog or die for
you or them. I'm too strong to smash. You could only embarrass me and
get yourself tangled up. Your way out is to let the small fry go, and
I'll lend you a hand to do it."

And it was Daylight, also, in this time of financial anarchy, who sized
up Simon Dolliver's affairs and lent the hand that sent that rival down
in utter failure. The Golden Gate National was the keystone of
Dolliver's strength, and to the president of that institution Daylight
said:--

"Here I've been lending you a hand, and you now in the last ditch, with
Dolliver riding on you and me all the time. It don't go. You hear me,
it don't go. Dolliver couldn't cough up eleven dollars to save you.
Let him get off and walk, and I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give
you the railway nickels for four days--that's forty thousand cash. And
on the sixth of the month you can count on twenty thousand more from
the Water Company." He shrugged his shoulders. "Take it or leave it.
Them's my terms."

"It's dog eat dog, and I ain't overlooking any meat that's floating
around," Daylight proclaimed that afternoon to Hegan; and Simon
Dolliver went the way of the unfortunate in the Great Panic who were
caught with plenty of paper and no money.

Daylight's shifts and devices were amazing. Nothing however large or
small, passed his keen sight unobserved. The strain he was under was
terrific. He no longer ate lunch. The days were too short, and his
noon hours and his office were as crowded as at any other time. By the
end of the day he was exhausted, and, as never before, he sought relief
behind his wall of alcoholic inhibition. Straight to his hotel he was
driven, and straight