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the "System" I had accumulated a certain hardihood which now stood me in
good stead. I had learned before this that breaking into a secluded
treasure-trove is about as pleasant as taking the lining out of a steel
furnace with the metal sizzling and the blower on.

I stood to my guns for the time being and then charged into the ranks
of the enemy. I issued the following statement:

TO MY FELLOW-BROKERS AND THE PUBLIC

I have stumbled on the fact that the stock--capital 200,000
shares--of the Butte & Boston Copper Mining Company is a
nugget. I bought about 46,000 shares of it at an average of
something over 2-1/4, or, with the assessment paid, 12-1/4
per share. I am going to hold it until I get over 50 for it.
Barring accidents, I shall get it.

I advise--strongly and unqualifiedly advise--all my friends
and the public to load up with it at anything under that
price. My friends and the public know whether or not I mean
a thing when I say it. I pledge them that I not only mean
this but that I shall fight it out, and shall not sell until
there is an active and legitimate market for not only my
stock, but for what they buy, at over $50 per share. All
intending purchasers must bear in mind this is not a sure
thing, for the men who are opposing, and will oppose me, are
not conducting their operations from a graveyard, but are as
lively and aggressive as Bengal tigers at raw-meat time; but
they may rest easy in the knowledge that barring tripping
over stumps or into bogs, I'll give whoever buy a run for
their investments.

Buy and watch Butte all the time, and, above all, pay no
attention to what the fake "News Bureau" says.

This was the formal declaration of war. State and Wall streets, familiar
with my style of fighting, at once lined up and took sides. The papers
entered the controversy. According to what one read, Butte & Boston was
either the greatest mine in the world or a hole in the ground. Feeling
intensified; Geneva and Queensberry conventions were forgotten; it
became a go-as-you-please scramble; mud batteries filled the air with
liquid dirt, and both sides used Gatling guns to fire off their libels.
It was altogether a lusty and vociferous contest, which meant
destruction and death for the lame, the halt, and the slow-footed who
got between the fighting lines. I was naturally the chief mark f