have a capital of three hundred for future operations, eh?"

"I'm through, sir," says Vincent. '"I--I don't like lying to mother.
Besides after next Monday I don't think Izzy will bother me for any more
tips. I--I suppose I'm fired, sir?"

"Eh?" says Old Hickory, scowlin' at him fierce. "Fired? No. Boys who
have a dislike for lying to mother are too scarce. Besides, anyone who
can beat a curb broker at his own game ought to be valuable to the
Corrugated some day. Mr. Piddie, see that this young man is promoted as
soon as there's an opening. And--er--I believe that is all, gentlemen."

As me and Piddie trickle out into the general offices Piddie whispers
awed: "Wonderful man, Mr. Ellins! Wonderful!"

"How clever of you to find it out, Piddie," says I. "Did you get the
hunch from Vincent's mother?"

CHAPTER XIII

THE MANTLE OF SANDY THE GREAT

"Vincent," says I, as I blows in through the brass gate from lunch,
"who's the poddy old party you got parked on the bench out in the
anteroom?"

"He's waiting to see Mr. Ellins," says Vincent. "This is his third try.
Looks to me like some up-state stockholder who wants to know when
Corrugated common will strike 110."

"Well, that wouldn't be my guess exactly," says I. "What's the name?"

"Dowd," says Vincent, reachin' for a card. "Matthew K"

"Eh," says I. "Mesaba Matt. Dowd? Say, son, your guesser is way out of
gear. You ought to get better posted on the Order of Who-Who's."

"I'm sorry," says Vincent, pinkin' up in the ears. "Is--is he somebody
in particular?"

"Only one of the biggest iron ore men in the game," says I. "That is, he
was until he unloaded that Pittsburgh syndicate a few years ago. Also he
must be a special crony of Old Hickory's. Anyway, he was playin' around
with him down South last month. And here we let him warm a seat out in
the book-agent pen! Social error, Vincent."

"Stupid of me," admits Vincent. "I will--"

"Better let me soothe him down now," says I. "Then I'll get Old Hickory
on the 'phone and tell him who's here."

I will say that I did it in my best private sec. style, too, urgin' him
into the private office while I explains how the boy on the gate
couldn't have read the name right and assurin' him I'd get word to Mr.
Ellins at once.

"He's only having a conference with his attorneys," says I. "I think
he'll be up very, soon. Just a moment while I get him on the wire, Mr.
Dowd."

"Thank you, young man," says Matthew K. "