ng of the girl. Somebody ran into him and the two came near
going down in a heap together.

"Hello, Fred! I'm in a hurry!" exclaimed the other.

It was Bob!

"Well, don't you know me well enough not to try to run over or through
me? You can save time by running around me every time."

But Bob was off like a flash, and Fred judged by that B. & H. was
humming, for Manson was booming it and Bob was his messenger. Seeing two
brokers talking near the New street entrance, Fred went over near enough
to hear one say:

"It will go to 70 to-morrow and somebody will be burnt."

"Yes, I think so, too,"

The Exchange closed for the day, and Fred went around to meet Bob again.
He met Manson at the foot of the stairs, his face flushed from the
excitement of his tremendous battle in the Exchange.

"Ah!" the big broker exclaimed. "I see you caught another thief to-day.
Why don't you turn detective? It seems to be your forte."

"I'd rather be a broker, sir," Fred replied.

"A broker, eh?" and Manson looked him full in the eyes. "Think you have
nerve enough for that?"

"Yes, sir. I've got nerve enough. It's money I want."

Manson laughed and shook his head.

"We all want money. That's what we are here for. But there are more
losers than winners."

"What one man loses another one wins," said Fred.

"Of course, but one man sometimes wins from a thousand at one turn, so
you see there are always more losers than winners," and the big broker
went on up to his office, leaving Fred at the foot of the stairs waiting
for Bob.

He was quietly waiting there and watching people come and go when he was
startled by a cry above. He glanced up and saw some one falling from the
upper floor and sprang aside just in time to escape being crushed. It
was a messenger boy from Broker Tracey's office.

"Oh, Lord!" gasped Fred. "He must be killed!" and he sprang forward to
pick him up.

The boy was unconscious. Instantly a dozen brokers were on hand to
render aid. Broker Tracey came running down to see about him and get the
telegram the boy was sent out with. Bob came hurrying down too.

"This is too bad," said Tracey. "I am sorry. He is a good messenger.
Janitor! Janitor!"

The janitor came and by that time the boy had recovered consciousness.
He groaned in agony. The physician, whose office was in the building,
examined him.

"Left arm and leg broken," he said.

"Lord, but I am sorry. Doctor, take charge of him, see him through and