old him Tracey wanted to see Manson.

"He is in his office," Bob replied.

"I'll go after him then," and he darted out of the side door of the
Exchange and hurried around to Manson's office.

"Mr. Manson," he said, "Mr. Tracey told me to bring you to him at once."

"When did he tell you?"

"Just two minutes ago in the Stock Exchange."

Manson arose, put on his hat and went out. Fred followed him, and both
were soon in the midst of the frantic mob of brokers again. Bryant was
the coolest man in the whole crowd. He knew what he was there for and
kept taking all the shares that were offered him. Fred saw Manson and
Tracey meet and go under the gallery for a few moments' consultation. He
kept an eye on them, for he was not sure of their connection with the P.
M. combine. By and by they went out and he followed. In the crowd on the
street he lost sight of them. Then he went back to the office and told
the head clerk.

"Wait here and see if he returns," said the clerk, and he did so.

The broker came back a few minutes before the Exchange closed and sent
Fred to the bank with a big check to deposit. After depositing the check
he turned to look into the president's room. Barron was out, but he saw
through the glass door that Callie was idle. She caught his eye and came
out to speak to him.

"Any news?" he asked.

"No. Mr. Barron told a man just now that he thought P. M. would go to
par to-morrow."

"Then I won't sell to-day."

"Why, no, wait till to-morrow. How much did you put up, Fred?"

"Oh, I had to buy on a margin," he replied.

"Of course. I didn't expect you to do otherwise. Did you put up as much
as fifty dollars?"

"Yes, more," he replied.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "That would get nearly ten shares on ten per
cent, margin. You promised me ten per cent, for the tip, mind you."

"Yes, and you shall have it," he replied, "but don't say a word or you'd
be discharged."

"Oh, I can hold my tongue when I want to," and she turned and went back
into the office.

CHAPTER VI.--Broker Bryant's Mistake.

When Fred returned to the office the Exchange had closed for the day.
Pacific Mail closed at 76. Bob met him at the foot of the stairs,
grasped his hand and said:

"We've struck it rich, Fred!"

"Yes, but you want to keep mum."

"Of course."

They went home and spent the evening together making calculations. Adah
wanted to know why they were making such a lot of figures, and Bob said
to her:

"