t. He was a loser in that deal to
the tune of some $20,000, and this sudden and unexpected discovery of
where it had gone was a shock to him.

"Well, I'm jiggered!" he exclaimed, looking at Allison. "I've been
thirty years in Wall Street and these are the first boy bankers I ever
saw."

"They are the first I ever saw, too, sir," said Allison, "and I've been
thirty-five years in the Street. They've both got good heads on their
shoulders."

"Just come in here and let me show you something. Mr. Tracey," said Bob,
leading the way into the private office of the former bankers. "I want
to show you some fleece we have on exhibition," and he pointed to a
large bunch of white wool hanging to a hook on the wall above his desk,
labeled:

"JAMES BRYANT,
"M. & C. fleece."

The old broker roared.

"Say, I hope you won't hang mine up that way!" he exclaimed.

"We have too much respect for you to do that sir."

"How about Manson?"

"Oh, we got a good lot off him, but I was once in his employ."

"Well, I'm glad you haven't got mine hung up," and he went out, laughing
heartily.

In an hour the whole Street had the news, and scores of brokers came by
to look in at the two boys. They were all amused, for they laughed and
joked each other about it.

Half an hour later a wave of jolly laughter went through the Street as
the fleece story was told. Bryant was guyed till he had to shut himself
up in his office and refuse to see any one. Manson came in and whispered
to Bob to drop that Bryant's fleece business, adding:

"He has a host of friends in Wall Street, and it will hurt your business
to make an enemy of him."

"He is already my enemy," Bob replied, "and had me discharged from your
employ. I will never let up on him as long as I live."

Just before business closed Bryant rushed into the office and said:

"I want to see the bunch of wool you have here with my name on it."

"Here it is," said Bob, opening the door of the private office and
pointing to the wool hanging against the wall.

Bryant grabbed it and started to the door with it. Bob opened the drawer
of the desk, took out a revolver, and aiming at him, said:

"Here's something to go with it."

Bryant wheeled around and found himself looking down the muzzle of the
revolver.

CHAPTER VIII.--Broker Bryant and the Boys.

When Broker Bryant saw the muzzle of a revolver staring him in the face
he turned white as a sheet.

"Just drop that fleec