It was a cool evening, but Jared Whitemore was in his shirt sleeves, and, although the windows were down at the top, his face was red and he was perspiring furiously. A half-smoked cigar projected between his lips, and several discarded stumps lay on a lacquer tray that held one of the hotel pitchers of ice water. “You have the government report on the visible supply in that bundle, have you?” asked Jared Whitemore, as soon as he became aware of the boy’s presence in the room. “Yes, sir.” “Let me have it,” with an impatient gesture. Vance had it before his employer in a twinkling. “Your notes, please,” said the operator, after he had studied the report for several minutes. The boy laid them before him. “Put the pamphlets down there. Now, take the evening paper and go over there by the window and sit down.” Vance did so, and there was perfect silence in the room for the next half hour, when it was broken by a knock on the door. “See who that is,” almost snapped Whitemore, jerking his thumb in the direction of the entrance. Vance found a telegraph boy outside, signed for the yellow envelope and brought it to his employer. Two more dispatches arrived before the little marble clock on the mantel chimed the hour of nine. Another half hour of almost perfect silence ensued, during which two more cigar stumps were added to the collection on the dish; and Vance was beginning to wonder why he was being held there by Mr. Whitemore, when the operator rose from his seat, mopped his forehead with his familiar bandana handkerchief and then sat down again. “Vance.” “Yes, sir,” answered the boy, springing up. “Come here.” The tones were short, sharp and incisive. “Sit down here alongside of me.” Vance obeyed this order with military promptness. “When can you start for Omaha?” “Sir!” said the boy, almost speechless from amazement. “I asked you when you could leave for Omaha?” repeated the operator, brusquely. “By the eight o’clock train in the morning, if you particularly wish it,” answered the astonished lad. “Very well; make your arrangements to that effect. Now, Vance, I want to speak to you. Heretofore I have always closed my dealings with the elevator people through Mr. Vyce. For reasons which I need not discuss with you I am going to send you to do the business for me this time.” The boy’s eyes expanded to the size of saucers at this information. It simply meant a most remarkable expression of confidence on Mr. Whitemore’s part in his youthful office assistant. Confidence not only in the boy’s business sagacity, but even more so in his integrity, for he would be obliged to handle checks signed in blank for a very large sum of money; just how large would, of course, depend on the amount of corn the options covered. That it ran into several millions of bushels the lad already knew.