“I bought seven hundred shares of D. & G. at sixty-three, on the usual ten-per-cent margin, at the rate of about twenty-five dollars for every four shares. I held on to the stock till the shares reached ninety-two, when I got out from under, giving me a profit of twenty-nine dollars per share. Your four shares figure up, less commissions, about one hundred dollars. There it is. Don’t handle it so gingerly; it’s good money. I got it from the Citizens’ Bank.” “Jack Hazard, you’re a gentleman. But I don’t think I ought to take it,” said Ed, hesitatingly. “Why not?” “It’s just like robbing you.” “Nonsense! I’ve cleaned up twenty thousand dollars by the deal, so I guess I can afford to let you in for a measly little hundred.” “Twenty thousand dollars!” gasped Potter, in amazement. “Twenty thousand,” repeated Jack. “And the other five thousand!” “Makes twenty-five thousand cash in the Citizens’ Bank, payable at any time on demand, plus five hundred in the Seamen’s Savings, plus one hundred and fifty, representing a dividend I received yesterday from my western mining stock, which I deposited in the Emigrant Savings Bank on Chambers Street.” “Any more?” asked Ed, in amazement. “No; that’s all at present. Grand total, twenty-five thousand six hundred and fifty dollars.” “Why, you’re a rich man.” “Excuse me. I’m only seventeen. Won’t be a man for four more years yet.” “That don’t cut any ice with you. It isn’t the legal limit that always makes the man,” said Potter sententiously. “I don’t call Percy Chamberlain a man, and he is over twenty-one.” “You do me proud, Ed,” said Jack as they turned into East Broadway. “Don’t mention it. But how did you get the tip this time? Or did you go it on your own judgment?” “You’ll never guess who put me on to it.” “Well, I shan’t try.” “Hartz.” “My boss!” in surprise. Jack nodded. “But, remember, you mustn’t let on to a living soul.” Then the boy told his companion the story of his second fortunate deal on the stock market. “Some day you’ll be a multi-millionaire, Jack,” said Ed, looking at him admiringly. “I hope to keep out of the poorhouse, at any rate.” “No fear of you going there. I only wish I had your brains and backbone.” “You mean you wish you knew how to use the brains and backbone you possess yourself.” “Have it any way you like. Suppose you take this hundred and use it for me when you make your next plunge.” “I might lose it.” “I’ll risk that.” “You’d better talk it over with Annie, and if she says so, I’ll make you a sort of junior partner.” “No; will you?” asked Ed, eagerly. “Of course I will.” By this time the lads had reached the neighborhood of their homes, and accordingly separated, Ed promising to come over to Jack’s house next day. For many weeks after that the young messenger boy saw no favorable chance to make another venture on the stock market.