On the rear deck of a ferry-boat bound for Hoboken on the morning of May 12th stood Randolph Taney, with his hands in his pockets, gazing intently at the foaming waters of the Hudson plowed up by the screw. It was all over: he had speculated in Wall Street, putting his money on Harriman, and had lost every cent he had. What Harriman could safely do with a million, Randolph Taney could not do with a quarter of a million. That's why he had lost. Fortunately only his own money. The whole bundle of papers wasn't worth any more than the copy of the _Times_ tossed about in the swirling water in the wake of the boat. Randolph Taney kept on thinking. Just why he was going to Hoboken he really didn't know, but it made little difference what he did. "Halloo, Taney," called out an acquaintance, "where are you going?" "I don't know." "You don't know? How's that?" "I'm done for." "You're not the only one; Wall Street is a dangerous vortex." "But I'm absolutely cleaned out." "How so?" "Do you know what I'm going to do, James Harrison?" asked Taney, with bitter irony in his voice. "I'll apprentice myself to a paperhanger, and learn to paper my rooms with my worthless railway shares. I imagine I can still learn that much." "Ah, that's the way the wind blows!" cried the other, whistling softly. "What did you think?" "It was pretty bad, I suppose?" "Bad? It was hell----" "Were you in Wall Street on Monday?" "Yes, and on Tuesday, too." "And now you want to learn paperhanging?" "Yes." "Does it have to be that?" "Can you suggest anything else?" "Yes." "Well?" Hubert pointed to the button-hole in the lapel of his coat and said: "Do you see this?" "What is it?" "A volunteer button." Taney looked with interest at the little white button with the American flag, and then said: "Have I got to that point? The last chance, I suppose?" he added after a pause. "Not the last, but the first!" "How so?" "At any rate it's better than paperhanging. Look here, Taney, you'll only worry yourself to death. It would be far more sensible of you to take the bull by the horns and join our ranks. You can at least try to retrieve your fortunes by that means." The ferry-boat entered the slip at Hoboken and both men left the boat. "Now, Taney, which is it to be, paperhanging or--," and James Harrison pointed to the button. "I'll come with you," said Taney indifferently. They went further along the docks towards the Governor's Island ferry-boat. "I have a friend over there," said Harrison, "a major in the 8th Regulars; he'll be sure to find room for us, and we may be at the front in a month's time." Taney stuffed his pipe and answered: "In a month? That suits me; I have no affairs to arrange."