The two men looked across in silence at Manhattan Island, where the buildings were piled up in huge terraces. All the color-tones were accentuated in the bright clear morning air. The sky-scrapers of the Empire City, mighty turreted palaces almost reaching into the clouds, stood out like gigantic silhouettes. The dome of the Singer Building glistened and glittered in the sun, crowning a region in which strenuous work was the order of the day, while directly before them stretched the broad waters of the Hudson with its swarm of hurrying ferry-boats. Further on, between the piers and the low warehouses, could be seen a long row of serious-looking ocean-steamers, whose iron lungs emitted little clouds of steam as the cranes fed their huge bodies with nice little morsels. The two men had seen this picture hundreds of times, but were impressed once again by its grandeur. "Taney," said Harrison, "isn't that the most beautiful city in the world? I've been around the world twice, but I've never seen anything to equal it. That's our home, and we are going to protect it by shouldering our guns. Come on, old chap, leave everything else behind and come with me!" "Yes, I'll come, I certainly shall!" came the quick response. Then they took the boat to Governor's Island and Taney enlisted. They promised to make him a lieutenant when the troops took the field. When they returned two hours later Randolph Taney also wore the button with the flag in the center: he was a full-fledged volunteer in the United States Army. On the return trip Taney became communicative, and told the story of the eighth of May, that terrible day in Wall Street when billions melted away like butter, when thousands of persons were tossed about in the whirlpool of the Stock Exchange, when the very foundations of economic life seemed to be slipping away. He described the wild scenes when desperate financiers rushed about like madmen, and told how some of them actually lost their reason during the bitter struggle for existence, when not an inch of ground was vacated without resistance. Men fought for every projecting rock, every piece of wreckage, every straw, as they must have fought in the waves of the Flood, and yet one victim after another was swallowed by the vortex. In the midst of the mad scrimmage on the floor of the Exchange one excited individual, the general manager of a large railroad--with his hair disheveled and the perspiration streaming down his face, one of his sleeves ripped out and his collar torn off--suddenly climbed on a platform and began to preach a confused sermon accompanied by wild gestures; others, whose nerves were utterly unstrung by the terrible strain, joined in vulgar street-songs.