This was a wild jump from the three hundred and twenty-five that was marked against the stock at the close on Saturday, but I supposed the King of the Street knew what he was about. At the bid of Doddridge Knapp a few cries rose here and there, and he was at once the center of a group of gesticulating brokers. Then I saw Decker, pale, eager, alert, standing by the rail across the room, signaling orders to men who howled bids and plunged wildly into the crowd that surrounded his rival. The bids and offers came back and forth with shouts and barks, yet they made but a murmur compared to the whirlwind of sound that had arisen from the pit at the former struggles I had witnessed. There seemed but few blocks of the stock on the market. Yet the air was electric with the tense strain of thousands of minds eager to catch the faintest indication of the final result, and I found it more exciting than the wildest days of clamor and struggle. “This is great,” chuckled Wallbridge, taking post before me. “There hasn't been anything like it since Decker captured Chollar in the election of seventy-three. You don't remember that, I guess?” “I wasn't in the market then,” I admitted. “Lord! Just to hear that!” cried the stout little man, mopping his glistening head frantically and quivering with nervous excitement. “Doddridge Knapp bids fifteen hundred for the stock and only gets five shares. Oh, why ain't I a chance to get into this?” I heard a confused roar, above which rose the fierce tones of Doddridge Knapp. “How many shares has he got to-day?” I asked. “Not forty yet.” “And the others?” “There's been about two thousand sold.” I gripped the rail in nervous tension. The battle seemed to be going against the King of the Street. “Oh!” gasped Wallbridge, trembling with excitement. “Did you hear that? There! It's seventeen hundred--now it's seventeen-fifty! Whew!” I echoed the exclamation. “Oh, why haven't I got ten thousand shares?” he groaned. “Who is getting them?” “Knapp got the last lot. O-oh, look there! Did you ever see the like of that?” I looked. Decker, hatless, with hair disheveled, had leaped the rail and was hurrying into the throng that surrounded Doddridge Knapp. “There was never two of 'em on the floor before,” cried Wallbridge. At Decker's appearance the brokers opened a lane to him, the cries fell, and there was an instant of silence, as the kings of the market thus came face to face. I shall never forget the sight. Doddridge Knapp, massive, calm, forceful, surveyed his opponent with unruffled composure. He was dressed in a light gray-brown suit that made him seem larger than ever. Decker was nervous, disheveled, his dress of black setting off the pallor of his face, till it seemed as white as his shirt bosom, as he fronted the King of the Street.