"Yes," said I. "Pay him the $5,000 down and sign a contract to pay the balance in 60 or 90 days; but fetch him back to Goldfield, and have him bring the deeds." A few days later Sullivan returned to Goldfield, aglow with excitement. Climbing out of the stage-coach, he pulled me into his private office. "Say," he said, "I've got that guy with me and he's got the deeds. I bought the Jumping Jack for $45,000. He'll do anything you want him to do." "Good!" I said. The owner was introduced to me, and I turned him over to my lawyer, the late Senator Pyne. Mr. Pyne drew up a paper by which the transferred title of the property to the Jumping Jack Manhattan Mining Company, capitalized for 1,000,000 shares, 300,000 shares of which were placed in the treasury for mining purposes, and 700,000, representing ownership stock, put in escrow, to be delivered to Sullivan and myself on the payment of 6-1/2 cents a share. A board of directors was selected. At this juncture Sullivan, who knew as much about the mining promotion and mining-brokerage business as an ostrich knows about ocean tides, inquired what my next move would be. Sullivan seemed to be bewildered, yet full of faith. My situation was this: I had conceived a rip-snorting promotion campaign for the best property that had yet been offered the public from Manhattan, but I had no cash to present it. Turning to Sullivan I said: "Do you know the Goldfield manager of the Western Union Telegraph Company?" "Yes, I know him well." "Call him up by 'phone or send word to him that you will guarantee payment of any telegrams I file here to-night or during the next three days; I want to send some wires," said I. "I'll do it," said Sullivan, and within a few minutes I was advised that Sullivan's credit was unquestioned. I returned to the news bureau and there drafted a 300-word telegram, setting forth the merits of the Jumping Jack Manhattan property and offering short-time options on big blocks of the stock. The message was sent to practically all of the well-known brokerage houses in the country which handled mining stocks. The bill for telegraph tolls was $1,200. When Sullivan learned of its size he nearly collapsed. "How far do you intend to go?" he gasped. "Well," said I, "how can you lose? Your friend, Frank Golden, president of the Nye & Ormsby County Bank, has accepted the presidency of the company at our request, and the other officers we have secured are all representative citizens of this community, and, besides, the Nye & Ormsby County Bank has agreed to receive subscriptions. Can you beat that for a layout? Never in my experience in this camp, with all the promotions I have advertised, has the public had a dish quite so palatable offered to it--a producing mine, in the first place; a high-class directorate headed by a bank president, in the second place; and a real bank as selling agent, in the third and last place. And it will go like wildfire!"