John laid the paper on his desk, and for some time pored over it in silence. “I don’t want any more lard,” he said at length; “I’ve got enough now to last quite a while. And I don’t want to go into the soap business, either; yet I don’t see that I have much choice if I make the loan. All your convertible securities are pledged already.” Still he studied the schedule earnestly, and Pickering was silent. At last the Banker said,-- “If you will give me a judgment note for it, I’ll let you have the money.” Pickering reddened. “I’m not bankrupt,” he said, “nor going to be. I’d rather give a man a check signed in blank than a judgment note. It’s as bad as a death-warrant, with everything filled in but the date.” “Of course,” said John, “it puts you entirely in my hands. If you’re afraid of me, you’d better not take the loan. That’s the only security I’ll take.” Pickering relighted his stogy and gazed meditatively out of the window. “All right,” he said at length, with a dry laugh, “give me the blank and I’ll sign it. I guess I’m about as safe in your hands as I am in my own.” While he was making out the note there came a knock at the door. “Mr. Dawson is here to see you, Mr. Bagsbury,” said the cashier. “Come in, Mr. Dawson,” said John, rising. “You know Mr. Pickering?” Under his heavy white brows Dawson’s eyes twinkled. “You are giving us plenty to think about these days, Mr. Pickering.” He seated himself heavily, mopped his red face with a redder handkerchief, and ran his hand through his thick white hair. Dawson had accumulated plenty of treasure on earth; but I think that all unconsciously he had been laying up a greater treasure in heaven, if a life of courage and honesty and the wisest optimism counts for anything, and the long file of men his kindly help saved from financial ruin and worse are to be permitted to testify. There was no sentimentality about him: he was hard-handed as an old sailor; but many a practical man of business to-day can hardly speak of him dry-eyed. “You are making a great fight,” he went on, still addressing Pickering, “and I half believe you stand a chance to win.” The other men laughed. “I’m more hopeful,” said Pickering. “I fully expect to win. The Bear took his pounding badly yesterday, and to-day I’m making him sweat to protect his margins.” “I’m not trying to discourage you,” Dawson answered; “but until Sponley is actually busted, and his accounts are closed out, the chances are always in his favor. He makes an effort to play square; but he plays to win, and I don’t believe he ever went into a game of this kind without an extra ace about him somewhere.” “He’d better get it out of his sleeve pretty quick, then,” said the soap-maker. “He will,” retorted Dawson. “He’ll bear watching--by both of you. “You’ve been making Mr. Pickering another loan, I take it,” he went on, addressing John Bagsbury. Both men nodded.