When I got out into the street I wasn't as sure of what I had done as I had been when I went into the broker's office; but I had too much nerve to admit that I wished I had my money back in my fist. And I kept my courage the next week, while pork hung just about where it was or maybe went up a few cents. Then it began to slide back just a little--$16.87-1/2, $16.85, $16.80, were the quotations--and so on until it reached $16.50, where it hung for a week. Then it took up its retreat again until it had slid to an even $16. Dick, who congratulated me on my luck, advised me to sell and be content with doubling my money. Strauss was just playing with the street, he said. This was only the end of August: by the middle of September there would be a procession. But my head was set. To be sure, when, after the first of September, pork began to climb, I rather wished I had been content with doubling my money. But I pinned my faith on Carmichael. I didn't believe he was selling yet. For a fortnight at the close of September, pork hung about $16.37-1/2, with little variation either way. Then the last three days of the month, as the time for October deliveries drew near, it began to sag and dropped to $16.10. I hung on. It was well for me that I did. October first Strauss began delivering, and he poured pork into the market by the thousand barrels. Pork dropped, shot down, and touched $13. One morning I called at the broker's office and gave the order to buy. I had cleared four thousand dollars in my deal. It was first blood! There was about five thousand dollars in the bank that day when I went back to the Yards, and I was as proud as a millionnaire. Somehow, I seemed to forget how I had learned the right tip, and thought of myself as a terribly smart young man. Perhaps I looked what I was thinking, for when the manager stepped out of his office a little later and eyed me there was a queer kind of smile on his lips. "What's happened, kid?" he asked, quizzing me. "Been selling any more pork this morning?" Then I suspected that somehow he had learned about my little venture in the market. I was doubtful just how he might take it. "No," I said. "It's the time to buy now, isn't it?" "Covering?" he chuckled. "Well, that's good. Say, some one telephoned out from Cooper's office for you this morning--about a little deal in pork. I answered the 'phone." So that was the way he had learned! That fool Dick had got nervous, and been telephoning to me. "I hope you made it all right," Carmichael added. "You bet," I answered cheerily. And that was all that was ever said about the matter. CHAPTER VII THE BOMB _I become a packer on my own account--What there is in sausage--The Duchess--The Piersons' again--At the Haymarket--The path of the bomb--Another kind of evil_