Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Psychological fiction; Wheat trade -- Fiction
"Have you got it?" he demanded of Jadwin, as he took the slip back.
"Won't forget it?" He twisted the paper into a roll and burned it
carefully in the office cuspidor.
"Now," he remarked, "do you come in? It's just the two of us, J., and I
think we can make that Porteous clique look very sick."
"Hum!" murmured Jadwin surprised. "That does give you a twist on the
situation. But to tell the truth, Sam, I had sort of made up my mind to
keep out of speculation since my last little deal. A man gets into this
game, and into it, and into it, and before you know he can't pull
out--and he don't want to. Next he gets his nose scratched, and he hits
back to make up for it, and just hits into the air and loses his
balance--and down he goes. I don't want to make any more money, Sam.
I've got my little pile, and before I get too old I want to have some
fun out of it."
"But lord love you, J.," objected the other, "this ain't speculation.
You can see for yourself how sure it is. I'm not a baby at this
business, am I? You'll let me know something of this game, won't you?
And I tell you, J., it's found money. The man that sells wheat short on
the strength of this has as good as got the money in his vest pocket
already. Oh, nonsense, of course you'll come in. I've been laying for
that Bull gang since long before the Helmick failure, and now I've got
it right where I want it. Look here, J., you aren't the man to throw
money away. You'd buy a business block if you knew you could sell it
over again at a profit. Now here's the chance to make really a fine
Bear deal. Why, as soon as this news gets on the floor there, the price
will bust right down, and down, and down. Porteous and his crowd
couldn't keep it up to save 'em from the receiver's hand one single
minute."
"I know, Sam," answered Jadwin, "and the trouble is, not that I don't
want to speculate, but that I do--too much. That's why I said I'd keep
out of it. It isn't so much the money as the fun of playing the game.
With half a show, I would get in a little more and a little more, till
by and by I'd try to throw a big thing, and instead, the big thing
would throw me. Why, Sam, when you told me that that wreck out there
mumbling a sandwich was Hargus, it made me turn cold."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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