Boiled down, the “particulars” for which Davis had been asked, and which he had sent, amounted to this: Colton, it seemed, had sold L. and T. “short” for a considerable period of time in order, as I had surmised, to force down the price and buy in at a reasonable figure. He had sold, in this way, about three-eighths of the common stock. Of this amount he had in his possession--in his broker's possession, that is--but two of the eighths. The “other crowd”--the Consolidated Pacific, presumably--had, as Davis now discovered, three-eighths actual certificates, in its pocket, had been acquiring them, on the quiet, while pretending to have lost interest. The public, unsuspecting powers in this, as in most of Wall Street little games, had still three-eighths. The “other crowd,” knowing “Big Jim's” position, had but to force immediate delivery of the missing one-eighth--the amount of Colton's over-selling--and he might be obliged to pay Heaven knew what for the shares. He MUST acquire them; he must buy them. And the price which he would be forced to pay might mean--perhaps not bankruptcy for him, the millionaire--but certainly the loss of a tremendous sum and all chance of acquiring control of the road. “This has been sprung on us all at once,” wired Davis. “They have got us cold. What shall I do? You must be here yourself before the market opens.” And the man who “must be there himself” was critically ill and unconscious! The long telegram, several hundred words of it, was before us. I read it through again, and Miss Colton sat and looked at me. “Do you understand it--now?” she whispered, anxiously. “Yes, I think I do. . . . What is it, Phin?” “I was just wonderin',” drawled Cahoon's voice from the adjoining room, “if I couldn't eat a little mite of this supper. I've got to do it or have my nose and eyes tied up. Havin' all them good things settin' right where I can see and smell 'em is givin' me the fidgets.” “Yes, yes, eat away,” I said, laughing. And even Miss Colton smiled. But my laugh and her smile were but transient. “Is it--Does it mean that things are VERY wrong?” she asked, indicating the telegram. “They are very serious; there is no doubt of that.” The instrument clicked. “Say, Ros,” said Phin, his mouth full, “this feller's gettin' as fidgety as I was afore I got afoul of this grub. He wants to know what his instructions are. What'll he do?” “What shall you tell him?” asked Miss Colton. “I don't know,” I answered. “I do not know. I am afraid I am of no use whatever. This is no countryman's job. No country banker, even a real one, should attempt to handle this. This is high finance with a vengeance. I don't know. I think he . . . Suppose we tell him to consult the people at your father's office.” She shook her head. “No,” she said. “The people at the office know nothing of it. This was Father's own personal affair. No one knows of it but Mr. Davis.” “How about them instructions?” this from Cahoon.