“I told you we’d get this, Sam,” he said, nodding to the broker.

“Oh, there’s plenty of wheat,” answered Gretry, easily. “Wait till we get dollar wheat⁠—if we do⁠—and see it come out. The farmers haven’t sold it all yet. There’s always an army of ancient hayseeds who have the stuff tucked away⁠—in old stockings, I guess⁠—and who’ll dump it on you all right if you pay enough. There’s plenty of wheat. I’ve seen it happen before. Work the price high enough, and, Lord, how they’ll scrape the bins to throw it at you! You’d never guess from what out-of-the-way places it would come.”

“I tell you, Sam,” retorted Jadwin, “the surplus of wheat is going out of the country⁠—and it’s going fast. And some of these shorts will have to hustle lively for it pretty soon.”

“The Crookes gang, though,” observed Landry, “seem pretty confident the market will break. I’m sure they were selling short this morning.”