“The idea,” exclaimed Jadwin, incredulously, “the idea of selling short in face of this Argentine collapse, and all this Bull news from Europe!”

“Oh, there are plenty of shorts,” urged Gretry. “Plenty of them.”

Try as he would, the echoes of the rumbling of the Pit reached Jadwin at every hour of the day and night. The maelstrom there at the foot of La Salle Street was swirling now with a mightier rush than for years past. Thundering, its vortex smoking, it sent its whirling far out over the country, from ocean to ocean, sweeping the wheat into its currents, sucking it in, and spewing it out again in the gigantic pulses of its ebb and flow.