“I don’t know who the big Bull is, and I don’t care a curse. But he don’t suit my book. I want him out of the market. We’ve let him have his way now for three or four months. We figured we’d let him run to the dollar mark. The May option closed this morning at a dollar and an eighth.⁠ ⁠… Now we take hold.

“But,” Cressler hastened to object, “you forget⁠—I’m not a speculator.”

Freye smiled, and tapped his friend on the arm.

“I guess, Charlie,” he said, “that there won’t be much speculating about this.”

“Why, gen’lemen,” cried Sweeny, brandishing a fork, “we’re going to sell him right out o’ the market, so we are. Simply flood out the son-of-a-gun⁠—you understand me, gen’lemen?”

Cressler shook his head.