was waiting for the war to break, the most terrific battle of the giants that Wall Street had ever known.
When the great battle of the financial giants did begin, Templeton Blaine was in his element. He never left the floor of the Exchange even to eat. Now he was no longer buying. He was a spectator, waiting the propitious moment to unload. He was as happy as a child at his first picnic. He remained all night at his office, not one night but several. Helen had to come to the office to meet him.
"I came down," she said, "because I was anxious to find out if I were still married."
"You are very much married," he declared, as he kissed her. Tm afraid you are married to death."
"Anyway," she said, "I suppose you can take me out to dinner."
"Certainly," he agreed, "we'll go to the Savarin. I'm really hungry tonight."
"That must be a new sensation."
"You are a dear," he told her, "I could eat you up."
"I believe," she mused, "you'd have more real enjoyment eating a railroad."
"Perhaps I would," he grinned, "if it had Harriman sauce."
Then came the mighty battle. Roughshod, the grim warriors, the Harrimans, the Hills, the Morgans, the Schiffs strode into the market, without thought for anybody, crushing little manipulators like beetles. What matter that afterward the two main figures were conscience-stricken?
Northern Pacific leaped up from $110 per share to over a thousand dollars and the street was in panic. Templeton Blaine sold out his holdings and when the battle closed he was many times a millionaire. He was no longer a dwarf. He had walked among giants. He had studied their stride. Until at last a transformation had taken place. He, too, was a giant.
Tom Grogan gave up his position on the police force. No longer did he have to worry over flat feet. He had cleaned up almost fifty thousand dollars. Templeton gave him a position in his office. He liked to have men about him who enjoyed talking about railroads.
34
