People now thought me plumb crazy. “Uncle Daniel has gone clean off his head," said they. "It's got to be second nature with him to sell stock short. He goes onto the Bear side by force of habit. In this deal he hasn't any more chance than a grasshopper in January. The Commodore has got him this time. He's fixed it so that Drew and his crowd can't manufacture any new stock, and he has roped in all the floating supply that is still on the market. And yet here is Uncle Daniel still offering to deliver the stock in unlimited amounts. Where's he going to get it when these contracts mature? Drew is daft. He's going it blind, and will run his head against a post." Thus they talked. I let them. I was still able to find my way around in a Wall Street transaction — as they soon found out.

By and by the time drew near when these short contracts of mine would mature. (I say (I say "mine.' Of course, Fisk and Gould were with me. But I was the leader of the party, so I speak of it in my own name.) Jimmy came to me and said: "Guess it's about time to play our ace of trumps, don't you think so? We'll make Rome howl." I said I guessed he was right. So we called in Jay. We held a council of war. We decided that the time had come to set off the gunpowder.

Accordingly, we went to a printing-house and got them to print a hundred thousand shares of Erie. (It was those convertible bonds now being turned

into stock.) Of course, the printer could turn out only the blank forms; but since we were the officers of the road, or controlled the officers, such as the Secretary and such-like, we could get any amount of printed blanks signed in legal manner and made thus into good financial paper.

It was a helpful sight to see that printing press work so smooth and fast. For we had only a few days more in which to make our deliveries. All the Street thought we were cornered. In fact, Vanderbilt himself was beginning to tell around that he was going now to clean up the Erie stable inside and out—wasn't going to leave so much as a grease spot of us behind. It was an exciting time. The Street knew that big things were about to happen. For this was a battle of the giants. Vanderbilt and I were the two biggest men in Wall Street. When the two big roosters on the dung-pile cross spurs, there's going to be some feathers flying.

Gould and Fisk stood with me watching the printing press as she turned out for us the bright, new stock certificates. Each one of those sheets of paper was of enormous value to us. Not just because of the amount of money it would bring in dollars. But this was a war, and each of these crisp certificates was a cannon ball, so to speak. If we could pound the Commodore hard enough that he wouldn't have time to recover between the blows but would be forced to knuckle under, then we'd have him at our

mercy, and all of his property also. Besides, with him busted up, there would be a great smash in values, and we on the Bear side of the market would then profit all along the line. It's far more important in a business war to break down the man himself, than to break down any particular piece of his property. Because when the man goes under, all of his fortune is at your disposal. So these bright new sheets of paper looked very beautiful to us. They were just so many additions to our ammunition supply. I could almost have hugged that printing press, she was that friendly to us. Jimmy, of course, had to have his joke.

"That injunction of the Commodore's," said he, "was aimed against the freedom of the press. As freeborn Americans we couldn't stand for that. Give us enough rag paper and we'll hammer the everlasting tar out of that mariner from Staten Island."

"Oh, come now," said Jay; "let's don't get rambunctious. We're not out of the woods yet. Our contracts to deliver the stock are rapidly maturing. We have engaged to hand over to the Commodore such enormous blocks of it that I can't sleep nights, thinking of it. And something may happen yet to get in our way."

"Happen!" said Jimmy, and he was as calm as a cat with kittens; "I'd like to see anything happen! If this printing press don't break down, we'll give the old hog all the Erie he wants."

I scolded him. But in my heart I was glad to have a partner who was so cock-sure. For we were in a ticklish place. If any hitch should come, we would certainly find ourselves in the tightest corner a man was ever in, and got out alive. Jimmy's spirit kept us in heart. Fortunately, the printing press didn't break down. It kept on with its klickety-klack, smooth as clock-work. As fast as the blank certificates were turned out and the printer's ink had dried, Fisk took them and made them valid by putting in the proper signatures. "The Devil has got hold of me," he remarked; "I might as well keep on signing." Soon the entire issue was finished, and tied up in a neat bundle at the Company's office. The stock was now good financial paper.

But there was still a danger. And because the amounts at stake were so high, we determined to take no chances. The Commodore might hear that our printing press had been once more at work, and get his judge to enforce his injunction, by attaching this new bunch of Erie shares. In which case we wouldn't have time to print any more; for our deliveries were maturing the very next day. The Commodore's judge was in New York City, right at the seat of war. Whereas our judge was way out in Binghamton; so that the Commodore could act more quickly than we; and this was a time when minutes would count.

So we took measures. The new stock was over in the Erie office on West Street. We tied up the books of newly printed certificates in a neat paper bundle. Then we called the office boy and told him to take that bundle over to the Transfer Office on Pine Street. He started out with it. When he was just outside the door, something happened. He returned empty-handed, and white as a sheet. He said that a man — a big blonde individual, with a yellowish moustache and a large shirt front-had rushed upon him whilst he was in the hall, grabbed the bundle from him, and had whisked off with it before he could say "boo."

"Dear, dear!" said the Secretary (he was the one who had been enjoined from issuing this stock) "that's too bad!" But he told the boy not to mind; he had done his best, anyhow; it wasn't his fault; and sent him back to his desk. We all pretended to be het up over the matter; but we were pretty calm inside. Because we could have made a pretty close guess as to who had grabbed the bundle away from the boy. But, of course, if it had come to the taking of evidence in court, the Secretary could now clear his skirts; because the stock had been snatched out of his keeping. That same afternoon those shares turned up at the office of our broker. He parcelled fifty thousand of them out to his subagent in ten-thousand share lots. Now we were ready for operations.