I had been sitting in my office, letting the tape slide through my fingers
while its every yard spelled "panic" in a constantly rising voice, when
they told me that Brownley on the floor of the Exchange wanted me at the
'phone, and "quick." Brownley was our junior partner and floor man. He
talked with a rush. Stock Exchange floor men in panics never let their
speech hobble.

"Mr. Randolph, it's sizzling over here, and it's getting hotter every
second. It's Bob--that is evident to all. If he keeps up this pace for
twenty minutes longer, the sulphur will overflow 'the Street' and get
into the banks and into the country, and no man can tell how much
territory will be burned over by to-morrow. The boys have begged me to ask
you to throw yourself into the breach and stay him. They agree you are the
only hope now."

"Are you sure, Fred, that this is Bob's work?" I asked. "Have you seen
him?"

"Yes, I have just come from his office, and glad I was to get out. He's on
the war-path, Mr. Randolph--uglier than I ever saw him. The last time he
broke loose was child's play to his mood to-day. Mother sent me word this
morning that she saw last night the spell was coming. He had been up to
see her and sisters, and mother thought from his tone he was about to
disappear again. When she told me of his mood, and I remembered the day, I
was afraid he might seek his vent here. Also I heard of his being about
town till long after midnight. The minute I opened his office door this
morning he flew at me like a panther. I told him I had only dropped in on
my rounds for an order, as they were running off right smart, and I didn't
know but he might like to pick up some bargains. 'Bargains!' he roared,