a good fat yoke of steers to do my plowing. Took his money to buy one of 'em with!" He waved a careless arm at the smouldering vessel across the table. They were all gasping, in horror, in disgust. He was a little embarrassed. He sought to smooth the thing over a bit with his next words.
"Eagle shot down with its own feather," he said, hazily recalling something that had seemed very poetic when he read it.
"Wha'd I tell you? Wha'd I tell you!" shouted the oldest director, doing an intricate dance step.
"Hold 'ny Federal?" asked Breede.
"A block or two; several margins of it," said Bean.
"How many shares?"
"Have to ask Kennedy & Balch; they're my brokers. I guess about some seven or eight hundred shares."
"Wha'd I tell you? Wha'd I tell you?" again shouted the oldest director, and, as if despairing of an answer, he swore surprisingly for one of his refined garniture and aroma.
"Find out something in this office?" asked Breede, evenly.
"Why wouldn't I? I found out something the minute you sent people to me with that 'By the way—' stuff. I knew it as quick as you had them breaking their ankles trying to get my fifty shares. Knew it the very minute you sent that—that slinking gazelle to me." He pointed at Tully.
He had not meant to call Tully that. It
