CHAPTER XVIII.

A LUCKY DEAL.

On the following afternoon Jack Hazard met his chum, as usual, at the corner of Wall Street and Broadway, and the two boys started homeward.

“I believe I owe you something like a hundred dollars,” casually remarked Jack, putting his hand in his pocket and fishing up a roll of bills.

“You owe me what?” exclaimed the astonished Ed.

“One hundred dollars,” replied the young messenger, tersely, “and here it is.”

He held out the bills.

“Oh, come off!” grinned Potter, with an envious glance at the wad.

“Aren’t you going to take ’em?” asked Jack, with a chuckle.

“What’ll I take ’em for? They don’t belong to me.”

“Of course they belong to you. Do you think I’m flinging one hundred dollars of my money at you?”

“I don’t see how they belong to me.”

“You want to get a new memory or you’ll land in the tureen first thing you know, Ed Potter. Some little time ago you told me that you had dropped fifteen dollars on a hundred-to-one shot that Denny McFadden induced you to go up against.”

“That’s right,” admitted Ed.

“Didn’t I promise you then that I would stake you twenty-five dollars’ worth in the next deal I went into on the market?”

“So you did,” Ed suddenly remembered. “And have you really made another play in stocks?”

“Yep; been working a deal these two weeks back.”

“Gee! And you never told me.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“I guess you have.”

“I mean by winning a little stake for you.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Ed.

“I bought seven hundred shares of D. & G. at sixty-three, on the usual ten-per-cent margin, at the rate of about twenty-five dollars for every four shares. I held on to the stock till the shares reached ninety-two, when I got out from under, giving me a profit of twenty-nine dollars per share. Your four shares figure up, less commissions, about one hundred dollars. There it is. Don’t handle it so gingerly; it’s good money. I got it from the Citizens’ Bank.”

“Jack Hazard, you’re a gentleman. But I don’t think I ought to take it,” said Ed, hesitatingly.

“Why not?”

“It’s just like robbing you.”

“Nonsense! I’ve cleaned up twenty thousand dollars by the deal, so I guess I can afford to let you in for a measly little hundred.”

“Twenty thousand dollars!” gasped Potter, in amazement.

“Twenty thousand,” repeated Jack.

“And the other five thousand!”

“Makes twenty-five thousand cash in the Citizens’ Bank, payable at any time on demand, plus five hundred in the Seamen’s Savings, plus one hundred and fifty, representing a dividend I received yesterday from my western mining stock, which I deposited in the Emigrant Savings Bank on Chambers Street.”

“Any more?” asked Ed, in amazement.

“No; that’s all at present. Grand total, twenty-five thousand six hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Why, you’re a rich man.”

“Excuse me. I’m only seventeen. Won’t be a man for four more years yet.”

“That don’t cut any ice with you. It isn’t the legal limit that always makes the man,” said Potter sententiously. “I don’t call Percy Chamberlain a man, and he is over twenty-one.”

“You do me proud, Ed,” said Jack as they turned into East Broadway.

“Don’t mention it. But how did you get the tip this time? Or did you go it on your own judgment?”

“You’ll never guess who put me on to it.”

“Well, I shan’t try.”

“Hartz.”

“My boss!” in surprise.

Jack nodded.

“But, remember, you mustn’t let on to a living soul.”

Then the boy told his companion the story of his second fortunate deal on the stock market.

“Some day you’ll be a multi-millionaire, Jack,” said Ed, looking at him admiringly.

“I hope to keep out of the poorhouse, at any rate.”

“No fear of you going there. I only wish I had your brains and backbone.”

“You mean you wish you knew how to use the brains and backbone you possess yourself.”

“Have it any way you like. Suppose you take this hundred and use it for me when you make your next plunge.”

“I might lose it.”

“I’ll risk that.”

“You’d better talk it over with Annie, and if she says so, I’ll make you a sort of junior partner.”

“No; will you?” asked Ed, eagerly.

“Of course I will.”

By this time the lads had reached the neighborhood of their homes, and accordingly separated, Ed promising to come over to Jack’s house next day.

For many weeks after that the young messenger boy saw no favorable chance to make another venture on the stock market.

He attended faithfully to his duties and was many times commended by Mr. Atherton for strict attention to the firm’s interests.

His salary was raised at Christmas, and he received a handsome present from his boss.

He also received a valuable remembrance from Mr. Seymour Atherton.

Nor was he overlooked by Mr. and Mrs. Bruce, who lived in Chicago, who also enclosed a ruby ring as a gift from little Fanny.

But the present which gave him the most delight of all, though the least valuable in a monetary sense, was a pretty leather pocket-book, with sterling silver trimmings, which came to him from Millie.

What Jack gave her the pretty stenographer showed only to her mother, and then put it away somewhere among her treasures.

At length Jack Hazard’s eighteenth birthday came around.

He had made a few cautious deals in stocks since the beginning of the year.

They had been uniformly successful, though they had not netted him any very considerable profit in proportion to his two former successes.

But he was satisfied, for he had doubled his capital, which was now over $50,000.

He had also succeeded in putting a couple of thousand dollars into his friend Potter’s pocket, much to that young man’s great delight, who expected to marry Jack’s sister in the course of time.

Not only that, but he had used some of Millie’s money to great advantage.

Her salary was not needed now to run the house, as Silas Hockins had come to live with them and attended to that.

As we remarked, Jack reached the age of eighteen.

He received the usual congratulations over the event, but he went about the firm’s business that day just the same as he always did.

He was sitting in his chair in the outside office, waiting to be called on, when Mr. George Warren entered, in no little excitement.

“Is Mr. Atherton in?” asked the millionaire, eagerly.

“I believe he is,” replied Jack. “I will tell him you are here.”

Mr. Warren was admitted to the inner sanctum immediately.

In five minutes the boss’ bell rang, and Jack went to see what he wanted.

“Sit down, Jack,” said Mr. Atherton, much to the boy’s surprise.

The young messenger took a vacant chair and wondered what was coming.

“I think you own five thousand shares of the Gopher Gold Mining Company stock, Jack,” said Mr. Atherton.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you care to sell it?”

“I haven’t thought about such a thing,” replied the lad, in surprise.

“Mr. Warren wishes to buy some of the stock. He will give you fifty dollars a share for your little block.”

“What!” gasped Jack. “Fifty dollars?”

“That’s your offer, isn’t it, Mr. Warren?” said the broker, turning to his customer.

The millionaire nodded.

“Why—why——” was all the boy could say.

“The fact of the matter is, Jack, the Gopher has unexpectedly turned out to be a bonanza of the richest kind. Information has just come out this morning that a new lead has been opened up that promises Monte Cristo results, and the Street is hot on the scent for any stock that is floating about. Mr. Warren came in here to give me a commission to get him some of it if I could. I thought of you. The stock isn’t listed on the Exchange yet, but I understand the application is now before the Board of Governors, who will act favorably on it. What it will be quoted at I do not pretend to guess, but Mr. Warren seems willing to take his chance at fifty. It is up to you whether you will accept or hold it for a higher figure.”

“What would you advise me to do, Mr. Atherton?”

“I think you had better use your own judgment. I believe you are smart enough to decide the right way.”

“You can have the stock at fifty, Mr. Warren,” said Jack, after a moment’s thought.

“All right. Mr. Atherton, I will send you a certified check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, payable to the order of John Hazard, and you may send the certificates to my office.”

“Allow me to congratulate you, Jack. You fully deserve your good fortune. That was a lucky deal you made with the old man.”

“Yes, sir. And if I can find him he shall not want for a dollar as long as he lives,” said the boy, earnestly.

“He’s a fine lad,” remarked Mr. Warren as the young messenger left the private office.

“Millie,” said Jack, stepping up to her, “I want you to congratulate me on my lucky deal.”

“I have just sold those five thousand shares of Gopher Gold Mining Company stock to Mr. Warren.”

“Have you? That’s nice.”

“You don’t ask me how much I got for them,” said the boy, with a mischievous smile.

“I don’t think I have any right to be so inquisitive, Jack.”

“I hope some day, not so far off, that you will accept the right, Millie.”

It was a bold speech, and the girl’s face flushed a deep scarlet.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” he said, almost entreatingly, looking down at the pretty girl with glistening eyes.

There was a pause; then she looked up and said softly:

“How much, Jack?”

“A quarter of a million,” he replied, exultantly.

She looked dazed.

“You don’t mean it!”

“I’ll show you the check when I get it.”


Reader, there is nothing more to be said. Jack got his check that afternoon, and there was a mild kind of high jinks at the little house in the Bronx where the Hazard family had been living for some months. Jack also got Millie Price in due time, and a happier couple does not to-day live in Greater New York. Jack has a little old gentleman living with him whom he rescued from the last stages of want at the Mills Hotel. His name is Tuggs, and Jack and Millie treat him as a valued friend, and the old man is grateful. That purchase of the Gopher Mining Company certificates was for Jack Hazard indeed A LUCKY DEAL.

THE END.


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