"Wait until I. C. Preferred hits a new low and then we'll buy," said Don.
The flurry dropped I. C. Preferred to forty-seven, and then the agents of Venus Equilateral stepped forth and offered to buy, at the market, all offered stock.
They did.
Then, as no more stock was offered, Interplanetary Communications Preferred rose sharply to ninety-four and stabilized at that figure. Terran Electric stock went through a valley, made by Kingman's sales, and then headed up, made by purchases on Terra, on Mars, and on Venus.
Don said: "Look, fellows, this has gone far enough. We have control again, and a goodly hunk of Terran Electric as well. Enough, I think, to force them to behave like a good little company and stay out of other people's hair. Let's all get together and celebrate."
"Right," echoed the men.
A month later, Joe's was the scene of a big banquet. Barney Carroll stood up and said:
"Ladies and gentlemen, we all know why we're here and what we're celebrating, so I won't have to recount the whole affair. We all think Don Channing is a great guy, and Walt Franks is not far behind, if any. I'm pretty likable myself, and my lifelong sparring partner Jim Baler is no smelt, either. And so on, ad infinitum.
"But, ladies and gentlemen, Don Channing has a dark, deep, dire, desperate phase of his life, one that he will be remembered and cursed for; one that will weigh about his neck like a milestone—or is it millstone?—for all his life.