"How do you know that?"
"Mr. Manson is going to buy up all the stock. He has millions behind him. The stock will go up, up, up, till it topples over on the lambs. Oh, I've seen it done a dozen times. If I had one hundred dollars, I'd put it up on ten percent margin–every dollar of it–and scoop in three hundred dollars inside of a week."
"Say, Bob, I've got the 'scads.'"
"Eh! Huh?" and Bob stopped and stared at him.
"I've got the 'chink,' the 'rhino,' the hundred dollars," and Fred told him the story of what had taken place in the bank but a short half hour before.
Bob was staggered.
"Git a hundred quick, Fred. Mr. Tabor will buy on a margin for us."
"Come on. I'll do it," and Fred hurried back to the bank and sent word in to Mr. Barron that he wanted $100 more of his money.
It was sent out to him, and he and Bob ran round to Broker Tabor's office. It lacked but ten minutes of three o'clock.
"Mr. Tabor, will you buy on a margin for us?" Bob asked the broker.