Some one had clearly come to Mr. Whitemore’s rescue.
It apparently was some one able to resist the great bear clique.
He must have recovered in time to furnish Vance Thornton with the sinews of war to carry on the fight until he could get down himself.
If this was true, then Jarboe, Willicutt & Co. had made a big blunder.
Not only had they placed themselves in a bad light with their old client, but they were liable to face a big loss, since they knew only too well that if the Whitemore forces were still back of the fight they stood a poor chance of getting any corn when they wanted it.
So Jarboe hastened to try and square himself.
He made a personal call on Vance.
“I received your letter,” said the boy coldly when the big broker had been admitted to Mr. Whitemore’s sanctum, where Vance now ruled supreme. “The only thing for me to do was to hire a new broker. I have done so. From the looks of things,” he said, with a significant smile, “I still hold a grip on the market in spite of the Jarrett, Palmer & Carrington clique.”
Bessie knocked at the door, then entered and laid a slip on the desk before Vance.
“I have bought over three million bushels this morning, and I am ready and anxious to take in every grain that may be offered.”