"You know our river is stopped."
"I do."
"It's been dammed purposely."
The manager had just seated himself, but he leaped up again at these quietly spoken words.
"Nonsense! The source is in Black Cañon."
He made his rejoinder with an air of finality, as though there was no room left for argument.
"Nevertheless, father overheard a conversation between two Wall Street brokers that convinced him that they have paid some bad man to dam the river for a time. It's a certainty, not guesswork."
Mr. Allsoner stared at him in bewilderment.
"I may be dense, Phil, but I fail to see what good damming our river would do to anybody."
"You are dense," smiled the boy. "Don't you see? Silver Bridge river runs dry. Panic in Wall Street, and two-hundred-dollar shares sold in bucketfuls, and bought by the men who have had the river dammed. Then, after, say, a month, when they've got control of every share in the market, down comes the river again, up go the shares to top notch, and they've netted a cool million."