"No," he said, "let him go, let him go.The man is merely mad."But, Jadwin, struggling for a second in the midst of the group that tried to hold him, suddenly flung off the restraining clasps, thrust the men to one side, and rushed from the room.
Gretry dropped into his chair before his desk.
"It's the end," he said, simply.
He drew a sheet of note paper to him, and in a shaking hand wrote a couple of lines.
"Take that," he said, handing the note to the senior clerk, "take that to the secretary of the Board at once."And straight into the turmoil and confusion of the Pit, to the scene of so many of his victories, the battle ground whereon again and again, his enemies routed, he had remained the victor undisputed, undismayed came the "Great Bull." No sooner had he set foot within the entrance to the Floor, than the news went flashing and flying from lip to lip.The galleries knew it, the public room, and the Western Union knew it, the telephone booths knew it, and lastly even the Wheat Pit, torn and tossed and rent asunder by the force this man himself had unchained, knew it, and knowing stood dismayed.
For even then, so great had been his power, so complete his dominion, and so well-rooted the fear which he had inspired, that this last move in the great game he had been playing, this unexpected, direct, personal assumption of control struck a sense of consternation into the heart of the hardiest of his enemies.
Jadwin himself, the great man, the "Great Bull" in the Pit! What was about to happen? Had they been too premature in their hope of his defeat? Had he been preparing some secret, unexpected manoeuvre? For a second they hesitated, then moved by a common impulse, feeling the push of the wonderful new harvest behind them, they gathered themselves together for the final assault, and again offered the wheat for sale; offered it by thousands upon thousands of bushels; poured, as it were, the reapings of entire principalities out upon the floor of the Board of Trade.
Jadwin was in the thick of the confusion by now.And the avalanche, the undiked Ocean of the Wheat, leaping to the lash of the hurricane, struck him fairly in the face.
He heard it now, he heard nothing else.The Wheat had broken from his control.For months, he had, by the might of his single arm, held it back; but now it rose like the upbuilding of a colossal billow.It towered, towered, hung poised for an instant, and then, with a thunder as of the grind and crash of chaotic worlds, broke upon him, burst through the Pit and raced past him, on and on to the eastward and to the hungry nations.
And then, under the stress and violence of the hour, something snapped in his brain.The murk behind his eyes had been suddenly pierced by a white flash.The strange qualms and tiny nervous paroxysms of the last few months all at once culminated in some indefinite, indefinable crisis, and the wheels and cogs of all activities save one lapsed away and ceased.Only one function of the complicated machine persisted; but it moved with a rapidity of vibration that seemed to be tearing the tissues of being to shreds, while its rhythm beat out the old and terrible cadence:
"Wheat--wheat--wheat, wheat--wheat--wheat."Blind and insensate, Jadwin strove against the torrent of the Wheat.There in the middle of the Pit, surrounded and assaulted by herd after herd of wolves yelping for his destruction, he stood braced, rigid upon his feet, his head up, his hand, the great bony hand that once had held the whole Pit in its grip, flung high in the air, in a gesture of defiance, while his voice like the clangour of bugles sounding to the charge of the forlorn hope, rang out again and again, over the din of his enemies:
"Give a dollar for July--give a dollar for July!"With one accord they leaped upon him.The little group of his traders was swept aside.Landry alone, Landry who had never left his side since his rush from out Gretry's office, Landry Court, loyal to the last, his one remaining soldier, white, shaking, the sobs strangling in his throat, clung to him desperately.
Another billow of wheat was preparing.They two--the beaten general and his young armour bearer--heard it coming; hissing, raging, bellowing, it swept down upon them.Landry uttered a cry.Flesh and blood could not stand this strain.He cowered at his chief's side, his shoulders bent, one arm above his head, as if to ward off an actual physical force.
But Jadwin, iron to the end, stood erect.All unknowing what he did, he had taken Landry's hand in his and the boy felt the grip on his fingers like the contracting of a vise of steel.The other hand, as though holding up a standard, was still in the air, and his great deep-toned voice went out across the tumult, proclaiming to the end his battle cry:
"Give a dollar for July--give a dollar for July!"But, little by little, Landry became aware that the tumult of the Pit was intermitting.There were sudden lapses in the shouting, and in these lapses he could hear from somewhere out upon the floor voices that were crying: "Order--order, order, gentlemen."But, again and again the clamour broke out.It would die down for an instant, in response to these appeals, only to burst out afresh as certain groups of traders started the pandemonium again, by the wild outcrying of their offers.At last, however, the older men in the Pit, regaining some measure of self-control, took up the word, going to and fro in the press, repeating "Order, order."And then, all at once, the Pit, the entire floor of the Board of Trade was struck dumb.All at once the tension was relaxed, the furious struggling and stamping was stilled.Landry, bewildered, still holding his chief by the hand, looked about him.On the floor, near at hand, stood the president of the Board of Trade himself, and with him the vice-president and a group of the directors.Evidently it had been these who had called the traders to order.But it was not toward them now that the hundreds of men in the Pit and on the floor were looking.
