Part 11 (1/2)

There were thousands of dollars in every yell they let out, they talked signs like they were deaf and dumb, and every time a man held up his right hand it meant: Sold! And they wrote it down on a slip.”

Rimrock paused in his description to make some hurried adjustments as his machine slowed down to a stop, but after a hasty glance he burst into a laugh and settled back in his seat.

”Well, what do we care?” he went on recklessly. ”This desert is all the same. We can sit right here and see it all, and when it comes time to go back I'll shake the old engine up. But as I was telling you, playing the stock market is all right if you've got some one to put you wise.”

”No, it isn't,” she answered positively. ”I've been there and I know.”

”Well, listen to this then,” went on Rimrock eagerly, ”let me show you what Buckbee can do. I dropped in at his office, after I'd received my roll, and he said: 'Want to take a flier?'

”'Sure,' I said, 'here's a thousand dollars. Put it on and see how far it will go.' Well, you can believe me or not, in three days' time he gave me back over two thousand dollars.”

He nodded triumphantly, but the woman beside him shook her head and turned wearily away.

”That's only the beginning,” she answered sadly, ”the end is--what happened to me.”

”What was that?” he asked and she gazed at him curiously with a look he did not understand.

”Well, you can see for yourself,” she said at last, ”this is the first pleasure I've had for a year. I used to have a home with servants to wait on me; and music, and society and all, and when my father died and left me alone I might even then have kept on. But--well, I'll tell it to you; it may make you stop and think the next time you meet one of those brokers. My father was a judge and the ethics of his profession prevented him from speculating in stocks, but he had an old friend, his college cla.s.smate, who had made millions and millions on the Stock Exchange. He was one of the most powerful financiers in New York and when my father died he made the request that Mr. Rossiter should invest my legacy for me. My father knew that the money he left would barely keep me, at the best; and so he asked this old friend of his to see that it was safely invested.

”So when the estate had been administered I went to see Mr. Rossiter and, after discussing different investments, he told me of a plan he had. It seems he was at the head of a tremendous combination that controlled the price of a certain stock and, although it was strictly against the rules, he was going to give me a tip that would double my money in a few weeks. I was afraid, at first, but when he guaranteed me against loss I took all my money to a certain broker and bought forty-three thousand shares. Then I watched the papers and every day I could see the price of it going up. One day it nearly doubled and then it went back, and then stopped and went up and up. In less than a month the price went up from twenty-three cents to nearly fifty and then, just at a time when it was rising fastest, Mr. Rossiter called me to his office again. He took me back into his private room and told me how much he had loved my father. And then he told me that the time had come for me to take my profits and quit; that the market was safe for a man of his kind who was used to every turn of the game, but the best thing for me now was to get my money from my broker and invest it in certain five per cent. bonds. And then he made me promise, as long as I lived, never to buy a share of stock again.”

She paused and sighed.

”Can you guess what I did?” she asked. ”What would you do in a case like that? Well, I went to the broker and sold back my shares and then I stood watching the tape. I had learned to read it and somehow it fascinated me--and my stock was still going up. In less than two hours it had gone up twenty points--it was the only stock that was sold! And when I saw what I could have gained by waiting--what do you think I did?”

”You turned right around,” answered Rimrock confidently, ”and bought the same stock again.”

”No, you're wrong,” she said with a twist of the lips, ”I'm a bigger gambler than that. I put up all my money on a ten-point margin and was called and sold out in an hour. The stock went tumbling right after I bought it and, before I could order them to sell, the price had gone down far below my margin and the brokers were in a panic. They wouldn't stop to explain anything to me--all they said was that I had lost. I went back home and thought it over and decided never to let him know--Mr. Rossiter, I mean; he had been so kind to me, and I hadn't done what he said. I found out afterwards that, shortly after I had left him, he had deliberately wrecked the price; and he, poor man, was thinking all the time, what a favor he had done his old friend's daughter.”

She laughed, short and mirthlessly, and Rimrock sat looking at her, his eyes once more big with surprise. She was not the inexperienced creature he had taken her for, she was a woman with high spots in her career.

”Well, then what did you do?” he enquired at last as she showed no disposition to proceed. ”How'd you come to get out here? Did you know old McBain or----”

”Say, can't you start that engine?” she spoke up sharply. ”Let's go on and forget about the rest. I'm here, we know that; and I only told you what I did to break you of gambling in stocks.”

”No, that engine is stalled,” he said with authority, ”but I'll get it to go, when it's time. But say, tell me something--we're going to be friends, you know--does Rossiter know where you are now?”

”Oh, yes,” she answered, ”I write to him frequently. He thinks I'm out here for my health. I have this trouble, you know, and the doctors advised me to come out where the air is dry.”

”Well, you're a peach,” observed Rimrock admiringly. ”And the old man still thinks you're rich? What'll he say, do you think, when he hears of your latest--getting in on this Tecolote strike?”

”Oh, I won't dare tell him,” she answered quickly. ”I'm afraid he wouldn't approve. And may I make a suggestion? If you'll throw on your spark I think your engine will run.”

”Say, you scare me!” said Rimrock with a guilty grin. ”You're so smart you make me afraid. I'll crank her up, too--do you think that would help some? Huh, huh; I get caught every time!”

CHAPTER IX

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

”Well, well,” remarked Rimrock after he had started his machine and the desert was gliding smoothly by, ”so that's why they call you Miss Fortune, eh? Losing all your money on that stock.”