“That Sheitlis stock is only a small item, Mawruss.”

“Well, maybe it is,” Morris admitted, “but just you ring up and ask him.  Then, if we find that he sold that gold and silver stock we take a chance on the copper.”

Abe hastened to the telephone in the rear of the store.

“Listen, Abe,” Morris called after him, “tell him it should be no dating or discount, strictly net cash.”

In less than a minute, Abe was conversing with Fiedler.

“Mr. Fiedler!” he said.  “Hello, Mr. Fiedler!  Is this you?  Yes.  Well, me and Mawruss is about decided to buy a thousand of them stocks what you showed me down at your store—­at your office yesterday, only, Mawruss says, why should we buy them goods—­them stocks if you ain’t sold that other stocks already.  First, he says, you should sell them stocks from gold and silver, Mr. Fiedler, and then we buy them copper ones.”

Mr. Fiedler, at the other end of the ’phone, hesitated before replying.  The Texas-Nevada Gold and Silver Mining Corporation was a paper mine that had long since faded from the memory of every bucketshop manager he knew, and its stock was worth absolutely nothing.  Yet Gunst & Baumer, as the promoters of Interstate Copper, would clear at least two thousand dollars by the sale of the stock to Abe and Morris; hence, Fiedler took a gambler’s chance.

“Why, Mr. Potash,” he said, “a boy is already on the way to your store with a check for that very stock.  I sold it for three hundred dollars and I sent you a check for two hundred and seventy-five dollars.  Twenty-five dollars is our usual charge for selling a hundred shares of stock that ain’t quoted on the curb.”

“Much obliged, Mr. Fiedler,” Abe said.  “I’ll be down there with a check for twenty-five hundred.”

“All right,” Mr. Fiedler replied.  “I’ll go ahead and buy the stock for your account.”

“Well,” Abe said, “don’t do that until I come down.  I got to fix it up with my partner first, Mr. Fiedler, and just as soon as I can get there I’ll bring you the check.”

Twenty minutes after Abe had rung off a messenger arrived with a check for two hundred and seventy-five dollars, and Morris included it in the morning deposits which he was about to send over to the Kosciusko Bank.

“While you’re doing that, Mawruss,” Abe said, “you might as well draw a check for twenty-five hundred dollars for that stock.”

Morris grunted.

“That’s going to bring down our balance a whole lot, Abe,” he said.

“Only for a week, Mawruss,” Abe corrected, “and then we’ll sell it again.”

“Whose order do I write it to, Abe?” Morris inquired.

“I forgot to ask that,” Abe replied.

“Gunst & Baumer?” Morris asked.

“They ain’t the owners of it, Mawruss,” said Abe.  “They’re only the brokers.”

“Maybe Sol Klinger is selling it to the stock-exchange people and they’re selling it to us,” Morris suggested.