the spectacle it presented; now a perfect pandemonium, now silent as the grave. Fisk, in his dark back office across the street, with his coat off, swaggered up and down, 'a big cane in his hand,' and called himself the Napoleon of Wall street. He really believed that he directed the movement, and while the street outside imagined that he and Gould were one family, and that his purchases were made for the clique, Gould was silently flinging away his gold at any price he could get for it.
"Whether Fisk really expected to carry out his contract, and force the bears to settle or not, is doubtful, but the evidence seems to show that he was in earnest and felt sure of success. His orders were unlimited. 'Put it up to 150,' was one which he sent to the gold-room. Gold rose to 150. At length the bid was made—'160 for any part of five millions,'—'162 for five millions.' No answer was made and the offer was repeated—'162 for any part of five millions.' A voice replied, 'Sold one million at 62,' The bubble suddenly burst, and within fifteen minutes, amid an excitement without parallel even in the wildest excitements of the war, the clique workers were literally swept away and left struggling by themselves, bidding still 160 for gold in millions which no one would any longer take their word for, while the premium sank rapidly to 135. A moment later the telegraph brought the government order from Washington to sell, and the result was no longer possible to dispute. Mr. Fisk had gone too
