heavily on them.  Jay Cooke & Co. had been backing Northern Pacific—­were practically doing their best to build that immense transcontinental system alone.  Naturally, they were long on that and hence in a ticklish position.  At the first word they would throw over their surest securities—­government bonds, and the like—­in order to protect their more speculative holdings.  The bears would see the point.  They would hammer and hammer, selling short all along the line.  But he did not dare to do that.  He would be breaking his own back quickly, and what he needed was time.  If he could only get time—­three days, a week, ten days—­this storm would surely blow over.

The thing that was troubling him most was the matter of the half-million invested with him by Stener.  A fall election was drawing near.  Stener, although he had served two terms, was slated for reelection.  A scandal in connection with the city treasury would be a very bad thing.  It would end Stener’s career as an official—­would very likely send him to the penitentiary.  It might wreck the Republican party’s chances to win.  It would certainly involve himself as having much to do with it.  If that happened, he would have the politicians to reckon with.  For, if he were hard pressed, as he would be, and failed, the fact that he had been trying to invade the city street-railway preserves which they held sacred to themselves, with borrowed city money, and that this borrowing was liable to cost them the city election, would all come out.  They would not view all that with a kindly eye.  It would be useless to say, as he could, that he had borrowed the money at two per cent. (most of it, to save himself, had been covered by a protective clause of that kind), or that he had merely acted as an agent for Stener.  That might go down with the unsophisticated of the outer world, but it would never be swallowed by the politicians.  They knew better than that.

There was another phase to this situation, however, that encouraged him, and that was his knowledge of how city politics were going in general.  It was useless for any politician, however loftly, to take a high and mighty tone in a crisis like this.  All of them, great and small, were profiting in one way and another through city privileges.  Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson, he knew, made money out of contracts—­legal enough, though they might be looked upon as rank favoritism—­and also out of vast sums of money collected in the shape of taxes—­land taxes, water taxes, etc.—­which were deposited in the various banks designated by these men and others as legal depositories for city money.  The banks supposedly carried the city’s money in their vaults as a favor, without paying interest of any kind, and then reinvested it—­for whom?  Cowperwood had no complaint to make, for he was being well treated, but these men could scarcely expect to monopolize all the city’s benefits.  He did not know either Mollenhauer or Simpson personally—­but he knew they as well as Butler had made money out of his own manipulation of city loan.  Also, Butler was most friendly to him.  It was not unreasonable for him to think, in a crisis like this, that if worst came to worst, he could make a clean breast of it to Butler and receive aid.  In case he could not get through secretly with Stener’s help, Cowperwood made up his mind that he would do this.