man’s, and none might stand alone.  And Waterman was a despot, imperious and terrible.  “I have taken care of my bank,” said one president; “and I intend to shut myself up in it and wait until the storm is over.”  “If you do,” Waterman retorted, “I will build a wall around you, and you will never get out of it again!” And so the banker contributed the necessary number of millions.

The fight centred around the imperilled Trust Company of the Republic.  It was recognised by everyone that if Prentice’s institution went down, it would mean defeat.  Longer and longer grew the line of waiting depositors; the vaults were nearly empty.  The cashiers adopted the expedient of paying very slowly—­they would take half an hour or more to investigate a single check; and thus they kept going until more money arrived.  The savings banks of the city agreed unanimously to close their doors, availing themselves of their legal right to demand sixty days before paying.  The national banks resorted to the expedient of paying with clearing-house certificates.  The newspapers preached confidence and cheered the public—­even the newsboys were silenced, so that their shrill cries might no longer increase the public excitement.  Groups of mounted policemen swept up and down the streets, keeping the crowds upon the move.

And so at last came the fateful Thursday, the climax of the panic.  A pall seemed to have fallen upon Wall Street.  Men ran here and there, bareheaded and pale with fright.  Upon the floor of the Stock Exchange men held their breath.  The market was falling to pieces.  All sales had stopped; one might quote any price one chose, for it was impossible to borrow a dollar.  Interest rates had gone to one hundred and fifty per cent to two hundred per cent; a man might have offered a thousand per cent for a large sum and not obtained it.  The brokers stood about, gazing at each other in utter despair.  Such an hour had never before been known.

All this time the funds of the Government had been withheld from the Exchange.  The Government must not help the gamblers, everyone insisted.  But now had come the moment when it seemed that the Exchange must be closed.  Thousands of firms would be ruined, the business of the country would be paralysed.  There came word that the Pittsburg Exchange had closed.  So once more the terrified magnates crowded into Waterman’s office.  Once more the funds of the Government were poured into the banks; and from the banks they came to Waterman; and within a few minutes after the crisis had developed, the announcement was made that Dan Waterman would lend twenty-five million dollars at ten per cent.

So the peril was averted.  Brokers upon the floor wept for joy, and cheers rang through all the Street.  A mob of men gathered in front of Waterman’s office, singing a chorus of adulation.