"
"All right," says Buck. And then he goes through the inside door into
the main office and looks at the gang trying to squeeze through the
railing. Atterbury and his hat was gone. And Buck makes 'em a short
speech.
"All you lambs get in line. You're going to get your wool back. Don't
shove so. Get in a line--a _line_--not in a pile. Lady, will you
please stop bleating? Your money's waiting for you. Here, sonny,
don't climb over that railing; your dimes are safe. Don't cry, sis;
you ain't out a cent. Get in _line_, I say. Here, Pick, come and
straighten 'em out and let 'em through and out by the other door."
Buck takes off his coat, pushes his silk hat on the back of his head,
and lights up a reina victoria. He sets at the table with the boodle
before him, all done up in neat packages. I gets the stockholders
strung out and marches 'em, single file, through from the main room;
and the reporter man passes 'em out of the side door into the hall
again. As they go by, Buck takes up the stock and the Gold Bonds,
paying 'em cash, dollar for dollar, the same as they paid in.
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