for two dollars a year, strictly in advance. Of course the merchants

forwarded the orders at once to New York--and never heard of them again.

At the end of some weeks Harry's orders were a drug in the market--nobody

would take them at any discount whatever. The second month closed with a

riot.--Sellers was absent at the time, and Harry began an active absence

himself with the mob at his heels. But being on horseback, he had the

advantage. He did not tarry in Hawkeye, but went on, thus missing

several appointments with creditors. He was far on his flight eastward,

and well out of danger when the next morning dawned. He telegraphed the

Colonel to go down and quiet the laborers--he was bound east for money

--everything would be right in a week--tell the men so--tell them to rely

on him and not be afraid.

Sellers found the mob quiet enough when he reached the Landing.

They had gutted the Navigation office, then piled the beautiful engraved

stock-books and things in the middle of the floor and enjoyed the bonfire

while it lasted. They had a liking for the Colonel, but still they had

some idea of hanging him, as a sort of make-shift that might answer,

after a fashion, in place of more satisfactory game.

But they made the mistake of waiting to hear what he had to say first.

Within fifteen minutes his tongue had done its work and they were all

rich men.--He gave every one of them a lot in the suburbs of the city of

Stone's Landing, within a mile and a half of the future post office and

railway station, and they promised to resume work as soon as Harry got

264

The Gilded Age