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Updated: May 16, 2025
Gallivant rushed as fast as his legs could carry him, only to learn that Thwicket had just gone out asking every man he met if he had seen Gallivant. The lawyer was in despair. He glanced at the ticker "Snap. Col. 134-1/2!" "Heavens!" he shrieked, "will nobody seize that crazy Thwicket and hold him till I come!" He ran at full speed to the broker's office.
It can't go on like this much longer. It'll break in half an hour, 'gad, I know it will I feel it in my bones! If Thwicket doesn't sell inside of thirty minutes I'm a goner, and what's worse, he'll be a goner with me! What's this! 117! By the great horn spoon, I must get hold of Thwicket! Thwicket! Thwicket! My kingdom for Thwicket!" Mr.
He chanced to meet Thwicket on the street, and they greeted each other effusively. "Where under the sun have you been for the last month or so?" exclaimed the broker. "I haven't seen a thing of you." "Oh, I've been around," answered Mr. Gallivant, with a general wave of the hand. Mr. Thwicket's face assumed a reproachful look.
"I don't think you have very much money of mine here, Thwicket?" he continued, as he slowly wrote the date-line in the check. "Don't think we have. Robert, what is Mr. Gallivant's balance?" The clerk turned over his ledger and presently replied: "Mr. Gallivant has a credit of $382.22." "I don't think we'll bother with Snapshot Consolidated, Thwicket. Truth is, I'm afraid of it.
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