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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5735-0.txt b/5735-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c29464 --- /dev/null +++ b/5735-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11691 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Valley of the Giants, by Peter B. Kyne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Valley of the Giants + +Author: Peter B. Kyne + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5735] +This file was first posted on August 18, 2002 +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + +By Peter B. Kyne + +Author of Cappy Ricks, The Long Chance, Etc. + +Illustrated by Dean Cornwell + + + + +TO MY WIFE + + + + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + + + +CHAPTER I + + +In the summer of 1850 a topsail schooner slipped into the cove under +Trinidad Head and dropped anchor at the edge of the kelp-fields. Fifteen +minutes later her small-boat deposited on the beach a man armed with +long squirrel-rifle and an axe, and carrying food and clothing in a +brown canvas pack. From the beach he watched the boat return and saw the +schooner weigh anchor and stand out to sea before the northwest trades. +When she had disappeared from his ken, he swung his pack to his broad +and powerful back and strode resolutely into the timber at the mouth of +a little river. + +The man was John Cardigan; in that lonely, hostile land he was the first +pioneer. This is the tale of Cardigan and Cardigan's son, for in his +chosen land the pioneer leader in the gigantic task of hewing a path for +civilization was to know the bliss of woman's love and of parenthood, +and the sorrow that comes of the loss of a perfect mate; he was to know +the tremendous joy of accomplishment and worldly success after infinite +labour; and in the sunset of life he was to know the dull despair of +failure and ruin. Because of these things there is a tale to be told, +the tale of Cardigan's son, who, when his sire fell in the fray, took up +the fight to save his heritage--a tale of life with its love and hate, +its battle, victory, defeat, labour, joy, and sorrow, a tale of that +unconquerable spirit of youth which spurred Bryce Cardigan to lead a +forlorn hope for the sake not of wealth but of an ideal. Hark, then, to +this tale of Cardigan's redwoods: + +Along the coast of California, through the secret valleys and over the +tumbled foothills of the Coast Range, extends a belt of timber of an +average width of thirty miles. In approaching it from the Oregon line +the first tree looms suddenly against the horizon--an outpost, as it +were, of the host of giants whose column stretches south nearly four +hundred miles to where the last of the rear-guard maintains eternal +sentry go on the crest of the mountains overlooking Monterey Bay. Far +in the interior of the State, beyond the fertile San Joaquin Valley, the +allies of this vast army hold a small sector on the west slope of the +Sierras. + +These are the redwood forests of California, the only trees of their +kind in the world and indigenous only to these two areas within the +State. The coast timber is known botanically as sequoia sempervirens, +that in the interior as sequoia gigantea. As the name indicates, the +latter is the larger species of the two, although the fibre of the +timber is coarser and the wood softer and consequently less valuable +commercially than the sequoia sempervirens--which in Santa Cruz, San +Mateo, Marin, and Sonoma counties has been almost wholly logged off, +because of its accessibility. In northern Mendocino, Humboldt, and Del +Norte counties, however, sixty years of logging seems scarcely to have +left a scar upon this vast body of timber. Notwithstanding sixty years +of attrition, there remain in this section of the redwood belt thousands +upon thousands of acres of virgin timber that had already attained +a vigorous growth when Christ was crucified. In their vast, sombre +recesses, with the sunlight filtering through their branches two hundred +and fifty feet above, one hears no sound save the tremendous diapason +of the silence of the ages; here, more forcibly than elsewhere in the +universe, is one reminded of the littleness of man and the glory of his +creator. + +In sizes ranging from five to twenty feet in diameter, the brown trunks +rise perpendicularly to a height of from ninety to a hundred and fifty +feet before putting forth a single limb, which frequently is more +massive than the growth which men call a tree in the forests of +Michigan. Scattered between the giants, like subjects around their king, +one finds noble fir, spruce, or pines, with some Valparaiso live oak, +black oak, pepper-wood, madrone, yew, and cedar. + +In May and June, when the twisted and cowering madrone trees are putting +forth their clusters of creamy buds, when the white blossoms of +the dogwoods line the banks of little streams, when the azaleas and +rhododendrons, lovely and delicate as orchids, blaze a bed of glory, and +the modest little oxalis has thrust itself up through the brown carpet +of pine-needles and redwood-twigs, these wonderful forests cast upon one +a potent spell. To have seen them once thus in gala dress is to yearn +thereafter to see them again and still again and grieve always in the +knowledge of their inevitable death at the hands of the woodsman. + +John Cardigan settled in Humboldt County, where the sequoia sempervirens +attains the pinnacle of its glory, and with the lust for conquest hot in +his blood, he filed upon a quarter-section of the timber almost on the +shore of Humboldt Bay--land upon which a city subsequently was to be +built. With his double-bitted axe and crosscut saw John Cardigan brought +the first of the redwood giants crashing to the earth above which it had +towered for twenty centuries, and in the form of split posts, railroad +ties, pickets, and shakes, the fallen giant was hauled to tidewater in +ox-drawn wagons and shipped to San Francisco in the little two-masted +coasting schooners of the period. Here, by the abominable magic of +barter and trade, the dismembered tree was transmuted into dollars and +cents and returned to Humboldt County to assist John Cardigan in his +task of hewing an empire out of a wilderness. + +At a period in the history of California when the treasures of the +centuries were to be had for the asking or the taking, John Cardigan +chose that which others elected to cast away. For him the fertile wheat +and fruit-lands of California's smiling valleys, the dull placer gold in +her foot-hill streams, and the free grass, knee deep, on her cattle +and sheep-ranges held no lure; for he had been first among the Humboldt +redwoods and had come under the spell of the vastness and antiquity, the +majesty and promise of these epics of a planet. He was a big man with a +great heart and the soul of a dreamer, and in such a land as this it was +fitting he should take his stand. + +In that wasteful day a timber-claim was not looked upon as valuable. The +price of a quarter-section was a pittance in cash and a brief residence +in a cabin constructed on the claim as evidence of good faith to a +government none too exacting in the restrictions with which it hedged +about its careless dissipation of the heritage of posterity. Hence, +because redwood timber-claims were easy to acquire, many men acquired +them; but when the lure of greener pastures gripped these men and +the necessity for ready money oppressed, they were wont to sell their +holdings for a few hundred dollars. Gradually it became the fashion +in Humboldt to “unload” redwood timber-claims on thrifty, far-seeing, +visionary John Cardigan who appeared to be always in the market for any +claim worth while. + +Cardigan was a shrewd judge of stumpage; with the calm certitude of +a prophet he looked over township after township and cunningly +checkerboarded it with his holdings. Notwithstanding the fact that +hillside timber is the best, John Cardigan in those days preferred to +buy valley timber, for he was looking forward to the day when the timber +on the watersheds should become available. He knew that when such timber +should be cut it would have to be hauled out through the valleys where +his untouched holdings formed an impenetrable barrier to the exit! +Before long the owners of timber on the watersheds would come to realize +this and sell to John Cardigan at a reasonable price. + +Time passed. John Cardigan no longer swung an axe or dragged a cross-cut +saw through a fallen redwood. He was an employer of labour now, well +known in San Francisco as a manufacturer of split-redwood products, the +purchasers sending their own schooners for the cargo. And presently John +Cardigan mortgaged all of his timber holdings with a San Francisco bank, +made a heap of his winnings, and like a true adventurer staked his all +on a new venture--the first sawmill in Humboldt County. The timbers for +it were hewed out by hand; the boards and planking were whipsawed. + +It was a tiny mill, judged by present-day standards, for in a +fourteen-hour working day John Cardigan and his men could not cut more +than twenty thousand feet of lumber. Nevertheless, when Cardigan looked +at his mill, his great heart would swell with pride. Built on tidewater +and at the mouth of a large slough in the waters of which he stored the +logs his woods-crew cut and peeled for the bull-whackers to haul with +ox-teams down a mile-long skid-road, vessels could come to Cardigan's +mill dock to load and lie safely in twenty feet of water at low tide. +Also this dock was sufficiently far up the bay to be sheltered from the +heavy seas that rolled in from Humboldt Bar, while the level land +that stretched inland to the timber-line constituted the only logical +townsite on the bay. + +“Here,” said John Cardigan to himself exultingly when a long-drawn wail +told him his circular saw was biting into the first redwood log to be +milled since the world began, “I shall build a city and call it Sequoia. +By to-morrow I shall have cut sufficient timber to make a start. First +I shall build for my employees better homes than the rude shacks and +tent-houses they now occupy; then I shall build myself a fine residence +with six rooms, and the room that faces on the bay shall be the parlour. +When I can afford it, I shall build a larger mill, employ more men, and +build more houses. I shall encourage tradesmen to set up in business in +Sequoia, and to my city I shall present a church and a schoolhouse. We +shall have a volunteer fire department, and if God is good, I shall, at +a later date, get out some long-length fir-timber and build a schooner +to freight my lumber to market. And she shall have three masts instead +of two, and carry half a million feet of lumber instead of two hundred +thousand. First, however, I must build a steam tugboat to tow my +schooner in and out over Humboldt Bar. And after that--ah, well! That is +sufficient for the present.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Thus did John Cardigan dream, and as he dreamed he worked. The city of +Sequoia was born with the Argonaut's six-room mansion of rough redwood +boards and a dozen three-room cabins with lean-to kitchens; and the +tradespeople came when John Cardigan, with something of the largeness of +his own redwood trees, gave them ground and lumber in order to encourage +the building of their enterprises. Also the dream of the schoolhouse +and the church came true, as did the steam tugboat and the schooner with +three masts. The mill was enlarged until it could cut forty thousand +feet on a twelve-hour shift, and a planer and machines for making rustic +siding and tongued-and-grooved flooring and ceiling were installed. More +ox-teams appeared upon the skid-road, which was longer now; the cry of +“Timber-r-r!” and the thunderous roar of a falling redwood grew fainter +and fainter as the forest receded from the bay shore, and at last the +whine of the saws silenced these sounds forever in Sequoia. + +At forty John Cardigan was younger than most men at thirty, albeit he +worked fourteen hours a day, slept eight, and consumed the remaining two +at his meals. But through all those fruitful years of toil he had still +found time to dream, and the spell of the redwoods had lost none of its +potency. He was still checker-boarding the forested townships with his +adverse holdings--the key-positions to the timber in back of beyond +which some day should come to his hand. Also he had competition now: +other sawmills dotted the bay shore; other three-masted schooners +carried Humboldt redwood to the world beyond the bar, over which they +were escorted by other and more powerful steam-tugs. This competition +John Cardigan welcomed and enjoyed, however, for he had been first in +Humboldt, and the townsite and a mile of tidelands fronting on deep +water were his; hence each incoming adventurer merely helped his dream +of a city to come true. + +At forty-two Cardigan was the first mayor of Sequoia. At forty-four he +was standing on his dock one day, watching his tug kick into her berth +the first square-rigged ship that had ever come to Humboldt Bay to load +a cargo of clear redwood for foreign delivery. She was a big Bath-built +clipper, and her master a lusty down-Easter, a widower with one daughter +who had come with him around the Horn. John Cardigan saw this girl come +up on the quarter-deck and stand by with a heaving-line in her hand; +calmly she fixed her glance upon him, and as the ship was shunted in +closer to the dock, she made the cast to Cardigan. He caught the light +heaving-line, hauled in the heavy Manila stern-line to which it was +attached, and slipped the loop of the mooring-cable over the dolphin at +the end of the dock. + +“Some men wanted aft here to take up the slack of the stern-line on the +windlass, sir,” he shouted to the skipper, who was walking around on top +of the house. “That girl can't haul her in alone.” + +“Can't. I'm short-handed,” the skipper replied. “Jump aboard and help +her.” + +Cardigan made a long leap from the dock to the ship's rail, balanced +there lightly a moment, and sprang to the deck. He passed the bight of +the stern-line in a triple loop around the drum of the windlass, and +without awaiting his instructions, the girl grasped the slack of the +line and prepared to walk away with it as the rope paid in on the +windlass. Cardigan inserted a belaying-pin in the windlass, paused +and looked at the girl. “Raise a chantey,” he suggested. Instantly she +lifted a sweet contralto in that rollicking old ballad of the sea--“Blow +the Men Down.” + + For tinkers and tailors and lawyers and all, + Way! Aye! Blow the men down! + They ship for real sailors aboard the Black Ball, + Give me some time to blow the men down. + +Round the windlass Cardigan walked, steadily and easily, and the girl's +eyes widened in wonder as he did the work of three powerful men. When +the ship had been warped in and the slack of the line made fast on the +bitts, she said: + +“Please run for'd and help my father with the bow-lines. You're worth +three foremast hands. Indeed, I didn't expect to see a sailor on this +dock.” + +“I had to come around the Horn to get here, Miss,” he explained, “and +when a man hasn't money to pay for his passage, he needs must work it.” + +“I'm the second mate,” she explained. “We had a succession of gales from +the Falklands to the Evangelistas, and there the mate got her in irons +and she took three big ones over the taffrail and cost us eight men. +Working short-handed, we couldn't get any canvas on her to speak +of--long voyage, you know, and the rest of the crew got scurvy.” + +“You're a brave girl,” he told her. + +“And you're a first-class A. B.,” she replied. “If you're looking for a +berth, my father will be glad to ship you.” + +“Sorry, but I can't go,” he called as he turned toward the companion +ladder. “I'm Cardigan, and I own this sawmill and must stay here and +look after it.” + +There was a light, exultant feeling in his middle-aged heart as he +scampered along the deck. The girl had wonderful dark auburn hair and +brown eyes, with a milk-white skin that sun and wind had sought in vain +to blemish. And for all her girlhood she was a woman--bred from a race +(his own people) to whom danger and despair merely furnished a tonic +for their courage. What a mate for a man! And she had looked at him +pridefully. + +They were married before the ship was loaded, and on a knoll of the +logged-over lands back of the town and commanding a view of the bay, +with the dark-forested hills in back and the little second-growth +redwoods flourishing in the front yard, he built her the finest home in +Sequoia. He had reserved this building-site in a vague hope that some +day he might utilize it for this very purpose, and here he spent with +her three wonderfully happy years. Here his son Bryce was born, and +here, two days later, the new-made mother made the supreme sacrifice of +maternity. + +For half a day following the destruction of his Eden John Cardigan sat +dumbly beside his wife, his great, hard hand caressing the auburn head +whose every thought for three years had been his happiness and comfort. +Then the doctor came to him and mentioned the matter of funeral +arrangements. + +Cardigan looked up at him blankly. “Funeral arrangements?” he murmured. +“Funeral arrangements?” He passed his gnarled hand over his leonine +head. “Ah, yes, I suppose so. I shall attend to it.” + +He rose and left the house, walking with bowed head out of Sequoia, up +the abandoned and decaying skid-road through the second-growth redwoods +to the dark green blur that marked the old timber. It was May, and +Nature was renewing herself, for spring comes late in Humboldt County. +From an alder thicket a pompous cock grouse boomed intermittently; the +valley quail, in pairs, were busy about their household affairs; from a +clump of manzanita a buck watched John Cardigan curiously. On past the +landing where the big bull donkey-engine stood (for with the march of +progress, the logging donkey-engine had replaced the ox-teams, while the +logs were hauled out of the woods to the landing by means of a mile-long +steel cable, and there loaded on the flat-cars of a logging railroad +to be hauled to the mill and dumped in the log-boom) he went, up the +skid-road recently swamped from the landing to the down timber where +the crosscut men and barkpeelers were at work, on into the green timber +where the woods-boss and his men were chopping. + +“Come with me, McTavish,” he said to his woods-boss. They passed through +a narrow gap between two low hills and emerged in a long narrow valley +where the redwood grew thickly and where the smallest tree was not +less than fifteen feet in diameter and two hundred and fifty feet tall. +McTavish followed at the master's heels as they penetrated this grove, +making their way with difficulty through the underbrush until they came +at length to a little amphitheatre, a clearing perhaps a hundred feet +in diameter, oval-shaped and surrounded by a wall of redwoods of such +dimensions that even McTavish, who was no stranger to these natural +marvels, was struck with wonder. The ground in this little amphitheatre +was covered to a depth of a foot with brown, withered little redwood +twigs to which the dead leaves still clung, while up through this +aromatic covering delicate maidenhair ferns and oxalis had thrust +themselves. Between the huge brown boles of the redwoods woodwardia grew +riotously, while through the great branches of these sentinels of the +ages the sunlight filtered. Against the prevailing twilight of the +surrounding forest it descended like a halo, and where it struck the +ground John Cardigan paused. + +“McTavish,” he said, “she died this morning.” + +“I'm sore distressed for you, sir,” the woods-boss answered. “We'd a +whisper in the camp yesterday that the lass was like to be in a bad +way.” + +Cardigan scuffed with his foot a clear space in the brown litter. “Take +two men from the section-gang, McTavish,” he ordered, “and have them dig +her grave here; then swamp a trail through the underbrush and out to the +donkey-landing, so we can carry her in. The funeral will be private.” + +McTavish nodded. “Any further orders, sir?” + +“Yes. When you come to that little gap in the hills, cease your logging +and bear off yonder.” He waved his hand. “I'm not going to cut the +timber in this valley. You see, McTavish, what it is. The trees +here--ah, man, I haven't the heart to destroy God's most wonderful +handiwork. Besides, she loved this spot, McTavish, and she called the +valley her Valley of the Giants. I--I gave it to her for a wedding +present because she had a bit of a dream that some day the town I +started would grow up to yonder gap, and when that time came and we +could afford it, 'twas in her mind to give her Valley of the Giants to +Sequoia for a city park, all hidden away here and unsuspected. + +“She loved it, McTavish. It pleased her to come here with me; she'd make +up a lunch of her own cooking and I would catch trout in the stream by +the dogwoods yonder and fry the fish for her. Sometimes I'd barbecue a +venison steak and--well, 'twas our playhouse, McTavish, and I who am no +longer young--I who never played until I met her--I--I'm a bit foolish, +I fear, but I found rest and comfort here, McTavish, even before I +met her, and I'm thinking I'll have to come here often for the same. +She--she was a very superior woman, McTavish--very superior. Ah, man, +the soul of her! I cannot bear that her body should rest in Sequoia +cemetery, along with the rag tag and bobtail o' the town. She was like +this sunbeam, McTavish. She--she--” + +“Aye,” murmured McTavish huskily. “I ken. Ye wouldna gie her a common +or a public spot in which to wait for ye. An' ye'll be shuttin' down +the mill an' loggin'-camps an' layin' off the hands in her honour for a +bit?” + +“Until after the funeral, McTavish. And tell your men they'll be paid +for the lost time. That will be all, lad.” + +When McTavish was gone, John Cardigan sat down on a small sugar-pine +windfall, his head held slightly to one side while he listened to that +which in the redwoods is not sound but rather the absence of it. And as +he listened, he absorbed a subtle comfort from those huge brown trees, +so emblematic of immortality; in the thought he grew closer to his +Maker, and presently found that peace which he sought. Love such as +theirs could never die... The tears came at last. + +At sundown he walked home bearing an armful of rhododendrons and dogwood +blossoms, which he arranged in the room where she lay. Then he sought +the nurse who had attended her. + +“I'd like to hold my son,” he said gently. “May I?” + +She brought him the baby and placed it in his great arms that trembled +so; he sat down and gazed long and earnestly at this flesh of his flesh +and blood of his blood. “You'll have her hair and skin and eyes,” he +murmured. “My son, my son, I shall love you so, for now I must love for +two. Sorrow I shall keep from you, please God, and happiness and worldly +comfort shall I leave you when I go to her.” He nuzzled his grizzled +cheek against the baby's face. “Just you and my trees,” he whispered, +“just you and my trees to help me hang on to a plucky finish.” + +For love and paternity had come to him late in life, and so had his +first great sorrow; wherefore, since he was not accustomed to these +heritages of all flesh, he would have to adjust himself to the change. +But his son and his trees--ah, yes, they would help. And he would gather +more redwoods now! + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A young half-breed Digger woman, who had suffered the loss of the latest +of her numerous progeny two days prior to Mrs. Cardigan's death, was +installed in the house on the knoll as nurse to John Cardigan's son whom +he called Bryce, the family name of his mother's people. A Mrs. +Tully, widow of Cardigan's first engineer in the mill, was engaged as +housekeeper and cook; and with his domestic establishment reorganized +along these simple lines, John Cardigan turned with added eagerness to +his business affairs, hoping between them and his boy to salvage as +much as possible from what seemed to him, in the first pangs of his +loneliness and desolation, the wreckage of his life. + +While Bryce was in swaddling clothes, he was known only to those females +of Sequoia to whom his half-breed foster mother proudly exhibited him +when taking him abroad for an airing in his perambulator. With his +advent into rompers, however, and the assumption of his American +prerogative of free speech, his father developed the habit of bringing +the child down to the mill office, to which he added a playroom that +connected with his private office. Hence, prior to his second birthday, +Bryce divined that his father was closer to him than motherly Mrs. Tully +or the half-breed girl, albeit the housekeeper sang to him the lullabys +that mothers know while the Digger girl, improvising blank verse paeans +of praise and prophecy, crooned them to her charge in the unmusical +monotone of her tribal tongue. His father, on the contrary, wasted no +time in singing, but would toss him to the ceiling or set him astride +his foot and swing him until he screamed in ecstasy. Moreover, his +father took him on wonderful journeys which no other member of the +household had even suggested. Together they were wont to ride to and +from the woods in the cab of the logging locomotive, and once they both +got on the log carriage in the mill with Dan Keyes, the head sawyer, and +had a jolly ride up to the saw and back again, up and back again until +the log had been completely sawed; and because he had refrained from +crying aloud when the greedy saw bit into the log with a shrill whine, +Dan Keyes had given him a nickel to put in his tin bank. + +Of all their adventures together, however, those which occurred on their +frequent excursions up to the Valley of the Giants impressed themselves +imperishably upon Bryce's memory. How well he remembered their first +trip, when, seated astride his father's shoulders with his sturdy little +legs around Cardigan's neck and his chubby little hands clasping the +old man's ears, they had gone up the abandoned skid-road and into +the semi-darkness of the forest, terminating suddenly in a shower of +sunshine that fell in an open space where a boy could roll and play +and never get dirty. Also there were several dozen gray squirrels there +waiting to climb on his shoulder and search his pockets for pine-nuts, a +supply of which his father always furnished. + +Bryce always looked forward with eagerness to those frequent trips with +his father “to the place where Mother dear went to heaven.” From his +perch on his father's shoulders he could look vast distances into the +underbrush and catch glimpses of the wild life therein; when the last +nut had been distributed to the squirrels in the clearing, he would +follow a flash of blue that was a jay high up among the evergreen +branches, or a flash of red that was a woodpecker hammering a home in +the bark of a sugar-pine. Eventually, however, the spell of the forest +would creep over the child; intuitively he would become one with the +all-pervading silence, climb into his father's arms as the latter sat +dreaming on the old sugar-pine windfall, and presently drop off to +sleep. + +When Bryce was six years old, his father sent him to the public school +in Sequoia with the children of his loggers and mill-hands, thus laying +the foundation for a democratic education all too infrequent with the +sons of men rated as millionaires. At night old Cardigan (for so men had +now commenced to designate him!) would hear his boy's lessons, taking +the while an immeasurable delight in watching the lad's mind develop. As +a pupil Bryce was not meteoric; he had his father's patient, unexcitable +nature; and, like the old man, he possessed the glorious gift of +imagination. Never mediocre, he was never especially brilliant, but +was seemingly content to maintain a steady, dependable average in all +things. He had his mother's dark auburn hair, brown eyes, and fair white +skin, and quite early in life he gave promise of being as large and +powerful a man as his father. + +Bryce's boyhood was much the same as that of other lads in Sequoia, +save that in the matter of toys and, later guns, fishing-rods, dogs, and +ponies he was a source of envy to his fellows. After his tenth year his +father placed him on the mill pay-roll, and on payday he was wont to +line up with the mill-crew to receive his modest stipend of ten dollars +for carrying in kindling to the cook in the mill kitchen each day after +school. + +This otherwise needless arrangement was old Cardigan's way of teaching +his boy financial responsibility. All that he possessed he had worked +for, and he wanted his son to grow up with the business to realize that +he was a part of it with definite duties connected with it developing +upon him--duties which he must never shirk if he was to retain the rich +redwood heritage his father had been so eagerly storing up for him. + +When Bryce Cardigan was about fourteen years old there occurred an +important event in his life. In a commendable effort to increase his +income he had laid out a small vegetable garden in the rear of his +father's house, and here on a Saturday morning, while down on his knees +weeding carrots, he chanced to look up and discovered a young lady +gazing at him through the picket fence. She was a few years his junior, +and a stranger in Sequoia. Ensued the following conversation: “Hello, +little boy.” + +“Hello yourself! I ain't a little boy.” + +She ignored the correction. “What are you doing?” + +“Weedin' carrots. Can't you see?” + +“What for?” + +Bryce, highly incensed at having been designated a little boy by this +superior damsel, saw his opportunity to silence her. “Cat's fur for +kitten breeches,” he retorted--without any evidence of originality, we +must confess. Whereat she stung him to the heart with a sweet smile and +promptly sang for him this ancient ballad of childhood: + + “What are little boys made of? + What are little boys made of? + Snakes and snails, + And puppy dog's tails, + And that's what little boys are made of.” + +Bryce knew the second verse and shrivelled inwardly in anticipation +of being informed that little girls are made of sugar and spice and +everything nice. Realizing that he had begun something which might not +terminate with credit to himself, he hung his head and for the space of +several minutes gave all his attention to his crop. And presently the +visitor spoke again. + +“I like your hair, little boy. It's a pretty red.” + +That settled the issue between them. To be hailed as little boy was bad +enough, but to be reminded of his crowning misfortune was adding +insult to injury. He rose and cautiously approached the fence with +the intention of pinching the impudent stranger, suddenly and +surreptitiously, and sending her away weeping. As his hand crept between +the palings on its wicked mission, the little miss looked at him in +friendly fashion and queried: + +“What's your name?” + +Bryce's hand hesitated. “Bryce Cardigan,” he answered gruffly. + +“I'm Shirley Sumner,” she ventured, “Let's be friends.” + +“When did you come to live in Sequoia?” he demanded. + +“I don't live here. I'm just visiting here with my aunt and uncle. We're +staying at the hotel, and there's nobody to play with. My uncle's name +is Pennington. So's my aunt's. He's out here buying timber, and we live +in Michigan. Do you know the capital of Michigan?” + +“Of course I do,” he answered. “The capital of Michigan is Chicago.” + +“Oh, you big stupid! It isn't. It's Detroit.” + +“'Tain't neither. It's Chicago.” + +“I live there--so I guess I ought to know. So there!” + +Bryce was vanquished, and an acute sense of his imperfections in matters +geographical inclined him to end the argument. “Well, maybe you're +right,” he admitted grudgingly. “Anyhow, what difference does it make?” + +She did not answer. Evidently she was desirous of avoiding an argument +if possible. Her gaze wandered past Bryce to where his Indian pony stood +with her head out the window of her box-stall contemplating her master. + +“Oh, what a dear little horse!” Shirley Sumner exclaimed. “Whose is he?” + +“'Tain't a he. It's a she. And she belongs to me.” + +“Do you ride her?” + +“Not very often now. I'm getting too heavy for her, so Dad's bought me a +horse that weighs nine hundred pounds. Midget only weighs five hundred.” + He considered her a moment while she gazed in awe upon this man with two +horses. “Can you ride a pony?” he asked, for no reason that he was aware +of. + +She sighed, shaking her head resignedly. “We haven't any room to keep a +pony at our house in Detroit,” she explained, and added hopefully: “But +I'd love to ride on Midget. I suppose I could learn to ride if somebody +taught me how.” + +He looked at her again. At that period of his existence he was inclined +to regard girls as a necessary evil. For some immutable reason they +existed, and perforce must be borne with, and it was his hope that he +would get through life and see as little as possible of the exasperating +sex. Nevertheless, as Bryce surveyed this winsome miss through the +palings, he was sensible of a sneaking desire to find favour in her +eyes--also equally sensible of the fact that the path to that desirable +end lay between himself and Midget. He swelled with the importance of +one who knows he controls a delicate situation. “Well, I suppose if you +want a ride I'll have to give it to you,” he grumbled, “although I'm +mighty busy this morning.” + +“Oh, I think you're so nice,” she declared. + +A thrill shot through him that was akin to pain; with difficulty did he +restrain an impulse to dash wildly into the stable and saddle Midget +in furious haste. Instead he walked to the barn slowly and with extreme +dignity. When he reappeared, he was leading Midget, a little silverpoint +runt of a Klamath Indian pony, and Moses, a sturdy pinto cayuse from the +cattle ranges over in Trinity County. “I'll have to ride with you,” he +announced. “Can't let a tenderfoot like you go out alone on Midget.” + +All aflutter with delightful anticipation, the young lady climbed up +on the gate and scrambled into the saddle when Bryce swung the pony +broadside to the gate. Then he adjusted the stirrups to fit her, passed +a hair rope from Midget's little hackamore to the pommel of Moses' +saddle, mounted the pinto, and proceeded with his first adventure as a +riding-master. Two hours of his valuable time did he give that morning +before the call of duty brought him back to the house and his neglected +crop of carrots. When he suggested tactfully, however, that it was +now necessary that his guest and Midget separate, a difficulty arose. +Shirley Sumner refused point blank to leave the premises. She liked +Bryce for his hair and because he had been so kind to her; she was a +stranger in Sequoia, and now that she had found an agreeable companion, +it was far from her intention to desert him. + +So Miss Sumner stayed and helped Bryce weed his carrots, and since as +a voluntary labourer she was at least worth her board, at noon Bryce +brought her in to Mrs. Tully with a request for luncheon. When he +went to the mill to carry in the kindling for the cook, the young lady +returned rather sorrowfully to the Hotel Sequoia, with a fervent promise +to see him the next day. She did, and Bryce took her for a long ride +up into the Valley of the Giants and showed her his mother's grave. The +gray squirrels were there, and Bryce gave Shirley a bag of pine-nuts +to feed them. Then they put some flowers on the grave, and when they +returned to town and Bryce was unsaddling the ponies, Shirley drew +Midget's nose down to her and kissed it. Then she commenced to weep +rather violently. + +“What are you crying about?” Bryce demanded. Girls were so hard to +understand. + +“I'm go-going h-h-h-home to-morrow,” she howled. + +He was stricken with dismay and bade her desist from her vain +repinings. But her heart was broken, and somehow--Bryce appeared to +act automatically--he had his arm around her. “Don't cry, Shirley,” he +pleaded. “It breaks my heart to see you cry. Do you want Midget? I'll +give her to you.” + +Between sobs Shirley confessed that the prospect of parting with him and +not Midget was provocative of her woe. This staggered Bryce and pleased +him immensely. And at parting she kissed him good-bye, reiterating her +opinion that he was the nicest, kindest boy she had ever met or hoped to +meet. + +When Shirley and her uncle and aunt boarded the steamer for San +Francisco, Bryce stood disconsolate on the dock and waved to Shirley +until he could no longer discern her on the deck. Then he went home, +crawled up into the haymow and wept, for he had something in his heart +and it hurt. He thought of his elfin companion very frequently for a +week, and he lost his appetite, very much to Mrs. Tully's concern. Then +the steelhead trout began to run in Eel River, and the sweetest event +that can occur in any boy's existence--the sudden awakening to +the wonder and beauty of life so poignantly realized in his first +love-affair--was lost sight of by Bryce. In a month he had forgotten the +incident; in six months he had forgotten Shirley Sumner. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The succeeding years of Bryce Cardigan's life, until he completed +his high-school studies and went East to Princeton, were those of the +ordinary youth in a small and somewhat primitive country town. He made +frequent trips to San Francisco with his father, taking passage on the +steamer that made bi-weekly trips between Sequoia and the metropolis--as +The Sequoia Sentinel always referred to San Francisco. He was an expert +fisherman, and the best shot with rifle or shot-gun in the county; he +delighted in sports and, greatly to the secret delight of his father +showed a profound interest in the latter's business. + +Throughout the happy years of Bryce's boyhood his father continued to +enlarge and improve his sawmill, to build more schooners, and to acquire +more redwood timber. Lands, the purchase of which by Cardigan a decade +before had caused his neighbours to impugn his judgment, now developed +strategical importance. As a result those lands necessary to consolidate +his own holdings came to him at his own price, while his adverse +holdings that blocked the logging operations of his competitors went +from him--also at his own price. In fact, all well-laid plans matured +satisfactorily with the exception of one, and since it has a very +definite bearing on the story, the necessity for explaining it is +paramount. + +Contiguous to Cardigan's logging operations to the east and north of +Sequoia, and comparatively close in, lay a block of two thousand acres +of splendid timber, the natural, feasible, and inexpensive outlet for +which, when it should be logged, was the Valley of the Giants. For +thirty years John Cardigan had played a waiting game with the owner of +that timber, for the latter was as fully obsessed with the belief that +he was going to sell it to John Cardigan at a dollar and a half per +thousand feet stumpage as Cardigan was certain he was going to buy it +for a dollar a thousand--when he should be ready to do so and not one +second sooner. He calculated, as did the owner of the timber, that the +time to do business would be a year or two before the last of Cardigan's +timber in that section should be gone. + +Eventually the time for acquiring more timber arrived. John Cardigan, +meeting his neighbour on the street, accosted him thus: + +“Look here, Bill: isn't it time we got together on that timber of yours? +You know you've been holding it to block me and force me to buy at your +figure.” + +“That's why I bought it,” the other admitted smilingly. “Then, before I +realized my position, you checkmated me with that quarter-section in the +valley, and we've been deadlocked ever since.” + +“I'll give you a dollar a thousand stumpage for your timber, Bill.” + +“I want a dollar and a half.” + +“A dollar is my absolute limit.” + +“Then I'll keep my timber.” + +“And I'll keep my money. When I finish logging in my present holdings, +I'm going to pull out of that country and log twenty miles south +of Sequoia. I have ten thousand acres in the San Hedrin watershed. +Remember, Bill, the man who buys your timber will have to log it through +my land--and I'm not going to log that quarter-section in the valley. +Hence there will be no outlet for your timber in back.” + +“Not going to log it? Why, what are you going to do with it?” + +“I'm just going to let it stay there until I die. When my will is filed +for probate, your curiosity will be satisfied--but not until then.” + +The other laughed. “John,” he declared, “you just haven't got the +courage to pull out when your timber adjoining mine is gone, and +move twenty miles south to the San Hedrin watershed. That will be too +expensive a move, and you'll only be biting off your nose to spite your +face. Come through with a dollar and a half, John.” + +“I never bluff, Bill. Remember, if I pull out for the San Hedrin, I'll +not abandon my logging-camps there to come back and log your timber. +One expensive move is enough for me. Better take a dollar, Bill. It's a +good, fair price, as the market on redwood timber is now, and you'll be +making an even hundred per cent, on your investment. Remember, Bill, if +I don't buy your timber, you'll never log it yourself and neither will +anybody else. You'll be stuck with it for the next forty years--and +taxes aren't getting any lower. Besides, there's a good deal of pine and +fir in there, and you know what a forest fire will do to that.” + +“I'll hang on a little longer, I think.” + +“I think so, too,” John Cardigan replied. And that night, as was his +wont, even though he realized that it was not possible for Bryce to gain +a profound understanding of the business problems to which he was heir, +John Cardigan discussed the Squaw Creek timber with his son, relating to +him the details of his conversation with the owner. + +“I suppose he thinks you're bluffing,” Bryce commented. + +“I'm not, Bryce. I never bluff--that is, I never permit a bluff of mine +to be called, and don't you ever do it, either. Remember that, boy. Any +time you deliver a verdict, be sure you're in such a position you won't +have to reverse yourself. I'm going to finish logging in that district +this fall, so if I'm to keep the mill running, I'll have to establish my +camps on the San Hedrin watershed right away.” + +Bryce pondered. “But isn't it cheaper to give him his price on Squaw +Creek timber than go logging in the San Hedrin and have to build twenty +miles of logging railroad to get your logs to the mill?” + +“It would be, son, if I HAD to build the railroad. Fortunately, I do +not. I'll just shoot the logs down the hillside to the San Hedrin River +and drive them down the stream to a log-boom on tidewater.” + +“But there isn't enough water in the San Hedrin to float a redwood log, +Dad. I've fished there, and I know.” + +“Quite true--in the summer and fall. But when the winter freshets come +on and the snow begins to melt in the spring up in the Yola Bolas, where +the San Hedrin has its source, we'll have plenty of water for driving +the river. Once we get the logs down to tide-water, we'll raft them and +tow them up to the mill. So you see, Bryce, we won't be bothered with +the expense of maintaining a logging railroad, as at present.” + +Bryce looked at his father admiringly. “I guess Dan Keyes is right, +Dad,” he said. “Dan says you're crazy--like a fox. Now I know why you've +been picking up claims in the San Hedrin watershed.” + +“No, you don't, Bryce. I've never told you, but I'll tell you now the +real reason. Humboldt County has no rail connection with the outside +world, so we are forced to ship our lumber by water. But some day a +railroad will be built in from the south--from San Francisco; and when +it comes, the only route for it to travel is through our timber in the +San Hedrin Valley. I've accumulated that ten thousand acres for you, +my son, for the railroad will never be built in my day. It may come in +yours, but I have grown weary waiting for it, and now that my hand is +forced, I'm going to start logging there. It doesn't matter, son. You +will still be logging there fifty years from now. And when the railroad +people come to you for a right of way, my boy, give it to them. Don't +charge them a cent. It has always been my policy to encourage the +development of this county, and I want you to be a forward-looking, +public-spirited citizen. That's why I'm sending you East to college. +You've been born and raised in this town, and you must see more of the +world. You mustn't be narrow or provincial, because I'm saving up for +you, my son, a great many responsibilities, and I want to educate you to +meet them bravely and sensibly.” + +He paused, regarding the boy gravely and tenderly. “Bryce, lad,” he said +presently, “do you ever wonder why I work so hard and barely manage to +spare the time to go camping with you in vacation time?” + +“Why don't you take it easy, Dad? You do work awfully hard, and I have +wondered about it.” + +“I have to work hard, my son, because I started something a long time +ago, when work was fun. And now I can't let go. I employ too many people +who are dependent on me for their bread and butter. When they plan a +marriage or the building of a home or the purchase of a cottage organ, +they have to figure me in on the proposition. I didn't have a name for +the part I played in these people's lives until the other night when I +was helping you with your algebra. I'm the unknown quantity.” + +“Oh, no,” Bryce protested. “You're the known quantity.” + +Cardigan smiled. “Well, maybe I am,” he admitted. “I've always tried to +be. And if I have succeeded, then you're the unknown quantity, Bryce, +because some day you'll have to take my place; they will have to depend +upon you when I am gone. Listen to me, son. You're only a boy, and you +can't understand everything I tell you now, but I want you to remember +what I tell you, and some day understanding will come to you. You +mustn't fail the people who work for you--who are dependent upon your +strength and brains and enterprises to furnish them with an opportunity +for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When you are the boss +of Cardigan's mill, you must keep the wheels turning; you must never +shut down the mill or the logging-camps in dull times just to avoid a +loss you can stand better than your employees.” + +His hard, trembling old hand closed over the boy's. “I want you to be a +brave and honourable man,” he concluded. + +True to his word, when John Cardigan finished his logging in his old, +original holdings adjacent to Sequoia and Bill Henderson's Squaw Creek +timber, he quietly moved south with his Squaw Creek woods-gang and +joined the crew already getting out logs in the San Hedrin watershed. +Not until then did Bill Henderson realize that John Cardigan had called +his bluff--whereat he cursed himself for a fool and a poor judge of +human nature. He had tried a hold-up game and had failed; a dollar a +thousand feet stumpage was a fair price; for years he had needed the +money; and now, when it was too late, he realized his error. Luck was +with Henderson, however; for shortly thereafter there came again to +Sequoia one Colonel Seth Pennington, a millionaire white-pine operator +from Michigan. The Colonel's Michigan lands had been logged off, and +since he had had one taste of cheap timber, having seen fifty-cent +stumpage go to five dollars, the Colonel, like Oliver Twist, desired +some more of the same. On his previous visit to Sequoia he had seen +his chance awaiting him in the gradually decreasing market for redwood +lumber and the corresponding increase of melancholia in the redwood +operators; hence he had returned to Michigan, closed out his business +interests there, and returned to Sequoia on the alert for an investment +in redwood timber. From a chair-warmer on the porch of the Hotel +Sequoia, the Colonel had heard the tale of how stiff-necked old +John Cardigan had called the bluff of equally stiff-necked old Bill +Henderson; so for the next few weeks the Colonel, under pretense of +going hunting or fishing on Squaw Creek, managed to make a fairly +accurate cursory cruise of the Henderson timber--following which he +purchased it from the delighted Bill for a dollar and a quarter per +thousand feet stumpage and paid for it with a certified check. With his +check in his hand, Henderson queried: + +“Colonel, how do you purpose logging that timber?” + +The Colonel smiled. “Oh, I don't intend to log it. When I log timber, +it has to be more accessible. I'm just going to hold on and outgame your +former prospect, John Cardigan. He needs that timber; he has to have +it--and one of these days he'll pay me two dollars for it.” + +Bill Henderson raised an admonitory finger and shook it under the +Colonel's nose. “Hear me, stranger,” he warned. “When you know John +Cardigan as well as I do, you'll change your tune. He doesn't bluff.” + +“He doesn't?” The Colonel laughed derisively. “Why, that move of his +over to the San Hedrin was the most monumental bluff ever pulled off in +this country.” + +“All right, sir. You wait and see.” + +“I've seen already. I know.” + +“How do you know?” + +“Well, for one thing, Henderson, I noticed Cardigan has carefully housed +his rolling-stock--and he hasn't scrapped his five miles of logging +railroad and three miles of spurs.” + +Old Bill Henderson chewed his quid of tobacco reflectively and spat at +a crack in the sidewalk. “No,” he replied, “I'll admit he ain't started +scrappin' it yet, but I happen to know he's sold the rollin'-stock an' +rails to the Freshwater Lumber Company, so I reckon they'll be scrappin' +that railroad for him before long.” + +The Colonel was visibly moved. “If your information is authentic,” he +said slowly, “I suppose I'll have to build a mill on tidewater and log +the timber.” + +“'Twon't pay you to do that at the present price of redwood lumber.” + +“I'm in no hurry. I can wait for better times.” + +“Well, when better times arrive, you'll find that John Cardigan owns the +only water-front property on this side of the bay where the water's deep +enough to let a ship lie at low tide and load in safety.” + +“There is deep water across the bay and plenty of water-front property +for sale. I'll find a mill-site there and tow my logs across.” + +“But you've got to dump 'em in the water on this side. Everything north +of Cardigan's mill is tide-flat; he owns all the deep-water frontage +for a mile south of Sequoia, and after that come more tide-flats. If +you dump your logs on these tide-flats, they'll bog down in the mud, and +there isn't water enough at high tide to float 'em off or let a tug go +in an' snake 'em off.” + +“You're a discouraging sort of person,” the Colonel declared irritably. +“I suppose you'll tell me now that I can't log my timber without +permission from Cardigan.” + +Old Bill spat at another crack; his faded blue eyes twinkled +mischievously. “No, that's where you've got the bulge on John, Colonel. +You can build a logging railroad from the southern fringe of your timber +north and up a ten per cent. grade on the far side of the Squaw Creek +watershed, then west three miles around a spur of low hills, and then +south eleven miles through the level country along the bay shore. If you +want to reduce your Squaw Creek grade to say two per cent., figure on +ten additional miles of railroad and a couple extra locomotives. You +understand, of course, Colonel, that no Locomotive can haul a long +trainload of redwood logs up a long, crooked, two per cent. grade. You +have to have an extry in back to push.” + +“Nonsense! I'll build my road from Squaw Creek gulch south through that +valley where those whopping big trees grow. That's the natural outlet +for the timber. See here:” [graphic] + +Colonel Pennington took from his pocket the rough sketch-map of the +region which we have reproduced herewith and pointed to the spot +numbered “11.” + +“But that valley ain't logged yet,” explained Henderson. + +“Don't worry. Cardigan will sell that valley to me--also a right of +way down his old railroad grade and through his logged-over lands to +tidewater.” + +“Bet you a chaw o' tobacco he won't. Those big trees in that valley +ain't goin' to be cut for no railroad right o' way. That valley's John +Cardigan's private park; his wife's buried up there. Why, Colonel, +that's the biggest grove of the biggest sequoia sempervirens in the +world, an' many's the time I've heard John say he'd almost as lief cut +off his right hand as fell one o' his giants, as he calls 'em. I tell +you, Colonel, John Cardigan's mighty peculiar about them big trees. Any +time he can get a day off he goes up an' looks 'em over.” + +“But, my very dear sir,” the Colonel protested, “if the man will not +listen to reason, the courts will make him. I can condemn a right of +way, you know.” + +“We-ll,” said old Bill, wagging his head sagely, “mebbe you can, an' +then again mebbe you can't. It took me a long time to figger out just +where I stood, but mebbe you're quicker at figgers than I am. Anyhow, +Colonel, good luck to you, whichever way the cat jumps.” + +This illuminating conversation had one effect on Colonel Seth +Pennington. It decided him to make haste slowly; so without taking +the trouble to make the acquaintance of John Cardigan, he returned to +Detroit, there to await the next move in this gigantic game of chess. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +No man is infallible, and in planning his logging operations in the San +Hedrin watershed, John Cardigan presently made the discovery that he had +erred in judgment. That season, from May to November, his woods-crew put +thirty million feet of logs into the San Hedrin River, while the +mill sawed on a reserve supply of logs taken from the last of the old +choppings adjacent to Squaw Creek. That year, however, the rainfall in +the San Hedrin country was fifty per cent. less than normal, and by the +first of May of the following year Cardigan's woods-crew had succeeded +in driving slightly less than half of the cut of the preceding year to +the boom on tidewater at the mouth of the river. + +“Unless the Lord'll gi' us a lot more water in the river,” the +woods-boss McTavish complained, “I dinna see how I'm to keep the mill +runnin'.” He was taking John Cardigan up the riverbank and explaining +the situation. “The heavy butt-logs hae sunk to the bottom,” he +continued. “Wie a normal head o' water, the lads'll move them, but +wi' the wee drappie we have the noo--” He threw up his hamlike hands +despairingly. + +Three days later a cloud-burst filled the river to the brim; it came +at night and swept the river clean of Cardigan's clear logs, An army +of Juggernauts, they swept down on the boiling torrent to tidewater, +reaching the bay shortly after the tide had commenced to ebb. + +Now, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and a log-boom is +a chaplet of a small logs, linked end to end by means of short chains; +hence when the vanguard of logs on the lip of that flood reached the +log-boom, the impetus of the charge was too great to be resisted. +Straight through the weakest link in this boom the huge saw-logs crashed +and out over Humboldt Bar to the broad Pacific. With the ebb tide some +of them came back, while others, caught in cross-currents, bobbed about +the Bay all night and finally beached at widely scattered points. Out +of the fifteen million feet of logs less than three million feet were +salvaged, and this task in itself was an expensive operation. + +John Cardigan received the news calmly. “Thank God we don't have a +cloud-burst more than once in ten years,” he remarked to his manager. +“However, that is often enough, considering the high cost of this one. +Those logs were worth eight dollars a thousand feet, board measure, +in the millpond, and I suppose we've lost a hundred thousand dollars' +worth.” + +He turned from the manager and walked away through the drying yard, up +the main street of Sequoia, and on into the second-growth timber at the +edge of the town. Presently he emerged on the old, decaying skid-road +and continued on through his logged-over lands, across the little divide +and down into the quarter-section of green timber he had told McTavish +not to cut. Once in the Valley of the Giants, he followed a well-worn +foot-path to the little amphitheatre, and where the sunlight filtered +through like a halo and fell on a plain little white marble monument, he +paused and sat down on the now almost decayed sugar-pine windfall. + +“I've come for a little comfort, sweetheart,” he murmured to her who +slept beneath the stone. Then he leaned back against a redwood tree, +removed his hat, and closed his eyes, holding his great gray head the +while a little to one side in a listening attitude. Long he sat there, +a great, time-bitten devotee at the shrine of his comfort; and presently +the harried look left his strong, kind face and was replaced by a little +prescient smile--the sort of smile worn by one who through bitter years +has sought something very, very precious and has at length discovered +it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was on the day that John Cardigan received the telegram from Bryce +saying that, following four years at Princeton and two years of +travel abroad, he was returning to Sequoia to take over his redwood +heritage--that he discovered that a stranger and not the flesh of his +flesh and the blood of his blood was to reap the reward of his fifty +years of endeavour. Small wonder, then, that he laid his leonine head +upon his desk and wept, silently, as the aged and helpless weep. + +For a long time he sat there lethargic with misery. Eventually he roused +himself, reached for the desk telephone, and pressed a button on the +office exchange-station. His manager, one Thomas Sinclair, answered. +“Thomas,” he said calmly, “you know, of course, that Bryce is coming +home. Tell George to take the big car and go over to Red Bluff for him.” + +“I'll attend to it, Mr Cardigan. Anything else?” + +“Yes, but I'll wait until Bryce gets home.” + +George Sea Otter, son of Bryce Cardigan's old half-breed nurse, was +a person in whose nature struggled the white man's predilection for +advertisement and civic pride and the red man's instinct for +adornment. For three years he had been old man Cardigan's chauffeur and +man-of-all-work about the latter's old-fashioned home, and in the former +capacity he drove John Cardigan's single evidence of extravagance--a +Napier car, which was very justly regarded by George Sea Otter as the +king of automobiles, since it was the only imported car in the county. +Upon receipt of orders, therefore, from Sinclair, to drive the Napier +over to Red Bluff and meet his future boss and one-time playfellow, +George Sea Otter arrayed himself in a pair of new black corduroy +trousers, yellow button shoes, a blue woollen shirt with a large scarlet +silk handkerchief tied around the neck, a pair of beaded buckskin gloves +with fringe dependent from the gauntlet, and a broad white beaver hat +with a rattlesnake-skin band. Across the windshield of the Napier he +fastened an orange-coloured pennant bearing in bright green letters the +legend: MY CITY--SEQUOIA. As a safety-first precaution against man and +beast en route, he buckled a gun-scabbard to the spare tires on the +running-board and slipped a rifle into the scabbard within quick and +easy reach of his hand; and arrayed thus, George descended upon Red +Bluff at the helm of the king of automobiles. + +When the overland train coasted into Red Bluff and slid to a grinding +halt, Bryce Cardigan saw that the Highest Living Authority had descended +from the train also. He had elected to designate her thus in the absence +of any information anent her Christian and family names, and for the +further reason that quite obviously she was a very superior person. He +had a vague suspicion that she was the kind of girl in whose presence +a man always feels that he must appear on parade--one of those alert, +highly intelligent young women so extremely apt to reduce an ordinarily +intelligent young man to a state of gibbering idiocy or stupid +immobility. + +Bryce had travelled in the same car with the Highest Living Authority +from Chicago and had made up his mind by observation that with a little +encouragement she could be induced to mount a soap-box and make a speech +about Women's Rights; that when her native State should be granted +equal suffrage she would run for office or manage somebody's political +campaign; that she could drive an automobile and had probably been +arrested for speeding; that she could go around any golf links in the +country in ninety and had read Maeterlinck and enjoyed it. + +Bryce could see that she was the little daughter of some large rich man. +The sparsity of jewellery and the rich simplicity of her attire proved +that, and moreover she was accompanied by a French maid to whom she +spoke French in a manner which testified that before acquiring the +French maid she had been in the custody of a French nurse. She possessed +poise. For the rest, she had wonderful jet-black hair, violet eyes, and +milk-white skin, a correct nose but a somewhat generous mouth, Bryce +guessed she was twenty or twenty-one years old and that she had a temper +susceptible of being aroused. On the whole, she was rather wonderful +but not dazzling--at least, not to Bryce Cardigan. He told himself she +merely interested him as a type--whatever he meant by that. + +The fact that this remarkable young woman had also left the train at Red +Bluff further interested him, for he knew Red Bluff and while giving due +credit to the many lovely damsels of that ambitious little city, Bryce +had a suspicion that no former Red Bluff girl would dare to invade the +old home town with a French maid. He noted, as further evidence of the +correctness of his assumption, that the youthful baggage-smasher at the +station failed to recognize her and was evidently dazzled when, followed +by the maid struggling with two suit-cases, she approached him and in +pure though alien English (the Italian A predominated) inquired the name +and location of the best hotel and the hour and point of departure of +the automobile stage for San Hedrin. The youth had answered her first +question and was about to answer the second when George Sea Otter, in +all his barbaric splendour, came pussy-footing around the corner of the +station in old man Cardigan's regal touring-car. + +The Highest Living Authority, following the gaze of the baggage-smasher, +turned and beheld George Sea Otter. Beyond a doubt he was of the West +westward. She had heard that California stage-drivers were picturesque +fellows, and in all probability the displacing of the old Concord coach +of the movie-thriller in favour of the motor-stage had not disturbed the +idiosyncrasies of the drivers in their choice of raiment. She noted +the rifle-stock projecting from the scabbard, and a vision of a stage +hold-up flashed across her mind. Ah, yes, of course--the express +messenger's weapon, no doubt! And further to clinch her instant +assumption that here was the Sequoia motor-stage, there was the pennant +adorning the wind-shield! + +Dismissing the baggage-smasher with a gracious smile, the Highest +Living Authority approached George Sea Otter, noting, the while, further +evidence that this car was a public conveyance, for the young man who +had been her fellow-passenger was heading toward the automobile also. +She heard him say: + +“Hello, George, you radiant red rascal! I'm mighty glad to see you, boy. +Shake!” + +They shook, George Sea Otter's dark eyes and white teeth flashing +pleasurably. Bryce tossed his bag into the tonneau; the half-breed +opened the front door; and the young master had his foot on the +running-board and was about to enter the car when a soft voice spoke at +his elbow: + +“Driver, this is the stage for Sequoia, is it not?” + +George Sea Otter could scarcely credit his auditory nerves. “This car?” + he demanded bluntly, “this--the Sequoia stage! Take a look, lady. This +here's a Napier imported English automobile. It's a private car and +belongs to my boss here.” + +“I'm so sorry I slandered your car,” she replied demurely. “I observed +the pennant on the wind-shield, and I thought--” + +Bryce Cardigan turned and lifted his hat. + +“Quite naturally, you thought it was the Sequoia stage,” he said to +her. He turned a smoldering glance upon George Sea Otter. “George,” he +declared ominously, but with a sly wink that drew the sting from his +words, “if you're anxious to hold down your job the next time a lady +speaks to you and asks you a simple question, you answer yes or no and +refrain from sarcastic remarks. Don't let your enthusiasm for this car +run away with you.” He faced the girl again. “Was it your intention to +go out to Sequoia on the next trip of the stage?” + +She nodded. + +“That means you will have to wait here three days until the stage +returns from Sequoia,” Bryce replied. + +“I realized, of course, that we would arrive here too late to connect +with the stage if it maintained the customary schedule for its +departure,” she explained, “but it didn't occur to me that the +stage-driver wouldn't wait until our train arrived. I had an idea his +schedule was rather elastic.” + +“Stage-drivers have no imagination, to speak of,” Bryce assured her. To +himself he remarked: “She's used to having people wait on her.” + +A shade of annoyance passed over the classic features of the Highest +Living Authority. “Oh, dear,” she complained, “how fearfully awkward! +Now I shall have to take the next train to San Francisco and book +passage on the steamer to Sequoia--and Marcelle is such a poor sailor. +Oh, dear!” + +Bryce had an inspiration and hastened to reveal it. + +“We are about to start for Sequoia now, although the lateness of our +start will compel us to put up tonight at the rest-house on the south +fork of Trinity River and continue the journey in the morning. However, +this rest-house is eminently respectable and the food and accommodations +are extraordinarily good for mountains; so, if an invitation to occupy +the tonneau of my car will not be construed as an impertinence, coming +as it does from a total stranger, you are at liberty to regard this +car as to all intents and purposes the public conveyance which so +scandalously declined to wait for you this morning.” + +She looked at him searchingly for a brief instant: then with a +peculiarly winning smile and a graceful inclination of her head she +thanked him and accepted his hospitality--thus: + +“Why, certainly not! You are very kind, and I shall be eternally +grateful.” + +“Thank you for that vote of confidence. It makes me feel that I have +your permission to introduce myself. My name is Bryce Cardigan, and I +live in Sequoia when I'm at home.” + +“Of Cardigan's Redwoods?” she questioned. He nodded. “I've heard of you, +I think,” she continued. “I am Shirley Sumner.” + +“You do not live in Sequoia.” + +“No, but I'm going to hereafter. I was there about ten years ago.” + +He grinned and thrust out a great hand which she surveyed gravely for a +minute before inserting hers in it. “I wonder,” he said, “if it is to be +my duty to give you a ride every time you come to Sequoia? The last time +you were there you wheedled me into giving you a ride on my pony, an +animal known as Midget. Do you, by any chance, recall that incident?” + +She looked up at him wonderingly. “Why--why you're the boy with the +beautiful auburn hair,” she declared. He lifted his hat and revealed his +thick thatch in all its glory. “I'm not so sensitive about it now,” he +explained. “When we first met, reference to my hair was apt to rile +me.” He shook her little hand with cordial good-nature. “What a pity it +wasn't possible for us to renew acquaintance on the train, Miss Sumner!” + +“Better late than never, Mr. Cardigan, considering the predicament in +which you found me. What became of Midget?” + +“Midget, I regret to state, made a little pig of herself one day and +died of acute indigestion. She ate half a sack of carrots, and knowing +full well that she was eating forbidden fruit, she bolted them, and for +her failure to Fletcherize--but speaking of Fletcherizing, did you dine +aboard the train?” + +She nodded. “So did I, Miss Sumner; hence I take it that you are quite +ready to start.” + +“Quite, Mr. Cardigan.” + +“Then we'll drift. George, suppose you pile Miss Sumner's hand-baggage +in the tonneau and then pile in there yourself and keep Marcelle +company. I'll drive; and you can sit up in front with me, Miss Sumner, +snug behind the wind-shield where you'll not be blown about.” + +“I'm sure this is going to be a far pleasanter journey than the stage +could possibly have afforded,” she said graciously as Bryce slipped in +beside her and took the wheel. + +“You are very kind to share the pleasure with me, Miss Sumner.” He went +through his gears, and the car glided away on its journey. “By the way,” + he said suddenly as he turned west toward the distant blue mountains +of Trinity County, “how did you happen to connect me with Cardigan's +redwoods?” + +“I've heard my uncle, Colonel Seth Pennington, speak of them.” + +“Colonel Seth Pennington means nothing in my young life. I never heard +of him before; so I dare say he's a newcomer in our country. I've been +away six years,” he added in explanation. + +“We're from Michigan. Uncle was formerly in the lumber business there, +but he's logged out now.” + +“I see. So he came West, I suppose, and bought a lot of redwood timber +cheap from some old croaker who never could see any future to the +redwood lumber industry. Personally, I don't think he could have made +a better investment. I hope I shall have the pleasure of making his +acquaintance when I deliver you to him. Perhaps you may be a neighbour +of mine. Hope so.” + +At this juncture George Sea Otter, who had been an interested listener +to the conversation, essayed a grunt from the rear seat. Instantly, to +Shirley Sumner's vast surprise, her host grunted also; whereupon George +Sea Otter broke into a series of grunts and guttural exclamations which +evidently appeared quite intelligible to her host, for he slowed down +to five miles an hour and cocked one ear to the rear; apparently he +was profoundly interested in whatever information his henchman had to +impart. When George Sea Otter finished his harangue, Bryce nodded and +once more gave his attention to tossing the miles behind him. + +“What language was that?” Shirley Sumner inquired, consumed with +curiosity. + +“Digger Indian,” he replied. “George's mother was my nurse, and he and I +grew up together. So I can't very well help speaking the language of the +tribe.” + +They chattered volubly on many subjects for the first twenty miles; then +the road narrowed and commenced to climb steadily, and thereafter Bryce +gave all of his attention to the car, for a deviation of a foot from the +wheel-rut on the outside of the road would have sent them hurtling over +the grade into the deep-timbered canons below. Their course led through +a rugged wilderness, widely diversified and transcendently beautiful, +and the girl was rather glad of the opportunity to enjoy it in silence. +Also by reason of the fact that Bryce's gaze never wavered from the +road immediately in front of the car, she had a chance to appraise +him critically while pretending to look past him to the tumbled, +snow-covered ranges to their right. + +She saw a big, supple, powerful man of twenty-five or six, with the +bearing and general demeanour of one many years his elder. His rich, +dark auburn hair was wavy, and a curling lock of it had escaped from the +band of his cap at the temple; his eyes were brown to match his hair and +were the striking feature of a strong, rugged countenance, for they were +spaced at that eminently proper interval which proclaims an honest man. +His nose was high, of medium thickness and just a trifle long--the +nose of a thinker. His ears were large, with full lobes--the ears of a +generous man. The mouth, full-lipped but firm, the heavy jaw and square +chin, the great hands (most amazingly free from freckles) denoted the +man who would not avoid a fight worth while. Indeed, while the girl was +looking covertly at him, she saw his jaw set and a sudden, fierce light +leap up in his eyes, which at first sight had seemed to her rather +quizzical. Subconsciously he lifted one hand from the wheel and clenched +it; he wagged his head a very little bit; consequently she knew his +thoughts were far away, and for some reason, not quite clear to her, she +would have preferred that they weren't. As a usual thing, young men +did not go wool-gathering in her presence; so she sought to divert his +thoughts to present company. + +“What a perfectly glorious country!” she exclaimed. “Can't we stop for +just a minute to appreciate it?” + +“Yes,” he replied abstractedly as he descended from the car and sat at +her feet while she drank in the beauty of the scene, “it's a he country; +I love it, and I'm glad to get back to it.” + +Upon their arrival at the rest-house, however, Bryce cheered up, and +during dinner was very attentive and mildly amusing, although Shirley's +keen wits assured her that this was merely a clever pose and sustained +with difficulty. She was confirmed in this assumption when, after +sitting with him a little on the porch after dinner, she complained of +being weary and bade him good-night. She had scarcely left him when he +called: + +“George!” + +The half-breed slid out of the darkness and sat down beside him. A +moment later, through the open window of her room just above the porch +where Bryce and George Sea Otter sat, Shirley heard the former say: + +“George, when did you first notice that my father's sight was beginning +to fail?” + +“About two years ago, Bryce.” + +“What made you notice it?” + +“He began to walk with his hands held out in front of him, and sometimes +he lifted his feet too high.” + +“Can he see at all now, George?” + +“Oh, yes, a little bit--enough to make his way to the office and back.” + +“Poor old governor! George, until you told me this afternoon, I hadn't +heard a word about it. If I had, I never would have taken that two-year +jaunt around the world.” + +George Sea Otter grunted. “That's what your father said, too. So he +wouldn't tell you, and he ordered everybody else to keep quiet about it. +Myself--well, I didn't want you to go home and not know it until you met +him.” + +“That was mighty kind and considerate of you, George. And you say this +man Colonel Pennington and my father have been having trouble?” + +“Yes--” Here George Sea Otter gracefully unburdened himself of a fervent +curse directed at Shirley's avuncular relative; whereupon that young +lady promptly left the window and heard no more. + +They were on the road again by eight o'clock next morning, and just as +Cardigan's mill was blowing the six o'clock whistle, Bryce stopped the +car at the head of the street leading down to the water-front. “I'll let +you drive now, George,” he informed the silent Sea Otter. He turned to +Shirley Sumner. “I'm going to leave you now,” he said. “Thank you for +riding over from Red Bluff with me. My father never leaves the office +until the whistle blows, and so I'm going to hurry down to that little +building you see at the end of the street and surprise him.” + +He stepped out on the running-board, stood there a moment, and extended +his hand. Shirley had commenced a due and formal expression of her +gratitude for having been delivered safely in Sequoia, when George Sea +Otter spoke: + +“Here comes John Cardigan,” he said. + +“Drive Miss Sumner around to Colonel Pennington's house,” Bryce ordered, +and even while he held Shirley's hand, he turned to catch the first +glimpse of his father. Shirley followed his glance and saw a tall, +powerfully built old man coming down the street with his hands thrust +a little in front of him, as if for protection from some invisible +assailant. + +“Oh, my poor old father!” she heard Bryce Cardigan murmur. “My dear old +pal! And I've let him grope in the dark for two years!” + +He released her hand and leaped from the car. “Dad!” he called. “It is +I--Bryce. I've come home to you at last.” + +The slightly bent figure of John Cardigan straightened with a jerk; he +held out his arms, trembling with eagerness, and as the car continued on +to the Pennington house Shirley looked back and saw Bryce folded in his +father's embrace. She did not, however, hear the heart-cry with which +the beaten old man welcomed his boy. + +“Sonny, sonny--oh, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. Bryce, I'm +whipped--I've lost your heritage. Oh, son! I'm old--I can't fight +any more. I'm blind--I can't see my enemies. I've lost your redwood +trees--even your mother's Valley of the Giants.” + +And he commenced to weep for the third time in fifty years. And when the +aged and helpless weep, nothing is more terrible. Bryce Cardigan said +no word, but held his father close to his great heart and laid his cheek +gently against the old man's, tenderly as a woman might. And presently, +from that silent communion of spirit, each drew strength and comfort. As +the shadows fell in John Cardigan's town, they went home to the house on +the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Shirley Sumner's eyes were still moist when George Sea Otter, in +obedience to the instructions of his youthful master, set her, the +French maid, and their hand-baggage down on the sidewalk in front of +Colonel Seth Pennington's house. The half-breed hesitated a moment, +undecided whether he would carry the hand-baggage up to the door or +leave that task for a Pennington retainer; then he noted the tear-stains +on the cheeks of his fair passenger. Instantly he took up the +hand-baggage, kicked open the iron gate, and preceded Shirley up the +cement walk to the door. + +“Just wait a moment, if you please, George,” Shirley said as he set +the baggage down and started back for the car. He turned and beheld her +extracting a five-dollar bill from her purse. “For you, George,” she +continued. “Thank you so much.” + +In all his life George Sea Otter had never had such an experience--he, +happily, having been raised in a country where, with the exception of +waiters, only a pronounced vagrant expects or accepts a gratuity from a +woman. He took the bill and fingered it curiously; then his white blood +asserted itself and he handed the bill back to Shirley. + +“Thank you,” he said respectfully. “If you are a man--all right. But +from a lady--no. I am like my boss. I work for you for nothing.” + +Shirley did not understand his refusal, but her instinctive tact warned +her not to insist. She returned the bill to her purse, thanked him +again, and turned quickly to hide the slight flush of annoyance. George +Sea Otter noted it. + +“Lady,” he said with great dignity, “at first I did not want to carry +your baggage. I did not want to walk on this land.” And with a sweeping +gesture he indicated the Pennington grounds. “Then you cry a little +because my boss is feeling bad about his old man. So I like you better. +The old man--well, he has been like father to me and my mother--and we +are Indians. My brothers, too--they work for him. So if you like my boss +and his old man, George Sea Otter would go to hell for you pretty damn' +quick. You bet you my life!” + +“You're a very good boy, George,” she replied, with difficulty +repressing a smile at his blunt but earnest avowal. “I am glad the +Cardigans have such an honest, loyal servant.” + +George Sea Otter's dark face lighted with a quick smile. “Now you pay +me,” he replied and returned to the car. + +The door opened, and a Swedish maid stood in the entrance regarding +her stolidly. “I'm Miss Sumner,” Shirley informed her. “This is my maid +Marcelle. Help her in with the hand-baggage.” She stepped into the hall +and called: “Ooh-hooh! Nunky-dunk!” + +“Ship ahoy!” An answering call came to her from the dining room, across +the entrance-hall, and an instant later Colonel Seth Pennington stood +in the doorway, “Bless my whiskers! Is that you, my dear?” he cried, and +advanced to greet her. “Why, how did you get here, Shirley? I thought +you'd missed the stage.” + +She presented her cheek for his kiss. “So I did, Uncle, but a nice +red-haired young man named Bryce Cardigan found me in distress at +Red Bluff, picked me up in his car, and brought me here.” She sniffed +adorably. “I'm so hungry,” she declared, “and here I am, just in time +for dinner. Is my name in the pot?” + +“It isn't, Shirley, but it soon will be. How perfectly bully to have you +with me again, my dear! And what a charming young lady you've grown to +be since I saw you last! You're--why, you've been crying! By Jove, I had +no idea you'd be so glad to see me again.” + +She could not forego a sly little smile at his egoism. + +“You're looking perfectly splendid, Uncle Seth,” she parried. + +“And I'm feeling perfectly splendid. This is a wonderful country, +Shirley, and everything is going nicely with me here. By the way, who +did you say picked you up in his car?” + +“Bryce Cardigan. Do you know him?” + +“No, we haven't met. Son of old John Cardigan, I dare say. I've heard of +him. He's been away from Sequoia for quite a while, I believe.” + +“Yes; he was abroad for two years after he was graduated from +Princeton.” + +“Hum-m-m! Well, it's about time he came home to take care of that +stiff-necked old father of his.” He stepped to the bell and pressed +it, and the butler answered. “Set a place at dinner for Miss Shirley, +James,” he ordered. “Thelma will show you your rooms, Shirley. I was +just about to sit down to dinner. I'll wait for you.” + +While Shirley was in the living room Colonel Pennington's features wore +an expression almost pontifical, but when she had gone, the atmosphere +of paternalism and affection which he radiated faded instantly. The +Colonel's face was in repose now--cold, calculating, vaguely repellent. +He scowled slightly. + +“Now, isn't that the devil's luck?” he soliloquized. “Young Cardigan is +probably the only man in Sequoia--dashed awkward if they should +become interested in each other--at this time. Everybody in town, from +lumberjacks to bankers, has told me what a fine fellow Bryce Cardigan +is. They say he's good-looking; certainly he is educated and has +acquired some worldly polish--just the kind of young fellow Shirley will +find interesting and welcome company in a town like this. Many things +can happen in a year--and it will be a year before I can smash the +Cardigans. Damn it!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Along the well-remembered streets of Sequoia Bryce Cardigan and his +father walked arm in arm, their progress continuously interrupted by +well-meaning but impulsive Sequoians who insisted upon halting the pair +to shake hands with Bryce and bid him welcome home. In the presence of +those third parties the old man quickly conquered the agitation he had +felt at this long-deferred meeting with his son, and when presently they +left the business section of the town and turned into a less-frequented +street, his emotion assumed the character of a quiet joy, evidenced in +a more erect bearing and a firmer tread, as if he strove, despite his +seventy-six years, not to appear incongruous as he walked beside his +splendid son. + +“I wish I could see you more clearly,” he said presently. His voice as +well as his words expressed profound regret, but there was no hint of +despair or heartbreak now. + +Bryce, who up to this moment had refrained from discussing his father's +misfortunes, drew the old man a little closer to his side. + +“What's wrong with your eyes, pal?” he queried. He did not often address +his parent, after the fashion of most sons, as “Father,” “Dad” or “Pop.” + They were closer to each other than that, and a rare sense of perfect +comradeship found expression, on Bryce's part, in such salutations as +“pal,” “partner” and, infrequently, “old sport.” When arguing with his +father, protesting with him or affectionately scolding him, Bryce, with +mock seriousness, sometimes called the old man John Cardigan. + +“Cataracts, son,” his father answered. “Merely the penalty of old age.” + +“But can't something be done about it?” demanded Bryce. “Can't they be +cured somehow or other?” + +“Certainly they can. But I shall have to wait until they are completely +matured and I have become completely blind; then a specialist will +perform an operation on my eyes, and in all probability my sight will +be restored for a few years. However, I haven't given the matter a great +deal of consideration. At my age one doesn't find very much difficulty +in making the best of everything. And I am about ready to quit now. I'd +like to, in fact; I'm tired.” + +“Oh, but you can't quit until you've seen your redwoods again,” Bryce +reminded him. “I suppose it's been a long time since you've visited the +Valley of the Giants; your long exile from the wood-goblins has made you +a trifle gloomy, I'm afraid.” + +John Cardigan nodded. “I haven't seen them in a year and a half, Bryce. +Last time I was up, I slipped between the logs on the old skid-road and +like to broke my old fool neck. But even that wasn't warning enough for +me. I cracked right on into the timber and got lost.” + +“Lost? Poor old partner! And what did you do about it?” + +“The sensible thing, my boy. I just sat down under a tree and waited for +George Sea Otter to trail me and bring me home.” + +“And did he find you? Or did you have to spend the night in the woods?” + +John Cardigan smiled humorously. “I did not. Along about sunset George +found me. Seems he'd been following me all the time, and when I sat down +he waited to make certain whether I was lost or just taking a rest where +I could be quiet and think.” + +“I've been leaving to an Indian the fulfillment of my duty,” Bryce +murmured bitterly. + +“No, no, son. You have never been deficient in that,” the old man +protested. + +“Why didn't you have the old skid-road planked with refuse lumber so you +wouldn't fall through? And you might have had the woods-boss swamp a +new trail into the timber and fence it on both sides, in order that you +might feel your way along.” + +“Yes, quite true,” admitted the old man. “But then, I don't spend money +quite as freely as I used to, Bryce. I consider carefully now before I +part with a dollar.” + +“Pal, it wasn't fair of you to make me stay away so long. If I had only +known--if I had remotely suspected--” + +“You'd have spoiled everything--of course. Don't scold me, son. You're +all I have now, and I couldn't bear to send for you until you'd had +your fling.” His trembling old hand crept over and closed upon his boy's +hand, so firm but free from signs of toil. “It was my pleasure, Bryce,” + he continued, “and you wouldn't deny me my choice of sport, would you? +Remember, lad, I never had a boyhood; I never had a college education, +and the only real travel I have ever had was when I worked my way +around Cape Horn as a foremast hand, and all I saw then was water and +hardships; all I've seen since is my little world here in Sequoia and in +San Francisco.” + +“You've sacrificed enough--too much--for me, Dad.” + +“It pleased me to give you all the advantages I wanted and couldn't +afford until I was too old and too busy to consider them. Besides, it +was your mother's wish. We made plans for you before you were born, and +I promised her--ah, well, why be a cry-baby? I knew I could manage until +you were ready to settle down to business. And you HAVE enjoyed your +little run, haven't you?” he concluded wistfully. + +“I have, Dad.” Bryce's great hand closed over the back of his +father's neck; he shook the old man with mock ferocity. “Stubborn old +lumberjack!” he chided. + +John Cardigan shook with an inward chuckle, for the loving abuse his +boy had formed a habit of heaping on him never failed to thrill +him. Instinctively Bryce had realized that to-night obvious sympathy +copiously expressed was not the medicine for his father's bruised +spirit; hence he elected to regard the latter's blindness as a mere +temporary annoyance, something to be considered lightly, if at all; and +it was typical of him now that the subject had been discussed briefly, +to resolve never to refer to it again. He released his hold on the old +man's neck and tapped the latter's gray head lightly, while with his +tongue he made hollow-sounding noises against the roof of his mouth. + +“Ha! I thought so,” he declared. “After your fifty-odd years in the +lumber business your head has become packed with sawdust--” + +“Be serious and talk to me, Bryce.” + +“I ought to send you to bed without your supper. Talk to you? You bet +I'll talk to you, John Cardigan; and I'll tell you things, too, you +scandalous bunko-steerer. To-morrow morning I'm going to put a pair +of overalls on you, arm you with a tin can and a swab, and set you to +greasing the skidways. Partner, you've deceived me.” + +“Oh, nonsense. If I had whimpered, that would only have spoiled +everything.” + +“Nevertheless, you were forced to cable me to hurry home.” + +“I summoned you the instant I realized I was going to need you.” + +“No, you didn't, John Cardigan. You summoned me because, for the first +time in your life, you were panicky and let yourself get out of hand.” + +His father nodded slowly. “And you aren't over it yet,” Bryee continued, +his voice no longer bantering but lowered affectionately. “What's the +trouble, Dad? Trot out your old panic and let me inspect it. Trouble +must be very real when it gets my father on the run.” + +“It is, Bryce, very real indeed. As I remarked before, I've lost your +heritage for you.” He sighed. “I waited till you would be able to come +home and settle down to business; now you're home, and there isn't any +business to settle down to.” + +Bryce chuckled, for he was indeed far from being worried over business +matters, his consideration now being entirely for his father's peace +of mind. “All right,” he retorted, “Father has lost his money and we'll +have to let the servants go and give up the old home. That part of it is +settled; and weak, anemic, tenderly nurtured little Bryce Cardigan must +put his turkey on his back and go into the woods looking for a job +as lumberjack ... Busted, eh? Did I or did I not hear the six o'clock +whistle blow at the mill? Bet you a dollar I did.” + +“Oh, I have title to everything--yet.” + +“How I do have to dig for good news! Then it appears we still have a +business; indeed, we may always have a business, for the very fact +that it is going but not quite gone implies a doubt as to its ultimate +departure, and perhaps we may yet scheme a way to retain it.” + +“Oh, my boy, when I think of my years of toil and scheming, of the big +dreams I dreamed--” + +“Belay all! If we can save enough out of the wreck to insure you your +customary home comforts, I shan't cry, partner. I have a profession +to fall back on. Yes, sirree. I own a sheep-skin, and it says I'm an +electrical and civil engineer.” + +“What!” + +“I said it. An electrical and civil engineer. Slipped one over on you +at college, John Cardigan, when all the time you thought I was having a +good time. Thought I'd come home and surprise you.” + +“Bu-bu-but--” + +“It drives me wild to have a man sputter at me. I'm an electrical and +civil engineer, I tell you, and my two years of travel have been spent +studying the installation and construction of big plants abroad.” He +commenced to chuckle softly. “I've known for years that our sawmill +was a debilitated old coffee-grinder and would have to be rebuilt, so I +wanted to know how to rebuild it. And I've known for years that some day +I might have to build a logging railroad--” + +“My dear boy! And you've got your degree?” + +“Partner, I have a string of letters after my name like the tail of a +comet.” + +“You comfort me,” the old man answered simply. “I have reproached myself +with the thought that I reared you with the sole thought of making +a lumberman out of you--and when I saw your lumber business slipping +through my fingers--” + +“You were sorry I didn't have a profession to fall back on, eh? Or were +you fearful lest you had raised the usual rich man's son? If the latter, +you did not compliment me, pal. I've never forgotten how hard you +always strove to impress me with a sense of the exact weight of my +responsibility as your successor.” + +“How big are you now?” his father queried suddenly. + +“Well, sir,” Bryce answered, for his father's pleasure putting aside his +normal modesty, “I'm six feet two inches tall, and I weigh two hundred +pounds in the pink of condition. I have a forty-eight-inch chest, +with five and a half inches chest-expansion, and a reach as long as a +gorilla's. My underpinning is good, too; I'm not one of these fellows +with spidery legs and a barrel-chest. I can do a hundred yards in ten +seconds; I'm no slouch of a swimmer; and at Princeton they say I made +football history. And in spite of it all, I haven't an athletic heart.” + +“That is very encouraging, my boy--very. Ever do any boxing?” + +“Quite a little. I'm fairly up in the manly art of self-defence.” + +“That's good. And I suppose you did some wrestling at your college +gymnasium, did you not?” + +“Naturally. I went in for everything my big carcass could stand.” + +The old man wagged his head approvingly, and they had reached the +gate of the Cardigan home before he spoke again. “There's a big buck +woods-boss up in Pennington's camp,” he remarked irrelevantly. “He's a +French Canadian imported from northern Michigan by Colonel Pennington. +I dare say he's the only man in this country who measures up to you +physically. He can fight with his fists and wrestle right cleverly, I'm +told. His name is Jules Rondeau, and he's top dog among the lumberjacks. +They say he's the strongest man in the county.” He unlatched the gate. +“Folks used to say that about me once,” he continued wistfully. “Ah, if +I could have my eyes to see you meet Jules Rondeau!” + +The front portal of the quaint old Cardigan residence opened, and a +silver-haired lady came out on the porch and hailed Bryce. She was Mrs. +Tully, John Cardigan's old housekeeper, and almost a mother to Bryce. +“Oh, here's my boy!” she cried, and a moment later found herself +encircled by Bryce's arms and saluted with a hearty kiss. + +As he stepped into the familiar entrance-hall, Bryce paused, raised his +head and sniffed suspiciously, like a bird-dog. Mrs. Tully, arms akimbo, +watched him pleasurably. “I smell something,” he declared, and advanced +a step down the hall for another sniff; then, in exact imitation of +a foxhound, he gave tongue and started for the kitchen. Mrs. Tully, +waddling after, found him “pointing” two hot blackberry pies which +had but a few minutes previous been taken from the oven. He was baying +lugubriously. + +“They're wild blackberries, too,” Mrs. Tully announced pridefully. “I +remembered how fond you used to be of wild-blackberry pie--so I phoned +up to the logging-camp and had the woods-boss send a man out to pick +them.” + +“I'm still a pie-hound, Mrs. Tully, and you're still the same dear, +thoughtful soul. I'm so glad now that I had sense enough to think of you +before I turned my footsteps toward the setting sun.” He patted her gray +head. “Mrs. T.,” he declared, “I've brought you a nice big collar of +Irish lace--bought it in Belfast, b'gosh. It comes down around your neck +and buckles right here with an old ivory cameo I picked up in Burma and +which formerly was the property of a Hindu queen.” + +Mrs. Tully simpered with pleasure and protested that her boy was too +kind. “You haven't changed a single speck,” she concluded proudly. + +“Has the pie?” + +“I should say not.” + +“How many did you make?” + +“Two.” + +“May I have one all for myself, Mrs. Tully?” + +“Indeed you may, my dear.” + +“Thank you, but I do not want it for myself. Mrs. Tully, will you please +wrap one of those wonderful pies in a napkin and the instant George Sea +Otter comes in with the car, tell him to take the pie over to Colonel +Pennington's house and deliver it to Miss Sumner? There's a girl who +doubtless thinks she has tasted pie in her day, and I want to prove to +her that she hasn't.” He selected a card from his card-case, sat down, +and wrote: + +Dear Miss Sumner: + +Here is a priceless hot wild-blackberry pie, especially manufactured in +my honour. It is so good I wanted you to have some. In all your life you +have never tasted anything like it. + +Sincerely, BRYCE CARDIGAN. + +He handed the card to Mrs. Tully and repaired to his old room to remove +the stains of travel before joining his father at dinner. + +Some twenty minutes later his unusual votive offering was delivered +by George Sea Otter to Colonel Pennington's Swedish maid, who promptly +brought it in to the Colonel and Shirley Sumner, who were even then at +dinner in the Colonel's fine burl-redwood-panelled dining room. Miss +Sumner's amazement was so profound that for fully a minute she was mute, +contenting herself with scrutinizing alternately the pie and the card +that accompanied it. Presently she handed the card to her uncle, who +affixed his pince-nez and read the epistle with deliberation. + +“Isn't this young Cardigan a truly remarkable young man, Shirley?” + he declared. “Why, I have never heard of anything like his astounding +action. If he had sent you over an armful of American Beauty roses +from his father's old-fashioned garden, I could understand it, but an +infernal blackberry pie! Good heavens!” + +“I told you he was different,” she replied. To the Colonel's amazement +she did not appear at all amused. + +Colonel Pennington poked a fork through the delicate brown crust. “I +wonder if it is really as good as he says it is, Shirley.” + +“Of course. If it wasn't, he wouldn't have sent it.” + +“How do you know?” + +“By intuition,” she replied. And she cut into the pie and helped the +Colonel to a quadrant of it. + +“That was a genuine hayseed faux-pas,” announced the Colonel a few +moments later as Shirley was pouring coffee from a samovar-shaped +percolator in the library. “The idea of anybody who has enjoyed the +advantages that fellow has, sending a hot blackberry pie to a girl he +has just met!” + +“Yes, the idea!” she echoed. “I find it rather charming.” + +“You mean amusing.” + +“I said 'charming.' Bryce Cardigan is a man with the heart and soul of a +boy, and I think it was mighty sweet of him to share his pie with me. If +he had sent roses, I should have suspected him of trying to 'rush' +me, but the fact that he sent a blackberry pie proves that he's just a +natural, simple, sane, original citizen--just the kind of person a girl +can have for a dear friend without incurring the risk of having to marry +him.” + +“I repeat that this is most extraordinary.” + +“Only because it is an unusual thing for a young man to do, although, +after all, why shouldn't he send me a blackberry pie if he thought a +blackberry pie would please me more than an armful of roses? Besides, he +may send the roses to-morrow.” + +“Most extraordinary!” the Colonel reiterated. + +“What should one expect from such an extraordinary creature? He's an +extraordinary fine-looking young man, with an extraordinary scowl and an +extraordinary crinkly smile that is friendly and generous and free from +masculine guile. Why, I think he's just the kind of man who WOULD send a +girl a blackberry pie.” + +The Colonel noticed a calm little smile fringing her generous mouth. +He wished he could tell, by intuition, what she was thinking about--and +what effect a hot wild-blackberry pie was ultimately to have upon the +value of his minority holding in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Not until dinner was finished and father and son had repaired to the +library for their coffee and cigars did Bryce Cardigan advert to the +subject of his father's business affairs. + +“Well, John Cardigan,” he declared comfortably, “to-day is Friday. +I'll spend Saturday and Sunday in sinful sloth and the renewal of old +acquaintance, and on Monday I'll sit in at your desk and give you a +long-deferred vacation. How about that programme, pard?” + +“Our affairs are in such shape that they could not possibly be hurt +or bettered, no matter who takes charge of them now,” Cardigan replied +bitterly. “We're about through. I waited too long and trusted too far; +and now--well, in a year we'll be out of business.” + +“Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything right to the +end. George Sea Otter informed me that you've been having trouble with +this Johnny-come-lately, Colonel Pennington. Is he the man who has us +where the hair is short?” + +The old man nodded. + +“The Squaw Creek timber deal, eh?” Bryce suggested. + +Again the old man nodded. “You wrote me all about that,” Bryce +continued. “You had him blocked whichever way he turned--so effectually +blocked, in fact, that the only pleasure he has derived from his +investment since is the knowledge that he owns two thousand acres of +timber with the exclusive right to pay taxes on it, walk in it, look +at it and admire it--in fact, do everything except log it, mill it, and +realize on his investment. It must make him feel like a bally jackass.” + +“On the other hand,” his father reminded him, “no matter what the +Colonel's feeling on that score may be, misery loves company, and not +until I had pulled out of the Squaw Creek country and started logging in +the San Hedrin watershed, did I realize that I had been considerable of +a jackass myself.” + +“Yes,” Bryce admitted, “there can be no doubt but that you cut off your +nose to spite your face.” + +There was silence between them for several minutes. Bryce's thoughts +harked back to that first season of logging in the San Hedrin, when the +cloud-burst had caught the river filled with Cardigan logs and whirled +them down to the bay, to crash through the log-boom at tidewater and +continue out to the open sea. In his mind's eye he could still see the +red-ink figures on the profit-and-loss statement Sinclair, his father's +manager, had presented at the end of that year. + +The old man appeared to divine the trend of his son's thoughts. “Yes, +Bryce, that was a disastrous year,” he declared. “The mere loss of the +logs was a severe blow, but in addition I had to pay out quite a little +money to settle with my customers. I was loaded up with low-priced +orders that year, although I didn't expect to make any money. The orders +were merely taken to keep the men employed. You understand, Bryce! I had +a good crew, the finest in the country; and if I had shut down, my men +would have scattered and--well, you know how hard it is to get that kind +of a crew together again. Besides, I had never failed my boys before, +and I couldn't bear the thought of failing them then. Half the mills in +the country were shut down at the time, and there was a lot of distress +among the unemployed. I couldn't do it, Bryce.” + +Bryce nodded. “And when you lost the logs, you couldn't fill those +low-priced orders. Then the market commenced to jump and advanced three +dollars in three months--” + +“Exactly, my son. And my customers began to crowd me to fill those +old orders. Praise be, my regular customers knew I wasn't the kind of +lumberman who tries to crawl out of filling low-priced orders after the +market has gone up. Nevertheless I couldn't expect them to suffer with +me; my failure to perform my contracts, while unavoidable, nevertheless +would have caused them a severe loss, and when they were forced to buy +elsewhere, I paid them the difference between the price they paid my +competitors and the price at which they originally placed their orders +with me. And the delay in delivery caused them further loss.” + +“How much?” + +“Nearly a hundred thousand--to settle for losses to my local customers +alone. Among my orders I had three million feet of clear lumber for +shipment to the United Kingdom, and these foreign customers, thinking +I was trying to crawfish on my contracts, sued me and got judgment +for actual and exemplary damages for my failure to perform, while the +demurrage on the ships they sent to freight the lumber sent me hustling +to the bank to borrow money.” + +He smoked meditatively for a minute. “I've always been land-poor,” he +explained apologetically. “Never kept much of a reserve working-capital +for emergencies, you know. Whenever I had idle money, I put it into +timber in the San Hedrin watershed, because I realized that some day the +railroad would build in from the south, tap that timber, and double its +value. I've not as yet found reason to doubt the wisdom of my course; +but”--he sighed--“the railroad is a long time coming!” + +John Cardigan here spoke of a most important factor in the situation. +The crying need of the country was a feeder to some transcontinental +railroad. By reason of natural barriers, Humboldt County was not easily +accessible to the outside world except from the sea, and even this +avenue of ingress and egress would be closed for days at a stretch +when the harbour bar was on a rampage. With the exception of a strip of +level, fertile land, perhaps five miles wide and thirty miles long and +contiguous to the seacoast, the heavily timbered mountains to the north, +east, and south rendered the building of a railroad that would connect +Humboldt County with the outside world a profoundly difficult and +expensive task. The Northwestern Pacific, indeed, had been slowly +building from San Francisco Bay up through Marin and Sonoma counties +to Willits in Mendocino County. But there it had stuck to await that +indefinite day when its finances and the courage of its board of +directors should prove equal to the colossal task of continuing the road +two hundred miles through the mountains to Sequoia on Humboldt Bay. +For twenty years the Humboldt pioneers had lived in hope of this; but +eventually they had died in despair or were in process of doing so. + +“Don't worry, Dad. It will come,” Bryce assured his father. “It's bound +to.” + +“Yes, but not in my day. And when it comes, a stranger may own your San +Hedrin timber and reap the reward of my lifetime of labour.” + +Again a silence fell between them, broken presently by the old man. +“That was a mistake--logging in the San Hedrin,” he observed. “I had +my lesson that first year, but I didn't heed it. If I had abandoned my +camps there, pocketed my pride, paid Colonel Pennington two dollars for +his Squaw Creek timber, and rebuilt my old logging-road, I would have +been safe to-day. But I was stubborn; I'd played the game so long, you +know--I didn't want to let that man Pennington outgame me. So I tackled +the San Hedrin again. We put thirty million feet of logs into the river +that year, and when the freshet came, McTavish managed to make a fairly +successful drive. But he was all winter on the job, and when spring +came and the men went into the woods again, they had to leave nearly a +million feet of heavy butt logs permanently stranded in the slack water +along the banks, while perhaps another million feet of lighter logs had +been lifted out of the channel by the overflow and left high and dry +when the water receded. There they were, Bryce, scattered up and down +the river, far from the cables and logging-donkeys, the only power we +could use to get those monsters back into the river again, and I was +forced to decide whether they should be abandoned or split during the +summer into railroad ties, posts, pickets, and shakes--commodities for +which there was very little call at the time and in which, even +when sold, there could be no profit after deducting the cost of the +twenty-mile wagon haul to Sequoia, and the water freight from Sequoia to +market. So I abandoned them.” + +“I remember that phase of it, partner.” + +“To log it the third year only meant that more of those heavy logs would +jam and spell more loss. Besides, there was always danger of another +cloud-burst which would put me out of business completely, and I +couldn't afford the risk.” + +“That was the time you should have offered Colonel Pennington a handsome +profit on his Squaw Creek timber, pal.” + +“If my hindsight was as good as my foresight, and I had my eyesight, I +wouldn't be in this dilemma at all,” the old man retorted briskly. “It's +hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and besides, I was obsessed with +the need of protecting your heritage from attack in any direction.” + +John Cardigan straightened up in his chair and laid the tip of his right +index finger in the centre of the palm of his left hand. “Here was the +situation, Bryce: The centre of my palm represents Sequoia; the end of +my fingers represents the San Hedrin timber twenty miles south. Now, if +the railroad built in from the south, you would win. But if it built in +from Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the north from the base of my hand, the +terminus of the line would be Sequoia, twenty miles from your timber in +the San Hedrin watershed!” + +Bryce nodded. “In which event,” he replied, “we, would be in much the +same position with our San Hedrin timber as Colonel Pennington is with +his Squaw Creek timber. We would have the comforting knowledge that we +owned it and paid taxes on it but couldn't do a dad-burned thing with +it!” + +“Right you are! The thing to do, then, as I viewed the situation, Bryce, +was to acquire a body of timber NORTH of Sequoia and be prepared for +either eventuality. And this I did.” + +Silence again descended upon them; and Bryce, gazing into the open +fireplace, recalled an event in that period of his father's activities: +Old Bill Henderson had come up to their house to dinner one night, and +quite suddenly, in the midst of his soup, the old fox had glared across +at his host and bellowed: + +“John, I hear you've bought six thousand acres up in Township Nine.” + +John Cardigan had merely nodded, and Henderson had continued: + +“Going to log it or hold it for investment?” + +“It was a good buy,” Cardigan had replied enigmatically; “so I thought +I'd better take it at the price. I suppose Bryce will log it some day.” + +“Then I wish Bryce wasn't such a boy, John. See here, now, neighbour. +I'll 'fess up. I took that money Pennington gave me for my Squaw Creek +timber and put it back into redwood in Township Nine, slam-bang up +against your holdings there. John, I'd build a mill on tidewater if +you'd sell me a site, and I'd log my timber if--” + +“I'll sell you a mill-site, Bill, and I won't stab you to the heart, +either. Consider that settled.” + +“That's bully, John; but still, you only dispose of part of my troubles. +There's twelve miles of logging-road to build to get my logs to the +mill, and I haven't enough ready money to make the grade. Better throw +in with me, John, and we'll build the road and operate it for our joint +interest.” + +“I'll not throw in with you, Bill, at my time of life, I don't want to +have the worry of building, maintaining, and operating twelve miles of +private railroad. But I'll loan you, without security--” + +“You'll have to take an unsecured note, John. Everything I've got is +hocked.” + +“--the money you need to build and equip the road,” finished Cardigan. +“In return you are to shoulder all the grief and worry of the road and +give me a ten-year contract at a dollar and a half per thousand feet, +to haul my logs down to tidewater with your own. My minimum haul will be +twenty-five million feet annually, and my maximum fifty million--” + +“Sold!” cried Henderson. And it was even so. + +Bryce came out of his reverie. “And now?” he queried of his father. + +“I mortgaged the San Hedrin timber in the south to buy the timber in the +north, my son; then after I commenced logging in my new holdings, came +several long, lean years of famine. I stuck it out, hoping for a change +for the better; I couldn't bear to close down my mill and logging-camps, +for the reason that I could stand the loss far more readily than the men +who worked for me and depended upon me. But the market dragged in the +doldrums, and Bill Henderson died, and his boys got discouraged, and--” + +A sudden flash of inspiration illumined Bryce Cardigan's brain. “And +they sold out to Colonel Pennington,” he cried. + +“Exactly. The Colonel took over my contract with Henderson's company, +along with the other assets, and it was incumbent upon him, as assignee, +to fulfill the contract. For the past two years the market for redwood +has been most gratifying, and if I could only have gotten a maximum +supply of logs over Pennington's road, I'd have worked out of the hole, +but--” + +“He manages to hold you to a minimum annual haul of twenty-five million +feet, eh?” + +John Cardigan nodded. “He claims he's short of rolling-stock--that +wrecks and fires have embarrassed the road. He can always find excuses +for failing to spot in logging-trucks for Cardigan's logs. Bill +Henderson never played the game that way. He gave me what I wanted and +never held me to the minimum haulage when I was prepared to give him the +maximum.” + +“What does Colonel Pennington want, pard?” + +“He wants,” said John Cardigan slowly, “my Valley of the Giants and +a right of way through my land from the valley to a log-dump on deep +water.” + +“And you refused him?” + +“Naturally. You know my ideas on that big timber.” His old head sank low +on his breast. “Folks call them Cardigan's Redwoods now,” he murmured. +“Cardigan's Redwoods--and Pennington would cut them! Oh, Bryce, the man +hasn't a soul!” + +“But I fail to see what the loss of Cardigan's Redwoods has to do with +the impending ruin of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company,” his son +reminded him. “We have all the timber we want.” + +“My ten-year contract has but one more year to run, and recently I tried +to get Pennington to renew it. He was very nice and sociable, but--he +named me a freight-rate, for a renewal of the contract for five years, +of three dollars per thousand feet. That rate is prohibitive and puts us +out of business.” + +“Not necessarily,” Bryce returned evenly. “How about the State railroad +commission? Hasn't it got something to say about rates?” + +“Yes--on common carriers. But Pennington's load is a private +logging-road; my contract will expire next year, and it is not incumbent +upon Pennington to renew it. And one can't operate a sawmill without +logs, you know.” + +“Then,” said Bryce calmly, “we'll shut the mill down when the +log-hauling contract expires, hold our timber as an investment, and live +the simple life until we can sell it or a transcontinental road builds +into Humboldt County and enables us to start up the mill again.” + +John Cardigan shook his head. “I'm mortgaged to the last penny,” he +confessed, “and Pennington has been buying Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company first-mortgage bonds until he is in control of the issue. He'll +buy in the San Hedrin timber at the foreclosure sale, and in order to +get it back and save something for you out of the wreckage, I'll have +to make an unprofitable trade with him. I'll have to give him my timber +adjoining his north of Sequoia, together with my Valley of the Giants, +in return for the San Hedrin timber, to which he'll have a sheriff's +deed. But the mill, all my old employees, with their numerous +dependents--gone, with you left land-poor and without a dollar to pay +your taxes. Smashed--like that!” And he drove his fist into the palm of +his hand. + +“Perhaps--but not without a fight,” Bryce answered, although he knew +their plight was well-nigh hopeless. “I'll give that man Pennington a +run for his money, or I'll know the reason.” + +The telephone on the table beside him tinkled, and he took down the +receiver and said “Hello!” + +“Mercy!” came the clear, sweet voice of Shirley Sumner over the wire. +“Do you feel as savage as all that, Mr. Cardigan?” + +For the second time in his life the thrill that was akin to pain came +to Bryce Cardigan. He laughed. “If I had known you were calling, Miss +Sumner,” he said, “I shouldn't have growled so.” + +“Well, you're forgiven--for several reasons, but principally for sending +me that delicious blackberry pie. Of course, it discoloured my teeth +temporarily, but I don't care. The pie was worth it, and you were +awfully dear to think of sending it. Thank you so much.” + +“Glad you liked it, Miss Sumner. I dare to hope that I may have the +privilege of seeing you soon again.” + +“Of course. One good pie deserves another. Some evening next week, when +that dear old daddy of yours can spare his boy, you might be interested +to see our burl-redwood-panelled dining room Uncle Seth is so proud of. +I'm too recent an arrival to know the hour at which Uncle Seth dines, +but I'll let you know later and name a definite date. Would Thursday +night be convenient?” + +“Perfectly. Thank you a thousand times.” + +She bade him good-night. As he turned from the telephone, his father +looked up. “What are you going to do to-morrow, lad?” he queried. + +“I have to do some thinking to-morrow,” Bryce answered. “So I'm going up +into Cardigan's Redwoods to do it. Up there a fellow can get set, as it +were, to put over a thought with a punch in it.” + +“The dogwoods and rhododendron are blooming now,” the old man murmured +wistfully. Bryce knew what he was thinking of. “I'll attend to the +flowers for Mother,” he assured Cardigan, and he added fiercely: +“And I'll attend to the battle for Father. We may lose, but that man +Pennington will know he's been in a fight before we fin---” + +He broke off abruptly, for he had just remembered that he was to dine at +the Pennington house the following Thursday--and he was not the sort of +man who smilingly breaks bread with his enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +For many years there had been installed in Cardigan's mill a clock set +to United States observatory time and corrected hourly by the telegraph +company. It was the only clock of its kind in Sequoia; hence folk set +their watches by it, or rather by the whistle on Cardigan's mill. With +a due appreciation of the important function of this clock toward his +fellow-citizens, old Zeb Curry, the chief engineer and a stickler for +being on time, was most meticulous in his whistle-blowing. With a sage +and prophetic eye fixed upon the face of the clock, and a particularly +greasy hand grasping the whistle-cord, Zeb would wait until the clock +registered exactly six-fifty-nine and a half--whereupon the seven +o'clock whistle would commence blowing, to cease instantly upon the +stroke of the hour. It was old Zeb's pride and boast that with a single +exception, during the sixteen years the clock had been in service, no +man could say that Zeb had been more than a second late or early with +his whistle-blowing. That exception occurred when Bryce Cardigan, +invading the engine room while Zeb was at luncheon, looped the +whistle-cord until the end dangled seven feet above ground. As a +consequence Zeb, who was a short, fat little man, was forced to leap +at it several times before success crowned his efforts and the whistle +blew. Thereafter for the remainder of the day his reason tottered on its +throne, due to the fact that Bryce induced every mill employee to call +upon the engineer and remind him that he must be growing old, since he +was no longer dependable! + +On the morning following Bryce Cardigan's return to Sequoia, Zeb Curry, +as per custom, started his engine at six-fifty-eight. That gave the huge +bandsaws two minutes in which to attain their proper speed and afforded +Dan Kenyon, the head sawyer, ample time to run his steam log-carriage +out to the end of the track; for Daniel, too, was a reliable man in the +matter of starting his daily uproar on time. + +At precisely six fifty-nine and a half, therefore, the engineer's hand +closed over the handle of the whistle-cord, and Dan Kenyon, standing +on the steam-carriage with his hand on the lever, took a thirty-second +squint through a rather grimy window that gave upon the drying-yard and +the mill-office at the head of it. + +The whistle ceased blowing, but still Dan Kenyon stood at his post, +oblivious of the hungry saws. Ten seconds passed; then Zeb Curry, +immeasurably scandalized at Daniel's tardiness, tooted the whistle +sharply twice; whereupon Dan woke up, threw over the lever, and walked +his log up to the saw. + +For the next five hours Zeb Curry had no opportunity to discuss the +matter with the head sawyer. After blowing the twelve o'clock whistle, +however, he hurried over to the dining-hall, where the mill hands +already lined the benches, shovelling food into their mouths as only a +lumberman or a miner can. Dan Kenyon sat at the head of the table in +the place of honour sacred to the head sawyer, and when his mouth would +permit of some activity other than mastication, Zeb Curry caught his +eye. + +“Hey, you, Dan Kenyon,” he shouted across the table, “what happened +to you this mornin'? It was sixteen seconds between the tail end o' my +whistle an' the front end o' your whinin'. First thing you know, you'll +be gettin' so slack an' careless-like some other man'll be ridin' that +log-carriage o' yourn.” + +“I was struck dumb,” Dan Kenyon replied. “I just stood there like one +o' these here graven images. Last night on my way home from work I heerd +the young feller was back--he got in just as we was knockin' off for the +day; an' this mornin' just as you cut loose, Zeb, I'll be danged if he +didn't show up in front o' the office door, fumblin' for the keyhole. +Yes, sirree! That boy gets in at six o'clock last night an' turns to on +his paw's job when the whistle blows this mornin' at seven.” + +“You mean young Bryce Cardigan?” Zeb queried incredulously. + +“I shore do.” + +“'Tain't possible,” Zeb declared. “You seen a new bookkeeper, mebbe, but +you didn't see Bryce. He aint no such hog for labour as his daddy before +him, I'm tellin' you. Not that there's a lazy bone in his body, for +there ain't, but because that there boy's got too much sense to come +bollin' down to work at seven o'clock the very first mornin' he's back +from Yurrup.” + +“I'm layin' you ten to one I seen him,” Dan replied defiantly, “an' +what's more, I'll bet a good cigar--a ten-center straight--the boy don't +leave till six o'clock to-night.” + +“You're on,” answered the chief engineer. “Them's lumberjack hours, man. +From seven till six means work--an' only fools an' hosses keeps them +hours.” + +The head sawyer leaned across the table and pounded with the handle of +his knife until he had the attention of all present. “I'm a-goin' to +tell you young fellers somethin',” he announced. “Ever since the old +boss got so he couldn't look after his business with his own eyes, +things has been goin' to blazes round this sawmill, but they ain't +a-goin' no more. How do I know? Well, I'll tell you. All this forenoon I +kept my eye on the office door--I can see it through a mill winder; an' +I'm tellin' you the old boss didn't show up till ten o'clock, which the +old man ain't never been a ten o'clock business man at no time. Don't +that prove the boy's took his place?” + +Confused murmurs of affirmation and negation ran up and down the long +table. Dan tapped with his knife again. “You hear me,” he warned. +“Thirty year I've been ridin' John Cardigan's log-carriages; thirty +year I've been gettin' everythin' out of a log it's possible to git out, +which is more'n you fellers at the trimmers can git out of a board after +I've sawed it off the cant. There's a lot o' you young fellers that've +been takin' John Cardigan's money under false pretenses, so if I was you +I'd keep both eyes on my job hereafter. For a year I've been claimin' +that good No. 2 stock has been chucked into the slab-fire as refuge +lumber.” (Dan meant refuse lumber.) “But it won't be done no more. The +raftsman tells me he seen Bryce down at the end o' the conveyin' belt +givin' that refuge the once-over--so step easy.” + +“What does young Cardigan know about runnin' a sawmill?” a planer-man +demanded bluntly. “They tell me he's been away to college an' travellin' +the past six years.” + +“Wa-ll,” drawled the head sawyer, “you git to talkin' with him some day +an' see how much he knows about runnin' a sawmill. What he knows will +surprise you. Yes, indeed, you'll find he knows considerable. He's +picked up loose shingles around the yard an' bundled 'em in vacation +times, an' I want to see the shingle-weaver that can teach him some +tricks. Also, I've had him come up on the steam carriage more'n once an' +saw up logs, while at times I've seen him put in a week or two on the +sortin' table. In a pinch, with a lot o' vessels loadin' here at the +dock an' the skippers raisin' Cain because they wasn't gettin' their +cargo fast enough, I've seen him work nights an' Sundays tallyin' with +the best o' them. Believe me that boy can grade lumber.” + +“An' I'll tell you somethin' else,” Zeb Curry cut in. “If the new boss +ever tells you to do a thing his way, you do it an' don't argue none as +to whether he knows more about it than you do or not.” + +“A whole lot o' dagos an' bohunks that's come into the woods since the +blue-noses an' canucks an' wild Irish went out had better keep your eyes +open,” Dan Kenyon warned sagely. “There ain't none o' you any better'n +you ought to be, an' things have been pretty durned slack around +Cardigan's mill since the old man went blind, but--you watch out. +There's a change due. Bryce Cardigan is his father's son. He'll do +things.” + +“Which he's big enough to throw a bear uphill by the tail,” Zeb Curry +added, “an' you fellers all know how much tail a bear has.” + +“Every mornin' for thirty years, 'ceptin' when we was shut down for +repairs,” Dan continued, “I've looked through that winder, when John +Cardigan wasn't away from Sequoia, to watch him git to his office on +time. He's there when the whistle blows, clear up to the time his eyes +go back on him, an' then he arrives late once or twice on account o' +havin' to go careful. This mornin', for the first time in fifty year, +he stays in bed; but--his son has the key in the office door when the +whistle blows, an'--” + +Dan Kenyon paused abruptly; the hum of conversation ceased, and silence +fell upon the room as Bryce Cardigan strolled in the door, nodded to the +men, and slid in on the bench to a seat beside the head sawyer. + +“Hello, Dan--hello, Zeb,” he said and shook hands with each. “I'm mighty +glad to see you both again. Hello, everybody. I'm the new boss, so I +suppose I'd better introduce myself--there are so many new faces here. +I'm Bryce Cardigan.” + +“Yes,” Zeb Curry volunteered, “an' he's like his daddy. He ain't ashamed +to work with his men, an' he ain't ashamed to eat with his men, nuther. +Glad you're back with us again, boy--mighty glad. Dan, here, he's +gittin' slacker'n an old squaw with his work an' needs somebody to jerk +him up, while the rest o' these here--” + +“I noticed that about Dan,” Bryce interrupted craftily. “He's slowing +up, Zeb. He must have been fifteen seconds late this morning--or +perhaps,” he added “you were fifteen seconds earlier than the clock.” + +Dan grinned, and Bryce went on seriously: “I'm afraid you're getting too +old to ride the log-carriage, Dan. You've been at it a long time; so, +with the utmost good will in the world toward you, you're fired. I might +as well tell you now. You know me, Dan. I always did dislike beating +about the bush.” + +“Fired!” Dan Kenyon's eyes popped with amazement and horror. +“Fired--after thirty years!” he croaked. + +“Fired!” There was unmistakable finality in Bryce's tones. “You're hired +again, however, at a higher salary, as mill-superintendent. You can get +away with that job, can't you, Dan? In fact,” he added without waiting +for the overjoyed Dan to answer him, “you've got to get away with it, +because I discharged the mill-superintendent I found on the job when I +got down here this morning. He's been letting too many profits go into +the slab-fire. In fact, the entire plant has gone to glory. Fire-hose +old and rotten--couldn't stand a hundred-pound pressure; fire-buckets +and water-barrels empty, axes not in their proper places, +fire-extinguishers filled with stale chemical--why, the smallest kind +of a fire here would get beyond our control with that man on the job. +Besides, he's changed the grading-rules. I found the men putting clear +boards with hard-grained streaks in them in with the No. 1 clear. The +customer may not kick at a small percentage of No. 2 in his No. 1 but +it's only fair to give it to him at two dollars a thousand less.” + +“Well,” purred Zeb Curry, “they don't grade lumber as strict nowadays as +they used to before you went away. Colonel Pennington says we're a lot +o' back numbers out this way an' too generous with our grades. +First thing he did was to call a meetin' of all the Humboldt lumber +manufacturers an' organize 'em into an association. Then he had the +gradin'-rules changed. The retailers hollered for a while, but bimeby +they got used to it.” + +“Did my father join that association?” Bryce demanded quickly. + +“Yes. He told Pennington he wasn't goin' to be no obstructionist in the +trade, but he did kick like a bay steer on them new gradin'-rules an' +refused to conform to 'em. Said he was too old an' had been too long in +business to start gougin' his customers at his time o' life. So he got +out o' the association.” + +“Bully for John Cardigan!” Bryce declared. “I suppose we could make a +little more money by cheapening our grade, but the quality of our +lumber is so well known that it sells itself and saves us the expense of +maintaining a corps of salesmen.” + +“From what I hear tell o' the Colonel,” Dan observed sagely, “the least +he ever wants is a hundred and fifty per cent. the best of it.” + +“Yes,” old Zeb observed gravely, “an' so fur as I can see, he ain't none +too perticular how he gets it.” He helped himself to a toothpick, and +followed by the head sawyer, abruptly left the room--after the fashion +of sawmill men and woodsmen, who eat as much as they can as quickly as +they can and eventually die of old age rather than indigestion. Bryce +ate his noonday meal in more leisurely fashion and at its conclusion +stepped into the kitchen. + +“Where do you live, cook?” he demanded of that functionary; and upon +being informed, he retired to the office and called up the Sequoia +meat-market. + +“Bryce Cardigan speaking,” he informed the butcher. “Do you ever buy any +pigs from our mill cook?” + +“Not any more,” the butcher answered. “He stung me once with a dozen +fine shoats. They looked great, but after I had slaughtered them and had +them dressed, they turned out to be swill-fed hogs--swill and alfalfa.” + +“Thank you.” Bryce hung up. “I knew that cook was wasteful,” he +declared, turning to his father's old manager, one Thomas Sinclair. +“He wastes food in order to take the swill home to his hogs--and nobody +watches him. Things have certainly gone to the devil,” he continued. + +“No fault of mine,” Sinclair protested. “I've never paid any attention +to matters outside the office. Your father looked after everything +else.” + +Bryce looked at Sinclair. The latter was a thin, spare, nervous man +in the late fifties, and though generally credited with being John +Cardigan's manager, Bryce knew that Sinclair was in reality little more +than a glorified bookkeeper--and a very excellent bookkeeper indeed. +Bryce realized that in the colossal task that confronted him he could +expect no real help from Sinclair. + +“Yes,” he replied, “my father looked after everything else--while he +could.” + +“Oh, you'll soon get the business straightened out and running smoothly +again,” Sinclair declared confidently. + +“Well, I'm glad I started on the job to-day, rather than next Monday, as +I planned to do last night.” + +He stepped to the window and looked out. At the mill-dock a big steam +schooner and a wind-jammer lay; in the lee of the piles of lumber, +sailors and long-shoremen, tallymen and timekeeper lounged, enjoying the +brief period of the noon hour still theirs before the driving mates +of the lumber-vessels should turn them to on the job once more. To his +right and left stretched the drying yard, gangway on gangway formed by +the serried rows of lumber-piles, the hoop-horses placidly feeding from +their nosebags while the strong-armed fellows who piled the lumber sat +about in little groups conversing with the mill-hands. + +As Bryce looked, a puff of white steam appeared over the roof of the +old sawmill, and the one o'clock whistle blew. Instantly that scene of +indolence and ease turned to one of activity. The mill-hands lounging in +the gangways scurried for their stations in the mill; men climbed to the +tops of the lumber-piles, while other men passed boards and scantlings +up to them; the donkey-engines aboard the vessels rattled; the +cargo-gaffs of the steam schooner swung outward, and a moment later two +great sling-loads of newly sawed lumber rose in the air, swung inward, +and descended to the steamer's decks. + +All about Bryce were scenes of activity, of human endeavour; and to +him in that moment came the thought: “My father brought all this to +pass--and now the task of continuing it is mine! All those men who earn +a living in Cardigan's mill and on Cardigan's dock--those sailors who +sail the ships that carry Cardigan's lumber into the distant marts of +men--are dependent upon me; and my father used to tell me not to fail +them. Must my father have wrought all this in vain? And must I stand by +and see all this go to satisfy the overwhelming ambition of a stranger?” + His big hands clenched. “No!” he growled savagely. + +“If I stick around this office a minute longer, I'll go crazy,” Bryce +snarled then. “Give me your last five annual statements, Mr. Sinclair, +please.” + +The old servitor brought forth the documents in question. Bryce stuffed +them into his pocket and left the office. Three quarters of an hour +later he entered the little amphitheatre in the Valley of the Giants and +paused with an expression of dismay. One of the giants had fallen +and lay stretched across the little clearing. In its descent it had +demolished the little white stone over his mother's grave and had driven +the fragments of the stone deep into the earth. + +The tremendous brown butt quite ruined the appearance of the +amphitheatre by reason of the fact that it constituted a barrier some +fifteen feet high and of equal thickness athwart the centre of the +clearing, with fully three quarters of the length of the tree lost to +sight where the fallen monarch had wedged between its more fortunate +fellows. The fact that the tree was down, however, was secondary to the +fact that neither wind nor lightning had brought it low, but rather the +impious hand of man; for the great jagged stump showed all too plainly +the marks of cross-cut saw and axe; a pile of chips four feet deep +littered the ground. + +For fully a minute Bryce stood dumbly gazing upon the sacrilege before +his rage and horror found vent in words. “An enemy has done this thing,” + he cried aloud to the wood-goblins. “And over her grave!” + +Presently, smothering his emotion, he walked the length of the dead +giant, and where the top tapered off to a size that would permit of his +stepping across it, he retraced his steps on the other side of the tree +until he had reached a point some fifty feet from the butt--when the +vandal's reason for felling the monster became apparent. + +It was a burl tree. At the point where Bryce paused a malignant growth +had developed on the trunk of the tree, for all the world like a +tremendous wart. This was the burl, so prized for table-tops and +panelling because of the fact that the twisted, wavy, helter-skelter +grain lends to the wood an extraordinary beauty when polished. Bryee +noted that the work of removing this excrescence had been accomplished +very neatly. With a cross-cut saw the growth, perhaps ten feet in +diameter, had been neatly sliced off much as a housewife cuts slice +after slice from a loaf of bread. He guessed that these slices, +practically circular in shape, had been rolled out of the woods to some +conveyance waiting to receive them. + +What Bryce could not understand, however, was the stupid brutality of +the raiders in felling the tree merely for that section of burl. By +permitting the tree to stand and merely building a staging up to the +burl, the latter could have been removed without vital injury to the +tree--whereas by destroying the tree the wretches had evidenced all too +clearly to Bryce a wanton desire to add insult to injury. + +Bryce inspected the scars on the stump carefully. They were +weather-stained to such an extent that to his experienced eye it was +evident the outrage had been committed more than a year previously; +and the winter rains, not to mention the spring growth of grasses and +underbrush, had effectually destroyed all trace of the trail taken by +the vandals with their booty. + +“Poor old Dad!” he murmured. “I'm glad now he has been unable to get up +here and see this. It would have broken his heart. I'll have this tree +made into fence-posts and the stump dynamited and removed this summer. +After he is operated on and gets back his sight, he will come up +here--and he must never know. Perhaps he will have forgotten how many +trees stood in this circle. And I'll fill in the hole left by the stump +and plant some manzanita there to hide the--” + +He paused. Peeping out from under a chip among the litter at his feet +was the moldy corner of a white envelope. In an instant Bryce had it in +his hand. The envelope was dirty and weather-beaten, but to a certain +extent the redwood chips under which it had lain hidden had served to +protect it, and the writing on the face was still legible. The envelope +was empty and addressed to Jules Rondeau, care of the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company, Sequoia, California. + +Bryce read and reread that address. “Rondeau!” he muttered. “Jules +Rondeau! I've heard that name before--ah, yes! Dad spoke of him last +night. He's Pennington's woods-boss--” + +He paused. An enemy had done this thing--and in all the world John +Cardigan had but one enemy--Colonel Seth Pennington. Had Pennington sent +his woods-boss to do this dirty work out of sheer spite? Hardly. The +section of burl was gone, and this argued that the question of spite had +been purely a matter of secondary consideration. + +Evidently, Bryce reasoned, someone had desired that burl redwood +greatly, and that someone had not been Jules Rondeau, since a woods-boss +would not be likely to spend five minutes of his leisure time in +consideration of the beauties of a burl table-top or panel. Hence, if +Rondeau had superintended the task of felling the tree, it must have +been at the behest of a superior; and since a woods-boss acknowledges no +superior save the creator of the pay-roll, the recipient of that stolen +burl must have been Colonel Pennington. + +Suddenly he thrilled. If Jules Rondeau had stolen that burl to present +it to Colonel Pennington, his employer, then the finished article must +be in Pennington's home! And Bryce had been invited to that home for +dinner the following Thursday by the Colonel's niece. + +“I'll go, after all,” he told himself. “I'll go--and I'll see what I +shall see.” + +He was too wrought up now to sit calmly down in the peace and quietude +of the giants, and digest the annual reports Sinclair had given him. He +hastened back to the mill-office and sought Sinclair. + +“At what hour does the logging-train leave the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company's yard for our log-landing in Township Nine?” he demanded. + +“Eight a.m. and one p.m. daily, Bryce.” + +“Have you any maps of the holdings of Pennington and ourselves in that +district?” + +“Yes.” + +“Let me have them, please. I know the topography of that district +perfectly, but I am not familiar with the holdings in and around ours.” + +Sinclair gave him the maps, and Bryce retired to his father's private +office and gave himself up to a study of them. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +When Shirley Sumner descended to the breakfast room on the morning +following her arrival in Sequoia, the first glance at her uncle's +stately countenance informed her that during the night something had +occurred to irritate Colonel Seth Pennington and startle him out of +his customary bland composure. He greeted her politely but coldly, and +without even the perfunctory formality of inquiring how she had passed +the night, he came directly to the issue, + +“Shirley,” he began, “did I hear you calling young Cardigan on the +telephone after dinner last night or did my ears deceive me?” + +“Your ears are all right, Uncle Seth. I called Mr. Cardigan up to thank +him for the pie he sent over, and incidentally to invite him over here +to dinner on Thursday night.” + +“I thought I heard you asking somebody to dinner, and as you don't know +a soul in Sequoia except young Cardigan, naturally I opined that he was +to be the object of our hospitality.” + +The Colonel coughed slightly. From the manner in which he approached the +task of buttering his hot cakes Shirley knew he had something more +to say and was merely formulating a polite set of phrases in which to +express himself. She resolved to help him along. + +“I dare say it's quite all right to have invited him; isn't it, Uncle +Seth?” + +“Certainly, certainly, my dear. Quite all right, but er--ah, slightly +inconvenient.” + +“Oh, I'm so sorry. If I had known--Perhaps some other night--” + +“I am expecting other company Thursday night--unfortunately, Brayton, +the president of the Bank of Sequoia, is coming up to dine and discuss +some business affairs with me afterward; so if you don't mind, my dear, +suppose you call young Cardigan up and ask him to defer his visit until +some later date.” + +“Certainly, Uncle. There is no particular reason why I should have +Mr. Cardigan on Thursday if his presence would mean the slightest +interference with your plans. What perfectly marvellous roses! How did +you succeed in growing them, Uncle Seth?” + +He smiled sourly. “I didn't raise them,” he replied. “That half-breed +Indian that drives John Cardigan's car brought them around about an hour +ago, along with a card. There it is, beside your plate.” + +She blushed ever so slightly. “I suppose Bryce Cardigan is vindicating +himself,” she murmured as she withdrew the card from the envelope. As +she had surmised, it was Bryce Cardigan's. Colonel Pennington was the +proprietor of a similar surmise. + +“Fast work, Shirley,” he murmured banteringly. “I wonder what he'll send +you for luncheon. Some dill pickles, probably.” + +She pretended to be very busy with the roses, and not to have heard +him. Her uncle's sneer was not lost on her, however; she resented it but +chose to ignore it for the present; and when at length she had finished +arranging the flowers, she changed the conversation adroitly by +questioning her relative anent the opportunities for shopping in +Sequoia. The Colonel, who could assimilate a hint quicker than most +ordinary mortals, saw that he had annoyed her, and he promptly hastened +to make amends by permitting himself to be led readily into this new +conversational channel. As soon as he could do so, however, he excused +himself on the plea of urgent business at the office, and left the room. + +Shirley, left alone at the breakfast-table, picked idly at the preserved +figs the owlish butler set before her. Vaguely she wondered at her +uncle's apparent hostility to the Cardigans; she was as vaguely troubled +in the knowledge that until she should succeed in eradicating this +hostility, it must inevitably act as a bar to the further progress of +her friendship with Bryce Cardigan. And she told herself she did not +want to lose that friendship. She wasn't the least bit in love with him +albeit she realized he was rather lovable. The delight which she had +experienced in his society lay in the fact that he was absolutely +different from any other man she had met. His simplicity, his utter lack +of “swank,” his directness, his good nature, and dry sense of humour +made him shine luminously in comparison with the worldly, rather +artificial young men she had previously met--young men who said and did +only those things which time, tradition, and hallowed memory assured +them were done by the right sort of people. Shirley had a suspicion that +Bryce Cardigan could--and would--swear like a pirate should his temper +be aroused and the circumstances appear to warrant letting off steam. +Also she liked him because he was imaginative--because he saw and sensed +and properly understood without a diagram or a blueprint. And lastly, +he was a good, devoted son and was susceptible of development into +a congenial and wholly acceptable comrade to a young lady absolutely +lacking in other means of amusement. + +She finished her breakfast in thoughtful silence; then she went to the +telephone and called up Bryce at his home. Mrs. Tully, all aflutter with +curiosity, was quite insistent that Shirley should leave her name and +telephone number, but failing to carry her point, consented to inform +the latter that Mr. Bryce was at the office. She gave Shirley the +telephone number. + +When the girl called the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, Bryce +answered. He recognized her voice instantly and called her name before +she had opportunity to announce her identity. + +“Thank you so much for the beautiful roses, Mr. Cardigan,” she began. + +“I'm glad you liked them. Nobody picks flowers out of our garden, you +know. I used to, but I'll be too busy hereafter to bother with the +garden.” + +“Very well. Then I am not to expect any more roses?” + +“I'm a stupid clodhopper. Of course you may. By the way, Miss Sumner, +does your uncle own a car?” + +“I believe he does--a little old rattletrap which he drives himself.” + +“Then I'll send George over with the Napier this afternoon. You might +care to take a spin out into the surrounding country. By the way, +Miss Sumner, you are to consider George and that car as your personal +property. I fear you're going to find Sequoia a dull place; so whenever +you wish to go for a ride, just call me up, and I'll have George report +to you.” + +“But think of all the expensive gasoline and tires!” + +“Oh, but you mustn't look at things from that angle after you cross the +Rocky Mountains on your way west. Moreover, mine is the only real car +in the country, and I know you like it. What are you going to do this +afternoon?” + +“I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead.” + +“For some real sport I would suggest that you motor up to Laguna Grande. +That's Spanish for Big Lagoon, you know. Take a rod with you. There are +some land-locked salmon in the lagoon--that is, there used to be; and if +you hook one you'll get a thrill.” + +“But I haven't any rod.” + +“I'll send you over a good one.” + +“But I have nobody to teach me how to use it,” she hinted daringly. + +“I appreciate that compliment,” he flashed back at her, “but +unfortunately my holidays are over for a long, long time. I took my +father's place in the business this morning.” + +“So soon?” + +“Yes. Things have been happening while I was away. However, speaking of +fishing, George Sea Otter will prove an invaluable instructor. He is a +good boy and you may trust him implicitly. On Thursday evening you can +tell me what success you had with the salmon.” + +“Oh, that reminds me, Mr. Cardigan. You can't come Thursday evening, +after all.” And she explained the reason. + +“By Jove,” he replied, “I'm mighty glad you tipped me off about that. +I couldn't possibly remain at ease in the presence of a +banker-particularly one who will not lend me money.” + +“Suppose you come Wednesday night instead.” + +“We'll call that a bet. Thank you.” + +She chuckled at his frank good humour. “Thank YOU, Mr Cardigan, for all +your kindness and thoughtfulness; and if you WILL persist in being nice +to me, you might send George Sea Otter and the car at one-thirty. I'll +be glad to avail myself of both until I can get a car of my own sent up +from San Francisco. Till Wednesday night, then. Good-bye.” + +As Bryce Cardigan hung up, he heaved a slight sigh, and a parody on a +quatrain from “Lalla Rookh” ran through his mind: + +I never loved a dear gazelle, To glad me with its limpid eye, But when I +learned to love it well, The gol-darned thing was sure to die! + +It was difficult to get out of the habit of playing; he found himself +the possessor of a very great desire to close down the desk, call +on Shirley Sumner, and spend the remainder of the day basking in the +sunlight of her presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The days passed swiftly, as they have a habit of passing after one has +discovered one's allotted task in life and has proceeded to perform +it. Following his discovery of the outrage committed on his father's +sanctuary, Bryce wasted considerable valuable time and effort in a +futile endeavour to gather some further hint of the identity of the +vandals; but despairing at last, he dismissed the matter from his mind, +resolving only that on Thursday he would go up into Pennington's woods +and interview the redoubtable Jules Rondeau. Bryce's natural inclination +was to wait upon M. Rondeau immediately, if not sooner, but the +recollection of his dinner engagement at the Pennington home warned him +to proceed cautiously; for while harbouring no apprehensions as to the +outcome of a possible clash with Rondeau, Bryce was not so optimistic as +to believe he would escape unscathed from an encounter. Experience had +impressed upon him the fact that in a rough-and-tumble battle nobody is +quite so thoroughly at home as a lumberjack; once in a clinch with +such a man, even a champion gladiator of the prize ring may well feel +apprehensive of the outcome. + +Wednesday evening at five o'clock Mr. Sinclair, the manager, came +into Bryce's office with a handful of folded papers. “I have here,” he +announced in his clerky voice with a touch of solemnity to it, “a trial +balance. I have not had time to make an exact inventory; but in order +to give you some idea of the condition of your father's affairs, I have +used approximate figures and prepared a profit-and-loss account.” + +Bryce reached for the papers. + +“You will note the amount charged off to profit and loss under the head +of 'Pensions,'” Sinclair continued. “It amounts approximately to two +thousand dollars a month, and this sum represents payments to crippled +employees and the dependent families of men killed in the employ of the +Company.” + +“In addition to these payments, your father owns thirty-two thirty-acre +farms which he has cleared from his logged-over lands. These little +farms are equipped with bungalows and outbuildings built by your father +and represent a considerable investment. As you know, these farms are +wonderfully rich, and are planted in apples and berries. Other lands +contiguous to them sell readily at two hundred dollars an acre, and so +you will see that your father has approximately two hundred thousand +dollars tied up in these little farms.” + +“But he has given a life-lease at nothing a year for each farm to former +employees who have been smashed beyond the possibility of doing the hard +work of the mill and woods,” Bryce reminded the manager. “Hence you must +not figure those farms among our assets.” + +“Why not?” Sinclair replied evenly. “Formal leases have never been +executed, and the tenants occupy the property at your father's +pleasure.” + +“I think that will be about as far as the discussion on that point need +proceed,” Bryce replied smilingly. “My father's word has always been +considered sufficient in this country; his verbal promise to pay has +always been collateral enough for those who know him.” + +“But my dear boy,” Sinclair protested, “while that sort of philanthropy +is very delightful when one can afford the luxury, it is scarcely +practical when one is teetering on the verge of financial ruin. After +all, Bryce, self-preservation is the first law of human nature, and +the sale of those farms would go a long way toward helping the Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company out of the hole it is in at present.” + +“And we're really teetering on the edge of financial ruin, eh?” Bryce +queried calmly. + +“That is expressing your condition mildly. The semi-annual payment of +interest on the bonded indebtedness falls due on July first--and we're +going to default on it, sure as death and taxes. Colonel Pennington +holds a majority of our bonds, and that means prompt suit for +foreclosure.” + +“Well, then, Sinclair,” Bryce retorted, carefully pigeon-holing the +documents the manager had handed him, “I'll tell you what we'll do. For +fifty years my father has played the game in this community like a sport +and a gentleman, and I'll be damned if his son will dog it now, at the +finish. I gather from your remarks that we could find ready sale for +those thirty-two little farms?” + +“I am continually receiving offers for them.” + +“Then they were not included in the list of properties covered by our +bonded indebtedness?” + +“No, your father refused to include them. He said he would take a chance +on the financial future of himself and his boy, but not on his helpless +dependents.” + +“Good old John Cardigan! Well, Sinclair, I'll not take a chance on them +either; so to-morrow morning you will instruct our attorney to draw +up formal life-leases on those farms, and to make certain they are +absolutely unassailable. Colonel Pennington may have the lands sold to +satisfy a deficiency judgment against us, but while those life-leases +from the former owner are in force, my father's proteges cannot be +dispossessed. After they are dead, of course, Pennington may take the +farms--and be damned to him.” + +Sinclair stared in frank amazement at his youthful superior. “You are +throwing away two hundred thousand dollars,” he said distinctly. + +“I haven't thrown it away--yet. You forget, Sinclair, that we're going +to fight first--and fight like fiends; then if we lose--well, the +tail goes with the hide, By the way, Sinclair, are any of those farms +untenanted at the present time?” + +“Yes. Old Bill Tarpey, who lost his three boys in a forest fire over +on the San Hedrin, passed out last week. The Tarpey boys died in the +Cardigan employ, and so your father gave Bill the use of a farm out near +Freshwater.” + +“Well, you'd better be his successor, Sinclair. You're no longer a young +man, and you've been thirty years in this office. Play safe, Sinclair, +and include yourself in one of those life-leases.” + +“My dear boy--” + +“Nonsense! United we stand, divided we fall, Sinclair; and let there be +no moaning of the bar when a Cardigan puts out to sea.” + +Smiling, he rose from his desk, patted the bewildered Sinclair on the +latter's grizzled head, and then reached for his hat. “I'm dining out +to-night, Sinclair, and I wouldn't be a kill-joy at the feast, for a +ripe peach. Your confounded figures might make me gloomy; so we'll just +reserve discussion of them till to-morrow morning. Be a sport, Sinclair, +and for once in your life beat the six o'clock whistle. In other words, +I suggest that you go home and rest for once.” + +He left Sinclair staring at him rather stupidly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Colonel Pennington's imported British butler showed Bryce into the +Pennington living room at six-thirty, announcing him with due ceremony. +Shirley rose from the piano where she had been idly fingering the keys +and greeted him with every appearance of pleasure--following which, she +turned to present her visitor to Colonel Pennington, who was standing in +his favourite position with his back to the fireplace. + +“Uncle Seth, this is Mr. Cardigan, who was so very nice to me the day I +landed in Red Bluff.” + +The Colonel bowed. “I have to thank you, sir, for your courtesy to my +niece.” He had assumed an air of reserve, of distinct aloofness, despite +his studied politeness. Bryce stepped forward with extended hand, which +the Colonel grasped in a manner vaguely suggestive of that clammy-palmed +creation of Charles Dickens--Uriah Heep. Bryce was tempted to squeeze +the lax fingers until the Colonel should bellow with pain; but resisting +the ungenerous impulse, he replied instead: + +“Your niece, Colonel, is one of those fortunate beings the world will +always clamour to serve.” + +“Quite true, Mr. Cardigan. When she was quite a little girl I came under +her spell myself.” + +“So did I, Colonel. Miss Sumner has doubtless told you of our first +meeting some twelve years ago?” + +“Quite so. May I offer you a cocktail, Mr. Cardigan?” + +“Thank you, certainly. Dad and I have been pinning one on about this +time every night since my return.” + +“Shirley belongs to the Band of Hope,” the Colonel explained. “She's +ready at any time to break a lance with the Demon Rum. Back in Michigan, +where we used to live, she saw too many woodsmen around after the spring +drive. So we'll have to drink her share, Mr. Cardigan. Pray be seated.” + +Bryce seated himself. “Well, we lumbermen are a low lot and naturally +fond of dissipation,” he agreed. “I fear Miss Sumner's Prohibition +tendencies will be still further strengthened after she has seen the +mad-train.” + +“What is that?” Shirley queried. + +“The mad-train runs over your uncle's logging railroad up into Township +Nine, where his timber and ours is located. It is the only train +operated on Sunday, and it leaves Sequoia at five p.m. to carry +the Pennington and Cardigan crews back to the woods after their +Saturday-night celebration in town. As a usual thing, all hands, with +the exception of the brakeman, engineers, and fireman, are singing, +weeping or fighting drunk.” + +“But why do you provide transportation for them to come to town Saturday +nights?” Shirley protested. + +“They ride in on the last trainload of logs, and if we didn't let them +do it, they'd ask for their time. It's the way of the gentle lumberjack. +And of course, once they get in, we have to round them up on Sunday +afternoon and get them back on the job. Hence the mad-train.” + +“Do they fight, Mr. Cardigan?” + +“Frequently. I might say usually. It's quite an inspiring sight to see a +couple of lumberjacks going to it on a flat-car travelling thirty miles +an hour.” + +“But aren't they liable to fall off and get killed?” + +“No. You see, they're used to fighting that way. Moreover, the engineer +looks back, and if he sees any signs of Donnybrook Fair, he slows down.” + +“How horrible!” + +“Yes, indeed. The right of way is lined with empty whiskey bottles.” + +Colonel Pennington spoke up. “We don't have any fighting on the +mad-train any more,” he said blandly. + +“Indeed! How do you prevent it?” Bryce asked. + +“My woods-boss, Jules Rondeau, makes them keep the peace,” Pennington +replied with a small smile. “If there's any fighting to be done, he does +it.” + +“You mean among his own crew, of course,” Bryce suggested. + +“No, he's in charge of the mad-train, and whether a fight starts among +your men or ours, he takes a hand. He's had them all behaving mildly for +quite a while, because he can whip any man in the country, and everybody +realizes it. I don't know what I'd do without Rondeau. He certainly +makes those bohunks of mine step lively.” + +“Oh-h-h! Do you employ bohunks, Colonel?” + +“Certainly. They cost less; they are far less independent than most +men and more readily handled. And you don't have to pamper +them--particularly in the matter of food. Why, Mr Cardigan, with all due +respect to your father, the way he feeds his men is simply ridiculous! +Cake and pie and doughnuts at the same meal!” The Colonel snorted +virtuously. + +“Well, Dad started in to feed his men the same food he fed himself, and +I suppose the habits one forms in youth are not readily changed in old +age, Colonel.” + +“But that makes it hard for other manufacturers,” the Colonel protested. +“I feed my men good plain food and plenty of it--quite better food than +they were used to before they came to this country; but I cannot seem to +satisfy them. I am continuously being reminded, when I do a thing thus +and so, that John Cardigan does it otherwise. Your respected parent +is the basis for comparison in this country, Cardigan, and I find +it devilish inconvenient.” He laughed indulgently and passed his +cigarette-case to Bryce. + +“Uncle Seth always grows restless when some other man is the leader,” + Shirley volunteered with a mischievous glance at Pennington. “He was the +Great Pooh-Bah of the lumber-trade back in Michigan, but out here he has +to play second fiddle. Don't you, Nunky-dunk?” + +“I'm afraid I do, my dear,” the Colonel admitted with his best air of +hearty expansiveness. “I'm afraid I do. However, Mr. Cardigan, now that +you have--at least, I have been so informed--taken over your father's +business, I am hoping we will be enabled to get together on many little +details and work them out on a common basis to our mutual advantage. We +lumbermen should stand together and not make it hard for each other. For +instance, your scale of wages is totally disproportionate to the present +high cost of manufacture and the mediocre market; yet just because you +pay it, you set a precedent which we are all forced to follow. However,” + he concluded, “let's not talk shop. I imagine we have enough of that +during the day. Besides, here are the cocktails.” + +With the disposal of the cocktails, the conversation drifted into a +discussion of Shirley's adventures with a salmon in Big Lagoon. +The Colonel discoursed learnedly on the superior sport of +muskellunge-fishing, which prompted Bryce to enter into a description +of going after swordfish among the islands of the Santa Barbara channel. +“Trout-fishing when the fish gets into white water is good sport; +salmon-fishing is fine, and the steel-head in Eel River are hard to +beat; muskellunge are a delight, and tarpon are not so bad if you're +looking for thrills; but for genuine inspiration give me a sixteen-foot +swordfish that will leap out of the water from three to six feet, and do +it three or four hundred times--all on a line and rod so light one dares +not state the exact weight if he values his reputation for veracity. +Once I was fishing at San--” + +The butler appeared in the doorway and bowed to Shirley, at the time +announcing that dinner was served. The girl rose and gave her arm to +Bryce; with her other arm linked through her uncle's she turned toward +the dining room. + +Just inside the entrance Bryce paused. The soft glow of the candles in +the old-fashioned silver candlesticks upon the table was reflected +in the polished walls of the room-walls formed of panels of the most +exquisitely patterned redwood burl Bryce Cardigan had ever seen. Also +the panels were unusually large. + +Shirley Sumner's alert glance followed Bryce's as it swept around +the room. “This dining room is Uncle Seth's particular delight, Mr. +Cardigan,” she explained. + +“It is very beautiful, Miss Sumner. And your uncle has worked wonders +in the matter of having it polished. Those panels are positively the +largest and most beautiful specimens of redwood burl ever turned out in +this country. The grain is not merely wavy; it is not merely curly; it +is actually so contrary that you have here, Colonel Pennington, a room +absolutely unique, in that it is formed of bird's-eye burl. Mark the +deep shadows in it. And how it does reflect those candles!” + +“It is beautiful,” the Colonel declared. “And I must confess to a +pardonable pride in it, although the task of keeping these walls from +being marred by the furniture knocking against them requires the utmost +care.” + +Bryce turned and his brown eyes blazed into the Colonel's. “Where DID +you succeed in finding such a marvellous tree?” he queried pointedly. +“I know of but one tree in Humboldt County that could have produced such +beautiful burl.” + +For about a second Colonel Pennington met Bryce's glance unwaveringly; +then he read something in his guest's eyes, and his glance shifted, +while over his benign countenance a flush spread quickly. Bryce noted +it, and his quickly roused suspicions were as quickly kindled into +certainty. “Where did you find that tree?” he repeated innocently. + +“Rondeau, my woods-boss, knew I was on the lookout for something +special--something nobody else could get; so he kept his eyes open.” + +“Indeed!” There was just a trace of irony in Bryce's tones as he +drew Shirley's chair and held it for her. “As you say, Colonel, it is +difficult to keep such soft wood from being marred by contact with +the furniture. And you are fortunate to have such a woods-boss in your +employ. Such loyal fellows are usually too good to be true, and quite +frequently they put their blankets on their backs and get out of the +country when you least expect it. I dare say it would be a shock to you +if Rondeau did that.” + +There was no mistaking the veiled threat behind that apparently +innocent observation, and the Colonel, being a man of more than ordinary +astuteness, realized that at last he must place his cards on the table. +His glance, as he rested it on Bryce now, was baleful, ophidian. “Yes,” + he said, “I would be rather disappointed. However, I pay Rondeau rather +more than it is customary to pay woods-bosses; so I imagine he'll +stay--unless, of course, somebody takes a notion to run him out of +the county. And when that happens, I want to be on hand to view the +spectacle.” + +Bryce sprinkled a modicum of salt in his soup. “I'm going up into +Township Nine to-morrow afternoon,” he remarked casually. “I think I +shall go over to your camp and pay the incomparable Jules a brief visit. +Really, I have heard so much about that woods-boss of yours, Colonel, +that I ache to take him apart and see what makes him go.” + +Again the Colonel assimilated the hint, but preferred to dissemble. +“Oh, you can't steal him from me, Cardigan,” he laughed. “I warn you in +advance--so spare yourself the effort.” + +“I'll try anything once,” Bryce retorted with equal good nature. +“However, I don't want to steal him from you. I want to ascertain from +him where he procured this burl. There may be more of the same in the +neighbourhood where he got this.” + +“He wouldn't tell you.” + +“He might. I'm a persuasive little cuss when I choose to exert myself.” + +“Rondeau is not communicative. He requires lots of persuading.” + +“What delicious soup!” Bryce murmured blandly. “Miss Sumner, may I have +a cracker?” + +The dinner passed pleasantly; the challenge and defiance between guest +and host had been so skillfully and gracefully exchanged that Shirley +hadn't the slightest suspicion that these two well-groomed men had, +under her very nose, as it were, agreed to be enemies and then, for the +time being, turned their attention to other and more trifling matters. +Coffee was served in the living room, and through the fragrant smoke +of Pennington's fifty-cent perfectos a sprightly three-cornered +conversation continued for an hour. Then the Colonel, secretly enraged +at the calm, mocking, contemplative glances which Bryce ever and anon +bestowed upon him, and unable longer to convince himself that he was too +apprehensive--that this cool young man knew nothing and would do nothing +even if he knew something--rose, pleaded the necessity for looking over +some papers, and bade Bryce good-night. Foolishly he proffered Bryce a +limp hand; and a demon of deviltry taking possession of the latter, this +time he squeezed with a simple, hearty earnestness, the while he said: + +“Colonel Pennington, I hope I do not have to assure you that my visit +here this evening has not only been delightful but--er--instructive. +Good-night, sir, and pleasant dreams.” + +With difficulty the Colonel suppressed a groan. However, he was not +the sort of man who suffers in silence; for a minute later the butler, +leaning over the banisters as his master climbed the stairs to his +library, heard the latter curse with an eloquence that was singularly +appealing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Colonel Seth Pennington looked up sourly as a clerk entered his private +office. “Well?” he demanded brusquely. When addressing his employees, +the Colonel seldom bothered to assume his pontifical manner. + +“Mr. Bryce Cardigan is waiting to see you, sir.” + +“Very well. Show him in.” + +Bryce entered. “Good morning, Colonel,” he said pleasantly and brazenly +thrust out his hand. + +“Not for me, my boy,” the Colonel assured him. “I had enough of that +last night. We'll just consider the hand-shaking all attended to, if +you please. Have a chair; sit down and tell me what I can do to make you +happy.” + +“I'm delighted to find you in such a generous frame of mind, Colonel. +You can make me genuinely happy by renewing, for ten years on the same +terms as the original contract, your arrangement to freight the logs of +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company from the woods to tidewater.” + +Colonel Pennington cleared his throat with a propitiatory “Ahem-m-m!” + Then he removed his gold spectacles and carefully wiped them with a silk +handkerchief, as carefully replaced them upon his aristocratic nose, and +then gazed curiously at Bryce. + +“Upon my soul!” he breathed. + +“I realized, of course, that this is reopening an issue which you have +been pleased to regard as having been settled in the last letter my +father had from you, and wherein you named terms that were absolutely +prohibitive.” + +“My dear young friend! My very dear young friend! I must protest at +being asked to discuss this matter. Your father and I have been over it +in detail; we failed to agree, and that settles it. As a matter of fact, +I am not in position to handle your logs with my limited rolling-stock, +and that old hauling contract which I took over when I bought the mills, +timber-lands, and logging railroad from the late Mr. Henderson and +incorporated into the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, has been an +embarrassment I have longed to rid myself of. Under those circumstances +you could scarcely expect me to saddle myself with it again, at your +mere request and solely to oblige you.” + +“I did not expect you to agree to my request. I am not quite that +optimistic,” Bryce replied evenly. + +“Then why did you ask me?” + +“I thought that possibly, if I reopened negotiations, you might have a +reasonable counter-proposition to suggest.” + +“I haven't thought of any.” + +“I suppose if I agreed to sell you that quarter-section of timber in +the little valley over yonder” (he pointed to the east) “and the natural +outlet for your Squaw Creek timber, you'd quickly think of one,” Bryce +suggested pointedly. + +“No, I am not in the market for that Valley of the Giants, as your +idealistic father prefers to call it. Once I would have purchased it for +double its value, but at present I am not interested.” + +“Nevertheless it would be an advantage for you to possess it.” + +“My dear boy, the possession of that big timber is an advantage I expect +to enjoy before I acquire many more gray hairs. But I do not expect to +pay for it.” + +“Do you expect me to offer it to you as a bonus for renewing our hauling +contract?” + +The Colonel snapped his fingers. “By George,” he declared, “that's a +bright idea, and a few months ago I would have been inclined to consider +it very seriously. But now--” + +“You figure you've got us winging, eh?” Bryce was smiling pleasantly. + +“I am making no admissions,” Pennington responded enigmatically “--nor +any hauling contracts for my neighbour's logs,” he added. + +“You may change your mind.” + +“Never.” + +“I suppose I'll have to abandon logging in Township Nine and go back to +the San Hedrin,” Bryce sighed resignedly. + +“If you do, you'll go broke. You can't afford it. You're on the verge of +insolvency this minute.” + +“I suppose, since you decline to haul our logs, after the expiration +of our present contract, and in view of the fact that we are not +financially able to build our own logging railroad, that the wisest +course my father and I could pursue would be to sell our timber in +Township Nine to you. It adjoins your holdings in the same township” + +“I had a notion the situation would begin to dawn upon you.” The Colonel +was smiling now; his handsome face was gradually assuming the expression +pontifical. “I'll give you a dollar a thousand feet stumpage for it.” + +“On whose cruise?” + +“Oh, my own cruisers will estimate it.” + +“I'm afraid I can't accept that offer. We paid a dollar and a half for +it, you know, and if we sold it to you at a dollar, the sale would not +bring us sufficient money to take up our bonded indebtedness; we'd only +have the San Hedrin timber and the Valley of the Giants left, and since +we cannot log either of these at present, naturally we'd be out of +business.” + +“That's the way I figured it, my boy.” + +“Well--we're not going out of business.” + +“Pardon me for disagreeing with you. I think you are.” + +“Not much! We can't afford it.” + +The Colonel smiled benignantly. “My dear boy, my very dear young friend, +listen to me. Your paternal ancestor is the only human being who has +ever succeeded in making a perfect monkey of me. When I wanted to +purchase from him a right of way through his absurd Valley of the +Giants, in order that I might log my Squaw Creek timber, he refused +me. And to add insult to injury, he spouted a lot of rot about his big +trees, how much they meant to him, and the utter artistic horror of +running a logging-train through the grove--particularly since he planned +to bequeath it to Sequoia as a public park. He expects the city to grow +up to it during the next twenty years. + +“My boy, that was the first bad break your father made. His second break +was his refusal to sell me a mill-site. He was the first man in this +county, and he had been shrewd enough to hog all the water-front real +estate and hold onto it. I remember he called himself a progressive +citizen, and when I asked him why he was so assiduously blocking the +wheels of progress, he replied that the railroad would build in from +the south some day, but that when it did, its builders would have to be +assured of terminal facilities on Humboldt Bay. 'By holding intact the +spot where rail and water are bound to meet,' he told me, 'I insure the +terminal on tidewater which the railroad must have before consenting to +build. But if I sell it to Tom, Dick, and Harry, they will be certain to +gouge the railroad when the latter tries to buy it from them. They may +scare the railroad away.'” + +“Naturally!” Bryce replied. “The average human being is a hog, and +merciless when he has the upper hand. He figures that a bird in the hand +is worth two in the bush. My father, on the contrary, has always planned +for the future. He didn't want that railroad blocked by land-speculators +and its building delayed. The country needed rail connection with the +outside world, and moreover his San Hedrin timber isn't worth a hoot +until that feeder to a transcontinental road shall be built to tap it.” + +“But he sold Bill Henderson the mill-site on tidewater that he refused +to sell me, and later I had to pay Henderson's heirs a whooping price +for it. And I haven't half the land I need.” + +“But he needed Henderson then. They had a deal on together. You must +remember, Colonel, that while Bill Henderson held that Squaw Creek +timber he later sold you, my father would never sell him a mill-site. +Can't you see the sporting point of view involved? My father and Bill +Henderson were good-natured rivals; for thirty years they had tried +to outgame each other on that Squaw Creek timber. Henderson thought he +could force my father to buy at a certain price, and my father thought +he could force Henderson to sell at a lesser price; they were perfectly +frank about it with each other and held no grudges. Of course, after +you bought Henderson out, you foolishly took over his job of trying to +outgame my father. That's why you bought Henderson out, isn't it? You +had a vision of my father's paying you a nice profit on your investment, +but he fooled you, and now you're peeved and won't play.” + +Bryce hitched his chair farther toward the Colonel. “Why shouldn't my +dad be nice to Bill Henderson after the feud ended?” he continued. “They +could play the game together then, and they did. Colonel, why can't you +be as sporty as Henderson and my father? They fought each other, but +they fought fairly and in the open, and they never lost the respect and +liking each had for the other.” + +“I will not renew your logging contract. That is final, young man. No +man can ride me with spurs and get away with it.” + +“Oh, I knew that yesterday.” + +“Then why have you called on me to-day, taking up my time on a dead +issue?” + +“I wanted to give you one final chance to repent. I know your plan. +You have it in your power to smash the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, +acquire it at fifty per cent. of its value, and merge its assets with +your Laguna Grande Lumber Company. You are an ambitious man. You want +to be the greatest redwood manufacturer in California, and in order +to achieve your ambitions, you are willing to ruin a competitor: you +decline to play the game like a thoroughbred.” + +“I play the game of business according to the rules of the game; I do +nothing illegal, sir.” + +“And nothing generous or chivalrous. Colonel, you know your plea of a +shortage of rolling-stock is that the contract for hauling our logs has +been very profitable and will be more profitable in the future if you +will accept a fifty-cent-per-thousand increase on the freight-rate and +renew the contract for ten years.” + +“Nothing doing, young man. Remember, you are not in a position to ask +favours.” + +“Then I suppose we'll have to go down fighting?” + +“I do not anticipate much of a fight.” + +“You'll get as much as I can give you.” + +“I'm not at all apprehensive.” + +“And I'll begin by running your woods-boss out of the country.” + +“Ah-h!” + +“You know why, of course--those burl panels in your dining room. Rondeau +felled a tree in our Valley of the Giants to get that burl for you, +Colonel Pennington.” + +Pennington flushed. “I defy you to prove that,” he almost shouted. + +“Very well. I'll make Rondeau confess; perhaps he'll even tell me +who sent him after the burl. Upon my word, I think you inspired that +dastardly raid. At any rate, I know Rondeau is guilty, and you, as his +employer and the beneficiary of his crime, must accept the odium.” + +The Colonel's face went white. “I do not admit anything except that +you appear to have lost your head, young man. However, for the sake of +argument: granting that Rondeau felled that tree, he did it under the +apprehension that your Valley of the Giants is a part of my Squaw Creek +timber adjoining.” + +“I do not believe that. There was malice in the act--brutality even; for +my mother's grave identified the land as ours, and Rondeau felled the +tree on her tombstone.” + +“If that is so, and Rondeau felled that tree--I do not believe he did--I +am sincerely sorry, Cardigan, Name your price and I will pay you for the +tree. I do not desire any trouble to develop over this affair.” + +“You can't pay for that tree,” Bryce burst forth. “No pitiful human +being can pay in dollars and cents for the wanton destruction of God's +handiwork. You wanted that burl and when my father was blind and could +no longer make his Sunday pilgrimage up to that grove, your woods-boss +went up and stole that which you knew you could not buy.” + +“That will be about all from you, young man. Get out of my office. And +by the way, forget that you have met my niece.” + +“It's your office--so I'll get out. As for your second command”--he +snapped his fingers in Pennington's face--“fooey!” + +When Bryce had gone, the Colonel hurriedly called his logging-camp on +the telephone and asked for Jules Rondeau, only to be informed, by the +timekeeper who answered the telephone, that Rondeau was up in the green +timber with the choppers and could not be gotten to the telephone in +less than two hours. + +“Do not send for him, then,” Pennington commanded. “I'm coming up on +the eleven-fifteen train and will talk to him when he comes in for his +lunch.” + +At eleven o'clock, and just as the Colonel was leaving to board the +eleven-fifteen logging-train bound empty for the woods, Shirley Sumner +made her appearance in his office. + +“Uncle Seth,” she complained, “I'm lonesome. The bookkeeper tells me +you're going up to the logging-camp. May I go with you?” + +“By all means. Usually I ride in the cab with the engineer and fireman; +but if you're coming, I'll have them hook on the caboose. Step lively, +my dear, or they'll be holding the train for us and upsetting our +schedule.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +By virtue of their logging-contract with Pennington, the Cardigans +and their employees were transported free over Pennington's logging +railroad; hence, when Bryce Cardigan resolved to wait upon Jules Rondeau +in the matter of that murdered Giant, it was characteristic of him to +choose the shortest and most direct route to his quarry, and as the +long string of empty logging-trucks came crawling off the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company's log-dump, he swung over the side, quite ignorant of the +fact that Shirley and her precious relative were riding in the little +caboose in the rear. + +At twelve-ten the train slid in on the log landing of the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company's main camp, and Bryce dropped off and approached the +engineer of the little donkey-engine used for loading the logs. + +“Where's Rondeau?” he asked. + +The engineer pointed to a huge, swarthy man approaching across the +clearing in which the camp was situated. “That's him,” he replied. And +without further ado, Bryce strode to meet his man. + +“Are you Jules Rondeau?” he demanded as he came up to the woods-boss. +The latter nodded. “I'm Bryce Cardigan,” his interrogator announced, +“and I'm here to thrash you for chopping that big redwood tree over in +that little valley where my mother is buried.” + +“Oh!” Rondeau smiled. “Wiz pleasure, M'sieur.” And without a moment's +hesitation he rushed. Bryce backed away from him warily, and they +circled. + +“When I get through with you, Rondeau,” Bryce said distinctly, “it'll +take a good man to lead you to your meals. This country isn't big enough +for both of us, and since you came here last, you've got to go first.” + +Bryce stepped in, feinted for Rondeau's jaw with his right, and when +the woods-boss quickly covered, ripped a sizzling left into the latter's +midriff. Rondeau grunted and dropped his guard, with the result that +Bryce's great fists played a devil's tattoo on his countenance before he +could crouch and cover. + +“This is a tough one,” thought Bryce. His blows had not, apparently, had +the slightest effect on the woods-boss. Crouched low and with his arms +wrapped around his head, Rondeau still came on unfalteringly, and Bryce +was forced to give way before him; to save his hands, he avoided the +risk of battering Rondeau's hard head and sinewy arms. + +Already word that the woods-boss was battling with a stranger had been +shouted into the camp dining room, and the entire crew of that camp, +abandoning their half-finished meal, came pouring forth to view the +contest. Out of the tail of his eye Bryce saw them coming, but he was +not apprehensive, for he knew the code of the woodsman: “Let every man +roll his own hoop.” It would be a fight to a finish, for no man would +interfere; striking, kicking, gouging, biting, or choking would not be +looked upon as unsportsmanlike; and as Bryce backed cautiously away from +the huge, lithe, active, and powerful man before him, he realized +that Jules Rondeau was, as his father had stated, “top dog among the +lumberjacks.” + +Rondeau, it was apparent, had no stomach for Bryce's style of combat. He +wanted a rough-and-tumble fight and kept rushing, hoping to clinch; if +he could but get his great hands on Bryce, he would wrestle him down, +climb him, and finish the fight in jig-time. But a rough-and-tumble was +exactly what Bryce was striving to avoid; hence when Rondeau rushed, +Bryce side-stepped and peppered the woodsman's ribs. But the woods-crew, +which by now was ringed around them, began to voice disapproval of this +style of battle. + +“Clinch with him, dancing-master,” a voice roared. + +“Tie into him, Rondeau,” another shouted. + +“It's a fair match,” cried another, “and the red one picked on the main +push. He was looking for a fight, an' he ought to get it; but these +fancy fights don't suit me. Flop him, stranger, flop him.” + +“Rondeau can't catch him,” a fourth man jeered. “He's a foot-racer, not +a fighter.” + +Suddenly two powerful hands were placed between Bryce's shoulders, +effectually halting his backward progress; then he was propelled +violently forward until he collided with Rondeau. With a bellow of +triumph, the woods-boss's gorilla-like arms were around Bryce, swinging +him until he faced the man who had forced him into that terrible grip. +This was no less a personage than Colonel Seth Pennington, and it was +obvious he had taken charge of what he considered the obsequies. + +“Stand back, you men, and give them room,” he shouted. “Rondeau will +take care of him now. Stand back, I say. I'll discharge the man that +interferes.” + +With a heave and a grunt Rondeau lifted his antagonist, and the +pair went crashing to the earth together, Bryce underneath. And then +something happened. With a howl of pain, Rondeau rolled over on his back +and lay clasping his left wrist in his right hand, while Bryce scrambled +to his feet. + +“The good old wrist-lock does the trick,” he announced; and stooping, he +grasped the woods-boss by the collar with his left hand, lifted him, and +struck him a terrible blow in the face with his right. But for the arm +that upheld him, Rondeau would have fallen. To have him fall, however, +was not part of Bryce's plan. Jerking the fellow toward him, he passed +his arm around Rondeau's neck, holding the latter's head as in a vise +with the crook of his elbow. And then the battering started. When it +was finished, Bryce let his man go, and Rondeau, bloody, sobbing, and +semi-conscious, sprawled on the ground. + +Bryce bent over him. “Now, damn you,” he roared, “who felled that tree +in Cardigan's Redwoods?” + +“I did, M'sieur. Enough--I confess!” The words were a whisper. + +“Did Colonel Pennington suggest it to you?” + +“He want ze burl. By gar, I do not want to fell zat tree--” + +“That's all I want to know.” Stooping, Bryce seized Rondeau by the nape +of the neck and the slack of his overalls, lifted him shoulder-high and +threw him, as one throws a sack of meal, full at Colonel Pennington. + +“You threw me at him. Now I throw him at you. You damned, thieving, +greedy, hypocritical scoundrel, if it weren't for your years and your +gray hair, I'd kill you.” + +The helpless hulk of the woods-boss descended upon the Colonel's +expansive chest and sent him crashing earthward. Then Bryce, war-mad, +turned to face the ring of Laguna Grande employees about him. + +“Next!” he roared. “Singly, in pairs, or the whole damned pack!” + +“Mr. Cardigan!” + +He turned. Colonel Pennington's breath had been knocked out of his +body by the impact of his semi-conscious woods-boss, and he lay inert, +gasping like a hooked fish. Beside him Shirley Sumner was kneeling, her +hands clasping her uncle's, but with her violet eyes blazing fiercely on +Bryce Cardigan. + +“How dare you?” she cried. “You coward! To hurt my uncle!” + +He gazed at her a moment, fiercely, defiantly, his chest rising and +falling from his recent exertions, his knotted fists gory with the blood +of his enemy. Then the light of battle died, and he hung his head. “I'm +sorry,” he murmured, “not for his sake, but yours. I didn't know you +were here. I forgot--myself.” + +“I'll never speak to you again so long as I live,” she burst out +passionately. + +He advanced a step and stood gazing down upon her. Her angry glance +met his unflinchingly; and presently for him the light went out of the +world. + +“Very well,” he murmured. “Good-bye.” And with bowed head he turned and +made off through the green timber toward his own logging-camp five miles +distant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +With the descent upon his breast of the limp body of his big +woods-bully, Colonel Pennington had been struck to earth as effectively +as if a fair-sized tree had fallen on him. Indeed, with such force did +his proud head collide with terra firma that had it not been for the +soft cushion of ferns and tiny redwood twigs, his neck must have been +broken by the shock. To complete his withdrawal from active service, the +last whiff of breath had been driven from his lungs; and for the space +of a minute, during which Jules Rondeau lay heavily across his midriff, +the Colonel was quite unable to get it back. Pale, gasping, and jarred +from soul to suspenders, he was merely aware that something unexpected +and disconcerting had occurred. + +While the Colonel fought for his breath, his woodsmen remained in +the offing, paralyzed into inactivity by reason of the swiftness and +thoroughness of Bryce Cardigan's work; then Shirley motioned to them to +remove the wreckage, and they hastened to obey. + +Freed from the weight on the geometric centre of his being, Colonel +Pennington stretched his legs, rolled his head from side to side, and +snorted violently several times like a buck. After the sixth snort he +felt so much better that a clear understanding of the exact nature of +the catastrophe came to him; he struggled and sat up, looking around a +little wildly. + +“Where--did--Cardigan--go?” he gasped. + +One of his men pointed to the timber into which the enemy had just +disappeared. + +“Surround him--take him,” Pennington ordered. “I'll give--a month's +pay--to each of--the six men that bring--that scoundrel to me. Get +him--quickly! Understand?” + +Not a man moved. Pennington shook with fury. “Get him,” he croaked. +“There are enough of you to do--the job. Close in on him--everybody. +I'll give a month's pay to--everybody.” + +A man of that indiscriminate mixture of Spaniard and Indian known in +California as cholo swept the circle of men with an alert and knowing +glance. His name was Flavio Artelan, but his straight black hair, dark +russet complexion, beady eyes, and hawk nose gave him such a resemblance +to a fowl that he was known among his fellows as the Black Minorca, +regardless of the fact that this sobriquet was scarcely fair to a +very excellent breed of chicken. “That offer's good enough for me,” he +remarked in businesslike tones. “Come on--everybody. A month's pay for +five minutes' work. I wouldn't tackle the job with six men, but there +are twenty of us here.” + +“Hurry,” the Colonel urged them. + +Shirley Sumner's flashing glance rested upon the Black Minorca. “Don't +you dare!” she cried. “Twenty to one! For shame!” + +“For a month's pay,” he replied impudently, and grinned evilly. “And I'm +takin' orders from my boss.” He started on a dog-trot for the timber, +and a dozen men trailed after him. + +Shirley turned helplessly on her uncle, seized his arm and shook it +frantically. “Call them back! Call them back!” she pleaded. + +Her uncle got uncertainly to his feet. “Not on your life!” he growled, +and in his cold gray eyes there danced the lights of a thousand devils. +“I told you the fellow was a ruffian. Now, perhaps, you'll believe me. +We'll hold him until Rondeau revives, and then--” + +Shirley guessed the rest, and she realized that it was useless to +plead--that she was only wasting time. “Bryce! Bryce!” she called. “Run! +They're after you. Twenty of them! Run, run--for my sake!” + +His voice answered her from the timber: “Run? From those cattle? Not +from man or devil.” A silence. Then: “So you've changed your mind, have +you? You've spoken to me again!” There was triumph, exultation in his +voice. “The timber's too thick, Shirley. I couldn't get away anyhow--so +I'm coming back.” + +She saw him burst through a thicket of alder saplings into the clearing, +saw half a dozen of her uncle's men close in around him like wolves +around a sick steer; and at the shock of their contact, she moaned and +hid her face in her trembling hands. + +Half man and half tiger that he was, the Black Minorca, as +self-appointed leader, reached Bryce first. The cholo was a squat, +powerful little man, with more bounce to him than a rubber ball; leading +his men by a dozen yards, he hesitated not an instant but dodged under +the blow Bryce lashed out at him and came up inside the latter's guard, +feeling for Bryce's throat. Instead he met Bryce's knee in his abdomen, +and forthwith he folded up like an accordion. + +The next instant Bryce had stooped, caught him by the slack of the +trousers and the scruff of the neck and thrown him, as he had thrown +Rondeau, into the midst of the men advancing to his aid. Three of them +went down backward; and Bryce, charging over them, stretched two more +with well-placed blows from left and right, and continued on across +the clearing, running at top speed, for he realized that for all +the desperation of his fight and the losses already inflicted on his +assailants, the odds against him were insurmountable. + +Seeing him running away, the Laguna Grande woods-men took heart and +hope and pursued him. Straight for the loading donkey at the log-landing +Bryce ran. Beside the donkey stood a neat tier of firewood; in the +chopping block, where the donkey-fireman had driven it prior to +abandoning his post to view the contest between Bryce and Jules Rondeau, +was a double-bitted axe. Bryce jerked it loose, swung it, whirled on his +pursuers, and rushed them. Like turkeys scattering before the raid of a +coyote they fled in divers directions and from a safe distance turned to +gaze apprehensively upon this demon they had been ordered to bring in. + +Bryce lowered the axe, removed his hat, and mopped his moist brow. +From the centre of the clearing men were crawling or staggering to +safety--with the exception of the Black Minorca, who lay moaning softly. +Colonel Pennington, seeing his fondest hopes expire, lost his head +completely. + +“Get off my property, you savage,” he shrilled. + +“Don't be a nut, Colonel,” Bryce returned soothingly. “I'll get +off--when I get good and ready, and not a second sooner. In fact, I was +trying to get off as rapidly as I could when you sent your men to bring +me back. Prithee why, old thing? Didst crave more conversation with me, +or didst want thy camp cleaned out?” + +He started toward Pennington, who backed hastily away. Shirley stood +her ground, bending upon Bryce, as he approached her, a cold and +disapproving glance. “I'll get you yet,” the Colonel declared from the +shelter of an old stump behind which he had taken refuge. + +“Barking dogs never bite, Colonel. And that reminds me: I've heard +enough from you. One more cheep out of you, my friend, and I'll go up to +my own logging-camp, return here with a crew of bluenoses and wild Irish +and run your wops, bohunks, and cholos out of the county. I don't fancy +the class of labour you're importing into this county, anyhow.” + +The Colonel, evidently deciding that discretion was the better part of +valour, promptly subsided, although Bryce could see that he was mumbling +threats to himself, though not in an audible voice. + +The demon Cardigan halted beside Shirley and stood gazing down at her. +He was smiling at her whimsically. She met his glance for a few seconds; +then her lids were lowered and she bit her lip with vexation. + +“Shirley,” he said. + +“You are presumptuous,” she quavered. + +“You set me an example in presumption,” he retorted good humouredly. +“Did you not call ME by MY first name a minute ago?” He glanced toward +Colonel Pennington and observed the latter with his neck craned across +his protecting stump. He was all ears. Bryce pointed sternly across the +clearing, and the Colonel promptly abandoned his refuge and retreated +hastily in the direction indicated. + +The heir to Cardigan's Redwoods bent over the girl. “You spoke to +me--after your promise not to, Shirley,” he said gently. “You will +always speak to me.” + +She commenced to cry softly. “I loathe you,” she sobbed. + +“For you I have the utmost respect and admiration,” he replied. + +“No, you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't hurt my uncle--the only human +being in all this world who is dear to me.” + +“Gosh!” he murmured plaintively. “I'm jealous of that man. However, I'm +sorry I hurt him. He is no longer young, while I--well, I forgot the +chivalry my daddy taught me. I give you my word I came here to fight +fairly--” + +“He merely tried to stop you from fighting.” + +“No, he didn't, Shirley. He interfered and fouled me. Still, despite +that, if I had known you were a spectator I think I should have +controlled myself and refrained from pulling off my vengeance in your +presence. I shall never cease to regret that I subjected you to such a +distressing spectacle. I do hope, however, that you will believe me when +I tell you I am not a bully, although when there is a fight worth while, +I never dodge it. And this time I fought for the honour of the House of +Cardigan.” + +“If you want me to believe that, you will beg my uncle's pardon.” + +“I can't do that. He is my enemy and I shall hate him forever; I +shall fight him and his way of doing business until he reforms or I am +exhausted.” + +She looked up at him, showing a face in which resentment, outrage, and +wistfulness were mirrored. + +“You realize, of course, what your insistence on that plan means, Mr. +Cardigan?” + +“Call me Bryce,” he pleaded. “You're going to call me that some day +anyhow, so why not start now?” + +“You are altogether insufferable, sir. Please go away and never presume +to address me again. You are quite impossible.” + +He shook his head. “I do not give up that readily, Shirley. I didn't +know how dear--what your friendship meant to me, until you sent me away; +I didn't think there was any hope until you warned me those dogs were +hunting me--and called me Bryce.” He held out his hand. “'God gave us +our relations,'” he quoted, “'but thank God, we can choose our friends.' +And I'll be a good friend to you, Shirley Sumner, until I have earned +the right to be something more. Won't you shake hands with me? Remember, +this fight to-day is only the first skirmish in a war to the finish--and +I am leading a forlorn hope. If I lose--well, this will be good-bye.” + +“I hate you,” she answered drearily. “All our fine +friendship--smashed--and you growing stupidly sentimental. I didn't +think it of you. Please go away. You are distressing me.” + +He smiled at her tenderly, forgivingly, wistfully, but she did not see +it. “Then it is really good-by,” he murmured with mock dolorousness. + +She nodded her bowed head. “Yes,” she whispered. “After all, I have +some pride, you know. You mustn't presume to be the butterfly preaching +contentment to the toad in the dust.” + +“As you will it, Shirley.” He turned away. “I'll send your axe back +with the first trainload of logs from my camp, Colonel,” he called to +Pennington. + +Once more he strode away into the timber. Shirley watched him pass out +of her life, and gloried in what she conceived to be his agony, for she +had both temper and spirit, and Bryce Cardigan calmly, blunderingly, +rather stupidly (she thought) had presumed flagrantly on brief +acquaintance. Her uncle was right. He was not of their kind of people, +and it was well she had discovered this before permitting herself +to develop a livelier feeling of friendship for him. It was true he +possessed certain manly virtues, but his crudities by far outweighed +these. + +The Colonel's voice broke in upon her bitter reflections. “That fellow +Cardigan is a hard nut to crack--I'll say that for him.” He had crossed +the clearing to her side and was addressing her with his customary air +of expansiveness. “I think, my dear, you had better go back into the +caboose, away from the prying eyes of these rough fellows. I'm sorry +you came, Shirley. I'll never forgive myself for bringing you. If I had +thought--but how could I know that scoundrel was coming here to raise a +disturbance? And only last night he was at our house for dinner!” + +“That's just what makes it so terrible, Uncle Seth,” she quavered. + +“It IS hard to believe that a man of young Cardigan's evident +intelligence and advantages could be such a boor, Shirley. However, I, +for one, am not surprised. You will recall that I warned you he might +be his father's son. The best course to pursue now is to forget that you +have ever met the fellow.” + +“I wonder what could have occurred to make such a madman of him?” the +girl queried wonderingly. “He acted more like a demon than a human +being.” + +“Just like his old father,” the Colonel purred benevolently. “When +he can't get what he wants, he sulks. I'll tell you what got on his +confounded nerves. I've been freighting logs for the senior Cardigan +over my railroad; the contract for hauling them was a heritage from old +Bill Henderson, from whom I bought the mill and timber-lands; and of +course as his assignee it was incumbent upon me to fulfill Henderson's +contract with Cardigan, even though the freight-rate was ruinous. + +“Well, this morning young Cardigan came to my office, reminded me that +the contract would expire by limitation next year and asked me to renew +it, and at the same freight-rate. I offered to renew the contract but +at a higher freight-rate, and explained to him that I could not possibly +continue to haul his logs at a loss. Well, right away he flew into a +rage and called me a robber; whereupon I informed him that since he +thought me a robber, perhaps we had better not attempt to have any +business dealings with each other--that I really didn't want his +contract at any price, having scarcely sufficient rolling-stock to +handle my own logs. That made him calm down, but in a little while he +lost his head again and grew snarly and abusive--to such an extent, +indeed, that finally I was forced to ask him to leave my office.” + +“Nevertheless, Uncle Seth, I cannot understand why he should make such a +furious attack upon your employee.” + +The Colonel laughed with a fair imitation of sincerity and tolerant +amusement. “My dear, that is no mystery to me. There are men who, +finding it impossible or inadvisable to make a physical attack upon +their enemy, find ample satisfaction in poisoning his favourite dog, +burning his house, or beating up one of his faithful employees. Cardigan +picked on Rondeau for the reason that a few days ago he tried to hire +Rondeau away from me--offered him twenty-five dollars a month more than +I was paying him, by George! Of course when Rondeau came to me with +Cardigan's proposition, I promptly met Cardigan's bid and retained +Rondeau; consequently Cardigan hates us both and took the earliest +opportunity to vent his spite on us.” + +The Colonel sighed and brushed the dirt and leaves from his tweeds. +“Thunder,” he continued philosophically, “it's all in the game, so +why worry over it? And why continue to discuss an unpleasant topic, my +dear?” + +A groan from the Black Minorca challenged her attention. “I think that +man is badly hurt, Uncle,” she suggested. + +“Serves him right,” he returned coldly. “He tackled that cyclone full +twenty feet in advance of the others; if they'd all closed in together, +they would have pulled him down. I'll have that cholo and Rondeau sent +down with the next trainload of logs to the company hospital. They're a +poor lot and deserve manhandling--” + +They paused, facing toward the timber, from which came a voice, +powerful, sweetly resonant, raised in song. Shirley knew that +half-trained baritone, for she had heard it the night before when Bryce +Cardigan, faking his own accompaniment at the piano, had sung for her a +number of carefully expurgated lumberjack ballads, the lunatic humour of +which had delighted her exceedingly. She marvelled now at his choice of +minstrelsy, for the melody was hauntingly plaintive--the words Eugene +Field's poem of childhood, “Little Boy Blue.” + + “The little toy dog is covered with dust, + But sturdy and stanch he stands; + And the little toy soldier is red with rust, + And his musket molds in his hands. + Time was when the little toy dog was new, + And the soldier was passing fair; + And that was the time when our little boy blue, + Kissed them and put them there.” + +“Light-hearted devil, isn't he?” the Colonel commented approvingly. “And +his voice isn't half bad. Just singing to be defiant, I suppose.” + +Shirley did not answer. But a few minutes previously she had seen the +singer a raging fury, brandishing an axe and driving men before him. She +could not understand. And presently the song grew faint among the timber +and died away entirely. + +Her uncle took her gently by the arm and steered her toward the caboose. +“Well, what do you think of your company now?” he demanded gayly. + +“I think,” she answered soberly, “that you have gained an enemy worth +while and that it behooves you not to underestimate him.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Through the green timber Bryce Cardigan strode, and there was a lilt +in his heart now. Already he had forgotten the desperate situation from +which he had just escaped; he thought only of Shirley Sumner's face, +tear-stained with terror; and because he knew that at least some of +those tears had been inspired by the gravest apprehensions as to his +physical well-being, because in his ears there still resounded her +frantic warning, he realized that however stern her decree of banishment +had been, she was nevertheless not indifferent to him. And it was this +knowledge that had thrilled him into song and which when his song was +done had brought to his firm mouth a mobility that presaged his old +whimsical smile--to his brown eyes a beaming light of confidence and +pride. + +The climax had been reached--and passed; and the result had been far +from the disaster he had painted in his mind's eye ever since the +knowledge had come to him that he was doomed to battle to a knockout +with Colonel Pennington, and that one of the earliest fruits of +hostilities would doubtless be the loss of Shirley Sumner's prized +friendship. Well, he had lost her friendship, but a still small voice +whispered to him that the loss was not irreparable--whereat he swung his +axe as a bandmaster swings his baton; he was glad that he had started +the war and was now free to fight it out unhampered. + +Up hill and down dale he went. Because of the tremendous trees he could +not see the sun; yet with the instinct of the woodsman, an instinct +as infallible as that of a homing pigeon, he was not puzzled as to +direction. Within two hours his long, tireless stride brought him out +into a clearing in the valley where his own logging-camp stood. He went +directly to the log-landing, where in a listless and half-hearted manner +the loading crew were piling logs on Pennington's logging-trucks. + +Bryce looked at his watch. It was two o'clock; at two-fifteen +Pennington's locomotive would appear, to back in and couple to the long +line of trucks. And the train was only half loaded. + +“Where's McTavish?” Bryce demanded of the donkey-driver. + +The man mouthed his quid, spat copiously, wiped his mouth with the +back of his hand, and pointed. “Up at his shanty,” he made answer, and +grinned at Bryce knowingly. + +Up through the camp's single short street, flanked on each side with +the woodsmen's shanties, Bryce went. Dogs barked at him, for he was a +stranger in his own camp; children, playing in the dust, gazed upon him +owlishly. At the most pretentious shanty on the street Bryce turned in. +He had never seen it before, but he knew it to be the woods-boss's home, +for unlike its neighbours the house was painted with the coarse red +paint that is used on box-cars, while a fence, made of fancy pointed +pickets painted white, inclosed a tiny garden in front of the house. As +Bryce came through the gate, a young girl rose from where she knelt in a +bed of freshly transplanted pansies. + +Bryce lifted his hat. “Is Mr. McTavish at home?” he asked. + +She nodded. “He cannot see anybody,” she hastened to add. “He's sick.” + +“I think he'll see me. And I wonder if you're Moira McTavish.” + +“Yes, I'm Moira.” + +“I'm Bryce Cardigan.” + +A look of fright crept into the girl's eyes. “Are you--Bryce Cardigan?” + she faltered, and looked at him more closely. “Yes, you're Mr. Bryce. +You've changed--but then it's been six years since we saw you last, Mr. +Bryce.” + +He came toward her with outstretched hand. “And you were a little girl +when I saw you last. Now--you're a woman.” She grasped his hand with the +frank heartiness of a man. “I'm mighty glad to meet you again, Moira. I +just guessed who you were, for of course I should never have recognized +you. When I saw you last, you wore your hair in a braid down your back.” + +“I'm twenty years old,” she informed him. + +“Stand right where you are until I have looked at you,” he commanded, +and backed off a few feet, the better to contemplate her. + +He saw a girl slightly above medium height, tanned, robust, simply +gowned in a gingham dress. Her hands were soiled from her recent labours +in the pansy-bed, and her shoes were heavy and coarse; yet neither hands +nor feet were large or ungraceful. Her head was well formed; her hair, +jet black and of unusual lustre and abundance, was parted in the middle +and held in an old-fashioned coil at the nape of a neck the beauty +of which was revealed by the low cut of her simple frock. Moira was a +decided brunette, with that wonderful quality of skin to be seen only +among brunettes who have roses in their cheeks; her brow was broad and +spiritual; in her eyes, large, black, and listrous, there was a brooding +tenderness not untouched with sorrow--some such expression, indeed, as +da Vinci put in the eyes of his Mona Lisa. Her nose was patrician, her +face oval; her lips, full and red, were slightly parted in the adorable +Cupid's bow which is the inevitable heritage of a short upper lip; her +teeth were white as Parian marble; and her full breast was rising and +falling swiftly, as if she laboured under suppressed excitement. + +So delightful a picture did Moira McTavish make that Bryce forgot all +his troubles in her sweet presence. “By the gods, Moira,” he declared +earnestly, “you're a peach! When I saw you last, you were awkward and +leggy, like a colt. I'm sure you weren't a bit good-looking. And now +you're the most ravishing young lady in seventeen counties. By jingo, +Moira, you're a stunner and no mistake. Are you married?” + +She shook her head, blushing pleasurably at his unpolished but sincere +compliments. + +“What? Not married. Why, what the deuce can be the matter with the +eligible young fellows hereabouts?” + +“There aren't any eligible young fellows hereabouts, Mr. Bryce. And I've +lived in these woods all my life.” + +“That's why you haven't been discovered.” + +“And I don't intend to marry a lumberjack and continue to live in +these woods,” she went on earnestly, as if she found pleasure in this +opportunity to announce her rebellion. Despite her defiance, however, +there was a note of sad resignation in her voice. + +“You don't know a thing about it, Moira. Some bright day your Prince +Charming will come by, riding the log-train, and after that it will +always be autumn in the woods for you. Everything will just naturally +turn to crimson and gold.” + +“How do you know, Mr Bryce?” + +He laughed. “I read about it in a book.” + +“I prefer spring in the woods, I think. It seems--It's so foolish of me, +I know; I ought to be contented, but it's hard to be contented when it +is always winter in one's heart. That frieze of timber on the skyline +limits my world, Mr Bryce. Hills and timber, timber and hills, and the +thunder of falling redwoods. And when the trees have been logged off so +we can see the world, we move back into green timber again.” She sighed. + +“Are you lonely, Moira?” + +She nodded. + +“Poor Moira!” he murmured absently. + +The thought that he so readily understood touched her; a glint of tears +was in her sad eyes. He saw them and placed his arm fraternally +around her shoulders. “Tut-tut, Moira! Don't cry,” he soothed her. “I +understand perfectly, and of course we'll have to do something about +it. You're too fine for this.” With a sweep of his hand he indicated the +camp. He had led her to the low stoop in front of the shanty. “Sit down +on the steps, Moira, and we'll talk it over. I really called to see your +father, but I guess I don't want to see him after all--if he's sick.” + +She looked at him bravely. “I didn't know you at first, Mr. Bryce. I +fibbed. Father isn't sick. He's drunk.” + +“I thought so when I saw the loading-crew taking it easy at the +log-landing. I'm terribly sorry.” + +“I loathe it--and I cannot leave it,” she burst out vehemently. “I'm +chained to my degradation. I dream dreams, and they'll never come true. +I--I--oh Mr. Bryce, Mr. Bryce, I'm so unhappy.” + +“So am I,” he retorted. “We all get our dose of it, you know, and just +at present I'm having an extra helping, it seems. You're cursed with too +much imagination, Moira. I'm sorry about your father. He's been with us +a long time, and my father has borne a lot from him for old sake's sake; +he told me the other night that he has discharged Mac fourteen times +during the past ten years, but to date he hasn't been able to make it +stick. For all his sixty years, Moira, your confounded parent can still +manhandle any man on the pay-roll, and as fast as Dad put in a new +woods-boss old Mac drove him off the job. He simply declines to +be fired, and Dad's worn out and too tired to bother about his old +woods-boss any more. He's been waiting until I should get back.” + +“I know,” said Moira wearily. “Nobody wants to be Cardigan's woods-boss +and have to fight my father to hold his job. I realize what a nuisance +he has become.” + +Bryce chuckled. “I asked Father why he didn't stand pat and let Mac work +for nothing; having discharged him, my father was under no obligation +to give him his salary just because he insisted on being woods-boss. Dad +might have starved your father out of these woods, but the trouble +was that old Mac would always come and promise reform and end up by +borrowing a couple of hundred dollars, and then Dad had to hire him +again to get it back! Of course the matter simmers down to this: Dad is +so fond of your father that he just hasn't got the moral courage to work +him over--and now that job is up to me. Moira, I'm not going to +beat about the bush with you. They tell me your father is a hopeless +inebriate.” + +“I'm afraid he is, Mr. Bryce.” + +“How long has he been drinking to excess?” + +“About ten years, I think. Of course, he would always take a few drinks +with the men around pay-day, but after Mother died, he began taking +his drinks between pay-days. Then he took to going down to Sequoia on +Saturday nights and coming back on the mad-train, the maddest of the +lot. I suppose he was lonely, too. He didn't get real bad, however, till +about two years ago.” + +“Just about the time my father's eyes began to fail him and he ceased +coming up into the woods to jack Mac up? So he let the brakes go and +started to coast, and now he's reached the bottom! I couldn't get him +on the telephone to-day or yesterday. I suppose he was down in Arcata, +liquoring up.” + +She nodded miserably. + +“Well, we have to get logs to the mill, and we can't get them with +old John Barleycorn for a woods-boss, Moira. So we're going to change +woods-bosses, and the new woods-boss will not be driven off the job, +because I'm going to stay up here a couple of weeks and break him in +myself. By the way, is Mac ugly in his cups?” + +“Thank God, no,” she answered fervently. “Drunk or sober, he has never +said an unkind word to me.” + +“But how do you manage to get money to clothe yourself? Sinclair tells +me Mac needs every cent of his two hundred and fifty dollars a month to +enjoy himself.” + +“I used to steal from him,” the girl admitted. “Then I grew ashamed of +that, and for the past six months I've been earning my own living. Mr. +Sinclair was very kind. He gave me a job waiting on table in the camp +dining room. You see, I had to have something here. I couldn't leave my +father. He had to have somebody to take care of him. Don't you see, Mr. +Bryce?” + +“Sinclair is a fuzzy old fool,” Bryce declared with emphasis. “The idea +of our woods-boss's daughter slinging hash to lumberjacks. Poor Moira!” + +He took one of her hands in his, noting the callous spots on the plump +palm, the thick finger-joints that hinted so of toil, the nails that had +never been manicured save by Moira herself. “Do you remember when I was +a boy, Moira, how I used to come up to the logging-camps to hunt and +fish? I always lived with the McTavishes then. And in September, when +the huckleberries were ripe, we used to go out and pick them together. +Poor Moira! Why, we're old pals, and I'll be shot if I'm going to see +you suffer.” + +She glanced at him shyly, with beaming eyes. “You haven't changed a bit, +Mr. Bryce. Not one little bit!” + +“Let's talk about you, Moira. You went to school in Sequoia, didn't +you?” + +“Yes, I was graduated from the high school there. I used to ride the +log-trains into town and back again.” + +“Good news! Listen, Moira. I'm going to fire your father, as I've said, +because he's working for old J.B. now, not the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company. I really ought to pension him after his long years in the +Cardigan service, but I'll be hanged if we can afford pensions +any more--particularly to keep a man in booze; so the best our old +woods-boss gets from me is this shanty, or another like it when we move +to new cuttings, and a perpetual meal-ticket for our camp dining room +while the Cardigans remain in business. I'd finance him for a trip to +some State institution where they sometimes reclaim such wreckage, if I +didn't think he's too old a dog to be taught new tricks.” + +“Perhaps,” she suggested sadly, “you had better talk the matter over +with him.” + +“No, I'd rather not. I'm fond of your father, Moira. He was a man when +I saw him last--such a man as these woods will never see again--and +I don't want to see him again until he's cold sober. I'll write him a +letter. As for you, Moira, you're fired, too. I'll not have you waiting +on table in my logging-camp--not by a jugful! You're to come down to +Sequoia and go to work in our office. We can use you on the books, +helping Sinclair, and relieve him of the task of billing, checking +tallies, and looking after the pay-roll. I'll pay you a hundred dollars +a month, Moira. Can you get along on that?” + +Her hard hand closed over his tightly, but she did not speak. + +“All right, Moira. It's a go, then. Hills and timber--timber and +hills--and I'm going to set you free. Perhaps in Sequoia you'll find +your Prince Charming. There, there, girl, don't cry. We Cardigans had +twenty-five years of faithful service from Donald McTavish before he +commenced slipping; after all, we owe him something, I think.” + +She drew his hand suddenly to her lips and kissed it; her hot tears of +joy fell on it, but her heart was too full for mere words. + +“Fiddle-de-dee, Moira! Buck up,” he protested, hugely pleased, but +embarrassed withal. “The way you take this, one would think you had +expected me to go back on an old pal and had been pleasantly surprised +when I didn't. Cheer up, Moira! Cherries are ripe, or at any rate they +soon will be; and if you'll just cease shedding the scalding and listen +to me, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll advance you two months' salary +for--well, you'll need a lot of clothes and things in Sequoia that you +don't need here. And I'm glad I've managed to settle the McTavish hash +without kicking up a row and hurting your feelings. Poor old Mac! I'm +sorry I can't bear with him, but we simply have to have the logs, you +know.” + +He rose, stooped, and pinched her ear; for had he not known her since +childhood, and had they not gathered huckleberries together in the +long ago? She was sister to him--just another one of his problems--and +nothing more. “Report on the job as soon as possible, Moira,” he called +to her from the gate. Then the gate banged behind him, and with a smile +and a debonair wave of his hand, he was striding down the little camp +street where the dogs and the children played in the dust. + +After a while Moira walked to the gate and leaning upon it, looked down +the street toward the log-landing where Bryce was ragging the laggard +crew into some thing like their old-time speed. Presently the locomotive +backed in and coupled to the log tram, and when she saw Bryce leap +aboard and seat himself on a top log in such a position that he could +not fail to see her at the gate, she waved to him. He threw her a +careless kiss, and the train pulled out. + +Presently, when Moira lifted her Madonna glance to the frieze of timber +on the skyline, there was a new glory in her eyes; and lo, it was autumn +in the woods, for over that hill Prince Charming had come to her, and +life was all crimson and gold! + +When the train loaded with Cardigan logs crawled in on the main track +and stopped at the log-landing in Pennington's camp, the locomotive +uncoupled and backed in on the siding for the purpose of kicking the +caboose, in which Shirley and Colonel Pennington had ridden to the +woods, out onto the main line again--where, owing to a slight downhill +grade, the caboose, controlled by the brakeman, could coast gently +forward and be hooked on to the end of the log-train for the return +journey to Sequoia. + +Throughout the afternoon Shirley, following the battle royal between +Bryce and the Pennington retainers, had sat dismally in the caboose. She +was prey to many conflicting emotions; but having had what her sex +term “a good cry,” she had to a great extent recovered her customary +poise--and was busily speculating on the rapidity with which she could +leave Sequoia and forget she had ever met Bryce Cardigan--when the +log-train rumbled into the landing and the last of the long string of +trucks came to a stop directly opposite the caboose. + +Shirley happened to be looking through the grimy caboose window at +that moment. On the top log of the load the object of her unhappy +speculations was seated, apparently quite oblivious of the fact that he +was back once more in the haunt of his enemies, although knowledge that +the double-bitted axe he had so unceremoniously borrowed of Colonel +Pennington was driven deep into the log beside him, with the haft +convenient to his hand, probably had much to do with Bryce's air of +detached indifference. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his +chin in his cupped hands, and a pipe thrust aggressively out the corner +of his mouth, the while he stared moodily at his feet. + +Shirley suspected she knew what he was thinking of; he was less than +six feet from her, and a morbid fascination moved her to remain at the +window and watch the play of emotions over his strong, stern face. +She told herself that should he move, should he show the slightest +disposition to raise his head and bring his eyes on a level with hers, +she would dodge away from the window in time to escape his scrutiny. + +She reckoned without the engine. With a smart bump it struck the caboose +and shunted it briskly up the siding; at the sound of the impact Bryce +raised his troubled glance just in time to see Shirley's body, yielding +to the shock, sway into full view at the window. + +With difficulty he suppressed a grin. “I'll bet my immortal soul she +was peeking at me,” he soliloquized. “Confound the luck! Another meeting +this afternoon would be embarrassing.” Tactfully he resumed his study of +his feet, not even looking up when the caboose, after gaining the main +track, slid gently down the slight grade and was coupled to the rear +logging-truck. Out of the tail of his eye he caught a glimpse of Colonel +Pennington passing alongside the log-train and entering the caboose; he +heard the engineer shout to the brakeman--who had ridden down from the +head of the train to unlock the siding switch and couple the caboose--to +hurry up, lock the switch, and get back aboard the engine. + +“Can't get this danged key to turn in the lock,” the brakeman shouted +presently. “Lock's rusty, and something's gone bust inside.” + +Minutes passed. Bryce's assumed abstraction became real, for he had many +matters to occupy his busy brain, and it was impossible for him to sit +idle without adverting to some of them. Presently he was subconsciously +aware that the train was moving gently forward; almost immediately, it +seemed to him, the long string of trucks had gathered their customary +speed; and then suddenly it dawned upon Bryce that the train had started +off without a single jerk--and that it was gathering headway rapidly. + +He looked ahead--and his hair grew creepy at the roots. There was no +locomotive attached to the train! It was running away down a two per +cent. grade, and because of the tremendous weight of the train, it was +gathering momentum at a fearful rate. + +The reason for the runaway dawned on Bryce instantly. The road, being +privately owned, was, like most logging-roads, neglected as to roadbed +and rolling-stock; also it was undermanned, and the brake-man, who also +acted as switchman, had failed to set the hand-brakes on the leading +truck after the engineer had locked the air-brakes. As a result, during +the five or six minutes required to “spot in” the caboose, and an extra +minute or two lost while the brakeman struggled with the recalcitrant +lock on the switch, the air had leaked away through the worn valves +and rubber tubing, and the brakes had been released--so that the train, +without warning, had quietly and almost noiselessly slid out of the +log-landing and started on its mad career. Before the engineer could +beat it to the other switch with the locomotive, run out on the main +track, let the runaway gradually catch up with him and hold +it--no matter how or what happened to him or his engine--the first +logging-truck had cleared the switch and blocked pursuit. There was +nothing to do now save watch the wild runaway and pray, for of all the +mad runaways in a mad world, a loaded logging-train is by far the worst. + +For an instant after realizing his predicament, Bryce Cardigan was +tempted to jump and take his chance on a few broken bones, before the +train could reach a greater speed than twenty miles an hour. His impulse +was to run forward and set the handbrake on the leading truck, but a +glance showed him that even with the train standing still he could not +hope to leap from truck to truck and land on the round, freshly peeled +surface of the logs without slipping for he had no calks in his boots. +And to slip now meant swift and horrible death. + +“Too late!” he muttered. “Even if I could get to the head of the train, +I couldn't stop her with the hand-brake; should I succeed in locking the +wheels, the brute would be doing fifty miles an hour by that time--the +front truck would slide and skid, leave the tracks and pile up with me +at the bottom of a mess of wrecked rolling-stock and redwood logs.” + +Then he remembered. In the wildly rolling caboose Shirley Sumner rode +with her uncle, while less than two miles ahead, the track swung in a +sharp curve high up along the hillside above Mad River. Bryce knew the +leading truck would never take that curve at high speed, even if the +ancient rolling-stock should hold together until the curve was reached, +but would shoot off at a tangent into the canyon, carrying trucks, logs, +and caboose with it, rolling over and over down the hillside to the +river. + +“The caboose must be cut out of this runaway,” Bryce soliloquized, +“and it must be cut out in a devil of a hurry. Here goes nothing in +particular, and may God be good to my dear old man.” + +He jerked his axe out of the log, drove it deep into the top log toward +the end, and by using the haft to cling to, crawled toward the rear +of the load and looked down at the caboose coupling. The top log was +a sixteen-foot butt; the two bottom logs were eighteen footers. With a +silent prayer of thanks to Providence, Bryce slid down to the landing +thus formed. He was still five feet above the coupling, however; but +by leaning over the swaying, bumping edge and swinging the axe with one +hand, he managed to cut through the rubber hose on the air connection. +“The blamed thing might hold and drag the caboose along after I've +pulled out the coupling-pin,” he reflected. “And I can't afford to take +chances now.” + +Nevertheless he took them. Axe in hand, he leaped down to the narrow +ledge formed by the bumper in front of the cabooses--driving his face +into the front of the caboose; and he only grasped the steel rod leading +from the brake-chains to the wheel on the roof in time to avoid falling +half stunned between the front of the caboose and the rear of the +logging-truck. The caboose had once been a box-car; hence there was +no railed front platform to which Bryce might have leaped in safety. +Clinging perilously on the bumper, he reached with his foot, got his toe +under the lever on the side, jerked it upward, and threw the pin out +of the coupling; then with his free hand he swung the axe and drove the +great steel jaws of the coupling apart. + +The caboose was cut out! But already the deadly curve was in sight; in +two minutes the first truck would reach it; and the caboose, though cut +loose, had to be stopped, else with the headway it had gathered, it, +too, would follow the logging-trucks to glory. + +For a moment Bryce clung to the brake-rod, weak and dizzy from the +effects of the blow when, leaping down from the loaded truck to the +caboose bumper, his face had smashed into the front of the caboose. His +chin was bruised, skinned, and bloody; his nose had been broken, and +twin rivulets of blood ran from his nostrils. He wiped it away, swung +his axe, drove the blade deep into the bumper and left it there with the +haft quivering; turning, he climbed swiftly up the narrow iron ladder +beside the brake-rod until he reached the roof; then, still standing +on the ladder, he reached the brake-wheel and drew it promptly but +gradually around until the wheel-blocks began to bite, when he exerted +his tremendous strength to the utmost and with his knees braced doggedly +against the front of the caboose, held the wheel. + +The brake screamed, but the speed of the caboose was not appreciably +slackened. “It's had too good a start!” Bryce moaned. “The momentum is +more than I can overcome. Oh, Shirley, my love! God help you!” + +He cast a sudden despairing look over his shoulder downward at the +coupling. He was winning, after all, for a space of six feet now yawned +between the end of the logging-truck and the bumper of the caboose. If +he could but hold that tremendous strain on the wheel for a quarter of +a mile, he might get the demon caboose under control! Again he dug his +knees into the front of the car and twisted on the wheel until it seemed +that his muscles must crack. + +After what seemed an eon of waiting, he ventured another look ahead. The +rear logging-truck was a hundred yards in front of him now, and from the +wheels of the caboose an odour of something burning drifted up to him. +“I've got your wheels locked!” he half sobbed. “I'll hold you yet, you +brute. Slide! That's it! Slide, and flatten your infernal wheels. Hah! +You're quitting--quitting. I'll have you in control before we reach the +curve. Burn, curse you, burn!” + +With a shriek of metal scraping metal, the head of the Juggernaut ahead +took the curve, clung there an instant, and was catapulted out into +space. Logs weighing twenty tons were flung about like kindling; one +instant, Bryce could see them in the air; the next they had disappeared +down the hillside. A deafening crash, a splash, a cloud of dust-- + +With a protesting squeal, the caboose came to the point where the +logging-train had left the right of way, carrying rails and ties with +it. The wheels on the side nearest the bank slid into the dirt first and +plowed deep into the soil; the caboose came to an abrupt stop, trembled +and rattled, overtopped its centre of gravity, and fell over against the +cut-bank, wearily, like a drunken hag. + +Bryce, still clinging to the brake, was fully braced for the shock and +was not flung off. Calmly he descended the ladder, recovered the axe +from the bumper, climbed back to the roof, tiptoed off the roof to the +top of the bank and sat calmly down under a manzanita bush to await +results, for he was quite confident that none of the occupants of the +confounded caboose had been treated to anything worse than a wild ride +and a rare fright, and he was curious to see how Shirley Sumner would +behave in an emergency. + +Colonel Pennington was first to emerge at the rear of the caboose. He +leaped lightly down the steps, ran to the front of the car, looked down +the track, and swore feelingly. Then he darted back to the rear of the +caboose. + +“All clear and snug as a bug under a chip, my dear,” he called to +Shirley. “Thank God, the caboose became uncoupled--guess that fool +brakeman forgot to drop the pin; it was the last car, and when it jumped +the track and plowed into the dirt, it just naturally quit and toppled +over against the bank. Come out, my dear.” + +Shirley came out, dry-eyed, but white and trembling. The Colonel placed +his arm around her, and she hid her face on his shoulder and shuddered. +“There, there!” he soothed her affectionately. “It's all over, my dear. +All's well that ends well.” + +“The train,” she cried in a choking voice. “Where is it?” + +“In little pieces--down in Mad River.” He laughed happily. “And the logs +weren't even mine! As for the trucks, they were a lot of ratty antiques +and only fit to haul Cardigan's logs. About a hundred yards of roadbed +ruined--that's the extent of my loss, for I'd charged off the trucks to +profit and loss two years ago.” + +“Bryce Cardigan,” she sobbed. “I saw him--he was riding a top log on the +train. He--ah, God help him!” + +The Colonel shook her with sudden ferocity. “Young Cardigan,” he cried +sharply. “Riding the logs? Are you certain?” + +She nodded, and her shoulders shook piteously. + +“Then Bryce Cardigan is gone!” Pennington's pronouncement was solemn, +deadly with its flat finality. “No man could have rolled down into +Mad River with a trainload of logs and survived. The devil himself +couldn't.” He heaved a great sigh, and added: “Well, that clears the +atmosphere considerably, although for all his faults, I regret, for his +father's sake, that this dreadful affair has happened. Well, it can't be +helped, Shirley. Don't cry, my dear. I know it's terrible, but--there, +there my love. Do brace up. Poor devil! For all his damnable treatment +of me, I wouldn't have had this happen for a million dollars.” + +Shirley burst into wild weeping. Bryce's heart leaped, for he understood +the reason for her grief. She had sent him away in anger, and he had +gone to his death; ergo it would be long before Shirley would forgive +herself. Bryce had not intended presenting himself before her in his +battered and bloody condition, but the sight of her distress now was +more than he could bear. He coughed slightly, and the alert Colonel +glanced up at him instantly. + +“Well, I'll be hanged!” The words fell from Pennington's lips with a +heartiness that was almost touching. “I thought you'd gone with the +train.” + +“Sorry to have disappointed you, old top,” Bryce replied blithely, “but +I'm just naturally stubborn. Too bad about the atmosphere you thought +cleared a moment ago! It's clogged worse than ever now.” + +At the sound of Bryce's voice, Shirley raised her head, whirled and +looked up at him. He held his handkerchief over his gory face that the +sight might not distress her; he could have whooped with delight at the +joy that flashed through her wet lids. + +“Bryce Cardigan,” she commanded sternly, “come down here this instant.” + +“I'm not a pretty sight, Shirley. Better let me go about my business.” + +She stamped her foot. “Come here!” + +“Well, since you insist,” he replied, and he slid down the bank. + +“How did you get up there--and what do you mean by hiding there spying +on me, you--you--oh, YOU!” + +“Cuss a little, if it will help any,” he suggested. “I had to get out of +your way--out of your sight--and up there was the best place. I was on +the roof of the caboose when it toppled over, so all I had to do was +step ashore and sit down.” + +“Then why didn't you stay there?” she demanded furiously. + +“You wouldn't let me,” he answered demurely. “And when I saw you weeping +because I was supposed to be with the angels, I couldn't help coughing +to let you know I was still hanging around, ornery as a book-agent.” + +“How did you ruin your face, Mr. Cardigan?” + +“Tried to take a cast of the front end of the caboose in my classic +countenance--that's all.” + +“But you were riding the top log on the last truck--” + +“Certainly, but I wasn't hayseed enough to stay there until we struck +this curve. I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I climbed down +to the bumper of the caboose, uncoupled it from the truck, climbed up +on the roof, and managed to get the old thing under control with the +hand-brake; then I skedaddled up into the brush because I knew you were +inside, and---By the way, Colonel Pennington, here is your axe, which I +borrowed this afternoon. Much obliged for its use. The last up-train is +probably waiting on the siding at Freshwater to pass the late +lamented; consequently a walk of about a mile will bring you a means of +transportation back to Sequoia. Walk leisurely--you have lots of time. +As for myself, I'm in a hurry, and my room is more greatly to be desired +than my company, so I'll start now.” + +He lifted his hat, turned, and walked briskly down the ruined track. + +Shirley made a little gesture of dissent, half opened her lips to call +him back, thought better of it, and let him go. When he was out of +sight, it dawned on her that he had risked his life to save hers. + +“Uncle Seth,” she said soberly, “what would have happened to us if Bryce +Cardigan had not come up here to-day to thrash your woods-boss?” + +“We'd both be in Kingdom Come now,” he answered truthfully. + +“Under the circumstances, then,” Shirley continued, “suppose we all +agree to forget that anything unusual happened to-day--” + +“I bear the young man no ill will, Shirley, but before you permit +yourself to be carried away by the splendour of his action in cutting +out the caboose and getting it under control, it might be well to +remember that his own precious hide was at stake also. He would have cut +the caboose out even if you and I had not been in it.” + +“No, he would not,” she insisted, for the thought that he had done it +for her sake was very sweet to her and would persist. “Cooped up in the +caboose, we did not know the train was running away until it was too +late for us to jump, while Bryce Cardigan, riding out on the logs, must +have known it almost immediately. He would have had time to jump before +the runaway gathered too much headway--and he would have jumped, Uncle +Seth, for his father's sake.” + +“Well, he certainly didn't stay for mine, Shirley.” + +She dried her moist eyes and blushed furiously. “Uncle Seth,” she +pleaded, taking him lovingly by the arm, “let's be friends with Bryce +Cardigan; let's get together and agree on an equitable contract for +freighting his logs over our road.” + +“You are now,” he replied severely, “mixing sentiment and business; if +you persist, the result will be chaos. Cardigan has in a large measure +squared himself for his ruffianly conduct earlier in the day, and I'll +forgive him and treat him with courtesy hereafter; but I want you to +understand, Shirley, that such treatment by me does not constitute +a license for that fellow to crawl up in my lap and be petted. He is +practically a pauper now, which makes him a poor business risk, and +you'll please me greatly by leaving him severely alone--by making him +keep his distance.” + +“I'll not do that,” she answered with a quiet finality that caused her +uncle to favour her with a quick, searching glance. + +He need not have worried, however, for Bryce Cardigan was too well aware +of his own financial condition to risk the humiliation of asking Shirley +Sumner to share it with him. Moreover, he had embarked upon a war--a war +which he meant to fight to a finish. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +George Sea Otter, summoned by telephone, came out to Freshwater, the +station nearest the wreck, and transported his battered young master +back to Sequoia. Here Bryce sought the doctor in the Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company's little hospital and had his wrecked nose reorganized +and his cuts bandaged. It was characteristic of his father's son that +when this detail had been attended to, he should go to the office and +work until the six o'clock whistle blew. + +Old Cardigan was waiting for him at the gate when he reached home. +George Sea Otter had already given the old man a more or less garbled +account of the runaway log-train, and Cardigan eagerly awaited his son's +arrival in order to ascertain the details of this new disaster which had +come upon them. For disaster it was, in truth. The loss of the logs was +trifling--perhaps three or four thousand dollars; the destruction of +the rolling-stock was the crowning misfortune. Both Cardigans knew that +Pennington would eagerly seize upon this point to stint his +competitor still further on logging-equipment, that there would +be delays--purposeful but apparently unavoidable--before this lost +rolling-stock would be replaced. And in the interim the Cardigan mill, +unable to get a sufficient supply of logs to fill orders in hand, would +be forced to close down. Full well Pennington knew that anything which, +tends to bring about a shortage of raw material for any manufacturing +plant will result inevitably in the loss of customers. + +“Well, son,” said John Cardigan mildly as Bryce unlatched the gate, +“another bump, eh?” + +“Yes, sir--right on the nose.” + +“I meant another bump to your heritage, my son.” + +“I'm worrying more about my nose, partner. In fact, I'm not worrying +about my heritage at all. I've come to a decision on that point: We're +going to fight and fight to the last; we're going down fighting. And by +the way, I started the fight this afternoon. I whaled the wadding out +of that bucko woods-boss of Pennington's, and as a special compliment to +you, John Cardigan, I did an almighty fine job of cleaning. Even went so +far as to muss the Colonel up a little.” + +“Wow, wow, Bryce! Bully for you! I wanted that man Rondeau taken apart. +He has terrorized our woods-men for a long time. He's king of the +mad-train, you know.” + +Bryce was relieved. His father did not know, then, of the act of +vandalism in the Valley of the Giants. This fact strengthened Bryce's +resolve not to tell him--also to get the fallen monarch sawed up and the +stump blasted out before an operation should restore his father's sight +and reveal to him the crowning cruelty of his enemy. + +Arm in arm they walked up the garden path together. + +Just as they entered the house, the telephone in the hall tinkled, and +Bryce answered. + +“Mr. Cardigan,” came Shirley Sumner's voice over the wire. + +“Bryce,” he corrected her. + +She ignored the correction, + +“I--I don't know what to say to you,” she faltered. + +“There is no necessity for saying anything, Shirley.” + +“But you saved our lives, and at least have a right to expect due and +grateful acknowledgment of our debt. I rang up to tell you how splendid +and heroic your action was--” + +“I had my own life to save, Shirley.” + +“You did not think of that at the time.” + +“Well--I didn't think of your uncle's, either,” he replied without +enthusiasm. + +“I'm sure we never can hope to catch even with you, Mr. Cardigan.” + +“Don't try. Your revered relative will not; so why should you?” + +“You are making it somewhat hard for me to--to--rehabilitate +our friendship, Mr. Cardigan. We have just passed through a most +extraordinary day, and if at evening I can feel as I do now, I think you +ought to do your share--and help.” + +“Bless your heart,” he murmured. “The very fact that you bothered to +ring me up at all makes me your debtor. Shirley, can you stand some +plain speaking--between friends, I mean?” + +“I think so, Mr. Cardigan.” + +“Well, then,” said Bryce, “listen to this: I am your uncle's enemy until +death do us part. Neither he nor I expect to ask or to give quarter, and +I'm going to smash him if I can.” + +“If you do, you smash me,” she warned him. + +“Likewise our friendship. I'm sorry, but it's got to be done if I can do +it. Shall--shall we say good-bye, Shirley?” + +“Yes-s-s!” There was a break in her voice. “Good-bye, Mr Cardigan. I +wanted you to know.” + +“Good-bye! Well, that's cutting the mustard,” he murmured sotto voce, +“and there goes another bright day-dream.” Unknown to himself, he spoke +directly into the transmitter, and Shirley, clinging half hopefully +to the receiver at the other end of the wire, heard him--caught every +inflection of the words, commonplace enough, but freighted with the +pathos of Bryce's first real tragedy. + +“Oh, Bryce!” she cried sharply. But he did not hear her; he had hung up +his receiver now. + +The week that ensued was remarkable for the amount of work Bryce +accomplished in the investigation of his father's affairs--also for a +visit from Donald McTavish, the woods-boss. Bryce found him sitting in +the private office one morning at seven o'clock. + +“Hello, McTavish,” he saluted the woods-boss cheerfully and extended +his hand for a cordial greeting. His wayward employee stood up, took the +proffered hand in both of his huge and callous ones, and held it rather +childishly. + +“Weel! 'Tis the wee laddie hissel,” he boomed. “I'm glad to see ye, +boy.” + +“You'd have seen me the day before yesterday--if you had been seeable,” + Bryce reminded him with a bright smile. “Mac, old man, they tell me +you've gotten to be a regular go-to-hell.” + +“I'll nae deny I take a wee drappie now an' then,” the woods-boss +admitted frankly, albeit there was a harried, hangdog look in his eyes. + +Bryce sat down at his desk, lighted his pipe, and looked McTavish over +soberly. The woods-boss was a big, raw-boned Scotsman, with a plentiful +sprinkling of silver in his thick mane of red hair, which fell far down +on his shoulders. A tremendous nose rose majestically out of a face so +strong and rugged one searched in vain for aught of manly beauty in +it; his long arms hung gorilla-like, almost to his knees, and he was +slightly stooped, as if from bearing heavy burdens. Though in the late +fifties, his years had touched him lightly; but John Barleycorn had not +been so considerate. Bryce noted that McTavish was carrying some thirty +pounds of whiskey fat and that the pupils of his fierce blue eyes were +permanently distended, showing that alcohol had begun to affect his +brain. His hands trembled as he stood before Bryce, smiling fatuously +and plucking at the cuffs of his mackinaw. The latter realized that +McTavish was waiting for him to broach the object of the visit; so with +an effort he decided to begin the disagreeable task. + +“Mac, did Moira give you my message?” + +“Aye.” + +“Well, I guess we understand each other, Mac. Was there something else +you wanted to see me about?” + +McTavish sidled up to the desk. “Ye'll no be firin' auld Mac oot o' +hand?” he pleaded hopefully. “Mon, ha ye the heart to do it--after a' +these years?” + +Bryce nodded. “If you have the heart--after all these years--to draw +pay you do not earn, then I have the heart to put a better man in your +place.” + +“Ye was ever a laddie to hae your bit joke.” + +“It's no good arguing, Mac. You're off the pay-roll onto the +pension-roll--your shanty in the woods, your meals at the camp kitchen, +your clothing and tobacco that I send out to you. Neither more nor +less!” He reached into his desk and drew forth a check. “Here's your +wages to the fifteenth. It's the last Cardigan check you'll ever finger. +I'm terribly sorry, but I'm terribly in earnest.” + +“Who will ye pit in ma place?” + +“I don't know. However, it won't be a difficult task to find a better +man than you.” + +“I'll nae let him work.” McTavish's voice deepened to a growl. “You +worked that racket on my father. Try it on me, and you'll answer to +me--personally. Lay the weight of your finger on your successor, Mac, +and you'll die in the county poor-farm. No threats, old man! You know +the Cardigans; they never bluff.” + +McTavish's glance met the youthful master's for several seconds; then +the woods-boss trembled, and his gaze sought the office floor. Bryce +knew he had his man whipped at last, and McTavish realized it, too, for +quite suddenly he burst into tears. + +“Dinna fire me, lad,” he pleaded. “I'll gae back on the job an' leave +whusky alone.” + +“Nothing doing, Mac. Leave whiskey alone for a year and I'll discharge +your successor to give you back your job. For the present however, my +verdict stands. You're discharged.” + +“Who kens the Cardigan woods as I ken them?” McTavish blubbered. “Who'll +swamp a road into timber sixty per cent. clear when the mill's runnin' +on foreign orders an' the owd man's calling for clear logs? Who'll fell +trees wi' the least amount o' breakage? Who'll get the work out o' the +men? Who'll--” + +“Don't plead, Mac,” Bryce interrupted gently. “You're quite through, and +I can't waste any more time on you.” + +“Ye dinna mean it, lad. Ye canna mean it.” + +“On your way, Mac. I loathe arguments. And don't forget your check.” + +“I maun see yer faither aboot this. He'll nae stand for sic treatment o' +an auld employee.” + +Bryce's temper flared up. “You keep away from my father. You've worried +him enough in the past, you drunkard. If you go up to the house to annoy +my father with your pleadings, McTavish, I'll manhandle you.” He glanced +at his watch. “The next train leaves for the woods in twenty minutes. If +you do not go back on it and behave yourself, you can never go back to +Cardigan woods.” + +“I will nae take charity from any man,” McTavish thundered. “I'll nae +bother the owd man, an' I'll nae go back to yon woods to live on yer +bounty.” + +“Well, go somewhere, Mac, and be quick about it. Only--when you've +reformed, please come back. You'll be mighty welcome. Until then, +however, you're as popular with me--that is, in a business way--as a wet +dog.” + +“Ye're nae the man yer faither was,” the woods-boss half sobbed. “Ye hae +a heart o' stone.” + +“You've been drunk for fifteen days--and I'm paying you for it, Mac,” + Bryce reminded him gently. “Don't leave your check behind. You'll need +it.” + +With a fine show of contempt and rage, McTavish tore the check into +strips and threw them at Bryce. “I was never a mon to take charity,” he +roared furiously, and left the office. Bryce called after him a cheerful +good-bye, but he did not answer. And he did not remain in town; neither +did he return to his shanty in the woods. For a month his whereabouts +remained a mystery; then one day Moira received a letter from him +informing her that he had a job knee-bolting in a shingle mill in +Mendocino County. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the interim Bryce had not been idle. From his woods-crew he picked +an old, experienced hand--one Jabez Curtis--to take the place of the +vanished McTavish. Colonel Pennington, having repaired in three days +the gap in his railroad, wrote a letter to the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company, informing Bryce that until more equipment could be purchased +and delivered to take the place of the rolling-stock destroyed in +the wreck, the latter would have to be content with half-deliveries; +whereupon Bryce irritated the Colonel profoundly by purchasing a lot of +second-hand trucks from a bankrupt sugar-pine mill in Lassen County and +delivering them to the Colonel's road via the deck of a steam schooner. + +“That will insure delivery of sufficient logs to get out our orders on +file,” Bryce informed his father. “While we are morally certain our mill +will run but one year longer, I intend that it shall run full capacity +for that year. In fact, I'm going to saw in that one year remaining to +us as much lumber as we would ordinarily saw in two years. To be exact, +I'm going to run a night-shift.” + +The sightless old man raised both hands in deprecation. “The market +won't absorb it,” he protested. + +“Then we'll stack it in piles to air-dry and wait until the market is +brisk enough to absorb it,” Bryce replied. + +“Our finances won't stand the overhead of that night-shift, I tell you,” + his father warned. + +“I know we haven't sufficient cash on hand to attempt it, Dad, but--I'm +going to borrow some.” + +“From whom? No bank in Sequoia will lend us a penny, and long before you +came home I had sounded every possible source of a private loan.” + +“Did you sound the Sequoia Bank of Commerce?” + +“Certainly not. Pennington owns the controlling interest in that bank, +and I was never a man to waste my time.” + +Bryce chuckled. “I don't care where the money comes from so long as I +get it, partner. Pennington's money may be tainted; in fact, I'd risk a +bet that it is; but our employees will accept it for wages nevertheless. +Desperate circumstances require desperate measures you know, and the +day before yesterday, when I was quite ignorant of the fact that Colonel +Pennington controls the Sequoia Bank of Commerce, I drifted in on the +president and casually struck him for a loan of one hundred thousand +dollars.” + +“Well, I'll be shot, Bryce! What did he say?” + +“Said he'd take the matter under consideration and give me an answer +this morning. He asked me, of course, what I wanted that much money for, +and I told him I was going to run a night-shift, double my force of men +in the woods, and buy some more logging-trucks, which I can get rather +cheap. Well, this morning I called for my answer--and got it. The +Sequoia Bank of Commerce will loan me up to a hundred thousand, but +it won't give me the cash in a lump sum. I can have enough to buy the +logging-trucks now, and on the first of each month, when I present my +pay-roll, the bank will advance me the money to meet it.” + +“Bryce, I am amazed.” + +“I am not--since you tell me Colonel Pennington controls that bank. That +the bank should accommodate us is the most natural procedure imaginable. +Pennington is only playing safe--which is why the bank declined to give +me the money in a lump sum. If we run a night-shift, Pennington +knows that we can't dispose of our excess output under present market +conditions. The redwood trade is in the doldrums and will remain in them +to a greater or less degree until the principal redwood centres secure a +rail outlet to the markets of the country. It's a safe bet our lumber is +going to pile up on the mill dock; hence, when the smash comes and the +Sequoia Bank of Commerce calls our loan and we cannot possibly meet it, +the lumber on hand will prove security for the loan, will it not? In +fact, it will be worth two or three dollars per thousand more then than +it is now, because it will be air-dried. And inasmuch as all the signs +point to Pennington's gobbling us anyhow, it strikes me as a rather good +business on his part to give us sufficient rope to insure a thorough job +of hanging.” + +“But what idea have you got back of such a procedure, Bryce?” + +“Merely a forlorn hope, Dad. Something might turn up. The market may +take a sudden spurt and go up three or four dollars.” + +“Yes--and it may take a sudden spurt and drop three or four dollars,” + his father reminded him. + +Bryce laughed. “That would be Pennington's funeral, Dad. And whether +the market goes up or comes down, it costs us nothing to make the +experiment.” + +“Quite true.” his father agreed. + +“Then, if you'll come down to the office to-morrow morning, Dad, we'll +hold a meeting of our board of directors and authorize me, as president +of the company, to sign the note to the bank. We're borrowing this +without collateral, you know.” + +John Cardigan sighed. Such daring financial acrobatics were not usual +with him, but as Bryce had remarked there was no reason why, in their +present predicament, they should not gamble. Hence he entered no further +objection, and the following day the agreement was entered into with +the bank. Bryce closed by wire for the extra logging-equipment and +immediately set about rounding up a crew for the woods and for the +night-shift in the mill. + +For a month Bryce was as busy as the proverbial one-armed paper-hanger +with the itch, and during all that time he did not see Shirley Sumner or +hear of her, directly or indirectly. Only at infrequent intervals did he +permit himself to think of her, for he was striving to forget, and the +memory of his brief glimpse of paradise was always provocative of pain. + +Moira McTavish, in the meantime, had come down from the woods and +entered upon her duties in the mill office. The change from her dull, +drab life, giving her, as it did, an opportunity for companionship with +people of greater mentality and refinement than she had been used to, +quickly brought about a swift transition in the girl's nature. With the +passing of the coarse shoes and calico dresses and the substitution of +the kind of clothing all women of Moira's instinctive refinement and +natural beauty long for, the girl became cheerful, animated, and imbued +with the optimism of her years. At first old Sinclair resented the +advent of a woman in the office; then he discovered that Moira's efforts +lightened his own labours in exact proportion to the knowledge of the +business which she assimilated from day to day. + +Moira worked in the general office, and except upon occasions when Bryce +desired to look at the books or Moira brought some document into +the private office for his perusal, there were days during which +his pleasant “Good morning, Moira,” constituted the extent of their +conversation. To John Cardigan, however, Moira was a ministering angel. +Gradually she relieved Bryce of the care of the old man. She made a +cushion for his easy-chair in the office; she read the papers to him, +and the correspondence, and discussed with him the receipt and delivery +of orders, the movements of the lumber-fleet, the comedies and tragedies +of his people, which had become to him matters of the utmost importance. +She brushed his hair, dusted his hat, and crowned him with it when he +left the office at nightfall, and whenever Bryce was absent in the woods +or in San Francisco, it fell to her lot to lead the old man to and from +the house on the hill. To his starved heart her sweet womanly attentions +were tremendously welcome, and gradually he formed the habit of speaking +of her, half tenderly, half jokingly, as “my girl.” + +Bryce had been absent in San Francisco for ten days. He had planned to +stay three weeks, but finding his business consummated in less time, +he returned to Sequoia unexpectedly. Moira was standing at the tall +bookkeeping desk, her beautiful dark head bent over the ledger, when he +entered the office and set his suitcase in the corner. + +“Is that you, Mr. Bryce?” she queried. + +“The identical individual, Moira. How did you guess it was I?” + +She looked up at him then, and her wonderful dark eyes lighted with a +flame Bryce had not seen in them heretofore. “I knew you were coming,” + she replied simply. + +“But how could you know? I didn't telegraph because I wanted to surprise +my father, and the instant the boat touched the dock, I went overside +and came directly here. I didn't even wait for the crew to run out the +gangplank--so I know nobody could have told you I was due.” + +“That is quite right, Mr. Bryce. Nobody told me you were coming, but I +just knew, when I heard the Noyo whistling as she made the dock, that +you were aboard, and I didn't look up when you entered the office +because I wanted to verify my--my suspicion.” + +“You had a hunch, Moira. Do you get those telepathic messages very +often?” He was crossing the office to shake her hand. + +“I've never noticed particularly--that is, until I came to work here. +But I always know when you are returning after a considerable absence.” + She gave him her hand. “I'm so glad you're back.” + +“Why?” he demanded bluntly. + +She flushed. “I--I really don't know, Mr. Bryce.” + +“Well, then,” he persisted, “what do you think makes you glad?” + +“I had been thinking how nice it would be to have you back, Mr. Bryce. +When you enter the office, it's like a breeze rustling the tops of the +Redwoods. And your father misses you so; he talks to me a great deal +about you. Why, of course we miss you; anybody would.” + +As he held her hand, he glanced down at it and noted how greatly it had +changed during the past few months. The skin was no longer rough and +brown, and the fingers, formerly stiff and swollen from hard work, were +growing more shapely. From her hand his glance roved over the girl, +noting the improvements in her dress, and the way the thick, wavy black +hair was piled on top of her shapely head. + +“It hadn't occurred to me before, Moira,” he said with a bright +impersonal smile that robbed his remark of all suggestion of masculine +flattery, “but it seems to me I'm unusually glad to see you, also. +You've been fixing your hair different.” + +The soft lambent glow leaped again into Moira's eyes. He had noticed +her--particularly. “Do you like my hair done that way?” she inquired +eagerly. + +“I don't know whether I do or not. It's unusual--for you. You look +mighty sweetly old-fashioned with it coiled in back--somewhat like an +old-fashioned daguerreotype of my mother. Is this new style the latest +in hairdressing in Sequoia?” + +“I think so, Mr. Bryce. I copied it from Colonel Pennington's niece, +Miss Sumner.” + +“Oh,” he replied briefly. “You've met her, have you? I didn't know she +was in Sequoia still.” + +“She's been away, but she came back last week. I went to the Valley of +the Giants last Saturday afternoon--” + +Bryce interrupted. “You didn't tell my father about the tree that was +cut, did you?” he demanded sharply. + +“No.” + +“Good girl! He mustn't know. Go on, Moira. I interrupted you.” + +“I met Miss Sumner up there. She was lost; she'd followed the old trail +into the timber, and when the trees shut out the sun, she lost all sense +of direction. She was terribly frightened and crying when I found her +and brought her home.” + +“Well, I swan, Moira! What was she doing in our timber?” + +“She told me that once, when she was a little girl, you had taken her +for a ride on your pony up to your mother's grave. And it seems she had +a great curiosity to see that spot again and started out without saying +a word to any one. Poor dear! She was in a sad state when I found her.” + +“How fortunate you found her! I've met Miss Sumner three or four times. +That was when she first came to Sequoia. She's a stunning girl, isn't +she?” + +“Perfectly, Mr. Bryce. She's the first lady I've ever met. She's +different.” + +“No doubt! Her kind are not a product of homely little communities like +Sequoia. And for that matter, neither is her wolf of an uncle. What did +Miss Sumner have to say to you, Moira?” + +“She told me all about herself--and she said a lot of nice things about +you, Mr. Bryce, after I told her I worked for you. And when I showed +her the way home, she insisted that I should walk home with her. So I +did--and the butler served us with tea and toast and marmalade. Then she +showed me all her wonderful things--and gave me some of them. Oh, Mr. +Bryce, she's so sweet. She had her maid dress my hair in half a dozen +different styles until they could decide on the right style, and--” + +“And that's it--eh, Moira?” + +She nodded brightly. + +“I can see that you and Miss Sumner evidently hit it off just right with +each other. Are you going to call on her again?” + +“Oh, yes! She begged me to. She says she's lonesome.” + +“I dare say she is, Moira. Well, her choice of a pal is a tribute to the +brains I suspected her of possessing, and I'm glad you've gotten to know +each other. I've no doubt you find life a little lonely sometimes.” + +“Sometimes, Mr. Bryce.” + +“How's my father?” + +“Splendid. I've taken good care of him for you.” + +“Moira, you're a sweetheart of a girl. I don't know how we ever managed +to wiggle along without you.” Fraternally--almost paternally--he gave +her radiant cheek three light little pats as he strode past her to the +private office. He was in a hurry to get to his desk, upon which he +could see through the open door a pile of letters and orders, and a +moment later he was deep in a perusal of them, oblivious to the fact +that ever and anon the girl turned upon him her brooding, Madonna-like +glance. + +That night Bryce and his father, as was their custom after dinner, +repaired to the library, where the bustling and motherly Mrs. Tully +served their coffee. This good soul, after the democratic fashion in +vogue in many Western communities, had never been regarded as a servant; +neither did she so regard herself. She was John Cardigan's housekeeper, +and as such she had for a quarter of a century served father and +son their meals and then seated herself at the table with them. This +arrangement had but one drawback, although this did not present +itself until after Bryce's return to Sequoia and his assumption of the +direction of the Cardigan destinies. For Mrs. Tully had a failing +common to many of her sex: she possessed for other people's business an +interest absolutely incapable of satisfaction--and she was, in addition, +garrulous beyond belief. The library was the one spot in the house which +at the beginning of her employment John Cardigan had indicated to Mrs. +Tully as sanctuary for him and his; hence, having served the coffee this +evening, the amiable creature withdrew, although not without a pang as +she reflected upon the probable nature of their conversation and the +void which must inevitably result by reason of the absence of her advice +and friendly cooperation and sympathy. + +No sooner had Mrs. Tully departed than Bryce rose and closed the door +behind her. John Cardigan opened the conversation with a contented +grunt: + +“Plug the keyhole, son,” he continued. “I believe you have something on +your mind--and you know how Mrs. Tully resents the closing of that door. +Estimable soul that she is, I have known her to eavesdrop. She can't +help it, poor thing! She was born that way.” + +Bryce clipped a cigar and held a lighted match while his father “smoked +up.” Then he slipped into the easy-chair beside the old man. + +“Well, John Cardigan,” he began eagerly, “fate ripped a big hole in our +dark cloud the other day and showed me some of the silver lining. I've +been making bad medicine for Colonel Pennington. Partner, the pill I'm +rolling for that scheming scoundrel will surely nauseate him when he +swallows it.” + +“What's in the wind, boy?” + +“We're going to parallel Pennington's logging-road.” + +“Inasmuch as that will cost close to three quarters of a million +dollars, I'm of the opinion that we're not going to do anything of the +sort.” + +“Perhaps. Nevertheless, if I can demonstrate to a certain party that it +will not cost more than three quarters of a million, he'll loan me the +money.” + +The old man shook his head. “I don't believe it, Bryce. Who's the crazy +man?” + +“His name is Gregory. He's Scotch.” + +“Now I know he's crazy. When he hands you the money, you'll find he's +talking real money but thinking of Confederate greenbacks. For a sane +Scotchman to loan that much money without collateral security would be +equivalent to exposing his spinal cord and tickling it with a rat-tail +file.” + +Bryce laughed. “Pal,” he declared, “if you and I have any brains, they +must roll around in our skulls like buckshot in a tin pan. Here we've +been sitting for three months, and twiddling our thumbs, or lying awake +nights trying to scheme a way out of our difficulties, when if we'd had +the sense that God gives geese we would have solved the problem long +ago and ceased worrying. Listen, now, with all your ears. When Bill +Henderson wanted to build the logging railroad which he afterward sold +to Pennington, and which Pennington is now using as a club to beat our +brains out, did he have the money to build it?” + +“No.” + +“Where did he get it?” + +“I loaned it to him. He only had about eight miles of road to build +then, so I could afford to accommodate him.” + +“How did he pay you back?” + +“Why, he gave me a ten-year contract for hauling our logs at a dollar +and a half a thousand feet, and I merely credited his account with the +amount of the freight-bills he sent me until he'd squared up the loan, +principal and interest.” + +“Well, if Bill Henderson financed himself on that plan, why didn't +we think of using the same time-honoured plan for financing a road to +parallel Pennington's?” + +John Cardigan sat up with a jerk. “By thunder!” he murmured. That was as +close as he ever came to uttering an oath. “By thunder!” he repeated. “I +never thought of that! But then,” he added, “I'm not so young as I used +to be, and there are any number of ideas which would have occurred to me +twenty years ago but do not occur to me now.” + +“All right, John Cardigan. I forgive you. Now, then, continue to listen: +to the north of that great block of timber held by you and Pennington +lie the redwood holdings of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company.” + +“Never heard of them before.” + +“Well, timber away in there in back of beyond has never been well +advertised, because it is regarded as practically inaccessible. By +extending his logging-road and adding to his rolling-stock, Pennington +could make it accessible, but he will not. He figures on buying all that +back timber rather cheap when he gets around to it, for the reason that +the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company cannot possibly mill its timber +until a railroad connects its holdings with the outside world. They +can hold it until their corporation franchise expires, and it will not +increase sufficiently in value to pay taxes.” + +“I wonder why the blamed fools ever bought in there, Bryce.” + +“When they bought, it looked like a good buy. You will remember that +some ten years ago a company was incorporated with the idea of building +a railroad from Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the line of the Southern +Pacific, down the Oregon and California coast to tap the redwood belt.” + +“I remember. There was a big whoop and hurrah and then the proposition +died abornin'. The engineers found that the cost of construction through +that mountainous country was prohibitive.” + +“Well, before the project died, Gregory and his associates believed +that it was going to survive. They decided to climb in on the ground +floor--had some advance, inside information that the road was to be +built; go they quietly gathered together thirty thousand acres of good +stuff and then sat down to wait for the railroad, And they are still +waiting. Gregory, by the way, is the president of the Trinidad Redwood +Timber Company. He's an Edinburgh man, and the fly American promoters +got him to put up the price of the timber and then mortgaged their +interests to him as security for the advance. He foreclosed on their +notes five years ago.” + +“And there he is with his useless timber!” John Cardigan murmured +thoughtfully. “The poor Scotch sucker!” + +“He isn't poor. The purchase of that timber didn't even dent +his bank-roll. He's what they call in England a tinned-goods +manufacturer--purveyor to His Majesty the King, and all that. But he +would like to sell his timber, and being Scotch, naturally he desires to +sell it at a profit. In order to create a market for it, however, he has +to have an outlet to that market. We supply the outlet--with his help; +and what happens? Why, timber that cost him fifty and seventy-five +cents per thousand feet stumpage--and the actual timber will overrun +the cruiser's estimate every time--will be worth two dollars and fifty +cents--perhaps more.” + +The elder Cardigan turned slowly in his chair and bent his sightless +gaze upon his son. “Well, well,” he cried impatiently. + +“He loans us the money to build our road. We build it--on through our +timber and into his. The collateral security which we put up will be +a twenty-five-years contract to haul his logs to tidewater on Humboldt +Bay, at a base freight-rate of one dollar and fifty cents, with an +increase of twenty-five cents per thousand every five years thereafter, +and an option for a renewal of the contract upon expiration, at the rate +of freight last paid. We also grant him perpetual booming-space for his +logs in the slough which we own and where we now store our logs until +needed at the mill. In addition we sell him, at a reasonable figure, +sufficient land fronting on tidewater to enable him to erect a sawmill, +lay out his yards, and build a dock out into the deep water. + +“Thus Gregory will have that which he hasn't got now--an outlet to his +market by water; and when the railroad to Sequoia builds in from the +south, it will connect with the road which we have built from Sequoia up +into Township Nine to the north; hence Gregory will also have an outlet +to his market by rail. He can easily get a good manager to run his +lumber business until he finds a customer for it, and in the meantime +we will be charging his account with our freight-bills against him and +gradually pay off the loan without pinching ourselves.” + +“Have you talked with Gregory?” + +“Yes. I met him while I was in San Francisco. Somebody brought him up +to a meeting of the Redwood Lumber Manufacturers' Association, and I +pounced on him like an owl on a mouse.” + +John Cardigan's old hand came gropingly forth and rested affectionately +upon his boy's. “What a wonderful scheme it would have been a year ago,” + he murmured sadly. “You forget, my son, that we cannot last in business +long enough to get that road built though Gregory should agree to +finance the building of it. The interest on our bonded indebtedness is +payable on the first--” + +“We can meet it, sir.” + +“Aye, but we can't meet the fifty thousand dollars which, under the +terms of our deed of trust, we are required to pay in on July first +of each year as a sinking fund toward the retirement of our bonds. By +super-human efforts--by sacrificing a dozen cargoes, raising hob with +the market, and getting ourselves disliked by our neighbours--we managed +to meet half of it this year and procure an extension of six months on +the balance due. + +“That is Pennington's way. He plays with us as a cat does with a mouse, +knowing, like the cat, that when he is weary of playing, he will devour +us. And now, when we are deeper in debt than ever, when the market is +lower and more sluggish than it has been in fifteen years, to hope to +meet the interest and the next payment to the sinking fund taxes my +optimism. Bryce, it just can't be done. We'd have our road about half +completed when we'd bust up in business; indeed, the minute Pennington +suspected we were paralleling his line, he'd choke off our wind. I tell +you it can't be done.” + +But Bryce contradicted him earnestly. “It can be done,” he said. +“Gregory knows nothing of our financial condition. Our rating in the +reports of the commercial agencies is as good as it ever was, and a +man's never broke till somebody finds it out.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“I mean that if we can start building our road and have it half +completed before Pennington jumps on us, GREGORY WILL SIMPLY HAVE TO +COME TO OUR AID IN SELF-DEFENSE. Once he ties up with us, he's committed +to the task of seeing us through. If we fall, he must pick us up and +carry us, whether he wants to or not; and I will so arrange the deal +that he will have to. I can do it, I tell you.” + +John Cardigan raised his hand. “No,” he said firmly, “I will not allow +you to do this. That way--that is the Pennington method. If we fall, +my son, we pass out like gentlemen, not blackguards. We will not take +advantage of this man Gregory's faith. If he joins forces with us, we +lay our hand on the table and let him look.” + +“Then he'll never join hands with us, partner. We're done.” + +“We're not done, my son. We have one alternative, and I'm going to take +it. I've got to--for your sake. Moreover, your mother would have wished +it so.” + +“You don't mean--” + +“Yes, I do. I'm going to sell Pennington my Valley of the Giants. Thank +God, that quarter-section does not belong to the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company. It is my personal property, and it is not mortgaged. Pennington +can never foreclose on it--and until he gets it, twenty-five hundred +acres of virgin timber on Squaw Creek are valueless--nay, a source of +expense to him. Bryce, he has to have it; and he'll pay the price, when +he knows I mean business.” + +With a sweeping gesture he waved aside the arguments that rose to +his son's lips. “Lead me to the telephone,” he commanded; and Bryce, +recognizing his sire's unalterable determination, obeyed. + +“Find Pennington's number in the telephone-book,” John Cardigan +commanded next. + +Bryce found it, and his father proceeded to get the Colonel on the wire. +“Pennington,” he said hoarsely, “this is John Cardigan speaking. I've +decided to sell you that quarter-section that blocks your timber on +Squaw Creek.” + +“Indeed,” the Colonel purred. “I had an idea you were going to present +it to the city for a natural park.” + +“I've changed my mind. I've decided to sell at your last offer.” + +“I've changed my mind, too. I've decided not to buy--at my last offer. +Good-night.” + +Slowly John Cardigan hung the receiver on the hook, turned and groped +for his son. When he found him, the old man held him for a moment in his +arms. “Lead me upstairs, son,” he murmured presently. “I'm tired. I'm +going to bed.” + +When Colonel Seth Pennington turned from the telephone and faced +his niece, Shirley read his triumph in his face. “Old Cardigan has +capitulated at last,” he cried exultingly. “We've played a waiting game +and I've won; he just telephoned to say he'd accept my last offer +for his Valley of the Giants, as the sentimental old fool calls that +quarter-section of huge redwoods that blocks the outlet to our Squaw +Creek timber.” + +“But you're not going to buy it. You told him so, Uncle Seth.” + +“Of course I'm not going to buy it--at my last offer. It's worth five +thousand dollars in the open market, and once I offered him fifty +thousand for it. Now I'll give him five.” + +“I wonder why he wants to sell,” Shirley mused. “From what Bryce +Cardigan told me once, his father attaches a sentimental value to that +strip of woods; his wife is buried there; it's--or rather, it used to +be--a sort of shrine to the old gentleman.” + +“He's selling it because he's desperate. If he wasn't teetering on the +verge of bankruptcy, he'd never let me outgame him,” Pennington replied +gayly. “I'll say this for the old fellow: he's no bluffer. However, +since I know his financial condition almost to a dollar, I do not think +it would be good business to buy his Valley of the Giants now. I'll +wait until he has gone bust--and save twenty-five or thirty thousand +dollars.” + +“I think you're biting off your nose to spite your face, Uncle Seth. The +Laguna Grande Lumber Company needs that outlet. In dollars and cents, +what is it worth to the Company?” + +“If I thought I couldn't get it from Cardigan a few months from now, I'd +go as high as a hundred thousand for it to-night,” he answered coolly. + +“In that event, I advise you to take it for fifty thousand. It's +terribly hard on old Mr. Cardigan to have to sell it, even at that +price.” + +“You do not understand these matters, Shirley. Don't try. And don't +waste your sympathy on that old humbug. He has to dig up fifty thousand +dollars to pay on his bonded indebtedness, and he's finding it a +difficult job. He's just sparring for time, but he'll lose out.” + +As if to indicate that he considered the matter closed, the Colonel drew +his chair toward the fire, picked up a magazine, and commenced idly to +slit the pages. Shirley studied the back of his head for some time, +then got out some fancy work and commenced plying her needle. And as she +plied it, a thought, nebulous at first, gradually took form in her head +until eventually she murmured loud enough for the Colonel to hear: + +“I'll do it.” + +“Do what?” Pennington queried. + +“Something nice for somebody who did something nice for me,” she +answered. + +“That McTavish girl?” he suggested. + +“Poor Moira! Isn't she sweet, Uncle Seth? I'm going to give her that +black suit of mine. I've scarcely worn it--” + +“I thought so,” he interrupted with an indulgent yawn. “Well, do +whatever makes for your happiness, my dear. That's all money is for.” + +About two o'clock the following afternoon old Judge Moore, of the +Superior Court of Humboldt County, drifted into Bryce Cardigan's office, +sat down uninvited, and lifted his long legs to the top of an adjacent +chair. + +“Well, Bryce, my boy,” he began, “a little bird tells me your daddy +is considering the sale of Cardigan's Redwoods, or the Valley of the +Giants, as your paternal ancestor prefers to refer to that little old +quarter-section out yonder on the edge of town. How about it?” + +Bryce stared at him a moment questioningly. “Yes, Judge,” he replied, +“we'll sell, if we get our price.” + +“Well,” his visitor drawled, “I have a client who might be persuaded. +I'm here to talk turkey. What's your price?” + +“Before we talk price,” Bryce parried, “I want you to answer a +question.” + +“Let her fly,” said Judge Moore. + +“Are you, directly or indirectly, acting for Colonel Pennington?” + +“That's none of your business, young man--at least, it would be none +of your business if I were, directly or indirectly, acting for that +unconvicted thief. To the best of my information and belief, Colonel +Pennington doesn't figure in this deal in any way, shape, or manner; and +as you know, I've been your daddy's friend for thirty years.” + +Still Bryce was not convinced, notwithstanding the fact that he would +have staked his honour on the Judge's veracity. Nobody knew better than +he in what devious ways the Colonel worked, his wonders to perform. + +“Well,” he said, “your query is rather sudden, Judge, but still I can +name you a price. I will state frankly, however, that I believe it to +be over your head. We have several times refused to sell to Colonel +Pennington for a hundred thousand dollars.” + +“Naturally that little dab of timber is worth more to Pennington than to +anybody else. However, my client has given me instructions to go as high +as a hundred thousand if necessary to get the property.” + +“What!” + +“I said it. One hundred thousand dollars of the present standard weight +and fineness.” + +Judge Moore's last statement swept away Bryce's suspicions. He required +now no further evidence that, regardless of the identity of the Judge's +client, that client could not possibly be Colonel Seth Pennington or any +one acting for him, since only the night before Pennington had curtly +refused to buy the property for fifty thousand dollars. For a moment +Bryce stared stupidly at his visitor. Then he recovered his wits. + +“Sold!” he almost shouted, and after the fashion of the West extended +his hand to clinch the bargain. The Judge shook it solemnly. “The Lord +loveth a quick trader,” he declared, and reached into the capacious +breast pocket of his Prince Albert coat. “Here's the deed already made +out in favour of myself, as trustee.” He winked knowingly. + +“Client's a bit modest, I take it,” Bryce suggested. + +“Oh, very. Of course I'm only hazarding a guess, but that guess is that +my client can afford the gamble and is figuring on giving Pennington +a pain where he never knew it to ache him before. In plain English, I +believe the Colonel is in for a razooing at the hands of somebody with a +small grouch against him.” + +“May the Lord strengthen that somebody's arm,” Bryce breathed fervently. +“If your client can afford to hold out long enough, he'll be able to buy +Pennington's Squaw Creek timber at a bargain.” + +“My understanding is that such is the programme.” + +Bryce reached for the deed, then reached for his hat. “If you'll be good +enough to wait here, Judge Moore, I'll run up to the house and get +my father to sign this deed. The Valley of the Giants is his +personal property, you know. He didn't include it in his assets when +incorporating the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company.” + +A quarter of an hour later he returned with the deed duly signed by John +Cardigan and witnessed by Bryce; whereupon the Judge carelessly tossed +his certified check for a hundred thousand dollars on Bryce's desk +and departed whistling “Turkey in the Straw.” Bryce reached for the +telephone and called up Colonel Pennington. + +“Bryce Cardigan speaking,” he began, but the Colonel cut him short. + +“My dear, impulsive young friend,” he interrupted in oleaginous tones, +“how often do you have to be told that I am not quite ready to buy that +quarter-section?” + +“Oh,” Bryce retorted, “I merely called up to tell you that every dollar +and every asset you have in the world, including your heart's blood, +isn't sufficient to buy the Valley of the Giants from us now.” + +“Eh? What's that? Why?” + +“Because, my dear, overcautious, and thoroughly unprincipled enemy, +it was sold five minutes ago for the tidy sum of one hundred thousand +dollars, and if you don't believe me, come over to my office and I'll +let you feast your eyes on the certified check.” + +He could hear a distinct gasp. After an interval of five seconds, +however, the Colonel recovered his poise. “I congratulate you,” he +purred. “I suppose I'll have to wait a little longer now, won't I? +Well--patience is my middle name. Au revoir.” + +The Colonel hung up. His hard face was ashen with rage, and he stared at +a calendar on the wall with his cold, phidian stare. However, he was not +without a generous stock of optimism. “Somebody has learned of the low +state of the Cardigan fortune,” he mused, “and taken advantage of it to +induce the old man to sell at last. They're figuring on selling to me at +a neat profit. And I certainly did overplay my hand last night. However, +there's nothing to do now except sit tight and wait for the new owner's +next move.” + +Meanwhile, in the general office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, +joy was rampant. Bryce Cardigan was doing a buck and wing dance around +the room, while Moira McTavish, with her back to her tall desk, +watched him, in her eyes a tremendous joy and a sweet, yearning glow of +adoration that Bryce was too happy and excited to notice. + +Suddenly he paused before her. “Moira, you're a lucky girl,” he +declared. “I thought this morning you were going back to a kitchen in a +logging-camp. It almost broke my heart to think of fate's swindling +you like that.” He put his arm around her and gave her a brotherly hug. +“It's autumn in the woods, Moira, and all the underbrush is golden.” + +She smiled, though it was winter in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Not the least of the traits which formed Shirley Sumner's character +was pride. Proud people quite usually are fiercely independent and +meticulously honest--and Shirley's pride was monumental. Hers was the +pride of lineage, of womanhood, of an assured station in life, combined +with that other pride which is rather difficult of definition without +verbosity and is perhaps better expressed in the terse and illuminating +phrase “a dead-game sport.” Unlike her precious relative, unlike the +majority of her sex, Shirley had a wonderfully balanced sense of the +eternal fitness of things; her code of honour resembled that of a very +gallant gentleman. She could love well and hate well. + +A careful analysis of Shirley's feelings toward Bryce Cardigan +immediately following the incident in Pennington's woods, had showed her +that under more propitious circumstances she might have fallen in love +with that tempestuous young man in sheer recognition of the many lovable +and manly qualities she had discerned in him. As an offset to the credit +side of Bryce's account with her, however, there appeared certain debits +in the consideration of which Shirley always lost her temper and was +immediately quite certain she loathed the unfortunate man. + +He had been an honoured and (for aught Shirley knew to the contrary) +welcome guest in the Penninton home one night, and the following day had +assaulted his host, committed great bodily injuries upon the latter's +employees for little or no reason save the satisfaction of an abominable +temper, made threats of further violence, declared his unfaltering +enmity to her nearest and best-loved relative, and in the next breath +had had the insolence to prate of his respect and admiration for her. +Indeed, in cogitating on this latter incongruity, Shirley recalled +that the extraordinary fellow had been forced rather abruptly to check +himself in order to avoid a fervid declaration of love! And all of this +under the protection of a double-bitted axe, one eye on her and the +other on his enemies. + +However, all of these grave crimes and misdemeanors were really +insignificant compared with his crowning offense. What had infuriated +Shirley was the fact that she had been at some pains to inform Bryce +Cardigan that she loathed him--whereat he had looked her over coolly, +grinned a little, and declined to believe her! Then, seemingly as if +fate had decreed that her futility should be impressed upon her still +further, Bryce Cardigan had been granted an opportunity to save, in +a strikingly calm, heroic, and painful manner, her and her uncle from +certain and horrible death, thus placing upon Shirley an obligation +that was as irritating to acknowledge as it was futile to attempt to +reciprocate. + +That was where the shoe pinched. Before that day was over she had been +forced to do one of two things--acknowledge in no uncertain terms her +indebtedness to him, or remain silent and be convicted of having been, +in plain language, a rotter. So she had telephoned him and purposely +left ajar the door to their former friendly relations. + +Monstrous! He had seen the open door and deliberately slammed it in her +face. Luckily for them both she had heard, all unsuspected by him as he +slowly hung the receiver on the hook, the soliloquy wherein he gave her +a pointed hint of the distress with which he abdicated--which knowledge +was all that deterred her from despising him with the fervour of a woman +scorned. + +Resolutely Shirley set herself to the task of forgetting Bryce when, +after the passage of a few weeks, she realized that he was quite sincere +in his determination to forget her. Frequent glimpses of him on the +streets of Sequoia, the occasional mention of his name in the Sequoia +Sentinel, the very whistle of Cardigan's mill, made her task a difficult +one; and presently in desperation she packed up and departed for an +indefinite stay in the southern part of the State. At the end of six +weeks, however, she discovered that absence had had the traditional +effect upon her heart and found herself possessed of a great curiosity +to study the villain at short range and discover, if possible, what new +rascality he might be meditating. About this time, a providential attack +of that aristocratic ailment, gout, having laid Colonel Pennington low, +she told herself her duty lay in Sequoia, that she had Shirley Sumner in +hand at last and that the danger was over. In consequence, she returned +to Sequoia. + +The fascination which a lighted candle holds for a moth is too well +known to require further elucidation here. In yielding one day to a +desire to visit the Valley of the Giants, Shirley told herself that she +was going there to gather wild blackberries. She had been thinking of +a certain blackberry pie, which thought naturally induced reflection +on Bryce Cardigan and reminded Shirley of her first visit to the Giants +under the escort of a boy in knickerbockers. She had a very vivid +remembrance of that little amphitheatre with the sunbeams falling like +a halo on the plain tombstone; she wondered if the years had changed it +all and decided that there could not possibly be any harm in indulging a +very natural curiosity to visit and investigate. + +Her meeting with Moira McTavish that day, and the subsequent +friendship formed with the woods-boss's daughter, renewed all her old +apprehensions. On the assumption that Shirley and Bryce were practically +strangers to each other (an assumption which Shirley, for obvious +reasons, did not attempt to dissipate), Moira did not hesitate to +mention Bryce very frequently. To her he was the one human being in +the world utterly worth while, and it is natural for women to discuss, +frequently and at great length, the subject nearest their hearts. In the +three stock subjects of the admirable sex--man, dress, and the ills +that flesh is heir to--man readily holds the ascendancy; and by degrees +Moira--discovering that Shirley, having all the dresses she required +(several dozen more, in fact) and being neither subnormal mentally nor +fragile physically, gave the last two topics scant attention--formed +the habit of expatiating at great length on the latter. Moira described +Bryce in minute detail and related to her eager auditor little +unconscious daily acts of kindness, thoughtfulness, or humour performed +by Bryce--his devotion to his father, his idealistic attitude toward +the Cardigan employees, his ability, his industry, the wonderful care +he bestowed upon his fingernails, his marvellous taste in neckwear, the +boyishness of his lighter and the mannishness of his serious moments. +And presently, little by little, Shirley's resentment against him faded, +and in her heart was born a great wistfulness bred of the hope that some +day she would meet Bryce Cardigan on the street and that he would pause, +lift his hat, smile at her his compelling smile and, forthwith proceed +to bully her into being friendly and forgiving--browbeat her into +admitting her change of heart and glorying in it. + +To this remarkable state of mind had Shirley Sumner attained at the time +old John Cardigan, leading his last little trump in a vain hope that it +would enable him to take the odd trick in the huge game he had played +for fifty years, decided to sell his Valley of the Giants. + +Shortly after joining her uncle in Sequoia, Shirley had learned from the +Colonel the history of old man Cardigan and his Valley of the Giants, +or as the townspeople called it, Cardigan's Redwoods. Therefore she was +familiar with its importance to the assets of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company, since, while that quarter-section remained the property of John +Cardigan, two thousand five hundred acres of splendid timber owned by +the former were rendered inaccessible. Her uncle had explained to +her that ultimately this would mean the tying up of some two million +dollars, and inasmuch as the Colonel never figured less than five per +cent. return on anything, he was in this instance facing a net loss +of one hundred thousand dollars for each year obstinate John Cardigan +persisted in retaining that quarter-section. + +“I'd gladly give him a hundred thousand for that miserable little dab of +timber and let him keep a couple of acres surrounding his wife's grave, +if the old fool would only listen to reason,” the Colonel had complained +bitterly to her. “I've offered him that price a score of times, and he +tells me blandly the property isn't for sale. Well, he who laughs last +laughs best, and if I can't get that quarter-section by paying more than +ten times what it's worth in the open market, I'll get it some other +way, if it costs me a million.” + +“How?” Shirley had queried at the time. + +“Never mind, my dear,” he had answered darkly. “You wouldn't understand +the procedure if I told you. I'll have to run all around Robin Hood's +barn and put up a deal of money, one way or another, but in the end +I'll get it all back with interest--and Cardigan's Redwoods! The old man +can't last forever, and what with his fool methods of doing business, +he's about broke, anyhow. I expect to do business with his executor or +his receiver within a year.” + +Shirley, as explained in a preceding chapter, had been present the night +John Cardigan, desperate and brought to bay at last, had telephoned +Pennington at the latter's home, accepting Pennington's last offer for +the Valley of the Giants. The cruel triumph in the Colonel's handsome +face as he curtly rebuffed old Cardigan had been too apparent for the +girl to mistake; recalling her conversation with him anent the impending +possibility of his doing business with John Cardigan's receiver or +executor, she realized now that a crisis had come in the affairs of the +Cardigans, and across her vision there flashed again the vision of Bryce +Cardigan's homecoming--of a tall old man with his trembling arms clasped +around his boy, with grizzled cheek laid against his son's, as one who, +seeking comfort through bitter years, at length had found it. + +Presently another thought came to Shirley. She knew Bryce Cardigan was +far from being indifferent to her; she had given him his opportunity +to be friendly with her again, and he had chosen to ignore her though +sorely against his will. For weeks Shirley had pondered this mysterious +action, and now she thought she caught a glimpse of the reason +underlying it all. In Sequoia, Bryce Cardigan was regarded as the heir +to the throne of Humboldt's first timber-king, but Shirley knew now that +as a timber-king, Bryce Cardigan bade fair to wear a tinsel crown. Was +it this knowledge that had led him to avoid her? + +“I wonder,” she mused. “He's proud. Perhaps the realization that he will +soon be penniless and shorn of his high estate has made him chary of +acquiring new friends in his old circle. Perhaps if he were secure in +his business affairs--Ah, yes! Poor boy! He was desperate for fifty +thousand dollars!” Her heart swelled. “Oh, Bryce, Bryce,” she murmured, +“I think I'm beginning to understand some of your fury that day in the +woods. It's all a great mystery, but I'm sure you didn't intend to be +so--so terrible. Oh, my dear, if we had only continued to be the good +friends we started out to be, perhaps you'd let me help you now. For +what good is money if one cannot help one's dear friends in distress. +Still, I know you wouldn't let me help you, for men of your stamp cannot +borrow from a woman, no matter how desperate their need. And yet--you +only need a paltry fifty thousand dollars!” + +Shirley carried to bed with her that night the woes of the Cardigans, +and in the morning she telephoned Moira McTavish and invited the latter +to lunch with her at home that noon. It was in her mind to question +Moira with a view to acquiring additional information. When Moira came, +Shirley saw that she had been weeping. + +“My poor Moira!” she said, putting her arms around her visitor. “What +has happened to distress you? Has your father come back to Sequoia? +Forgive me for asking. You never mentioned him, but I have heard--There, +there, dear! Tell me all about it.” + +Moira laid her head on Shirley's shoulder and sobbed for several +minutes. Then, “It's Mr. Bryce,” she wailed. “He's so unhappy. +Something's happened; they're going to sell Cardigan's Redwoods; and +they--don't want to. Old Mr. Cardigan is home--ill; and just before +I left the office, Mr. Bryce came in--and stood a moment looking--at +me--so tragically I--I asked him what had happened. Then he patted my +cheek--oh, I know I'm just one of his responsibilities--and said 'Poor +Moira! Never any luck!' and went into his--private office. I waited a +little, and then I went in too; and--oh, Miss Sumner, he had his head +down on his desk, and when I touched his head, he reached up and took my +hand and held it--and laid his cheek against it a little while--and +oh, his cheek was wet. It's cruel of God--to make him--unhappy, He's +good--too good. And--oh, I love him so, Miss Shirley, I love him so--and +he'll never, never know. I'm just one of his--responsibilities, you +know; and I shouldn't presume. But nobody--has ever been kind to me but +Mr. Bryce--and you. And I can't help loving people who are kind--and +gentle to nobodies.” + +The hysterical outburst over, Shirley led the girl to her cozy +sitting-room upstairs and prevailed upon the girl to put on one of +her own beautiful negligees. Moira's story--her confession of love, +so tragic because so hopeless--had stirred Shirley deeply. She seated +herself in front of Moira and cupped her chin in her palm. + +“Of course, dear,” she said, “you couldn't possibly see anybody you +loved suffer so and not feel dreadfully about it. And when a man like +Bryce Cardigan is struck down, he's apt to present rather a tragic and +helpless figure. He wanted sympathy, Moira--woman's sympathy, and it was +dear of you to give it to him.” + +“I'd gladly die for him,” Moira answered simply. “Oh, Miss Shirley, you +don't know him the way we who work for him do. If you did, you'd love +him, too. You couldn't help it, Miss Shirley.” + +“Perhaps he loves you, too, Moira.” The words came with difficulty. + +Moira shook her head hopelessly. “No, Miss Shirley. I'm only one of his +many human problems, and he just won't go back on me, for old sake's +sake. We played together ten years ago, when he used to spend his +vacations at our house in Cardigan's woods, when my father was +woods-boss. He's Bryce Cardigan--and I--I used to work in the kitchen of +his logging-camp.” + +“Never mind, Moira. He may love you, even though you do not suspect it. +You mustn't be so despairing. Providence has a way of working out these +things. Tell me about his trouble, Moira.” + +“I think it's money. He's been terribly worried for a long time, and I'm +afraid things aren't going right with the business. I've felt ever +since I've been there that there's something that puts a cloud over Mr. +Bryce's smile. It hurts them terribly to have to sell the Valley of the +Giants, but they have to; Colonel Pennington is the only one who would +consider buying it; they don't want him to have it--and still they have +to sell to him.” + +“I happen to know, Moira, that he isn't going to buy it.” + +“Yes, he is--but not at a price that will do them any good. They have +always thought he would be eager to buy whenever they decided to sell, +and now he says he doesn't want it, and old Mr. Cardigan is ill over +it all. Mr. Bryce says his father has lost his courage at last; and oh, +dear, things are in such a mess. Mr. Bryce started to tell me all about +it--and then he stopped suddenly and wouldn't say another word.” + +Shirley smiled. She thought she understood the reason for that. However, +she did not pause to speculate on it, since the crying need of the +present was the distribution of a ray of sunshine to broken-hearted +Moira. + +“Silly,” she chided, “how needlessly you are grieving! You say my uncle +has declined to buy the Valley of the Giants?” + +Moira nodded. + +“My uncle doesn't know what he's talking about, Moira. I'll see that he +does buy it. What price are the Cardigans asking for it now?” + +“Well, Colonel Pennington has offered them a hundred thousand dollars +for it time and again, but last night he withdrew that offer. Then they +named a price of fifty thousand, and he said he didn't want it at all.” + +“He needs it, and it's worth every cent of a hundred thousand to him, +Moira. Don't worry, dear. He'll buy it, because I'll make him, and he'll +buy it immediately; only you must promise me not to mention a single +word of what I'm telling you to Bryce Cardigan, or in fact, to anybody. +Do you promise?” + +Moira seized Shirley's hand and kissed it impulsively. “Very well, +then,” Shirley continued. “That matter is adjusted, and now we'll all +be happy. Here comes Thelma with luncheon. Cheer up, dear, and remember +that sometime this afternoon you're going to see Mr. Bryce smile again, +and perhaps there won't be so much of a cloud over his smile this time.” + +When Moira returned to the office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company, Shirley rang for her maid. “Bring me my motor-coat and hat, +Thelma,” she ordered, “and telephone for the limousine.” She seated +herself before the mirror at her dressing-table and dusted her adorable +nose with a powder-puff. “Mr. Smarty Cardigan,” she murmured happily, +“you walked rough-shod over my pride, didn't you! Placed me under an +obligation I could never hope to meet--and then ignored me--didn't you? +Very well, old boy. We all have our innings sooner or later, you know, +and I'm going to make a substantial payment on that huge obligation +as sure as my name is Shirley Sumner. Then, some day when the sun is +shining for you again, you'll come to me and be very, very humble. +You're entirely too independent, Mr. Cardigan, but, oh, my dear, I do +hope you will not need so much money. I'll be put to my wit's end to get +it to you without letting you know, because if your affairs go to smash, +you'll be perfectly intolerable. And yet you deserve it. You're such an +idiot for not loving Moira. She's an angel, and I gravely fear I'm just +an interfering, mischievous, resentful little devil seeking vengeance +on--” + +She paused suddenly. “No, I'll not do that, either,” she soliloquized. +“I'll keep it myself--for an investment. I'll show Uncle Seth I'm a +business woman, after all. He has had his fair chance at the Valley +of the Giants, after waiting years for it, and now he has deliberately +sacrificed that chance to be mean and vindictive. I'm afraid Uncle Seth +isn't very sporty--after what Bryce Cardigan did for us that day the +log-train ran away. I'll have to teach him not to hit an old man when +he's down and begging for mercy. _I_'LL buy the Valley but keep my +identity secret from everybody; then, when Uncle Seth finds a stranger +in possession, he'll have a fit, and perhaps, before he recovers, he'll +sell me all his Squaw Creek timber--only he'll never know I'm the buyer. +And when I control the outlet--well, I think that Squaw Creek timber +will make an excellent investment if it's held for a few years. Shirley, +my dear, I'm pleased with you. Really, I never knew until now why men +could be so devoted to business. Won't it be jolly to step in between +Uncle Seth and Bryce Cardigan, hold up my hand like a policeman, and +say: 'Stop it, boys. No fighting, IF you please. And if anybody wants to +know who's boss around here, start something.'” + +And Shirley laid her head upon the dressing-table and laughed heartily. +She had suddenly bethought herself of Aesop's fable of the lion and the +mouse! + +When her uncle came home that night, Shirley observed that he was +preoccupied and disinclined to conversation. + +“I noticed in this evening's paper,” she remarked presently, “that Mr. +Cardigan has sold his Valley of the Giants. So you bought it, after +all?” + +“No such luck!” he almost barked. “I'm an idiot. I should be placed in +charge of a keeper. Now, for heaven's sake, Shirley, don't discuss that +timber with me, for if you do, I'll go plain, lunatic crazy. I've had a +very trying day.” + +“Poor Uncle Seth!” she purred sweetly. Her apparent sympathy soothed his +rasped soul. He continued: + +“Oh, I'll get the infernal property, and it will be worth what I have to +pay for it, only it certainly does gravel me to realize that I am about +to be held up, with no help in sight. I'll see Judge Moore to-morrow and +offer him a quick profit for his client. That's the game, you know.” + +“I do hope the new owner exhibits some common sense, Uncle dear,” she +replied, and turned back to the piano. “But I greatly fear,” she added +to herself, “that the new owner is going to prove a most obstinate +creature and frightfully hard to discover.” + +True to his promise, the Colonel called on Judge Moore bright and early +the following morning. “Act Three of that little business drama entitled +'The Valley of the Giants,' my dear Judge,” he announced pleasantly. “I +play the lead in this act. You remember me, I hope. I played a bit in +Act Two.” + +“In so far as my information goes, sir, you've been cut out of the cast +in Act Three. I don't seem to find any lines for you to speak.” + +“One line, Judge, one little line. What profit does your client want on +that quarter-section?” + +“That quarter-section is not in the market, Colonel. When it is, I'll +send for you, since you're the only logical prospect should my client +decide to sell. And remembering how you butted in on politics in this +county last fall and provided a slush-fund to beat me and place a crook +on the Superior Court bench, in order to give you an edge in the many +suits you are always filing or having filed against you, I rise to +remark that you have about ten split seconds in which to disappear from +my office. If you linger longer, I'll start throwing paper-weights.” And +as if to emphasize his remark, the Judge's hand closed over one of the +articles in question. + +The Colonel withdrew with what dignity he could muster. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Upon his return from the office that night, Bryce Cardigan found his +father had left his bed and was seated before the library fire. + +“Feeling a whole lot better to-day, eh, pal?” his son queried. + +John Cardigan smiled. “Yes, son,” he replied plaintively. “I guess I'll +manage to live till next spring.” + +“Oh, I knew there was nothing wrong with you, John Cardigan, that a +healthy check wouldn't cure. Pennington rather jolted you, though, +didn't he?” + +“He did, Bryce. It was jolt enough to be forced to sell that quarter--I +never expected we'd have to do it; but when I realize that it was a case +of sacrificing you or my Giants, of course you won. And I didn't feel +so badly about it as I used to think I would. I suppose that's because +there is a certain morbid pleasure in a real sacrifice for those we +love. And I never doubted but that Pennington would snap up the property +the instant I offered to sell. Hence his refusal--in the face of our +desperate need for money to carry on until conditions improve--almost +floored your old man.” + +“Well, we can afford to draw our breath now, and that gives us a +fighting chance, partner. And right after dinner you and I will sit down +and start brewing a pot of powerful bad medicine for the Colonel.” + +“Son, I've been sitting here simmering all day.” There was a note of +the old dominant fighting John Cardigan in his voice now. “And it has +occurred to me that even if I must sit on the bench and root, I've +not reached the point where my years have begun to affect my thinking +ability.” He touched his leonine head. “I'm as right as a fox upstairs, +Bryce.” + +“Right-o, Johnny. We'll buck the line together. After dinner you trot +out your plan of campaign and I'll trot out mine; then we'll tear them +apart, select the best pieces of each and weld them into a perfect +whole.” + +Accordingly, dinner disposed of, father and son sat down together to +prepare the plan of campaign. For the space of several minutes a silence +settled between them, the while they puffed meditatively upon their +cigars. Then the old man spoke. + +“We'll have to fight him in the dark.” + +“Why?” + +“Because if Pennington knows, or even suspects the identity of the man +who is going to parallel his logging railroad, he will throw all the +weight of his truly capable mind, his wealth and his ruthlessness +against you--and you will be smashed. To beat that man, you must do more +than spend money. You will have to outthink him, outwork him, outgame +him, and when eventually you have won, you'll know you've been in the +fight of your career. You have one advantage starting out. The Colonel +doesn't think you have the courage to parallel his road in the first +place; in the second place, he knows you haven't the money; and in the +third place he is morally certain you cannot borrow it, because you +haven't any collateral to secure your note. + +“We are mortgaged now to the limit, and our floating indebtedness is +very large; on the face of things and according to the Colonel's very +correct inside information, we're helpless; and unless the lumber-market +stiffens very materially this year, by the time our hauling-contract +with Pennington's road expires, we'll be back where we were yesterday +before we sold the Giants. Pennington regards that hundred thousand as +get-away money for us. So, all things considered, the Colonel, will be +slow to suspect us of having an ace in the hole; but by jinks we have +it, and we're going to play it.” + +“No,” said Bryce, “we're going to let somebody else play it for us. +The point you make--to wit, that we must remain absolutely in the +background--is well taken.” + +“Very well,” agreed the old man. “Now let us proceed to the next point. +You must engage some reliable engineer to look over the proposed route +of the road and give us an estimate of the cost of construction.” + +“For the sake of argument we will consider that done, and that the +estimate comes within the scope of the sum Gregory is willing to advance +us.” + +“Your third step, then, will be to incorporate a railroad company under +the laws of the State of California.” + +“I think I'll favour the fair State of New Jersey with our trade,” Bryce +suggested dryly. “I notice that when Pennington bought out the Henderson +interests and reorganized that property, he incorporated the Laguna +Grande Lumber Company under the laws of the State of New Jersey, home of +the trusts. There must be some advantage connected with such a course.” + +“Have it your own way, boy. What's good enough for the Colonel is good +enough for us. Now, then, you are going to incorporate a company to +build a road twelve miles long--and a private road, at that. That would +be a fatal step. Pennington would know somebody was going to build a +logging-road, and regardless of who the builders were, he would have to +fight them in self-protection. How are you going to cover your trail, my +son?” + +Bryce pondered. “I will, to begin, have a dummy board of directors. +Also, my road cannot be private; it must be a common carrier, and that's +where the shoe pinches. Common carriers are subject to the rules and +regulations of the Railroad Commission.” + +“They are wise and just rules,” commented the old man, “expensive to +obey at times, but quite necessary. We can obey and still be happy. +Objection overruled.” + +“Well, then, since we must be a common carrier, we might as well carry +our deception still further and incorporate for the purpose of building +a road from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, there to connect with the +Southern Pacific.” + +John Cardigan smiled. “The old dream revived, eh? Well, the old jokes +always bring a hearty laugh. People will laugh at your company, because +folks up this way realize that the construction cost of such a road +is prohibitive, not to mention the cost of maintenance, which would be +tremendous and out of all proportion to the freight area tapped.” + +“Well, since we're not going to build more than twelve miles of our road +during the next year, and probably not more than ten miles additional +during the present century, we won't worry over it. It doesn't cost a +cent more to procure a franchise to build a road from here to the +moon. If we fail to build to Grant's Pass, our franchise to build the +uncompleted portion of the road merely lapses and we hold only that +portion which we have constructed. That's all we want to hold.” + +“How about rights of way?” + +“They will cost us very little, if anything. Most or the landowners +along the proposed route will give us rights of way free gratis and for +nothing, just to encourage the lunatics. Without a railroad the land is +valueless; and as a common carrier they know we can condemn rights of +way capriciously withheld--something we cannot do as a private road. +Moreover, deeds to rights of way can be drawn with a time-limit, after +which they revert to the original owners.” + +“Good strategy, my son! And certainly as a common carrier we will be +welcomed by the farmers and cattlemen along our short line. We can +handle their freight without much annoyance and perhaps at a slight +profit.” + +“Well, that about completes the rough outline of our plan. The next +thing to do is to start and keep right on moving, for as old Omar +has it, 'The bird of time hath but a little way to flutter,' and the +birdshot is catching up with him. We have a year in which to build our +road; if we do not hurry, the mill will have to shut down for lack of +logs, when our contract with Pennington expires.” + +“You forget the manager for our new corporation--the vice-president +and general manager. The man we engage must be the fastest and most +convincing talker in California; not only must he be able to tell a lie +with a straight face, but he must be able to believe his own lies. And +he must talk in millions, look millions, and act as if a million dollars +were equivalent in value to a redwood stump. In addition, he must be a +man of real ability and a person you can trust implicitly.” + +“I have the very man you mention. His name is Buck Ogilvy and only this +very day I received a letter from him begging me for a small loan. I +have Buck on ice in a fifth-class San Francisco hotel.” + +“Tell me about him, Bryce.” + +“Don't have to. You've just told me about him, However, I'll read you +his letter. I claim there is more character in a letter than in a face.” + +Here Bryce read aloud: + +Golden Gate Hotel--Rooms fifty cents--and up. San Francisco, California, +August fifteenth, 1916. + +MY DEAR CARDIGAN: Hark to the voice of one crying in the wilderness; +then picture to yourself the unlovely spectacle of a strong man crying. + +Let us assume that you have duly considered. Now wind up your wrist and +send me a rectangular piece of white, blue, green, or pink paper bearing +in the lower right-hand corner, in your clear, bold chirography, the +magic words “Bryce Cardigan”--with the little up-and-down hook and +flourish which identifies your signature given in your serious moods +and lends value to otherwise worthless paper. Five dollars would make +me chirk up; ten would start a slight smile; twenty would put a beam in +mine eye; fifty would cause me to utter shrill cries of unadulterated +joys and a hundred would inspire me to actions like unto those of a +whirling dervish. + +I am so flat busted my arches make hollow sounds as I tread the hard +pavements of a great city, seeking a job. Pausing on the brink of +despair, that destiny which shapes our ends inspired me to think of old +times and happier days and particularly of that pink-and-white midget of +a girl who tended the soda-fountain just back of the railroad station at +Princeton. You stole that damsel from me, and I never thanked you. Then +I remembered you were a timber-king with a kind heart and that you lived +somewhere in California; so I looked in the telephone book and found +the address of the San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company. You have a mean man in charge there. I called on him, told +him I was an old college pal of yours, and tried to borrow a dollar. He +spurned me with contumely--so much of it, in fact, that I imagine you +have a number of such friends. While he was abusing me, I stole from his +desk the stamped envelope which bears to you these tidings of great woe; +and while awaiting your reply, be advised that I subsist on the bitter +cud of reflection, fresh air, and water, all of which, thank God, cost +nothing. + +My tale is soon told. When you knew me last, I was a prosperous young +contractor. Alas! I put all my eggs in one basket and produced an +omelet. Took a contract to build a railroad in Honduras. Honduras got +to fighting with Nicaragua; the government I had done business with went +out of business; and the Nicaraguan army recruited all my labourers and +mounted them on my mules and horses, swiped all my grub, and told me to +go home. I went. Why stay? Moreover, I had an incentive consisting of +about an inch of bayonet--fortunately not applied in a vital spot--which +accelerated rather than decreased my speed. + +Hurry, my dear Cardigan. Tempest fidgets; remember Moriarity--which, if +you still remember your Latin, means: “Time flies. Remember to-morrow!” + I finished eating my overcoat the day before yesterday. + +Make it a hundred, and God will bless you. When I get it, I'll come to +Sequoia and kiss you. I'll pay you back sometime--of course. + +Wistfully thine--Buck Ogilvy + +P.S.--Delays are dangerous, and procrastination is the thief of +time.--B. + +John Cardigan chuckled. “I'd take Buck Ogilvy, Bryce. He'll do. Is he +honest?” + +“I don't know. He was, the last time I saw him.” + +“Then wire him a hundred. Don't wait for the mail. The steamer that +carries your letter might be wrecked and your friend Ogilvy forced to +steal.” + +“I have already wired him the hundred. In all probability he is now out +whirling like a dervish.” + +“Good boy! Well, I think we've planned sufficient for the present, +Bryce. You'd better leave for San Francisco to-morrow and close your +deal with Gregory. Arrange with him to leave his own representative with +Ogilvy to keep tab on the job, check the bills, and pay them as they +fall due; and above all things, insist that Gregory shall place the +money in a San Francisco bank, subject to the joint check of his +representative and ours. Hire a good lawyer to draw up the agreement +between you; be sure you're right, and then go ahead--full speed. When +you return to Sequoia, I'll have a few more points to give you. I'll +mull them over in the meantime.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +When Bryce Cardigan walked down the gang-plank at the steamship-dock in +San Francisco, the first face he saw among the waiting crowd was Buck +Ogilvy's. Mr. Ogilvy wore his over-coat and a joyous smile, proving that +in so far as he was concerned all was well with the world; he pressed +forward and thrust forth a great speckled paw for Bryce to shake. Bryce +ignored it. + +“Why, don't you remember me?” Ogilvy demanded. “I'm Buck Ogilvy.” + +Bryce looked him fairly in the eye and favoured him with a lightning +wink. “I have never heard of you, Mr. Ogilvy. You are mistaking me for +someone else.” + +“Sorry,” Ogilvy murmured. “My mistake! Thought you were Bill Kerrick, +who used to be a partner of mine. I'm expecting him on this boat, and +he's the speaking image of you.” + +Bryce nodded and passed on, hailed a taxicab, and was driven to the San +Francisco office of his company. Five minutes later the door opened and +Buck Ogilvy entered. + +“I was a bit puzzled at the dock, Bryce,” he explained as they shook +hands, “but decided to play safe and then follow you to your office. +What's up? Have you killed somebody, and are the detectives on your +trail? If so, 'fess up and I'll assume the responsibility for your +crime, just to show you how grateful I am for that hundred.” + +“No, I wasn't being shadowed, Buck, but my principal enemy was coming +down the gangplank right behind me, and--” + +“So was my principal enemy,” Ogilvy interrupted. “What does our enemy +look like?” + +“Like ready money. And if he had seen me shaking hands with you, he'd +have suspected a connection between us later on. Buck, you have a good +job--about five hundred a month.” + +“Thanks, old man. I'd work for you for nothing. What are we going to +do?” + +“Build twelve miles of logging railroad and parallel the line of the old +wolf I spoke of a moment ago.” + +“Good news! We'll do it. How soon do you want it done?” + +“As soon as possible. You're the vice-president and general manager.” + +“I accept the nomination. What do I do first?” + +“Listen carefully to my story, analyze my plan for possible weak spots, +and then get busy, because after I have provided the funds and given the +word 'Go!' the rest is up to you. I must not be known in the transaction +at all, because that would be fatal. And I miss my guess if, once we +start building or advertising the building of the road, you and I and +everybody connected with the enterprise will not be shadowed day and +night by an army of Pinkertons.” + +“I listen,” said Buck Ogilvy, and he inclined a large speckled ear in +Bryce's direction, the while his large speckled hand drew a scratch-pad +toward him. + +Three hours later Ogilvy was in possession of the most minute details of +the situation in Sequoia, had tabulated, indexed, and cross-indexed +them in his ingenious brain and was ready for business--and so announced +himself. “And inasmuch as that hundred you sent me has been pretty well +shattered,” he concluded, “suppose you call in your cold-hearted manager +who refused me alms on your credit, and give him orders to honour my +sight-drafts. If I'm to light in Sequoia looking like ready money, I've +got to have some high-class, tailor-made clothes, and a shine and a +shave and a shampoo and a trunk and a private secretary. If there was a +railroad running into Sequoia, I'd insist on a private car.” + +This final detail having been attended to, Mr. Ogilvy promptly proceeded +to forget business and launched forth into a recital of his manifold +adventures since leaving Princeton; and when at length all of their +classmates had been accounted for and listed as dead, married, +prosperous, or pauperized, the amiable and highly entertaining Buck took +his departure with the announcement that he would look around a little +and try to buy some good second-hand grading equipment and a locomotive, +in addition to casting an eye over the labour situation and sending a +few wires East for the purpose of sounding the market on steel rails. +Always an enthusiast in all things, in his mind's eye Mr. Ogilvy could +already see a long trainload of logs coming down the Northern California +& Oregon Railroad, as he and Bryce had decided to christen the venture. + +“N. C. & O.,” Mr. Ogilvy murmured. “Sounds brisk and snappy. I like it. +Hope that old hunks Pennington likes it, too. He'll probably feel that +N. C. & O. stands for Northern California Outrage.” + +When Bryce Cardigan returned to Sequoia, his labours, insofar as the +building of the road were concerned, had been completed. His agreement +with Gregory of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company had been signed, +sealed, and delivered; the money to build the road had been deposited +in bank; and Buck Ogilvy was already spending it like a drunken sailor. +From now on, Bryce could only watch, wait, and pray. + +On the next steamer a surveying party with complete camping-equipment +arrived in Sequoia, purchased a wagon and two horses, piled their +dunnage into the wagon, and disappeared up-country. Hard on their +heels came Mr. Buck Ogilvy, and occupied the bridal suite in the Hotel +Sequoia, arrangements for which had previously been made by wire. In +the sitting room of the suite Mr. Ogilvy installed a new desk, a +filing-cabinet, and a brisk young male secretary. + +He had been in town less than an hour when the editor of the Sequoia +Sentinel sent up his card. The announcement of the incorporation of the +Northern California Outrage (for so had Mr. Ogilvy, in huge enjoyment of +the misery he was about to create, dubbed the road) had previously been +flashed to the Sentinel by the United Press Association, as a local +feature story, and already speculation was rife in Sequoia as to the +identity of the harebrained individuals who dared to back an enterprise +as nebulous as the millennium. Mr. Ogilvy was expecting the visit--in +fact, impatiently awaiting it; and since the easiest thing he did was to +speak for publication, naturally the editor of the Sentinel got a +story which, to that individual's simple soul, seemed to warrant a +seven-column head--which it received. Having boned up on the literature +of the Redwood Manufacturers' Association, what Buck Ogilvy didn't know +about redwood timber, redwood lumber, the remaining redwood acreage and +market conditions, past and present, might have been secreted in the +editorial eye without seriously hampering the editorial sight. He stated +that the capital behind the project was foreign, that he believed in the +success of the project and that his entire fortune was dependent upon +the completion of it. In glowing terms he spoke of the billions of tons +of timber-products to be hauled out of this wonderfully fertile and +little-known country, and confidently predicted for the county a future +commercial supremacy that would be simply staggering to contemplate. + +When Colonel Seth Pennington read this outburst he smiled. “That's a +bright scheme on the part of that Trinidad Redwood Timber Company gang +to start a railroad excitement and unload their white elephant,” he +declared. “A scheme like that stuck them with their timber, and I +suppose they figure there's a sucker born every minute and that the +same old gag might work again. Chances are they have a prospect in tow +already.” + +When Bryce Cardigan read it, he laughed. The interview was so like Buck +Ogilvy! In the morning the latter's automobile was brought up from the +steamship-dock, and accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Ogilvy disappeared +into the north following the bright new stakes of his surveying-gang, +and for three weeks was seen no more. As for Bryce Cardigan, that young +man buckled down to business, and whenever questioned about the new +railroad was careful to hoot at the idea. + +On a day when Bryce's mind happened to be occupied with thoughts of +Shirley Sumner, he bumped into her on the main street of Sequoia, and to +her great relief but profound surprise, he paused in his tracks, lifted +his hat, smiled, and opened his mouth to say something--thought better +of it, changed his mind, and continued on about his business. As Shirley +passed him, she looked him squarely in the face, and in her glance there +was neither coldness nor malice. + +Bryce felt himself afire from heels to hair one instant, and cold and +clammy the next, for Shirley spoke to him. + +“Good morning, Mr. Cardigan.” + +He paused, turned, and approached her. “Good morning, Shirley,” he +replied. “How have you been?” + +“I might have been dead, for all the interest you took in me,” she +replied sharply. “As matters stand, I'm exceedingly well--thank you. By +the way, are you still belligerent?” + +He nodded. “I have to be.” + +“Still peeved at my uncle?” + +Again he nodded. + +“I think you're a great big grouch, Bryce Cardigan,” she flared at him +suddenly. “You make me unutterably weary.” + +“I'm sorry,” he answered, “but just at present I am forced to subject +you to the strain. Say a year from now, when things are different with +me, I'll strive not to offend.” + +“I'll not be here a year from now,” she warned him. He bowed. “Then +I'll go wherever you are--and bring you back.” And with a mocking little +grin, he lifted his hat and passed on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Though Buck Ogilvy was gone from Sequoia for a period of three weeks, +he was by no means forgotten. His secretary proved to be an industrious +press-agent who by mail, telegraph, and long-distance telephone managed +daily to keep the editor of the Sequoia Sentinel fully apprised of all +developments in the matter of the Northern California Oregon Railroad +Company--including some that had not as yet developed! The result was +copious and persistent publicity for the new railroad company, and the +arousing in the public mind of a genuine interest in this railroad which +was to do so much for the town of Sequoia. + +Colonel Seth Pennington was among those who, skeptical at first and +inclined to ridicule the project into an early grave, eventually found +himself swayed by the publicity and gradually coerced into serious +consideration of the results attendant upon the building of the road. +The Colonel was naturally as suspicious as a rattlesnake in August; +hence he had no sooner emerged from the ranks of the frank scoffers than +his alert mind framed the question: + +“How is this new road--improbable as I know it to be--going to affect +the interests of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, if the unexpected +should happen and those bunco-steerers should actually build a road +from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, and thus construct a feeder to a +transcontinental line?” + +Five minutes of serious reflection sufficed to bring the Colonel to the +verge of panic, notwithstanding the fact that he was ashamed of himself +for yielding to fright despite his firm belief that there was no reason +why he should be frightened. Similar considerations occur to a small boy +who is walking home in the dark past a cemetery. + +The vital aspects of his predicament dawned on the Colonel one night at +dinner, midway between the soup and the fish. So forcibly did they occur +to him, in fact, that for the nonce he forgot that his niece was seated +opposite him. + +“Confound them,” the Colonel murmured distinctly, “I must look into this +immediately.” + +“Look into what, Uncle dear?” Shirley asked innocently. + +“This new railroad that man Ogilvy talks of building--which means, +Shirley, that with Sequoia as his starting point, he is going to build +a hundred and fifty miles north to connect with the main line of the +Southern Pacific in Oregon.” + +“But wouldn't that be the finest thing that could possibly happen to +Humboldt County?” she demanded of him. + +“Undoubtedly it would--to Humboldt County; but to the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company, in which you have something more than a sentimental +interest, my dear, it would be a blow. A large part of the estate left +by your father is invested in Laguna Grande stock, and as you know, all +of my efforts are devoted to appreciating that stock and to fighting +against anything that has a tendency to depreciate it.” + +“Which reminds me, Uncle Seth, that you never discuss with me any of the +matters pertaining to my business interests,” she suggested. + +He beamed upon her with his patronizing and indulgent smile. “There is +no reason why you should puzzle that pretty head of yours with business +affairs while I am alive and on the job,” he answered. “However, since +you have expressed a desire to have this railroad situation explained +to you, I will do so. I am not interested in seeing a feeder built from +Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, and connecting with the Southern Pacific, +but I am tremendously interested in seeing a feeder built south from +Sequoia toward San Francisco, to connect with the Northwestern Pacific.” + +“Why?” + +“For cold, calculating business reasons, my dear.” He hesitated a moment +and then resumed: “A few months ago I would not have told you the things +I am about to tell you, Shirley, for the reason that a few months ago +it seemed to me you were destined to become rather friendly with young +Cardigan. When that fellow desires to be agreeable, he can be rather a +likable boy--lovable, even. You are both young; with young people who +have many things in common and are thrown together in a community like +Sequoia, a lively friendship may develop into an ardent love; and it +has been my experience that ardent love not infrequently leads to the +altar.” + +Shirley blushed, and her uncle chuckled good-naturedly. “Fortunately,” + he continued, “Bryce Cardigan had the misfortune to show himself to +you in his true colours, and you had the good sense to dismiss him. +Consequently I see no reason why I should not explain to you now what +I considered it the part of wisdom to withhold from you at that +time--provided, of course, that all this does not bore you to +extinction.” + +“Do go on, Uncle Seth. I'm tremendously interested,” averred Shirley. + +“Shortly after I launched the Laguna Grande Lumber Company--in which, as +your guardian and executor of your father's estate, I deemed it wise to +invest part of your inheritance--I found myself forced to seek further +for sound investments for your surplus funds. Now, good timber, +bought cheap, inevitably will be sold dear. At least, such has been my +observation during a quarter of a century--and old John Cardigan +had some twenty thousand acres of the finest redwood timber in the +State--timber which had cost him an average price of less than fifty +cents per thousand. + +“Well, in this instance the old man had overreached himself, and finding +it necessary to increase his working capital, he incorporated his +holdings into the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company and floated a +bond-issue of a million dollars. They were twenty-year six per cent. +certificates; the security was ample, and I invested for you three +hundred thousand dollars in Cardigan bonds. I bought them at eighty, and +they were worth two hundred; at least, they would have been worth two +hundred under my management--” + +“How did you manage to buy them so cheap?” she interrupted. + +“Old Cardigan had had a long run of bad luck--due to bad management and +bad judgment, my dear--and when a corporation is bonded, the bondholders +have access to its financial statements. From time to time I discovered +bondholders who needed money and hence unloaded at a sacrifice; but by +far the majority of the bonds I purchased for your account were owned by +local people who had lost confidence in John Cardigan and the future of +the redwood lumber industry hereabouts. You understand, do you not?” + +“I do not understand what all this has to do with a railroad.” + +“Very well--I shall proceed to explain.” He held up his index finger. +“Item one: For years old John Cardigan has rendered valueless, because +inaccessible, twenty-five hundred acres of Laguna Grande timber on Squaw +Creek. His absurd Valley of the Giants blocks the outlet, and of course +he persisted in refusing me a right of way through that little dab of +timber in order to discourage me and force me to sell him that Squaw +Creek timber at his price.” + +“Yes,” Shirley agreed, “I dare say that was his object. Was it +reprehensible of him, Uncle Seth?” + +“Not a bit, my dear. He was simply playing the cold game of business. +I would have done the same thing to Cardigan had the situation been +reversed. We played a game together--and I admit that he won, fairly and +squarely.” + +“Then why is it that you feel such resentment against him?” + +“Oh, I don't resent the old fool, Shirley. He merely annoys me. I +suppose I feel a certain natural chagrin at having been beaten, and in +consequence cherish an equally natural desire to pay the old schemer +back in his own coin. Under the rules as we play the game, such action +on my part is perfectly permissible, is it not?” + +“Yes,” she agreed frankly, “I think it is, Uncle Seth. Certainly, if he +blocked you and rendered your timber valueless, there is no reason why, +if you have the opportunity, you should not block him--and render his +timber valueless.” + +The Colonel banged the table with his fist so heartily that the silver +fairly leaped. “Spoken like a man!” he declared. “I HAVE the opportunity +and am proceeding to impress the Cardigans with the truth of the old +saying that every dog must have his day. When Cardigan's contract with +our road for the hauling of his logs expires by limitation next year, I +am not going to renew it--at least not until I have forced him to make +me the concessions I desire, and certainly not at the present ruinous +freight-rate.” + +“Then,” said Shirley eagerly, “if you got a right of way through his +Valley of the Giants, you would renew the contract he has with you for +the hauling of his logs, would you not?” + +“I would have, before young Cardigan raised such Hades that day in +the logging-camp, before old Cardigan sold his Valley of the Giants to +another burglar--and before I had gathered indubitable evidence that +neither of the Cardigans knows enough about managing a sawmill and +selling lumber to guarantee a reasonable profit on the capital they +have invested and still pay the interest on their bonded and floating +indebtedness. Shirley, I bought those Cardigan bonds for you because +I thought old Cardigan knew his business and would make the bonds +valuable--make them worth par. Instead, the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company is tottering on the verge of bankruptcy; the bonds I purchased +for you are now worth less than I paid for them, and by next year the +Cardigans will default on the interest. + +“So I'm going to sit tight and decline to have any more business +dealings with the Cardigans. When their hauling contract expires, I +shall not renew it under any circumstances; that will prevent them +from getting logs, and so they will automatically go out of the lumber +business and into the hands of a receiver; and since you are the largest +individual stockholder, I, representing you and a number of minor +bondholders, will dominate the executive committee of the bondholders +when they meet to consider what shall be done when the Cardigans default +on their interest and the payment due the sinking fund. I shall then +have myself appointed receiver for the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, +investigate its affairs thoroughly, and see for myself whether or no +there is a possibility of working it out of the jam it is in and saving +you a loss on your bonds. + +“I MUST pursue this course, my dear, in justice to you and the other +bondholders. If, on the other hand, I find the situation hopeless or +conclude that a period of several years must ensue before the Cardigans +work out of debt, I shall recommend to the bank which holds the deed of +trust and acts as trustee, that the property be sold at public auction +to the highest bidder to reimburse the bondholders. Of course,” he +hastened to add, “if the property sells for more than the corporation +owes such excess will then in due course be turned over to the +Cardigans.” + +“Is it likely to sell at a price in excess of the indebtedness?” Shirley +queried anxiously. + +“It is possible, but scarcely probable,” he answered dryly. “I have in +mind, under those circumstances, bidding the property in for the Laguna +Grande Lumber Company and merging it with our holdings, paying part of +the purchase-price of the Cardigan property in Cardigan bonds, and the +remainder in cash.” + +“But what will the Cardigans do then, Uncle Seth?” + +“Well, long before the necessity for such a contingency arises, the +old man will have been gathered to the bosom of Abraham; and after the +Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company has ceased to exist, young Cardigan can +go to work for a living.” + +“Would you give him employment, Uncle Seth?” + +“I would not. Do you think I'm crazy, Shirley? Remember, my dear, +there is no sentiment in business. If there was, we wouldn't have any +business.” + +“I think I understand, Uncle Seth--with the exception of what effect the +building of the N. C. O. has upon your plans.” + +“Item two,” he challenged, and ticked it off on his middle finger. “The +Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company owns two fine bodies of redwood +timber widely separated--one to the south of Sequoia in the San Hedrin +watershed and at present practically valueless because inaccessible, and +the other to the north of Sequoia, immediately adjoining our holdings +in Township Nine and valuable because of its accessibility.” He paused +a moment and looked at her smilingly, “The logging railroad of our +corporation, the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, makes it accessible. Now, +while the building of the N.C.O. would be a grand thing for the county +in general, we can get along without it because it doesn't help us out +particularly. We already have a railroad running from our timber to +tidewater, and we can reach the markets of the world with our ships.” + +“I think I understand, Uncle Seth. When Cardigan's hauling contract with +our road expires, his timber in Township Nine will depreciate in value +because it will no longer be accessible, while our timber, being still +accessible, retains its value.” + +“Exactly. And to be perfectly frank with you, Shirley, I do not +want Cardigan's timber in Township Nine given back its value through +accessibility provided by the N.C.O. If that road is not built, +Cardigan's timber in Township Nine will be valuable to us, but not to +another living soul. Moreover, the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company has +a raft of fine timber still farther north and adjoining the holdings +of our company and Cardigan's, and if this infernal N.C.O. isn't built, +we'll be enabled to buy that Trinidad timber pretty cheap one of these +bright days, too.” + +“All of which appears to me to constitute sound business logic, Uncle +Seth.” + +He nodded. “Item three,” he continued, and ticked it off on his third +finger: “I want to see the feeder for a transcontinental line built into +Sequoia from the south, for the reason that it will tap the Cardigan +holdings in the San Hedrin watershed and give a tremendous value +to timber which at the present time is rather a negative asset; +consequently I would prefer to have that value created after Cardigan's +San Hedrin timber has been merged with the assets of the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company.” + +“And so--” + +“I must investigate this N.C.O. outfit and block it if possible--and it +should be possible.” + +“How, for instance?” + +“I haven't considered the means, my dear. Those come later. For the +present I am convinced that the N.C.O. is a corporate joke, sprung on +the dear public by the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company to get the said +dear public excited, create a real-estate boom, and boost timber-values. +Before the boom collapses--a condition which will follow the collapse of +the N.C.O.--the Trinidad people hope to sell their holdings and get from +under.” + +“Really,” said Shirley, demurely, “the more I see of business, the more +fascinating I find it.” + +“Shirley, it's the grandest game in the world.” + +“And yet,” she added musingly, “old Mr. Cardigan is so blind and +helpless.” + +“They'll be saying that about me some day if I live to be as old as John +Cardigan.” + +“Nevertheless, I feel sorry for him, Uncle Seth.” + +“Well, if you'll continue to waste your sympathy on him rather than on +his son, I'll not object,” he retorted laughingly. + +“Oh, Bryce Cardigan is able to take care of himself.” + +“Yes, and mean enough.” + +“He saved our lives, Uncle Seth.” + +“He had to--in order to save his own. Don't forget that, my dear.” + Carefully he dissected a sand-dab and removed the backbone. “I'd give +a ripe peach to learn the identity of the scheming buttinsky who bought +old Cardigan's Valley of the Giants,” he said presently. “I'll be hanged +if that doesn't complicate matters a little.” + +“You should have bought it when the opportunity offered,” she reminded +him. “You could have had it then for fifty thousand dollars less than +you would have paid for it a year ago--and I'm sure that should have +been sufficient indication to you that the game you and the Cardigans +had been playing so long had come to an end. He was beaten and +acknowledged it, and I think you might have been a little more generous +to your fallen enemy, Uncle Seth.” + +“I dare say,” he admitted lightly. “However, I wasn't, and now I'm going +to be punished for it, my dear: so don't roast me any more. By the +way, that speckled hot-air fellow Ogilvy, who is promoting the Northern +California Oregon Railroad, is back in town again. Somehow, I haven't +much confidence in that fellow. I think I'll wire the San Francisco +office to look him up in Dun's and Bradstreet's. Folks up this way are +taking too much for granted on that fellow's mere say--so, but I for +one intend to delve for facts--particularly with regard to the N.C.O. +bank-roll and Ogilvy's associates. I'd sleep a whole lot more soundly +to-night if I knew the answer to two very important questions.” + +“What are they, Uncle Seth?” + +“Well, I'd like to know whether the N.C.O. is genuine or a screen to +hide the operations of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company.” + +“It might,” said Shirley, with one of those sudden flashes of intuition +peculiar to women, “be a screen to hide the operations of Bryce +Cardigan. Now that he knows you aren't going to renew his hauling +contract, he may have decided to build his own logging railroad.” + +After a pause the Colonel made answer: “No, I have no fear of that. It +would cost five hundred thousand dollars to build that twelve-mile +line and bridge Mad River, and the Cardigans haven't got that amount of +money. What's more, they can't get it.” + +“But suppose,” she persisted, “that the real builder of the road should +prove to be Bryce Cardigan, after all. What would you do?” + +Colonel Pennington's eyes twinkled. “I greatly fear, my dear, I should +make a noise like something doing.” + +“Suppose you lost the battle.” + +“In that event the Laguna Grande Lumber Company wouldn't be any worse +off than it is at present. The principal loser, as I view the situation, +would be Miss Shirley Sumner, who has the misfortune to be loaded up +with Cardigan bonds. And as for Bryce Cardigan--well, that young man +would certainly know he'd been through a fight.” + +“I wonder if he'll fight to the last, Uncle Seth.” + +“Why, I believe he will,” Pennington replied soberly. + +“I'd love to see you beat him.” + +“Shirley! Why, my dear, you're growing ferocious.” Her uncle's tones +were laden with banter, but his countenance could not conceal the +pleasure her last remark had given him. + +“Why not? I have something at stake, have I not?” + +“Then you really want me to smash him?” The Colonel's voice proclaimed +his incredulity. + +“You got me into this fight by buying Cardigan bonds for me,” she +replied meaningly, “and I look to you to save the investment or as +much of it as possible; for certainly, if it should develop that the +Cardigans are the real promoters of the N.C.O., to permit them to go +another half-million dollars into debt in a forlorn hope of saving a +company already top-heavy with indebtedness wouldn't savor of common +business sense. Would it?” + +The Colonel rose hastily, came around the table, and kissed her +paternally. “My dear,” he murmured, “you're such a comfort to me. Upon +my word, you are.” + +“I'm so glad you have explained the situation to me, Uncle Seth.” + +“I would have explained it long ago had I not cherished a sneaking +suspicion that--er--well, that despite everything, young Cardigan +might--er--influence you against your better judgment and--er--mine.” + +“You silly man!” + +He shrugged. “One must figure every angle of a possible situation, my +dear, and I should hesitate to start something with the Cardigans, and +have you, because of foolish sentiment, call off my dogs.” + +Shirley thrust out her adorable chin aggressively. “Sick 'em. Tige!” she +answered. “Shake 'em up, boy!” + +“You bet I'll shake 'em up,” the Colonel declared joyously. He +paused with a morsel of food on his fork and waved the fork at her +aggressively. “You stimulate me into activity, Shirley. My mind has been +singularly dull of late; I have worried unnecessarily, but now that I +know you are with me, I am inspired. I'll tell you how we'll fix this +new railroad, if it exhibits signs of being dangerous.” Again he smote +the table. “We'll sew 'em up tighter than a new buttonhole.” + +“Do tell me how,” she pleaded eagerly. + +“I'll block them on their franchise to run over the city streets of +Sequoia.” + +“How?” + +“By making the mayor and the city council see things my way,” he +answered dryly. “Furthermore, in order to enter Sequoia, the N. C. O. +will have to cross the tracks of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's line +on Water Street--make a jump-crossing--and I'll enjoin them and hold +them up in the courts till the cows come home.” + +“Uncle Seth, you're a wizard.” + +“Well, at least I'm no slouch at looking after my own interests--and +yours, Shirley. In the midst of peace we should be prepared for war. +You've met Mayor Poundstone and his lady, haven't you?” + +“I had tea at her house last week.” + +“Good news. Suppose you invite her and Poundstone here for dinner some +night this week. Just a quiet little family dinner, Shirley, and after +dinner you can take Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, on some pretext or other, +while I sound Poundstone out on his attitude toward the N. C. O. They +haven't asked for a franchise yet; at least, the Sentinel hasn't printed +a word about it;--but when they do, of course the franchise will be +advertised for sale to the highest bidder. Naturally, I don't want to +bid against them; they might run the price up on me and leave me with +a franchise on my hands--something I do not want, because I have no use +for the blamed thing myself. I feel certain, however, I can find some +less expensive means of keeping them out of it--say by convincing +Poundstone and a majority of the city council that the N. C. O. is not +such a public asset as its promoters claim for it. Hence I think it wise +to sound the situation out in advance, don't you, my dear?” + +She nodded. “I shall attend to the matter, Uncle Seth.” + +Five minutes after dinner was over, Shirley joined her uncle in the +library and announced that His Honor, the Mayor, and Mrs. Poundstone, +would be delighted to dine with them on the following Thursday night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +To return to Bryce Cardigan: Having completed his preliminary plans +to build the N. C. O., Bryce had returned to Sequoia, prepared to sit +quietly on the side-lines and watch his peppery henchman Buck Ogilvy go +into action. The more Bryce considered that young man's fitness for +the position he occupied, the more satisfied did he become with his +decision. While he had not been in touch with Ogilvy for several years, +he had known him intimately at Princeton. + +In his last year at college Ogilvy's father, a well-known railroad +magnate, had come a disastrous cropper in the stock market, thus +throwing Buck upon his own resources and cutting short his college +career--which was probably the very best thing that could happen to +his father's son. For a brief period--perhaps five minutes--Buck had +staggered under the blow; then his tremendous optimism had asserted +itself, and while he packed his trunk, he had planned for the future. +As to how that future had developed, the reader will have gleaned +some slight idea from the information imparted in his letter to Bryce +Cardigan, already quoted. In a word, Mr. Ogilvy had had his ups and +downs. + +Ogilvy's return to Sequoia following his three-weeks tour in search of +rights of way for the N. C. O. was heralded by a visit from him to +Bryce Cardigan at the latter's office. As he breasted the counter in the +general office, Moira McTavish left her desk and came over to see what +the visitor desired. + +“I should like to see Mr. Bryce Cardigan,” Buck began in crisp +businesslike accents. He was fumbling in his card-case and did not look +up until about to hand his card to Moira--when his mouth flew half open, +the while he stared at her with consummate frankness. The girl's glance +met his momentarily, then was lowered modestly; she took the card and +carried it to Bryce. + +“Hum-m-m!” Bryce grunted. “That noisy fellow Ogilvy, eh?” + +“His clothes are simply wonderful--and so is his voice. He's very +refined. But he's carroty red and has freckled hands, Mr. Bryce.” + +Bryce rose and sauntered into the general office. + +“Mr. Bryce Cardigan?” Buck queried politely, with an interrogative lift +of his blond eyebrows. + +“At your service, Mr. Ogilvy. Please come in.” + +“Thank you so much, sir.” He followed Bryce to the latter's private +office, closed the door carefully behind him, and stood with his broad +back against it. + +“Buck, are you losing your mind?” Bryce demanded. + +“Losing it? I should say not. I've just lost it.” + +“I believe you. If you were quite sane, you wouldn't run the risk of +being seen entering my office.” + +“Tut-tut, old dear! None of that! Am I not the main-spring of the +Northern California Oregon Railroad and privileged to run the destinies +of that soulless corporation as I see fit?” He sat down, crossed his +long legs, and jerked a speckled thumb toward the outer office. “I was +sane when I came in here, but the eyes of the girl outside--oh, yow, +them eyes! I must be introduced to her. And you're scolding me for +coming around here in broad daylight. Why, you duffer, if I come at +night, d'ye suppose I'd have met her? Be sensible.” + +“You like Moira's eyes, eh?” + +“I've never seen anything like them. Zounds, I'm afire. I have little +prickly sensations, like ants running over me. How can you be insensate +enough to descend to labour with an houri like that around? Oh, man! To +think of an angel like that WORKING--to think of a brute like you making +her work!” + +“Love at first sight, eh, Buck?” + +“I don't know what it is, but it's nice. Who is she?” + +“She's Moira McTavish, and you're not to make love to her. Understand? I +can't have you snooping around this office after to-day.” + +Mr. Ogilvy's eyes popped with interest. “Oh,” he breathed. “You have an +eye to the main chance yourself have you? Have you proposed to the lady +as yet?” + +“No, you idiot.” + +“Then I'll match you for her--or rather for the chance to propose +first.” Buck produced a dollar and spun it in the air. + +“Nothing doing, Buck. Spare yourself these agonizing suspicions. The +fact of the matter is that you give me a wonderful inspiration. I've +always been afraid Moira would fall in love with some ordinary fellow +around Sequoia--propinquity, you know--” + +“You bet. Propinquity's the stuff. I'll stick around.” + +“--and I we been on the lookout for a fine man to marry her off to. +She's too wonderful for you, Buck, but in time you might learn to live +up to her.” + +“Duck! I'm liable to kiss you.” + +“Don't be too precipitate. Her father used to be our woods-boss. I fired +him for boozing.” + +“I wouldn't care two hoots if her dad was old Nick himself. I'm going to +marry her--if she'll have me. Ah, the glorious creature!” He waved his +long arms despairingly. “O Lord, send me a cure for freckles. Bryce, +you'll speak a kind word for me, won't you--sort of boom my stock, eh? +Be a good fellow.” + +“Certainly. Now come down to earth and render a report on your +stewardship.” + +“I'll try. To begin, I've secured rights of way, at a total cost of +twelve thousand, one hundred and three dollars and nine cents, from +the city limits of Sequoia to the southern boundary of your timber in +Township Nine. I've got my line surveyed, and so far as the building of +the road is concerned, I know exactly what I'm going to do, and how and +when I'm going to do it, once I get my material on the ground.” + +“What steps have you taken toward securing your material?” + +“Well, I can close a favourable contract for steel rails with the +Colorado Steel Products Company. Their schedule of deliveries is O. +K. as far as San Francisco, but it's up to you to provide water +transportation from there to Sequoia.” + +“We can handle the rails on our steam schooners. Next?” + +“I have an option of a rattling good second-hand locomotive down at +the Santa Fe shops, and the Hawkins & Barnes Construction Company have +offered me a steam shovel, half a dozen flat-cars, and a lot of fresnos +and scrapers at ruinous prices. This equipment is pretty well worn, and +they want to get rid of it before buying new stuff for their contract +to build the Arizona and Sonora Central. However, it is first-rate +equipment for us, because it will last until we're through with it; then +we can scrap it for junk. We can buy or rent teams from local citizens +and get half of our labour locally. San Francisco employment bureaus +will readily supply the remainder, and I have half a dozen fine boys +on tap to boss the steam shovel, pile-driver, bridge-building gang, +track-layer and construction gang. And as soon as you tell me how I'm to +get my material ashore and out on the job, I'll order it and get busy.” + +“That's exactly where the shoe begins to pinch, Pennington's main-line +tracks enter the city along Water Street, with one spur into his +log-dump and another out on his mill-dock. From the main-line tracks we +also have built a spur through our drying-yard out to our log-dump and a +switch-line out on to our milldock. We can unload our locomotive, steam +shovel, and flat-cars on our own wharf, but unless Pennington gives us +permission to use his main-line tracks out to a point beyond the city +limits--where a Y will lead off to the point where our construction +begins--we're up a stump.” + +“Suppose he refuses, Bryce. What then?” + +“Why, we'll simply have to enter the city down Front Street, paralleling +Pennington's tracks on Water Street, turning down B Street, make a +jump-crossing of Pennington's line on Water Street, and connecting with +the spur into our yard.” + +“Can't have an elbow turn at Front and B streets?” + +“Don't have to. We own a square block on that corner, and we'll build +across it, making a gradual turn.” + +“See here, my son,” Buck said solemnly, “is this your first adventure in +railroad building?” + +Bryce nodded. + +“I thought so; otherwise you wouldn't talk so confidently of running +your line over city streets and making jump-crossings on your +competitor's road. If your competitor regards you as a menace to his +pocketbook, he can give you a nice little run for your money and delay +you indefinitely.” + +“I realize that, Buck. That's why I'm not appearing in this railroad +deal at all. If Pennington suspected I was back of it, he'd fight me +before the city council and move heaven and earth to keep me out of a +franchise to use the city streets and cross his line. Of course, since +his main line runs on city property, under a franchise granted by the +city, the city has a perfect right to grant me the privilege of making a +jump-crossing of his line---” + +“Will they do it? That's the problem. If they will not, you're licked, +my son, and I'm out of a job.” + +“We can sue and condemn a right of way.” + +“Yes, but if the city council puts up a plea that it is against the best +interests of the city to grant the franchise, you'll find that except in +most extraordinary cases, the courts regard it as against public policy +to give judgment against a municipality, the State or the Government of +the United States. At any rate, they'll hang you up in the courts till +you die of old age; and as I understand the matter, you have to have +this line running in less than a year, or go out of business.” + +Bryce hung his head thoughtfully. “I've been too cocksure,” he muttered +presently. “I shouldn't have spent that twelve thousand for rights of +way until I had settled the matter of the franchise.” + +“Oh, I didn't buy any rights of way--yet,” Ogilvy hastened to assure +him. “I've only signed the land-owners up on an agreement to give or +sell me a right of way at the stipulated figures any time within +one year from date. The cost of the surveying gang and my salary and +expenses are all that you are out to date.” + +“Buck, you're a wonder.” + +“Not at all. I've merely been through all this before and have profited +by my experience. Now, then, to get back to our muttons. Will the city +council grant you a franchise to enter the city and jump Pennington's +tracks?” + +“I'm sure I don't know, Buck. You'll have to ask them--sound them out. +The city council meets Saturday morning.” + +“They'll meet this evening--in the private diningroom of the Hotel +Sequoia, if I can arrange it,” Buck Ogilvy declared emphatically. “I'm +going to have them all up for dinner and talk the matter over. I'm not +exactly aged, Bryce, but I've handled about fifteen city councils +and county boards of supervisors, not to mention Mexican and Central +American governors and presidents, in my day, and I know the breed from +cover to cover. Following a preliminary conference, I'll let you know +whether you're going to get that franchise without difficulty or whether +somebody's itchy palm will have to be crossed with silver first. Honest +men never temporize. You know where they stand, but a grafter temporizes +and plays a waiting game, hoping to wear your patience down to the point +where you'll ask him bluntly to name his figure. By the way, what do you +know about your blighted old city council, anyway?” + +“Two of the five councilmen are for sale; two are honest men--and one +is an uncertain quantity. The mayor is a politician. I've known them all +since boyhood, and if I dared come out in the open, I think that even +the crooks have sentiment enough for what the Cardigans stand for in +this county to decline to hold me up.” + +“Then why not come out in the open and save trouble and expense?” + +“I am not ready to have a lot of notes called on me,” Bryce replied +dryly. “Neither am I desirous of having the Laguna Grande Lumber Company +start a riot in the redwood lumber market by cutting prices to a point +where I would have to sell my lumber at a loss in order to get hold of a +little ready money. Neither do I desire to have trees felled across the +right of way of Pennington's road after his trainloads of logs have gone +through and before mine have started from the woods. I don't want my +log-landings jammed until I can't move, and I don't want Pennington's +engineer to take a curve in such a hurry that he'll whip my loaded +logging-trucks off into a canon and leave me hung up for lack of +rolling-stock. I tell you, the man has me under his thumb, and the only +way I can escape is to slip out when he isn't looking. He can do too +many things to block the delivery of my logs and then dub them acts +of God, in order to avoid a judgment against him on suit for +non-performance of his hauling contract with this company.” + +“Hum-m-m! Slimy old beggar, isn't he? I dare say he wouldn't hesitate to +buy the city council to block you, would he?” + +“I know he'll lie and steal. I dare say he'd corrupt a public official.” + +Buck Ogilvy rose and stretched himself. “I've got my work cut out for +me, haven't I?” he declared with a yawn. “However, it'll be a fight +worth while, and that at least will make it interesting. Well?” + +Bryce pressed the buzzer on his desk, and a moment later Moira entered. +“Permit me, Moira, to present Mr. Ogilvy. Mr. Ogilvy, Miss McTavish.” + The introduction having been acknowledged by both parties, Bryce +continued: “Mr. Ogilvy will have frequent need to interview me at this +office, Moira, but it is our joint desire that his visits here shall +remain a profound secret to everybody with the exception of ourselves. +To that end he will hereafter call at night, when this portion of the +town is absolutely deserted. You have an extra key to the office, Moira. +I wish you would give it to Mr. Ogilvy.” + +The girl nodded. “Mr. Ogilvy will have to take pains to avoid our +watchman,” she suggested. + +“That is a point well taken, Moira. Buck, when you call, make it a point +to arrive here promptly on the hour. The watchman will be down in the +mill then, punching the time-clock.” + +Again Moira inclined her dark head and withdrew. Mr. Buck Ogilvy +groaned. “God speed the day when you can come out from under and I'll +be permitted to call during office hours,” he murmured. He picked up +his hat and withdrew, via the general office. Half an hour later, Bryce +looked out and saw him draped over the counter, engaged in animated +conversation with Moira McTavish. Before Ogilvy left, he had managed to +impress Moira with a sense of the disadvantage under which he laboured +through being forced, because of circumstances Mr. Cardigan would +doubtless relate to her in due course, to abandon all hope of seeing her +at the office--at least for some time to come. Then he spoke feelingly +of the unmitigated horror of being a stranger in a strange town, forced +to sit around hotel lobbies with drummers and other lost souls, and drew +from Moira the assurance that it wasn't more distressing than having to +sit around a boardinghouse night after night watching old women tat and +tattle. + +This was the opening Buck Ogilvy had sparred for. Fixing Moira with his +bright blue eyes, he grinned boldly and said: “Suppose, Miss McTavish, +we start a league for the dispersion of gloom. You be the president, and +I'll be the financial secretary.” + +“How would the league operate?” Moira demanded cautiously. + +“Well, it might begin by giving a dinner to all the members, followed +by a little motor-trip into the country next Saturday afternoon,” Buck +suggested. + +Moira's Madonna glance appraised him steadily. “I haven't known you very +long, Mr. Ogilvy,” she reminded him. + +“Oh, I'm easy to get acquainted with,” he retorted lightly. “Besides, +don't I come well recommended?” He pondered for a moment. Then: “I'll +tell you what, Miss McTavish. Suppose we put it up to Bryce Cardigan. +If he says it's all right we'll pull off the party. If he says it's all +wrong, I'll go out and drown myself--and fairer words than them has no +man spoke.” + +“I'll think it over,” said Moira. + +“By all means. Never decide such an important matter in a hurry. Just +tell me your home telephone number, and I'll ring up at seven this +evening for your decision.” + +Reluctantly Moira gave him the number. She was not at all prejudiced +against this carroty stranger--in fact, she had a vague suspicion that +he was a sure cure for the blues, an ailment which she suffered from +all too frequently; and, moreover, his voice, his respectful manner, +his alert eyes, and his wonderful clothing were all rather alluring. +Womanlike, she was flattered at being noticed--particularly by a man +like Ogilvy, whom it was plain to be seen was vastly superior to any +male even in Sequoia, with the sole exception of Bryce Cardigan. The +flutter of a great adventure was in Moira's heart, and the flush of +a thousand roses in her cheeks when, Buck Ogilvy having at length +departed, she went into Bryce's private office to get his opinion as to +the propriety of accepting the invitation. + +Bryce listened to her gravely as with all the sweet innocence of her +years and unworldliness she laid the Ogilvy proposition before him. + +“By all means, accept,” he counselled her. “Buck Ogilvy is one of the +finest gentlemen you'll ever meet. I'll stake my reputation on him. +You'll find him vastly amusing, Moira. He'd make Niobe forget her +troubles, and he DOES know how to order a dinner.” + +“Don't you think I ought to have a chaperon?” + +“Well, it isn't necessary, although it's good form in a small town like +Sequoia, where everybody knows everybody else.” + +“I thought so,” Moira murmured thoughtfully. “I'll ask Miss Sumner to +come with us. Mr. Ogilvy won't mind the extra expense, I'm sure.” + +“He'll be delighted,” Bryce assured her maliciously. “Ask Miss Sumner, +by all means.” + +When Moira had left him, Bryce sighed. “Gosh!” he murmured. “I wish I +could go, too.” + +He was roused from his bitter introspections presently by the ringing of +the telephone. To his amazement Shirley Sumner was calling him! + +“You're a wee bit surprised, aren't you, Mr. Cardigan?” she said +teasingly. + +“I am,” he answered honestly. “I had a notion I was quite persona non +grata with you.” + +“Are you relieved to find you are not? You aren't, you know.” + +“Thank you. I am relieved.” + +“I suppose you're wondering why I have telephoned to you?” + +“No, I haven't had time. The suddenness of it all has left me more or +less dumb. Why did you ring up?” + +“I wanted some advice. Suppose you wanted very, very much to know what +two people were talking about, but found yourself in a position where +you couldn't eavesdrop. What would you do?” + +“I wouldn't eavesdrop,” he told her severely. “That isn't a nice thing +to do, and I didn't think you would contemplate anything that isn't +nice.” + +“I wouldn't ordinarily. But I have every moral, ethical, and financial +right to be a party to that conversation, only--well--” + +“With you present there would be no conversation--is that it?” + +“Exactly, Mr. Cardigan.” + +“And it is of the utmost importance that you should know what is said?” + +“Yes.” + +“And you do not intend to use your knowledge of this conversation, when +gained, for an illegal or unethical purpose?” + +“I do not. On the contrary, if I am aware of what is being planned, I +can prevent others from doing something illegal and unethical.” + +“In that event, Shirley, I should say you are quite justified in +eavesdropping.” + +“But how can I do it? I can't hide in a closet and listen.” + +“Buy a dictograph and have it hidden in the room where the conversation +takes place. It will record every word of it.” + +“Where can I buy one?” + +“In San Francisco.” + +“Will you telephone to your San Francisco office and have them buy one +for me and ship it to you, together with directions for using. George +Sea Otter can bring it over to me when it arrives.” + +“Shirley, this is most extraordinary.” + +“I quite realize that. May I depend upon you to oblige me in this +matter?” + +“Certainly. But why pick on me, of all persons, to perform such a +mission for you?” + +“I can trust you to forget that you have performed it.” + +“Thank you. I think you may safely trust me. And I shall attend to the +matter immediately.” + +“You are very kind, Mr. Cardigan. How is your dear old father? Moira +told me sometime ago that he was ill.” + +“He's quite well again, thank you. By the way, Moira doesn't know that +you and I have ever met. Why don't you tell her?” + +“I can't answer that question--now. Perhaps some day I may be in a +position to do so.” + +“It's too bad the circumstances are such that we, who started out to be +such agreeable friends, see so little of each other, Shirley.” + +“Indeed, it is. However, it's all your fault. I have told you once how +you can obviate that distressing situation. But you're so stubborn, Mr. +Cardigan.” + +“I haven't got to the point where I like crawling on my hands and +knees,” he flared back at her. + +“Even for your sake, I decline to simulate friendship or tolerance for +your uncle; hence I must be content to let matters stand as they are +between us.” + +She laughed lightly. “So you are still uncompromisingly +belligerent--still after Uncle Seth's scalp?” + +“Yes; and I think I'm going to get it. At any rate, he isn't going to +get mine.” + +“Don't you think you're rather unjust to make me suffer for the sins of +my relative, Bryce?” she demanded. + +She had called him by his first name. He thrilled. “I'm lost in a +quagmire of debts--I'm helpless now,” he murmured. “I'm not fighting +for myself alone, but for a thousand dependents--for a principle--for +an ancient sentiment that was my father's and is now mine. You do not +understand.” + +“I understand more than you give me credit for, and some day you'll +realize it. I understand just enough to make me feel sorry for you. I +understand what even my uncle doesn't suspect at present, and that +is that you're the directing genius of the Northern California Oregon +Railroad and hiding behind your friend Ogilvy. Now, listen to me, Bryce +Cardigan: You're never going to build that road. Do you understand?” + +The suddenness of her attack amazed him to such an extent that he did +not take the trouble to contradict her. Instead he blurted out, angrily +and defiantly: “I'll build that road if it costs me my life--if it costs +me you. Understand! I'm in this fight to win.” + +“You will not build that road,” she reiterated. + +“Why?” + +“Because I shall not permit you to. I have some financial interest +in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, and it is not to that financial +interest that you should build the N.C.O.” + +“How did you find out I was behind Ogilvy?” + +“Intuition. Then I accused you of it, and you admitted it.” + +“I suppose you're going to tell your uncle now,” he retorted +witheringly. + +“On the contrary, I am not. I greatly fear I was born with a touch of +sporting blood, Mr. Cardigan, so I'm going to let you two fight until +you're exhausted, and then I'm going to step in and decide the issue. +You can save money by surrendering now. I hold the whip hand.” + +“I prefer to fight. With your permission this bout will go to a +knockout.” + +“I'm not so certain I do not like you all the more for that decision. +And if it will comfort you the least bit, you have my word of honour +that I shall not reveal to my uncle the identity of the man behind the +N. C. O. I'm not a tattletale, you know, and moreover I have a great +curiosity to get to the end of the story. The fact is, both you and +Uncle Seth annoy me exceedingly. How lovely everything would have been +if you two hadn't started this feud and forced upon me the task of +trying to be fair and impartial to you both.” + +“Can you remain fair and impartial?” + +“I think I can--even up to the point of deciding whether or not you are +going to build that road. Then I shall act independently of you both. +Forgive my slang, but--I'm going to hand you each a poke then.” + +“Shirley,” he told her earnestly, “listen carefully to what I am about +to say: I love you. I've loved you from the day I first met you. I shall +always love you; and when I get around to it, I'm going to ask you +to marry me. At present, however, that is a right I do not possess. +However, the day I acquire the right I shall exercise it.” + +“And when will that day be?” Very softly, in awesome tones! + +“The day I drive the last spike in the N. C. O.” + +Fell a silence. Then: “I'm glad, Bryce Cardigan, you're not a quitter. +Good-bye, good luck--and don't forget my errand.” She hung up and sat +at the telephone for a moment, dimpled chin in dimpled hand, her glance +wandering through the window and far away across the roofs of the town +to where the smoke-stack of Cardigan's mill cut the sky-line. “How I'd +hate you if I could handle you!” she murmured. + +Following this exasperating but illuminating conversation with Shirley +Sumner over the telephone, Bryce Cardigan was a distressed and badly +worried man. However, Bryce was a communicant of a very simple faith--to +wit, that one is never whipped till one is counted out, and the first +shock of Shirley's discovery having passed, he wasted no time in +vain repinings but straightway set himself to scheme a way out of his +dilemma. + +For an hour he sat slouched in his chair, chin on breast, the while he +reviewed every angle of the situation. + +He found it impossible, however, to dissociate the business from the +personal aspects of his relations with Shirley, and he recalled that she +had the very best of reasons for placing their relations on a business +basis rather than a sentimental one. He had played a part in their +little drama which he knew must have baffled and infuriated her. More, +had she, in those delightful few days of their early acquaintance, +formed for him a sentiment somewhat stronger than friendship (he did +not flatter himself that this was so), he could understand her attitude +toward him as that of the woman scorned. For the present, however, it +was all a profound and disturbing mystery, and after an hour of futile +concentration there came to Bryce the old childish impulse to go to +his father with his troubles. That sturdy old soul, freed from the hot +passions of youth, its impetuosity and its proneness to consider cause +rather than effect, had weathered too many storms in his day to permit +the present one to benumb his brain as it had his son's. + +“He will be able to think without having his thoughts blotted out by a +woman's face,” Bryce soliloquized. “He's like one of his own big redwood +trees; his head is always above the storm.” + +Straightway Bryce left the office and went home to the old house on the +knoll. John Cardigan was sitting on the veranda, and from a stand beside +him George Sea Otter entertained him with a phonograph selection--“The +Suwanee River,” sung by a male quartet. As the gate clicked, John raised +his head; then as Bryce's quick step spurned the cement walk up +the little old-fashioned garden, he rose and stood with one hand +outstretched and trembling a little. He could not see, but with the +intuition of the blind, he knew. + +“What is it, son?” he demanded gently as Bryce came up the low steps. +“George, choke that contraption off.” + +Bryce took his father's hand. “I'm in trouble, John Cardigan,” he said +simply, “and I'm not big enough to handle it alone.” + +The leonine old man smiled, and his smile had all the sweetness of a +benediction. His boy was in trouble and had come to him. Good! Then he +would not fail him. “Sit down, son, and tell the old man all about it. +Begin at the beginning and let me have all the angles of the angle.” + +Bryce obeyed, and for the first time John Cardigan learned of his son's +acquaintance with Shirley Sumner and the fact that she had been present +in Pennington's woods the day Bryce had gone there to settle the score +with Jules Rondeau. In the wonderful first flush of his love a sense of +embarrassment, following his discovery of the fact that his father and +Colonel Pennington were implacable enemies, had decided Bryce not +to mention the matter of the girl to John Cardigan until the ENTENTE +CORDIALE between Pennington and his father could be reestablished, for +Bryce had, with the optimism of his years, entertained for a few days a +thought that he could bring about this desirable condition of affairs. +The discovery that he could not, together with his renunciation of his +love until he should succeed in protecting his heritage and eliminating +the despair that had come upon his father in the latter's old age, had +further operated to render unnecessary any discussion of the girl with +the old man. + +With the patience and gentleness of a confessor John Cardigan heard the +story now, and though Bryce gave no hint in words that his affections +were involved in the fight for the Cardigan acres, yet did his father +know It, for he was a parent. And his great heart went out in sympathy +for his boy. + +“I understand, sonny, I understand. This young lady is only one +additional reason why you must win, for of course you understand she is +not indifferent to you.” + +“I do not know that she feels for me anything stronger than a vagrant +sympathy, Dad, for while she is eternally feminine, nevertheless she has +a masculine way of looking at many things. She is a good comrade with +a bully sense of sportsmanship, and unlike her skunk of an uncle, she +fights in the open. Under the circumstances, however, her first loyalty +is to him; in fact, she owes none to me. And I dare say he has given +her some extremely plausible reason why we should be eliminated; while +I think she is sorry that it must be done, nevertheless, in a mistaken +impulse of self-protection she is likely to let him do it.” + +“Perhaps, perhaps. One never knows why a woman does things, although it +is a safe bet that if they're with you at all, they're with you all the +way. Eliminate the girl, my boy. She's trying to play fair to you and +her relative. Let us concentrate on Pennington.” + +“The entire situation hinges on that jump-crossing of his tracks on +Water Street.” + +“He doesn't know you plan to cross them, does he?” + +“No.” + +“Then, lad, your job is to get your crossing in before he finds out, +isn't it?” + +“Yes, but it is an impossible task, partner. I'm not Aladdin, you know. +I have to have a franchise from the city council, and I have to have +rails.” + +“Both are procurable, my son. Induce the city council to grant you a +temporary franchise to-morrow, and buy your rails from Pennington. He +has a mile of track running up Laurel Creek, and Laurel Creek was logged +out three years ago. I believe that spur is useless to Pennington, and +the ninety-pound rails are rusting there.” + +“But will he sell them to me?” + +“Not if you tell him why you want them.” + +“But he hates me, old pal.” + +“The Colonel never permits sentiment to interfere with business, my son. +He doesn't need the rails, and he does desire your money. Consider the +rail-problem settled.” + +“How do you stand with the Mayor and the council?” + +“I do not stand at all. I opposed Poundstone for the office; Dobbs, +who was appointed to fill a vacancy caused by the death of a regularly +elected councilman, was once a bookkeeper in our office, you will +remember. I discharged him for looting the petty-cash drawer. Andrews +and Mullin are professional politicians and not to be trusted. In fact, +Poundstone, Dobbs, Andrews, and Mullin are known as the Solid Four. +Yates and Thatcher, the remaining members of the city council, are +the result of the reform ticket last fall, but since they are in the +minority, they are helpless.” + +“That makes it bad.” + +“Not at all. The Cardigans are not known to be connected with the N. C. +O. Send your bright friend Ogilvy after that franchise. He's the only +man who can land it. Give him a free hand and tell him to deliver the +goods by any means short of bribery. I imagine he's had experience +with city councils and will know exactly how to proceed. I KNOW you +can procure the rails and have them at the intersection of B and Water +streets Thursday night. If Ogilvy can procure the temporary franchise +and have it in his pocket by six o'clock Thursday night, you should have +that crossing in by sunup Friday morning. Then let Pennington rave. He +cannot procure an injunction to restrain us from cutting his tracks, +thus throwing the matter into the courts and holding us up indefinitely, +because by the time he wakes up, the tracks will have been cut. The best +he can do then will be to fight us before the city council when we apply +for our permanent franchise. Thank God, however, the name of Cardigan +carries weight in this county, and with the pressure of public sympathy +and opinion back of us, we may venture, my boy, to break a lance with +the Solid Four, should they stand with Pennington.” + +“Partner, it looks like a forlorn hope,” said Bryce. + +“Well, you're the boy to lead it. And it will cost but little to put +in the crossing and take a chance. Remember, Bryce, once we have that +crossing in, it stands like a spite-fence between Pennington and the law +which he knows so well how to pervert to suit his ignoble purposes.” He +turned earnestly to Bryce and waved a trembling admonitory finger. “Your +job is to keep out of court. Once Pennington gets the law on us, +the issue will not be settled in our favour for years; and in the +meantime--you perish. Run along now and hunt up Ogilvy. George, play +that 'Suwannee River' quartet again. It sort o' soothes me.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +It was with a considerably lighter heart that Bryce returned to the +mill-office, from which he lost no time in summoning Buck Ogilvy by +telephone. + +“Thanks so much for the invitation,” Ogilvy murmured gratefully. “I'll +be down in a pig's whisper.” And he was. “Bryce, you look like the +devil,” he declared the moment he entered the latter's private office. + +“I ought to, Buck. I've just raised the devil and spilled the beans on +the N. C. O.” + +“To whom, when, and where?” + +“To Pennington's niece, over the telephone about two hours ago.” + +Buck Ogilvy smote his left palm with his right fist. “And you've waited +two hours to confess your crime? Zounds, man, this is bad.” + +“I know. Curse me, Buck. I've probably talked you out of a good job.” + +“Oh, say not so, old settler. We may still have an out. How did you let +the cat out of the bag?” + +“That remarkable girl called me up, and accused you of being a mere +screen for me and amazed me so I admitted it.” + +Ogilvy dropped his red head in simulated agony and moaned. Presently he +raised it and said: “Well, it might have been worse. Think of what +might have happened had she called in person. She would have picked your +pocket for the corporate seal, the combination of the safe, and the list +of stockholders, and probably ended up by gagging you and binding you in +your own swivel-chair.” + +“Don't, Buck. Comfort and not abuse is what I need now.” + +“All right. I'll conclude my remarks by stating that I regard you as +a lovable fat-head devoid of sufficient mental energy to pound the +proverbial sand into the proverbial rat-hole. Now, then, what do you +want me to do to save the day?” + +“Deliver to me by six o'clock Thursday night a temporary franchise from +the city council, granting the N. C. O. the right to run a railroad from +our drying-yard across Water Street at its intersection with B Street +and out Front Street.” + +“Certainly. By all means! Easiest thing I do! Sure you don't want me to +arrange to borrow a star or two to make a ta-ra-ra for the lady that's +made a monkey out of you? No? All right, old dear! I'm on my way to +do my damnedest, which angels can't do no more. Nevertheless, for your +sins, you shall do me a favour before my heart breaks after falling down +on this contract you've just given me.” + +“Granted, Buck. Name it.” + +“I'm giving a nice little private, specially cooked dinner to Miss +McTavish to-night. We're going to pull it off in one of those private +screened corrals in that highly decorated Chink restauraw on Third +Street. Moira--that is, Miss McTavish--is bringing a chaperon, one Miss +Shirley Sumner. Your job is to be my chaperon and entertain Miss Sumner, +who from all accounts is most brilliant and fascinating.” + +“Nothing doing!” Bryce almost roared. “Why, she's the girl that bluffed +the secret of the N. C. O. out of me!” + +“Do you hate her for it?” + +“No, I hate myself.” + +“Then you'll come. You promised in advance, and no excuses go now. The +news will be all over town by Friday morning; so why bother to keep up +appearances any longer. Meet me at the Canton at seven and check dull +care at the entrance.” + +And before Bryce could protest, Ogilvy had thrown open the office door +and called the glad tidings to Moira, who was working in the next room; +whereupon Moira's wonderful eyes shone with that strange lambent flame. +She clasped her hands joyously. “Oh, how wonderful!” she exclaimed “I've +always wanted Miss Shirley to meet Mr. Bryce.” + +Again Bryce was moved to protest, but Buck Ogilvy reached around the +half-opened door and kicked him in the shins. “Don't crab my game, you +miserable snarley-yow. Detract one speck from that girl's pleasure, and +you'll never see that temporary franchise,” he threatened. “I will not +work for a quitter--so, there!” And with his bright smile he set out +immediately upon the trail of the city council, leaving Bryce Cardigan +a prey to many conflicting emotions, the chief of which, for all that +he strove to suppress it, was riotous joy in the knowledge that while he +had fought against it, fate had decreed that he should bask once more in +the radiance of Shirley Sumner's adorable presence. Presently, for +the first time in many weeks, Moira heard him whistling “Turkey in the +Straw.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Fortunately for the situation which had so suddenly confronted him, +Bryce Cardigan had Mr. Buck Ogilvy; and out of the experiences gained +in other railroad-building enterprises, the said Ogilvy, while startled, +was not stunned by the suddenness and immensity of the order so casually +given him by his youthful employer, for he had already devoted to the +matter of that crossing the better part of the preceding night. Also +he had investigated, indexed, and cross-indexed the city council with a +view to ascertaining how great or how little would be the effort he must +devote to obtaining from it the coveted franchise. + +“Got to run a sandy on the Mayor,” Buck soliloquized as he walked +rapidly uptown. “And I'll have to be mighty slick about it, too, or I'll +get my fingers in the jam. If I get the Mayor on my side--if I get him +to the point where he thinks well of me and would like to oblige me +without prejudicing himself financially or politically--I can get that +temporary franchise. Now, how shall I proceed to sneak up on that oily +old cuss's blind side?” + +Two blocks farther on, Mr. Ogilvy paused and snapped his fingers +vigorously. “Eureka!” he murmured. “I've got Poundstone by the tail on a +downhill haul. Is it a cinch? Well, I just guess I should tell a man!” + +He hurried to the telephone building and put in a long-distance call for +the San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. When +the manager came on the line, Ogilvy dictated to him a message which he +instructed the manager to telegraph back to him at the Hotel Sequoia one +hour later; this mysterious detail attended to, he continued on to the +Mayor's office in the city hall. + +Mayor Poundstone's bushy eyebrows arched with interest when his +secretary laid upon his desk the card of Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, +vice-president and general manager of the Northern California Oregon +Railroad. “Ah-h-h!” he breathed with an unpleasant resemblance to a bon +vivant who sees before him his favourite vintage. “I have been expecting +Mr. Ogilvy to call for quite a while. At last we shall see what we shall +see. Show him in.” + +The visitor was accordingly admitted to the great man's presence and +favoured with an official handshake of great heartiness. “I've been +hoping to have this pleasure for quite some time, Mr. Poundstone,” Buck +announced easily as he disposed of his hat and overcoat on an adjacent +chair. “But unfortunately I have had so much preliminary detail to +attend to before making an official call that at last I grew discouraged +and concluded I'd just drop in informally and get acquainted.” Buck's +alert blue eyes opened wide in sympathy with his genial mouth, to +deluge Mayor Poundstone with a smile that was friendly, guileless, +confidential, and singularly delightful. Mr. Ogilvy was a man possessed +of tremendous personal magnetism when he chose to exert it, and that +smile was ever the opening gun of his magnetic bombardment, for it was a +smile that always had the effect of making the observer desire to behold +it again--of disarming suspicion and establishing confidence. + +“Glad you did--mighty glad,” the Mayor cried heartily. “We have all, of +course, heard of your great plans and are naturally anxious to hear +more of them, in the hope that we can do all that anybody reasonably and +legally can to promote your enterprise and incidentally our own, since +we are not insensible to the advantages which will accrue to this county +when it is connected by rail with the outside world.” + +“That extremely broad view is most encouraging,” Buck chirped, and he +showered the Mayor with another smile. “Reciprocity is the watchword of +progress. I might state, however, that while you Humboldters are fully +alive to the benefits to be derived from a feeder to a transcontinental +road, my associates and myself are not insensible of the fact that the +success of our enterprise depends to a great extent upon the enthusiasm +with which the city of Sequoia shall cooperate with us; and since you +are the chief executive of the city, naturally I have come to you to +explain our plans fully.” + +“I have read your articles of incorporation, Mr. Ogilvy,” Mayor +Poundstone boomed paternally. “You will recall that they were published +in the Sequoia SENTINEL. It strikes me---” + +“Then you know exactly what we purpose doing, and any further +explanation would be superfluous,” Buck interrupted amiably, glad to +dispose of the matter so promptly. Again he favoured the Mayor with his +bright smile, and the latter, now fully convinced that here was a young +man of vast emprise whom it behooved him to receive in a whole-hearted +and public-spirited manner, nodded vigorous approval. + +“Well, that being the case, Mr. Ogilvy,” he continued, “what can we +Sequoians do to make you happy?” + +“Why, to begin with, Mr. Poundstone, you might accept my solemn +assurances that despite the skepticism which, for some unknown reason, +appears to shroud our enterprise in the minds of some people, we have +incorporated a railroad company for the purpose of building a railroad. +We purpose commencing grading operations in the very near future, and +the only thing that can possibly interfere with the project will be the +declination of the city council to grant us a franchise to run our line +through the city to tidewater.” + +He handed his cigar-case to Mayor Poundstone and continued lightly: “And +I am glad to have your assurance that the city council will not drop a +cold chisel in the cogs of the wheels of progress.” + +Mr. Poundstone had given no such assurance, but for some reason he did +not feel equal to the task of contradicting this pleasant fellow. Ogilvy +continued: “At the proper time we shall apply for the franchise. It will +then be time enough to discuss it. In the meantime the N. C. O. plans a +public dedicatory ceremony at the first breaking of ground, and I would +be greatly honoured, Mr. Mayor, if you would consent to turn the +first shovelful of earth and deliver the address of welcome upon that +occasion.” + +The Mayor swelled like a Thanksgiving turkey. “The honour will be mine,” + he corrected his visitor. + +“Thank you so much, sir. Well, that's another worry off my mind.” With +the tact of a prime minister Buck then proceeded deliberately to shift +the conversation to the weather and asked a number of questions anent +the annual rainfall. Then he turned to crops, finance, and national +politics and gradually veered around to an artistic word-picture of +the vast expansion of the redwood-lumber industry when the redwood-belt +should be connected by rail with the markets of the entire country. He +spoke of the magic effect the building of such a line would have upon +the growth of Sequoia. Sequoia, he felt convinced, was destined to +become a city of at least a hundred thousand inhabitants; he rhapsodized +over the progressive spirit of the community and with a wave of his +hand studded the waters of Humboldt Bay with the masts of the world's +shipping. Suddenly he checked himself, glanced at his watch, apologized +for consuming so much of His Honour's valuable time, expressed himself +felicitated at knowing the Mayor, gracefully expressed his appreciation +for the encouragement given his enterprise, and departed. When he had +gone, Mayor Poundstone declared to his secretary that without doubt +Ogilvy was the livest, keenest fellow that had struck Sequoia since the +advent of old John Cardigan. + +Half an hour later the Mayor's telephone-bell rang. Buck Ogilvy was on +the line. “I beg your pardon for bothering you with my affairs twice in +the same day, Mr. Mayor,” he announced deprecatingly, “but the fact is, +a condition has just arisen which necessitates the immediate employment +of an attorney. The job is not a very important one and almost any +lawyer would do, but in view of the fact that we must, sooner or later, +employ an attorney to look after our interests locally, it occurred to +me that I might as well make the selection of a permanent attorney now. +I am a stranger in this city Mr. Poundstone. Would it be imposing on +your consideration if I asked you to recommend such a person?” + +“Why, not at all, not at all! Delighted to help you, Mr. Ogilvy. Let me +see, now. There are several attorneys in Sequoia, all men of excellent +ability and unimpeachable integrity, whom I can recommend with the +utmost pleasure. Cadman look up the relatives of a public official! +Well! Forward, men, follow me--to Henry's office.” + +Henry Poundstone, Junior, proved to be the sole inhabitant of one rather +bare office in the Cardigan Block. Buck had fully resolved to give him +a retainer of a thousand dollars, or even more, if he asked for it, +but after one look at Henry he cut the appropriation to two hundred and +fifty dollars. Young Mr. Poundstone was blonde and frail, with large +round spectacles, rabbit teeth, and the swiftly receding chin of the +terrapin. Moreover, he was in such a flutter of anticipation over the +arrival of his client that Buck deduced two things--to wit, that the +Mayor had telephoned Henry he was apt to have a client, and that as a +result of this miracle, Henry was in no fit state to discuss the sordid +subject of fees and retainers. Ergo, Mr. Ogilvy decided to obviate such +discussion now or in the future. He handed Henry a check for two hundred +and fifty dollars, which he wrote out on the spot, and with his bright +winning smile remarked: “Now, Mr. Poundstone, we will proceed to +business. That retainer isn't a large one, I admit, but neither is the +job I have for you to-day. Later, if need of your services on a +larger scale should develop, we shall of course expect to make a new +arrangement whereby you will receive the customary retainer of all of +our corporation attorneys I trust that is quite satisfactory.” + +“Eminently so,” gasped the young disciple of Blackstone. + +“Very well, then; let us proceed to business.” Buck removed from a +small leather bag a bale of legal-looking documents. “I have here,” he +announced, “agreements from landowners along the proposed right of way +of the N. C. O. to give to that company, on demand, within one year +from date, satisfactory deeds covering rights of way which are minutely +described in the said agreements. I wish these deeds prepared for +signing and recording at the earliest possible moment.” + +“You shall have them at this time to-morrow,” Henry promised. + +The head of Henry Poundstone, Junior, was held high for the first time +since he had flung forth his modest shingle to the breezes of Sequoia +six months before, and there was an unaccustomed gleam of importance in +his pale eyes as he rushed into big father's office in the city hall. + +“By jinks, Dad!” he exulted. “I've hooked a fish at last--and he's a +whopper.” + +“Omit the cheers, my boy. Remember I sent that fish to you,” his father +answered with a bland and indulgent smile. “What are you doing for +Ogilvy, and how large a retainer did he give you?” + +“I'm making out deeds to his rights of way. Ordinarily it's about a +fifty-dollar job, but without waiting to discuss finances he handed me +out two hundred and fifty dollars. Why, Dad, that's more than you make +in a month from your job as Mayor.” + +“Well, that isn't a bad retainer. It's an opening wedge. However, it +would be mere chicken-feed in San Francisco.” + +“Read this,” Henry urged, and thrust a yellow telegraph-form under the +Mayor's nose. The latter adjusted his glasses and read: + +Imperative building operations commence immediately. Local skepticism +injurious and delays dangerous. We must show good faith to our New York +friends. J. P. M. insists upon knowing promptly where we stand with +Sequoia city council. See them immediately and secure temporary +franchise, if possible, to enable us to cross Water Street at B Street +and build out Front Street. Your arrangement with Cardigan for use of +his mill-dock and spur for unloading material from steamer ratified by +board but regarded as hold-up. If your judgment indicates no hold-up +on permanent franchise, commence active operations immediately upon +acquisition of permanent franchise. Engage local labour as far as +possible. Cannot impress upon you too fully necessity for getting busy, +as road must be completed in three years if our plans are to bear fruit +and time is all too short. Impress this upon city council and wire +answer to-morrow. + +HOCKLEY. + +This telegram, as the Mayor observed, was dated that day and addressed +to Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, Hotel Sequoia, Sequoia, Calif. Also, with a keen +eye to minor details, lie noted that it had been filed at San Francisco +SUBSEQUENT to Ogilvy's visit to him that afternoon. + +“Ah-h-h!” breathed His Honour. “That accounts for his failure to bring +the matter up at our interview. Upon his return to the hotel he +found this telegram and got busy at once. By Jupiter, this looks like +business. Henry, how did you come into possession of this telegram?” + +“It must have been mixed up in the documents Ogilvy left with me. +I found it on my desk when I was sorting out the papers, and in my +capacity of attorney for the N.C.O. I had no hesitancy in reading it.” + +“Well, I do declare! Wonder who Hockley is. Never heard of that fellow +in connection with the N.C.O.” + +“Hockley doesn't matter,” young Henry declared triumphantly, “although +I'd bet a hat he's one of those heavy-weight Wall Street fellows and +one of J.P.M's vice-presidents, probably. J.P.M., of course, is the man +behind.” + +“Who the devil is J.P.M.?” + +Henry smiled tolerantly upon his ignorant and guileless parent. “Well, +how would J. Pierpont Morgan do for a guess?” he queried. + +“Hell's bells and panther-tracks!” Mayor Poundstone started as if +snake-bitten. “I should say you have hooked a big fish. Boy, you've +landed a whale!” And the Mayor whistled softly in his amazement +and delight. “By golly, to think of you getting in with that bunch! +Tremendyous! Per-fect-ly tree-mend-yous! Did Ogilvy say anything about +future business?” + +“He did. Said if I proved satisfactory, he would probably take me on and +pay the customary retainer given all of their corporation attorneys.” + +“Well, by golly, he'd better take you on! I had a notion that chap +Ogilvy was smart enough to know which side his bread is buttered on and +who does the buttering.” + +“If I could guarantee Mr. Ogilvy that temporary franchise mentioned +in his telegram, it might help me to get in right with J.P.M, at the +start,” his hopeful suggested. “I guess it would be kind of poor to +be taken on as one of the regular staff of attorneys for a Morgan +corporation, eh? Say, they pay those chaps as high as fifty thousand +dollars a year retainer!” + +“Guarantee it!” his father shouted. “Guarantee it! Well, I should +snicker! We'll just show J. P. M. and his crowd that they made no +mistake when they picked you as their Sequoia legal representative. I'll +call a special meeting of that little old city council of mine and jam +that temporary franchise through while you'd be saying 'Jack Robinson!'” + +“I'll tell you what let's do,” Henry suggested. “I'll draw up the +temporary franchise to-night, and we'll put it through to-morrow at, +say, ten o'clock without saying a word to Mr. Ogilvy about it. Then when +the city clerk has signed and attested it and put the seal of the city +on it, I'll just casually take it over to Mr. Ogilvy. Of course he'll be +surprised and ask me how I came to get it, and--” + +“And you LOOK surprised,” his father cautioned, “--sort of as if you +failed to comprehend what he's driving at. Make him repeat. Then you +say: 'Oh, that! Why, that's nothing, Mr. Ogilvy. I found the telegram +in those papers you left with me, read it, and concluded you'd left it +there to give me the dope so I could go ahead and get the franchise for +you. Up here, whenever anybody wants a franchise from the city, they +always hire an attorney to get it for them, so I didn't think anything +about this but just naturally went and got it for you. If it ain't +right, why, say so and I'll have it made right.'” Old Poundstone nudged +his son in the short ribs and winked drolly. “Let him get the idea +you're a fly bird and on to your job.” + +“Leave it to yours truly,” said Henry. + +His father carefully made a copy of the telegram. + +“H'm!” he grunted. “Wants to cross Water Street at B and build out +Front Street. Well, I dare say nobody will kick over the traces at that. +Nothing but warehouses and lumber-drying yards along there, anyhow. +Still, come to think of it, Pennington will probably raise a howl about +sparks from the engines of the N. C. O. setting his lumber piles afire. +And he won't relish the idea of that crossing, because that means a +watchman and safety-gates, and he'll have to stand half the cost of +that.” + +“He'll be dead against it,” Henry declared. “I know, because at the +Wednesday meeting of the Lumber Manufacturers' Association the subject +of the N. C. O. came up, and Pennington made a talk against it. He said +the N. C. O. ought to be discouraged, if it was a legitimate enterprise, +which he doubted, because the most feasible and natural route for a road +would be from Willits, Mendocino County, north to Sequoia. He said the +N. C. O. didn't tap the main body of the redwood-belt and that his own +road could be extended to act as a feeder to a line that would build in +from the south. I tell you he's dead set against it.” + +“Then we won't tell him anything about it, Henry. We'll just pull off +this special session of the council and forget to invite the reporters; +after the job has been put over, Pennington can come around and howl +all he wants. We're not letting a chance like this slip by us without +grabbing a handful of the tail-feathers, Henry. No, sir--not if we know +it.” + +“You bet!” said Henry earnestly. + +And it was even so. The entire council was present with the exception +of Thatcher, who was home ill. His running mate Yates was heartily +in favour of doing all and sundry of those things which would aid and +encourage the building of the much-to-be-desired railroad and offered +no objection to the motion to grant a sixty-day temporary franchise. +However, he always played ball with the absent Thatcher and he was +fairly well acquainted with his other colleagues on the council; where +they were concerned he was as suspicious as a rattlesnake in August--in +consequence of which he considered it policy to play safe pending +Thatcher's recovery. Rising in his place, he pointed out to the board +the fact that many prominent citizens who yearned for such a road as +the N. C. O. had warned him of the danger of lending official aid and +comfort to a passel of professional promoters and fly-by-nights; +that after all, the N. C. O. might merely be the stalking-horse to a +real-estate boom planned to unload the undesirable timber holdings of +the Trinidad Redwood Lumber Company, in which event it might be well for +the council to proceed with caution. It was Mr. Yates' opinion that for +the present a temporary franchise for thirty days only should be given; +if during that thirty days the N. C. O. exhibited indubitable signs of +activity, he would gladly vote for a thirty-day extension to enable the +matter of a permanent franchise to be taken up in regular order. + +This amendment to the original motion met with the unqualified approval +of the Mayor, as he was careful to announce for the benefit of the other +members of the Solid Four. The fact of the matter was, however, that +he was afraid to oppose Yates in such a simple matter through fear that +Yates might grow cantankerous and carry his troubles to the Sequoia +Sentinel--a base trick he had been known to do in the past. After +explaining the advisability of keeping secret for the present the fact +that a thirty-day franchise had been granted, His Honour, with the +consent of the maker of the original motion and the second thereof, +submitted the amended motion to a vote, which was carried unanimously. + +At eleven-thirty Thursday morning, therefore, young Henry Poundstone, +having worked the greater part of the previous night preparing the +deeds, delivered both deeds and franchise to Buck Ogilvy at the +latter's hotel. It was with difficulty that the latter could conceal his +tremendous amazement when Henry casually handed him the franchise. True, +he had slipped that fake telegram among the contracts as bait for Henry +and his father, but in his wildest flights of fancy had not looked for +them to swallow hook, line, and sinker. His fondest hope, at the time he +conceived the brilliant idea, was that Henry would show the telegram to +his father and thus inculcate in the old gentleman a friendly feeling +toward the N. C. O. not unmixed with pleasurable anticipations of the +day when Henry Poundstone, Junior, should be one of the most highly +prized members of the legal staff of a public-service corporation. + +When he could control his emotions, Mr. Ogilvy gazed approvingly upon +Henry Poundstone. “Mr. Poundstone,” he said solemnly, “I have met some +meteoric young attorneys in my day, but you're the first genuine comet I +have seen in the legal firmament. Do you mind telling me exactly how you +procured this franchise--and why you procured it without explicit orders +from me?” + +Henry did his best to look puzzled. “Why,” he said, “you left +that telegram with me, and I concluded that you regarded it as +self-explanatory or else had forgotten to mention it. I knew you were +busy, and I didn't want to bother you with details, so I just went ahead +and filled the order for you. Anything wrong about that?” + +“Certainly not. It's perfectly wonderful. But how did you put it over?” + +Henry smirked. “My dad's the engineer,” he said bluntly. “If thirty days +ain't enough time, see me and I'll get you thirty days more. And in the +meantime nobody knows a thing about this little deal. What's more, they +won't know. I figured Colonel Pennington might try to block you at that +crossing so I--” + +Buck Ogilvy extended his hand in benediction and let it drop lightly on +Henry Poundstone's thin shoulder. Henry quivered with anticipation under +that gentle accolade and swallowed his heart while the great Ogilvy made +a portentous announcement. + +“My dear Poundstone,” he said earnestly, “I am not a man to forget +clever work. At the proper time I shall--” He smiled his radiant smile. +“You understand, of course, that I am speaking for and can make you no +firm promises. However--” He smiled again. “All I have to say is that +you'll do!” + +“Thank you,” said Henry Poundstone, Junior. “Thank you ever so much.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +An experience extending over a very active business career of thirty +years had convinced Colonel Seth Pennington of the futility of wracking +his brains in vain speculation over mysteries. In his day he had +been interested in some small public-service corporations, which is +tantamount to saying that he knew peanut politics and had learned that +the very best way to fight the devil is with fire. Frequently he had +found it of great interest and profit to him to know exactly how certain +men spent their time and his money, and since he was a very busy man +himself, naturally he had to delegate somebody else, to procure this +information for him. When, therefore, the Northern California Oregon +Railroad commenced to encroach on the Colonel's time-appropriation for +sleep, he realized that there was but one way in which to conserve his +rest and that was by engaging to fathom the mystery for him a specialist +in the unravelling of mysteries. In times gone by, the Colonel had +found a certain national detective-agency an extremely efficient aid to +well-known commercial agencies, and to these tried and true subordinates +he turned now for explicit and satisfying information anent the Northern +California Outrage! + +The information forthcoming from Dun's and Bradstreet's was vague and +unsatisfying. Neither of these two commercial agencies could ascertain +anything of interest regarding the finances of the N. C. O. For the +present the corporation had no office, its destinies in San Francisco +being guarded by a well-known attorney who had declined to make any +statement regarding the company but promised one at an early date. The +board of directors consisted of this attorney, his two assistants, his +stenographer, and Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy. The company had been incorporated +for five million dollars, divided into five million shares of par value +of one dollar each, and five shares had been subscribed! Both agencies +forwarded copies of the articles of incorporation, but since the Colonel +had already read this document in the Sequoia Sentinel, he was not +further interested. + +“It looks fishy to me,” the Colonel commented to his manager, “and I'm +more than ever convinced it's a scheme of that Trinidad Redwood Timber +Company to start a timber-boom and unload. And that is something the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company does not view with favour, for the reason +that one of these bright days those Trinidad people will come to their +senses and sell cheap to us. A slight extension of our logging-road +will make that Trinidad timber accessible; hence we are the only logical +customers and should control the situation. However, to be sure is to +be satisfied. Telephone the San Francisco office to have the +detective-agency that handled the longshoremen's strike job for us +send a couple of their best operatives up on the next steamer, with +instructions to report to me on arrival.” + +When the operatives reported, the Colonel's orders were brief and +explicit. “I want to know all about a man named Buchanan Ogilvy, who is +up north somewhere procuring rights of way for the Northern California +Oregon Railroad. Find him. Get up with him in the morning and put him to +bed at night. Report to me daily.” + +Buck was readily located in the country north of Arcata, and one of the +operatives actually procured a job as chainman with his surveying gang, +while the other kept Ogilvy and his secretary under surveillance. Their +reports, however, yielded the Colonel nothing until the first day of +Buck's return to Sequoia, when the following written report caused the +Colonel to sit up and take notice. It was headed: “Report of Operative +No. 41,” and it read: + +Ogilvy in his room until 12 o'clock noon. At 12:05 entered dining room, +leaving at 1 P. M. and proceeding direct to office of Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company. Operative took post behind a lumber-pile at side of +office so as to command view of interior of office. From manner of +greeting accorded Ogilvy by Bryce Cardigan, operative is of opinion they +had not met before. Ogilvy remained in Cardigan's private office half +an hour, spent another half-hour conversing with young lady in general +office. Young lady a brunette. O. then returned to Hotel Sequoia, +where he wrote several letters in writing-room. At 3 p. M. called to +telephone. At 3:02 p. M. left hurriedly for Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company's office. Entered private office without waiting to be +announced. Emerged at 3:12, walking slowly and in deep thought. At B and +Cedar streets stopped suddenly, snapped his fingers and started walking +rapidly, in the manner of one who has arrived at a decision. At +3:24 entered the telephone building and placed a long-distance call. +Operative standing at counter close by heard him place call with the +girl on duty. He asked for the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company in San +Francisco. + +Concluded his conversation at 3:32 and proceeded to the city hall, +entering the Mayor's office at 3:43 and emerging at 4:10. He then +returned to the Hotel Sequoia and sat in the lobby until handed a +telegram at 4:40; whereupon he entered the telephone-booth and talked +to someone, emerging at 4:43 to go to his room. He returned at 4:46 and +hurried to the law-office of Henry Poundstone, Junior, in the Cardigan +Block. He was with Poundstone until 4:59, when he returned leisurely to +the Hotel Sequoia, carrying a small leather grip. He also had this grip +when he entered Poundstone's office. + +Arrived at the hotel at 5:03 and went to his room. At 6:45 he entered +a public automobile in front of the hotel and was driven to No. 846 Elm +Street. The brunette young lady who works m the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company's office emerged presently and entered the car, which then +proceeded to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, where the brunette young lady +alighted and entered the house. She returned at 7 sharp, accompanied by +a young lady whom she introduced to O. All three were then driven to the +Canyon restaurant at 432 Third Street and escorted to a reserved table +in one of the screened-off semi-private rooms along the right side of +the dining room. At 7:15 Bryce Cardigan entered the restaurant and was +escorted by the waiter to the table occupied by O. and party. + +At 9:30 entire party left restaurant and entered a Napier car driven by +a half-breed Indian whom the second young lady hailed as George. O. and +the brunette young lady were dropped at 846 Elm Street while Cardigan +and the other young lady proceeded directly to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard. +After aiding the lady to alight, Cardigan talked with her a few minutes +at the gate, then bade her good-night and after waiting until she had +disappeared inside the front door, returned to the automobile and was +driven to his home, while the chauffeur George ran the car into the +Cardigan garage. + +Upon returning to Hotel Sequoia, found O. in hotel bar. Saw him to bed +at 10 sharp. + +Needless to relate, this report had a most amazing effect upon Colonel +Pennington, and when at length he could recover his mental equilibrium, +he set about quite calmly to analyze the report, word by word and +sentence by sentence, with the result that he promptly arrived at the +following conclusion: + +(1) His niece Shirley Sumner was not to be trusted in so far as young +Bryce Cardigan was concerned. Despite her assumption of hostility toward +the fellow since that memorable day in Pennington's woods, the Colonel +was now fully convinced that she had made her peace with him and had +been the recipient of his secret attentions right along. The Colonel was +on the verge of calling his niece up to demand an explanation, but on +second thought decided to wait a few days and see what his gum-shoe men +might have to report further. + +(2) The N. C. O. was still a mystery, but a mystery in which Bryce +Cardigan was interested. Moreover, he was anxious to aid the N. C. O. in +every way possible. However, the Colonel could understand this. Cardigan +would aid anything that might possibly tend to lift the Cardigan lumber +interests out from under the iron heel of Colonel Pennington and he +was just young enough and unsophisticated enough to be fooled by that +Trinidad Redwood Timber gang. + +(3) The N. C. O. was going to make a mighty bluff, even to the extent of +applying for a franchise to run over the city streets of Sequoia. Hence +Ogilvy's visit to Mayor Poundstone--doubtless on the advice of Bryce +Cardigan. Hence, also, his visit to young Henry Poundstone, whom he had +doubtless engaged as his legal representative in order to ingratiate +himself with the young man's father. Coarse work! + +(4) Ogilvy had carried a small leather bag to and from Henry +Poundstone's office. That bag was readily explained. It had contained a +bribe in gold coin and young Henry had been selected as the +go-between. That meant that Mayor Poundstone had agreed to deliver the +franchise--for a consideration; and like the smooth scoundrel he was, he +wanted his bit in gold coin, which could not be marked without the marks +being discovered! Ogilvy had called first on the Mayor to arrange +the details; then he had called on the Mayor's son to complete the +transaction. + +(5) If a franchise had been arranged for and the bribe already +delivered, that meant the prompt and unadvertised commencement of +operations. Where (the Colonel asked himself) would these operations +begin? Why, close to the waterfront, where materials could be landed +from the steamer that brought them to Sequoia. At whose mill-dock would +those materials be discharged? Why, Cardigan's dock, of course. Ogilvy +had probably called first on Cardigan to arrange that detail. Yes, +the N. C. O. was going to carry its monumental bluff to the point of +building a mile of track through town. ... No--no, they wouldn't spend +that much money on a bluff; they wouldn't bribe Poundstone unless the +road was meant. And was it a common carrier, after all? Had Cardigan in +some mysterious manner managed to borrow enough money to parallel the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company's logging-road, and was he disguising it as +a common carrier? + +The trail was growing hot; the Colonel mopped his brow and concentrated +further. If the N. C. O. was really going to start operations, in order +to move its material from the Cardigan dock to the scene of operations +it would have to cut his (the Colonel's) tracks somewhere on Water +Street. Damnation! That was it. They were trying to slip one over on +him. They were planning to get a jump-crossing in before he should awake +to the situation; they were planning, too, to have the city council slip +through the franchise when nobody was looking, and once the crossing +should be in, they could laugh at Colonel Pennington! + +“The scoundrels!” he murmured. “I'm on to them! Cardigan is playing the +game with them. That's why he bought those rails from the old Laurel +Creek spur! Oh, the sly young fox--quoting that portion of our hauling +contract which stipulates that all spurs and extensions of my road, once +it enters Cardigan's lands, must be made at Cardigan's expense! And all +to fool me into thinking he wanted those rails for an extension of his +logging-system. Oh, what a blithering idiot I have been! However, it's +not too late yet. Poundstone is coming over to dinner Thursday night, +and I'll wring the swine dry before he leaves the house. And as for +those rails Cardigan managed to hornswoggle me out of--” + +He seized the telephone and fairly shouted to his exchange operator to +get his woods-foreman Jules Rondeau on the line. + +“That you, Rondeau?” he shouted when the big French Canadian responded. +“Pennington talking. What has young Cardigan done about those rails I +sold him from the abandoned spur up Laurel Creek?” + +“He have two flat-cars upon ze spur now. Dose woods-gang of hees she +tear up dose rails from ze head of ze spur and load in ze flat-cars.” + +“The ears haven't left the Laurel Creek spur, then?” + +“No, she don't leave yet.” + +“See to it, Rondeau, that they do not leave until I give the word. +Understand? Cardigan's woods-boss will call you up and ask you to send +a switch-engine tip to snake them out late this afternoon or to-morrow +afternoon. Tell him the switch-engine is in the shop for repairs or +is busy at other work--anything that will stall him off and delay +delivery.” + +“Suppose Bryce Cardigan, he comes around and say 'Why?'” Rondeau queried +cautiously. + +“Kill him,” the Colonel retorted coolly. “It strikes me you and the +Black Minorca are rather slow playing even with young Cardigan.” + +Rondeau grunted. “I theenk mebbe so you kill heem yourself, boss,” he +replied enigmatically, and hung up. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The dictograph which Shirley had asked Bryce to obtain for her in San +Francisco arrived on the regular passenger-steamer on Thursday morning +and Bryce called her up to ask when she desired it sent over. + +“Good morning, Mr. Cardigan,” she greeted him cheerily. “How do you feel +this morning? Any the worse for having permitted yourself to be a human +being last night?” + +“Why, I feel pretty fine, Shirley. I think it did me a lot of good to +crawl out of my shell last night.” + +“You feel encouraged to go on living, eh?” + +“Yes.” + +“And fighting?” + +“By all means.” + +“Then, something has occurred of late to give you new courage?” + +“Oh, many things. Didn't I give an exhibition of my courage in accepting +Ogilvy's invitation to dinner, knowing you were going to be there?” + +She did not like that. “You carry your frankness to extremes, my +friend,” she retorted. “I'm sure I've always been much nicer to you than +you deserve.” + +“Nevertheless there wasn't any valid reason why I should tantalize +myself last night.” + +“Then why did you come?” He had a suspicion that she was laughing +silently at him. + +“Partly to please Ogilvy, who has fallen head over heels in love with +Moira; partly to please Moira, who wanted me to meet you, but mostly to +please myself, because, while I dreaded it, nevertheless I wanted to +see you again. I comforted myself with the thought that for the sake of +appearances we dared not quarrel in the presence of Moira and my friend +Ogilvy, and I dare say you felt the same way. At any rate, I have seldom +had more enjoyment when partaking of a meal with an enemy.” + +“Please do not say that,” she answered. “I am your opponent, but not +your enemy.” + +“That's nice of you. By the way, Shirley, you may inform your uncle at +breakfast Friday morning about my connection with the N. C. O. In fact, +I think it would be far better for you if you made it a point to do so.” + +“Why?” + +“Because both Ogilvy and myself have a very strong suspicion that your +uncle has a detective or two on our trails. There was a strange man +rather prevalent around him all day yesterday and I noticed a fellow +following my car last night. He was on a bicycle and followed me home. +I communicated my suspicions to Ogilvy, and this morning he spent two +hours trying to shake the same man off his trail--and couldn't. So I +judge your uncle will learn to-day that you dined with Ogilvy, Moira, +and me last night.” + +“Oh, dear! That's terrible.” He could sense her distress. + +“Ashamed of having been seen in my company, eh?” + +“Please don't. Are you quite serious in this matter?” + +“Quite.” + +“Uncle Seth will think it so--so strange.” + +“He'll probably tell you about it. Better beat him to the issue by +'fessing up, Shirley. Doubtless his suspicions are already aroused, and +if you inform him that you know I am the real builder of the N. C. O., +he'll think you're a smart woman and that you've been doing a little +private gum-shoe work of your own on behalf of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company.” + +“Which is exactly what I have been doing,” she reminded him. + +“I know. But then, I'm not afraid of you, Shirley--that is, any more. +And after Friday morning I'll not be afraid of your uncle. Do tell him +at breakfast. Then watch to see if it affects his appetite.” + +“Oh, dear! I feel as if I were a conspirator.” + +“I believe you are one. Your dictograph has arrived. Shall I send George +Sea Otter over with it? And have you somebody to install it?” + +“Oh, bother! Does it have to be installed?” + +“It does. You place the contraption--hide it, rather--in the room where +the conspirators conspire; then you run wires from it into another room +where the detectives listen in on the receivers.” + +“Could George Sea Otter install it?” + +“I think he could. There is a printed card of instructions, and I dare +say George would find the job no more baffling than the ignition-system +on the Napier.” + +“Will he tell anybody?” + +“Not if you ask him not to.” + +“Not even you?” + +“Not even a whisper to himself, Shirley.” + +“Very well, then. Please send him over. Thank you so much, Bryce +Cardigan. You're an awful good old sort, after all. Really, it hurts me +to have to oppose you. It would be so much nicer if we didn't have all +those redwood trees to protect, wouldn't it?” + +“Let us not argue the question, Shirley. I think I have my redwood trees +protected. Good-bye.” + +He had scarcely finished telephoning his home to instruct George Sea +Otter to report with the express package to Shirley when Buck Ogilvy +strolled into the office and tossed a document on his desk. “There's +your little old temporary franchise, old thing,” he announced; and with +many a hearty laugh he related to Bryce the ingenious means by which he +had obtained it. “And now if you will phone up to your logging-camp and +instruct the woods-boss to lay off about fifty men to rest for the day, +pending a hard night's work, and arrange to send them down on the last +log-train to-day, I'll drop around after dinner and we'll fly to that +jump-crossing. Here's a list of the tools we'll need.” + +“I'll telephone Colonel Pennington's manager and ask him to kick a +switch-engine in on the Laurel Creek spur and snake those flat-cars with +my rails aboard out to the junction with the main line,” Bryce replied. +And he called up the Laguna Grande Lumber Company--only to be informed +by no less a person than Colonel Pennington himself that it would be +impossible to send the switch-engine in until the following afternoon. +The Colonel was sorry, but the switch-engine was in the shop having the +brick in her fire-box renewed, while the mogul that hauled the log trams +would not have time to attend to the matter, since the flats would have +to be spotted on the sidetrack at Cardigan's log-landing in the woods, +and this could not be done until the last loaded log-train for the day +had been hauled out to make room. + +“Why not switch back with the mogul after the logtrain has been hauled +out on the main line?” Bryce demanded pointedly. + +Pennington, however, was not trapped. “My dear fellow,” he replied +patronizingly, “quite impossible, I assure you. That old trestle across +the creek, my boy--it hasn't been looked at for years. While I'd send +the light switch-engine over it and have no fears--” + +“I happen to know, Colonel, that the big mogul kicked those flats in to +load the rails!” + +“I know it. And what happened? Why, that old trestle squeaked and shook +and gave every evidence of being about to buckle in the centre. My +engineer threatened to quit if I sent him in again.” + +“Very well. I suppose I'll have to wait until the switch-engine comes +out of the shop,” Bryce replied resignedly, and hung up. He turned +a troubled face to Ogilvy. “Checkmated!” he announced. “Whipped to a +frazzle. The Colonel is lying, Buck, and I've caught him at it. As +a matter of fact, the mogul didn't kick those flats in at all. The +switch-engine did--and I know it. Now I'm going to send a man over to +snoop around Pennington's roundhouse and verify his report about the +switch-engine being in the shop.” + +He did so. Half an hour later the messenger returned with the +information that not only was the switch-engine not in the shop but her +fire-box had been overhauled the week before and was reported to be in +excellent condition. + +“That settles it,” Buck Ogilvy mourned. “He had gum-shoe men on my +trail, after all; they have reported, and the Colonel is as suspicious +as a rhino. He doesn't know anything, but he smells danger just the +same.” + +“Exactly, Buck. So he is delaying the game until he can learn something +definite.” He drummed idly on his desk for several minutes. Then: + +“Buck, can you run a locomotive?” + +“With one hand, old man.” + +“Fine business! Well, I guess we'll put in that crossing to-morrow +night. The switch-engine will be in the roundhouse at Pennington's mill +to-morrow night so we can't steal that; but we can steal the mogul. I'll +just send word up to my woods-boss not to have his train loaded when +the mogul comes up late to-morrow afternoon to haul it down to our +log-landing. He will explain to the engineer and fireman that our big +bull donkey went out and we couldn't get our logs down to the landing +in time to get them loaded that day. Of course, the engine-crew won't +bother to run down to Sequoia for the night--that is, they won't run the +mogul down. They'll just leave her at our log-landing all night and put +up for the night at our camp. However, if they should be forced, because +of their private affairs, to return to Sequoia, they'll borrow my +trackwalker's velocipede. I have one that is driven with a small +gasolene engine--I use it in running back and forth to the logging-camp +in case I fail to connect with a log-train.” + +“But how do you know they will put up at your camp all night, Bryce?” + +“My men will make them comfortable, and it means they can lie abed until +seven o'clock instead of having to roll out at five o'clock, which would +be the case if they spent the night at this end of the line. If they +do not stay at our logging-camp, the mogul will stay there, provided my +woods-foreman lends them my velocipede. The fireman would prefer that to +firing that big mogul all the way back to Sequoia.” + +“Yes,” Buck agreed, “I think he would.” + +“There is a slight grade at our log-landing. I know that, because the +air leaked out of the brakes on a log-train I was on a short time +ago, and the train ran away with me. Now, the engine-crew will set the +airbrakes on the mogul and leave her with steam up to throb all night; +they'll not blow her down, for that would mean work firing her in the +morning. Our task, Buck, will be to throw off the airbrakes and let her +glide silently out of our log-landing. About a mile down the road we'll +stop, get up steam, run down to the junction with the main line, back +in on the Laurel Creek spur, couple on to those flat-cars and breeze +merrily down to Sequoia with them. They'll be loaded waiting for us; our +men will be congregated in our dry-yard just off Water Street near B, +waiting for us to arrive with the rails--and bingo--we go to it. After +we drop the flats, we'll run the engine back to the woods, leave it +where we found it, return a-flying on the velocipede, if it's there, or +in my automobile, if it isn't there. You can get back in ample time to +superintend the cutting of the crossing!” + +“Spoken like a man!” quoth Buck Ogilvy. “You're the one man in this +world for whom I'd steal a locomotive. 'At-a boy!” + +Had either of the conspirators known of Pennington's plans to entertain +Mayor Poundstone at dinner on Thursday night, it is probable they would +not have cheered until those flat-cars were out of the woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Mayor Poundstone and his wife arrived at the Pennington home in Redwood +Boulevard at six forty-five Thursday evening. It was with a profound +feeling of relief that His Honour lifted the lady from their modest +little “flivver,” for once inside the Pennington house, he felt, +he would be free from a peculiarly devilish brand of persecution +inaugurated by his wife about three months previously. Mrs. Poundstone +wanted a new automobile. And she had entered upon a campaign of nagging +and complaint; hoping to wear Poundstone's resistance down to the point +where he would be willing to barter his hope of salvation in return for +a guarantee of peace on earth. + +“I feel like a perfect fool, calling upon these people in this filthy +little rattletrap,” Mrs. Poundstone protested as they passed up the +cement walk toward the Pennington portal. + +Mayor Poundstone paused. Had he been Medusa, the glance he bent upon +his spouse would have transformed her instantly into a not particularly +symmetrical statue of concrete. He had reached the breaking-point. + +“In pity's name, woman,” he growled, “talk about something else. Give me +one night of peace. Let me enjoy my dinner and this visit.” + +“I can't help it,” Mrs. P. retorted with asperity. She pointed to +Shirley Sumner's car parked under the porte-cochere. “If I had a sedan +like that, I could die happy. And it only cost thirty-two hundred and +fifty dollars.” + +“I paid six hundred and fifty for the rattletrap, and I couldn't afford +that,” he almost whimpered. “You were happy with it until I was elected +mayor.” + +“You forget our social position, my dear,” she purred sweetly. + +He could have struck her. “Hang your social position,” he gritted +savagely. “Shut up, will you? Social position in a sawmill town! Rats!” + +“Sh--sh! Control yourself, Henry!” She plucked gently at his arm; with +her other hand she lifted the huge knocker on the front door. + +“Dammit, you'll drive me crazy yet,” Poundstone gurgled, and subsided. + +The Pennington butler, a very superior person, opened the door and swept +them with a faintly disapproving glance. It is possible that he found +Mayor Poundstone, who was adorned with a white string tie, a soft slouch +hat, a Prince Albert coat, and horseshoe cut vest, mildly amusing. + +The Poundstones entered. At the entrance to the living room the butler +announced sonorously: “Mayor Poundstone and Mrs. Poundstone.” + +“Glad to see you aboard the ship,” Colonel Pennington boomed with his +best air of hearty expansiveness. “Well, well,” he continued, leading +Mrs. Poundstone to a divan in front of the fire, “this is certainly +delightful. My niece will be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Have a +cigarette, Mr. Poundstone.” + +In the midst of the commonplace chatter incident to such occasions, +Shirley entered the room; and the Colonel, leaving her to entertain the +guests, went to a small sideboard in one corner and brought forth the +“materials,” as he jocularly termed them. James appeared like magic +with a tray, glasses, and tiny serviettes, and the Colonel's elixir was +passed to the company. + +“To your beautiful eyes, Mrs. Poundstone,” was Pennington's debonair +toast as he fixed Mrs. P.'s green orbs with his own. “Poundstone, your +very good health, sir.” + +“Dee-licious,” murmured Mrs. Poundstone. “Perfectly dee-licious. And not +a bit strong!” + +“Have another,” her hospitable host suggested, and he poured it, quite +oblivious of the frightened wink which the mayor telegraphed his wife. + +“I will, if Miss Sumner will join me,” Mrs. P. acquiesced. + +“Thanks. I seldom drink a cocktail, and one is always my limit,” Shirley +replied smilingly. + +“Oh, well,” the Colonel retorted agreeably, “we'll make it a +three-cornered festival. Poundstone, smoke up.” + +They “smoked up,” and Poundstone prayed to his rather nebulous gods that +Mrs. P. would not discuss automobiles during the dinner. + +Alas! The Colonel's cocktails were not unduly fortified, but for all +that, the two which Mrs. Poundstone had assimilated contained just +sufficient “kick” to loosen the lady's tongue without thickening +it. Consequently, about the time the piece de resistance made its +appearance, she threw caution to the winds and adverted to the subject +closest to her heart. + +“I was telling Henry as we came up the walk how greatly I envied you +that beautiful sedan, Miss Sumner,” she gushed. “Isn't it a perfectly +stunning car?” + +Poundstone made one futile attempt to head her off. “And I was telling +Mrs. Poundstone,” he struck in with a pathetic attempt to appear +humorous and condescending, “that a little jitney was our gait, and +that she might as well abandon her passionate yearning for a closed car. +Angelina, my dear, something tells me I'm going to enjoy this dinner +a whole lot more if you'll just make up your mind to be real nice and +resign yourself to the inevitable.” + +“Never, my dear, never.” She shook a coy finger at him. “You dear old +tightie,” she cooed, “you don't realize what a closed car means to a +woman.” She turned to Shirley. “How an open car does blow one around, my +dear!” + +“Yes, indeed,” said Shirley innocently. + +“Heard the McKinnon people had a man killed up in their woods yesterday, +Colonel,” Poundstone remarked, hoping against hope to divert the +conversation. + +“Yes. The fellow's own fault,” Pennington replied. “He was one of those +employees who held to the opinion that every man is the captain of his +own soul and the sole proprietor of his own body--hence that it behooved +him to look after both, in view of the high cost of safety-appliances. +He was warned that the logging-cable was weak at that old splice and +liable to pull out of the becket--and sure enough it did. The free end +of the cable snapped back like a whip, and--” + +“I hold to the opinion,” Mrs. Poundstone interrupted, “that if one +wishes for a thing hard enough and just keeps on wishing, one is bound +to get it.” + +“My dear,” said Mr. Poundstone impressively, “if you would only confine +yourself to wishing, I assure you your chances for success would be +infinitely brighter.” + +There was no mistaking this rebuke; even two cocktails were powerless +to render Mrs. Poundstone oblivious to it. Shirley and her uncle saw +the Mayor's lady flush slightly; they caught the glint of murder in His +Honour's eye; and the keen intelligence of each warned them that closed +cars should be a closed topic of conversation with the Poundstones. With +the nicest tact in the world, Shirley adroitly changed the subject to +some tailored shirt-waists she had observed in the window of a local +dry-goods emporium that day, and Mrs. Poundstone subsided. + +About nine o'clock, Shirley, in response to a meaning glance from her +relative, tactfully convoyed Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, leaving her uncle +alone with his prey. Instantly Pennington got down to business. + +“Well,” he queried, apropos of nothing, “what do you hear with reference +to the Northern-California-Gregon Railroad?” + +“Oh, the usual amount of wind, Colonel. Nobody knows what to make of +that outfit.” + +Pennington studied the end of his cigar a moment. “Well, I don't know +what to think of that project either,” he admitted presently, “But while +it looks like a fake, I have a suspicion that where there's so much +smoke, one is likely to discover a little fire. I've been waiting to see +whether or not they will apply for a franchise to enter the city, but +they seem to be taking their time about it.” + +“They certainly are a deliberate crowd,” the Mayor murmured. + +“Have they made any move to get a franchise?” Pennington asked bluntly. +“If they have, I suppose you would be the first man to hear about it. I +don't mean to be impertinent,” he added with a gracious smile, “but the +fact is I noticed that windbag Ogilvy entering your office in the city +hall the other afternoon, and I couldn't help wondering whether his +visit was social or official.” + +“Social--so far as I could observe,” Poundstone replied truthfully, +wondering just how much Pennington knew, and rather apprehensive that he +might get caught in a lie before the evening was over. + +“Preliminary to the official visit, I dare say.” + +The Colonel puffed thoughtfully for a while--for which the Mayor was +grateful, since it provided time in which to organize himself. Suddenly, +however, Pennington turned toward his guest and fixed the latter with a +serious glance. + +“I hadn't anticipated discussing this matter with you, Poundstone, and +you must forgive me for it; but the fact is--I might as well be frank +with you--I am very greatly interested in the operation of this proposed +railroad.” + +“Indeed! Financially?” + +“Yes, but not in the financial way you think. If that railroad is built, +it will have a very distinct effect on my finances.” + +“In just what way?” + +“Disastrous.” + +“I am amazed, Colonel.” + +“You wouldn't if you had given the subject very close consideration. The +logical route for this railroad is from Willits north to Sequoia, not +from Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, Oregon. Such a road as the N.C.O. +contemplates will tap about one third of the redwood belt only, while +a line built in from the south will tap two thirds of it. The remaining +third can be tapped by an extension of my own logging-road; when my own +timber is logged out, I will want other business for my road, and if +the N.C.O. parallels it, I will be left with two streaks of rust on my +hands.” + +“Ah, I perceive. So it will, so it will!” + +“You agree with me, then, Poundstone, that the N.C.O. is not designed to +foster the best interests of the community. Of course you do.” + +“Well, I hadn't given the subject very mature thought, Colonel, but +in the light of your observations it would appear that you are quite +right.” + +“Of course I am right. I take it, therefore, that when the N.C.O. +applies for its franchise to run through Sequoia, neither you nor your +city council will consider the proposition at all.” + +“I cannot, of course, speak for the city council--” Poundstone began, +but Pennington's cold, amused smile froze further utterance. + +“Be frank with me, Poundstone. I am not a child. What I would like to +know is this: will you exert every effort to block that franchise in the +firm conviction that by so doing you will accomplish a laudable public +service?” + +Poundstone squirmed. “I should not care, at this time, to go on record,” + he replied evasively. “When I have had time to look into the matter more +thoroughly--” + +“Tut-tut, my dear man! Let us not straddle the fence. Business is a +game, and so is politics. Neither knows any sentiment. Suppose you +should favour this N.C.O. crowd in a mistaken idea that you were doing +the right thing, and that subsequently numberless fellow-citizens +developed the idea that you had not done your public duty? Would some of +them not be likely to invoke a recall election and retire you and your +city council--in disgrace?” + +“I doubt if they could defeat me, Colonel.” + +“I have no such doubt,” Pennington replied pointedly. + +Poundstone looked up at him from under lowered lids. “Is that a threat?” + he demanded tremulously. + +“My dear fellow! Threaten my guest!” Pennington laughed patronizingly. +“I am giving you advice, Poundstone--and rather good advice, it strikes +me. However, while we're on the subject, I have no hesitancy in telling +you that in the event of a disastrous decision on your part, I should +not feel justified in supporting you.” + +He might, with equal frankness, have said: “I would smash you.” To his +guest his meaning was not obscure. Poundstone studied the pattern of +the rug, and Pennington, watching him sharply, saw that the man was +distressed. Then suddenly one of those brilliant inspirations, or +flashes of rare intuition, which had helped so materially to fashion +Pennington into a captain of industry, came to him. He resolved on a +bold stroke. + +“Let's not beat about the bush, Poundstone,” he said with the air of a +father patiently striving to induce his child to recant a lie, tell +the truth, and save himself from the parental wrath. “You've been doing +business with Ogilvy; I know it for a fact, and you might as well admit +it.” + +Poundstone looked up, red and embarrassed. “If I had known--” he began. + +“Certainly, certainly! I realize you acted in perfect good faith. +You're like the majority of people in Sequoia. You're all so crazy for +rail-connection with the outside world that you jump at the first plan +that seems to promise you one. Now, I'm as eager as the others, but if +we are going to have a railroad, I, for one, desire the right kind of +railroad; and the N.C.O. isn't the right kind--that is, not for the +interests I represent. Have you promised Ogilvy a franchise?” + +There was no dodging that question. A denial, under the present +circumstances, would be tantamount to an admission; Poundstone could not +guess just how much the Colonel really knew, and it would not do to lie +to him, since eventually the lie must be discovered. Caught between the +horns of a dilemma, Poundstone only knew that Ogilvy could never be +to him such a powerful enemy as Colonel Seth Pennington; so, after the +fashion of his kind, he chose the lesser of two evils. He resolved to +“come clean.” + +“The city council has already granted the N.C.O. a temporary franchise,” + he confessed. + +Pennington sprang furiously to his feet. “Dammit.” he snarled, “why did +you do that without consulting me?” + +“Didn't know you were remotely interested.” Now that the ice was broken, +Poundstone felt relieved and was prepared to defend his act vigorously. +“And we did not commit ourselves irrevocably,” he continued. “The +temporary franchise will expire in twenty-eight days--and in that short +time the N.C.O. cannot even get started.” + +“Have you any understanding as to an extension of that temporary +franchise, in case the N.C.O. desires it?” + +“Well, yes--not in writing, however. I gave Ogilvy to understand that +if he was not ready in thirty days, an extension could readily be +arranged.” + +“Any witnesses?” + +“I am not such a fool, sir,” Poundstone declared with asperity. “I had a +notion--I might as well admit it--that you would have serious objection +to having your tracks cut by a jump-crossing at B and Water streets.” + And for no reason in life except to justify himself and inculcate in +Pennington an impression that the latter was dealing with a crafty and +far-seeing mayor, Poundstone smiled boldly and knowingly. “I repeat,” + he said, “that I did not put it in writing.” He leaned back nonchalantly +and blew smoke at the ceiling. + +“You oily rascal!” Pennington soliloquized. “You're a smarter man than +I thought. You're trying to play both ends against the middle.” He +recalled the report of his private detective and the incident of +Ogilvy's visit to young Henry Poundstone's office with a small leather +bag; he was more than ever convinced that this bag had contained +the bribe, in gold coin, which had been productive of that temporary +franchise and the verbal understanding for its possible extension. + +“Ogilvy did business with you through your son Henry,” he challenged. +Poundstone started violently. “How much did Henry get out of it?” + Pennington continued brutally. + +“Two hundred and fifty dollars retainer, and not a cent more,” + Poundstone protested virtuously--and truthfully. + +“You're not so good a business man as I gave you credit for being,” the +Colonel retorted mirthfully “Two hundred and fifty dollars! Oh, Lord! +Poundstone, you're funny. Upon my word, you're a scream.” And the +Colonel gave himself up to a sincerely hearty laugh. “You call it a +retainer,” he continued presently, “but a grand jury might call it +something else. However,” he went on after a slight pause, “you're not +in politics for your health; so let's get down to brass tacks. How much +do you want to deny the N.C.O. not only an extension of that temporary +franchise but also a permanent franchise when they apply for it?” + +Poundstone rose with great dignity. “Colonel Pennington, sir,” he said, +“you insult me.” + +“Sit down. You've been insulted that way before now. Shall we say one +thousand dollars per each for your three good councilmen and true, and +for yourself that sedan of my niece's? It's a good car. Last year's +model, but only run about four thousand miles and in tiptop condition. +It's always had the best of care, and I imagine it will please Mrs. P. +immensely and grant you surcease from sorrow. Of course, I will not give +it to you. I'll sell it to you--five hundred down upon the signing of +the agreement, and in lieu of the cash, I will take over that jitney +Mrs. Poundstone finds so distasteful. Then I will employ your son Henry +as the attorney for the Laguna Grande Lumber Company and give him a +retainer of twenty-five hundred dollars for one year. I will leave it to +you to get this twenty-five hundred dollars from Henry and pay my niece +cash for the car. Doesn't that strike you as a perfectly safe and sane +proposition?” + +Had a vista of paradise opened up before Mr. Poundstone, he could not +have been more thrilled. He had been absolutely honest in +his plea to Mrs. Poundstone that he could not afford a +thirty-two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar sedan, much as he longed to oblige +her and gain a greatly to be desired peace. And now the price was +dangling before his eyes, so to speak. At any rate it was parked in the +porte-cochere not fifty feet distant! + +For the space of a minute the Mayor weighed his son's future as a +corporation attorney against his own future as mayor of Sequoia--and +Henry lost. + +“It might be arranged, Colonel,” he murmured in a low voice--the voice +of shame. + +“It is already arranged,” the Colonel replied cheerfully. “Leave your +jit at the front gate and drive home in Shirley's car. I'll arrange +matters with her.” He laughed shortly. “It means, of course, that I'll +have to telegraph to San Francisco to-morrow and buy her a later model. +Thank goodness, she has a birthday to-morrow! Have a fresh cigar, +Mayor.” + +Riding home that night in Shirley Sumner's car Mrs. Poundstone leaned +suddenly toward her husband, threw a fat arm around his neck and kissed +him. “Oh, Henry, you darling!” she purred. “What did I tell you? If a +person only wishes hard enough--” + +“Oh, go to the devil!” he roared angrily. “You've nagged me into it. +Shut up and take your arm away. Do you want me to wreck the car before +we've had it an hour?” + +As for Colonel Pennington, he had little difficulty in explaining +the deal to Shirley, who was sleepy and not at all interested. The +Poundstones had bored her to extinction, and upon her uncle's assurance +that she would have a new car within a week, she thanked him and for the +first time retired without offering her cheek for his good-night +kiss. Shortly thereafter the Colonel sought his own virtuous couch and +prepared to surrender himself to the first good sleep in three weeks. +He laid the flattering unction to his soul that Bryce Cardigan had dealt +him a poor hand from a marked deck and he had played it exceedingly +well. “Lucky I blocked the young beggar from getting those rails out of +the Laurel Creek spur,” he mused, “or he'd have had his jump-crossing +in overnight--and then where the devil would I have been? Up Salt Creek +without a paddle--and all the courts in Christendom would avail me +nothing.” + +He was dozing off, when a sound smote upon his ears. Instantly he was +wide awake, listening intently, his head cocked on one side. The sound +grew louder; evidently it was approaching Sequoia--and with a bound the +Colonel sat up in bed, trembling in every limb. + +Suddenly, out of the deep, rumbling diapason he heard a sharp +click--then another and another. He counted them--six in all. + +“A locomotive and two flat-cars!” he murmured. “And they just passed +over the switch leading from the main-line tracks out to my log-dump. +That means the train is going down Water Street to the switch into +Cardigan's yard. By George, they've outwitted me!” + +With the agility of a boy he sprang into his clothes, raced downstairs, +and leaped into Mayor Poundstone's jitney, standing in the darkness at +the front gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +The success of Bryce Cardigan's plan for getting Ms rails down from +Laurel Creek depended entirely upon the whimsy which might seize +the crew of the big mogul that hauled the last load of logs out of +Cardigan's redwoods on Thursday afternoon. Should the engineer and +fireman decide to leave the locomotive at the logging-camp for the +night, Bryce's task would be as simple as turning a hose down a +squirrel-hole. On the other hand, should they run back to Sequoia with +the engine, he and Ogilvy faced the alternative of “borrowing” it from +the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's roundhouse; and that operation, in +view of the fact that Pennington's night watchman would be certain to +hear the engine leaving, offered difficulties. + +Throughout the afternoon, after having sent his orders in writing to +the woods-boss, via George Sea Otter (for he dared not trust to the +telephone), be waited in his office for a telephone-call from the +logging-camp as to what action the engine-crew had taken. He could +not work; he could not think. He only knew that all depended upon the +success of his coup to-night. Finally, at a quarter of six, Curtis, his +woods-boss rang in. + +“They're staying here all night, sir,” he reported. + +“House them as far from the log-landing as possible, and organize a +poker-game to keep them busy in case they don't go to bed before eight +o'clock,” Bryce ordered. “In the meantime, send a man you can trust--Jim +Harding, who runs the big bull-donkey, will do--down to the locomotive +to keep steam up until I arrive.” + +He had scarcely hung up, when Buck Ogilvy came into the office. “Well?” + he queried casually. + +“Safe-o, Buck!” replied Bryce. “How about your end of the contract?” + +“Crowbars, picks, shovels, hack-saws to cut the rails, lanterns to work +by, and men to do the work will be cached in your lumber-yard by nine +o'clock, waiting for the rails to arrive.” + +Bryce nodded his approval, “Then I suppose there's nothing to do but get +a bite of dinner and proceed to business.” + +Buck insisted on keeping an engagement to dine with Moira, and Bryce +agreed to call for him at the Bon Gusto restaurant. Then Bryce went home +to dine with his father. Old Cardigan was happier than his son had seen +him since the return of the latter to Sequoia. + +“Well, sonny, I've had a mighty pleasant afternoon,” he declared as +Bryce led him to the dinner-table. “I've been up to the Valley of the +Giants.” + +Bryce was amazed. “Why, how could you?” he demanded. “The old skid-road +is impassable, and after you leave the end of the skid-road, the trail +in to Mother's grave is so overgrown with buckthorn and wild lilac I +doubt if a rabbit could get through it comfortably.” + +“Not a bit of it,” the old man replied. “Somebody has gone to work and +planked that old skid-road and put up a hand-railing on each side, while +the trail through the Giants has been grubbed out and smoothed over. All +that old logging-cable I abandoned in those choppings has been strung +from tree to tree alongside the path on both sides. I can go up there +alone now, once George sets me on the old skid-road; I can't get lost.” + +“How did you discover this?” Bryce demanded. + +“Judge Moore, representing the new owner, called round this morning +and took me in tow. He said his client knew the property held for me a +certain sentimental value which wasn't transferred in the deed, and +so the Judge had been instructed to have the skid-road planked and the +forest trail grubbed out--for me. It appears that the Valley is going to +be a public park, after all, but for the present and while I live, it is +my private park.” + +“This is perfectly amazing, partner.” + +“It's mighty comforting,” his father admitted. “Guess the new owner must +be one of my old friends--perhaps somebody I did a favour for once--and +this is his way of repaying. Remember the old sugar-pine windfall we +used to sit on? Well, it's rotted through, and bears have clawed it into +chips in their search for grubs, but the new owner had a seat put in +there for me--just the kind of seat I like--a lumberjack's rocking-chair +made from an old vinegar-barrel. I sat in it, and the Judge left me, +and I did a right smart lot o' thinking. And while it didn't lead me +anywhere, still I--er--” + +“You felt better, didn't you?” his son suggested. + +John Cardigan nodded. “I'd like to know the name of the owner,” he said +presently. “I'd like mighty well to say thank you to him. It isn't usual +for people nowadays to have as much respect for sentiment in an old +duffer like me as the fellow has. He sort of makes me feel as if I +hadn't sold at all.” + +Buck Ogilvy came out of the Bon Gusto restaurant with Moira, just as +Bryce, with George Sea Otter at the wheel of the Napier, drove up to +the curb. They left Moira at her boarding-house, and rolled noiselessly +away. + +At nine o'clock they arrived at Cardigan's log-landing and found Jim +Harding, the bull-donkey engineer, placidly smoking his pipe in the cab. +Bryce hailed him. + +“That you, Jim?” + +“You bet.” + +“Run up to Jabe Curtis's shanty, and tell him we're here. Have him +gather his gang and bring two pairs of overalls and two jumpers--large +size--with him when he comes.” + +Harding vanished into the darkness, and Buck Ogilvy climbed up into the +cab and glanced at the steam-gauge. “A hundred and forty,” he announced. +“Good enough!” + +Presently the woods-boss, accompanied by thirty of his best men, came +down to the log-landing. At Bryce's order they clambered aboard the +engine and tender, hanging on the steps, on the roof of the cab, on the +cowcatcher--anywhere they could find a toe-hold. Harding cast aside the +two old ties which the careful engine-crew had placed across the tracks +in front of the drivers as additional precaution; Buck Ogilvy cut off +the air, and the locomotive and tender began to glide slowly down the +almost imperceptible grade. With a slight click it cleared the switch +and slid out onto the Cardigan lateral, swiftly gathering speed. A +quarter of a mile down the line Buck Ogilvy applied the brakes and eased +her down to twenty miles per hour. + +At the junction with the main line Buck backed briskly up into the +Laguna Grande woods, and coupled to the two loaded flat-cars. The +woods-gang scrambled aboard the flats, and the train pulled out for +Sequoia. Forty minutes later they rumbled down Water Street and slid to +a grinding halt at the intersection of B Street. + +From the darkness of Cardigan's drying-yard, where they had been +waiting, twenty picked men of the mill-crew now emerged, bearing +lanterns and tools. Under Buck Ogilvy's direction the dirt promptly +began to fly, while the woods-crew unloaded the rails and piled them +close to the sidewalk. + +Suddenly a voice, harsh and strident with passion, rose above the thud +of the picks and the clang of metal. + +“Who's in charge here, and what in blazes do you mean by cutting my +tracks?” + +Bryce turned in time to behold Colonel Seth Pennington leap from an +automobile and advance upon Buck Ogilvy. Ogilvy held a lantern up to the +Colonel's face and surveyed Pennington calmly. + +“Colonel,” he began with exasperating politeness, “--I presume you are +Colonel Pennington--my name is Buchanan P. Ogilvy, and I am in charge +of these operations. I am the vice-president and general manager of the +N.C.O., and I am engaged in the blithe task of making a jump-crossing +of your rails. I had hoped to accomplish this without your knowledge +or consent, but now that you are here, that hope, of course, has died +a-bornin'. Have a cigar.” And he thrust a perfecco under the Colonel's +nose. Pennington struck it to the ground, and on the instant, half a +dozen rough rascals emptied their shovels over him. He was deluged with +dirt. + +“Stand back, Colonel, stand back, if you please. You're in the way of +the shovellers,” Buck Ogilvy warned him soothingly. + +Bryce Cardigan came over, and at sight of him Pennington choked with +fury. “You--you--” he sputtered, unable to say more. + +“I'm the N.C.O.,” Bryce replied. “Nice little fiction that of yours +about the switch-engine being laid up in the shops and the Laurel Creek +bridge being unsafe for this big mogul.” He looked Pennington over with +frank admiration. “You're certainly on the job, Colonel. I'll say that +much for you. The man who plans to defeat you must jump far and fast, or +his tail will be trod on.” + +“You've stolen my engine,” Pennington almost screamed. “I'll have the +law on you for grand larceny.” + +“Tut-tut! You don't know who stole your engine. For all you know, your +own engine-crew may have run it down here.” + +“I'll attend to you, sir,” Pennington replied, and he turned to enter +Mayor Poundstone's little flivver. + +“Not to-night, at least,” Bryce retorted gently. “Having gone this far, +I would be a poor general to permit you to escape now with the news of +your discovery. You'd be down here in an hour with a couple of hundred +members of your mill-crew and give us the rush. You will oblige me, +Colonel Pennington, by remaining exactly where you are until I give you +permission to depart.” + +“And if I refuse--” + +“Then I shall manhandle you, truss you up like a fowl in the tonneau of +your car, and gag you.” + +To Bryce's infinite surprise the Colonel smiled. “Oh, very well!” he +replied. “I guess you've got the bulge on me, young man. Do you mind if +I sit in the warm cab of my own engine? I came away in such a hurry I +quite forgot my overcoat.” + +“Not at all. I'll sit up there and keep you company.” + +Half an hour passed. An automobile came slowly up Water Street and +paused half a block away, evidently reconnoitering the situation. +Instantly the Colonel thrust his head out the cab window. + +“Sexton!” he shouted. “Cardigan's cutting in a crossing. He's holding me +here against my will. Get the mill-crew together and phone for Rondeau +and his woods-crew. Send the switch-engine and a couple of flats up for +them. Phone Poundstone. Tell him to have the chief of police--” + +Bryce Cardigan's great hand closed over the Colonel's neck, while +down Water Street a dark streak that was Buck Ogilvy sped toward the +automobile, intending to climb in and make Pennington's manager a +prisoner also. He was too late, however. Sexton swung his car and +departed at full speed down Water Street, leaving the disappointed Buck +to return panting to the scene of operations. + +Bryce Cardigan released his hold on Pennington's neck. “You win, +Colonel,” he announced. “No good can come of holding you here any +longer. Into your car and on your way.” + +“Thank you, young man,” the Colonel answered, and there was a metallic +ring in his voice. He looked at his watch in the glare of a torch. +“Plenty of time,” he murmured. “Curfew shall not ring to-night.” Quite +deliberately he climbed into the Mayor's late source of woe and breezed +away. + +Colonel Pennington did not at once return to his home, however. Instead, +he drove up to the business centre of the town. The streets were +deserted, but one saloon--the Sawdust Pile--was still open. + +Pennington strode through the bar and into the back room, where a +number of poker-games were in progress. For a moment he stood, his cold, +ophidian glance circling the room until it came to rest on no less a +personage than the Black Minorca, an individual with whom the reader has +already had some slight acquaintance. It will be recalled that the +Black Minorca led the futile rush against Bryce Cardigan that day in +Pennington's woods. + +The Colonel approached the table where the Black Minorca sat thumbing +the edges of his cards, and touched the cholo on the shoulder. The Black +Minorca turned, and Pennington nodded to him to follow; whereupon the +latter cashed in his chips and joined his employer on the sidewalk. Here +a whispered conversation ensued, and at its conclusion the Black Minorca +nodded vigorously. + +“Sure!” he assured the Colonel. “I'll fix 'em good and plenty.” + +Together Pennington and the Black Minorca entered the automobile and +proceeded swiftly to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's mill-office. +From a locker the Colonel produced a repeating rifle and three boxes of +cartridges, which he handed to the cholo, who departed without further +ado into the night. + +Twenty minutes later, from the top of a lumber-pile in Cardigan's +drying-yard, Bryce Cardigan saw the flash of a rifle and felt a sudden +sting on his left forearm. He leaped around in front of the cowcatcher +to gain the shelter of the engine, and another bullet struck at his feet +and ricocheted off into the night. It was followed by a fusillade, the +bullets kicking up the freshly disturbed earth among the workers and +sending them scurrying to various points of safety. In an instant the +crossing was deserted, and work had been stopped, while from the top of +the adjacent lumber-pile the Black Minorca poured a stream of lead +and filthy invective at every point which he suspected of harbouring a +Cardigan follower. + +“I don't think he's hurt anybody,” Buck Ogilvy whispered as he crouched +with Bryce beside the engine, “but that's due to his marksmanship rather +than his intentions.” + +“He tried hard enough to plug me,” Bryce declared, and showed the hole +through his sleeve. “They call him the Black Minorca, and he's a mongrel +greaser who'd kill his own mother for a fifty-dollar bill.” + +“I'd like to plug him,” Buck murmured regretfully. + +“What would be the use? This will be his last night in Humboldt +County--” + +A rifle shot rang out from the side of B Street; from the lumber-pile +across the street, Bryce and Ogilvy heard a suppressed grunt of pain, +and a crash as of a breaking board. Instantly out of the shadows George +Sea Otter came padding on velvet feet, rifle in hand--and then Bryce +understood. + +“All right, boss,” said George simply as he joined Bryce and Ogilvy +under the lee of the locomotive. “Now we get busy again.” + +“Safe-o, men,” Ogilvy called. “Back to the job.” And while Bryce, +followed by the careless George Sea Otter, went into the lumber-yard to +succour the enemy, Ogilvy set an example to the men by stepping into the +open and starting briskly to work with a shovel. + +At the bottom of the pile of lumber the Black Minorca was discovered +with a severe flesh-wound in his right hip; also he was suffering from +numerous bruises and contusions. George Sea Otter possessed himself of +the fallen cholo's rifle, while Bryce picked the wretch up and carried +him to his automobile. + +“Take the swine over to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's hospital and +tell them to patch him up,” he ordered George Sea Otter. “I'll keep both +rifles and the ammunition here for Jules Rondeau and his woods-gang. +They'll probably be dropping in on us about two a.m., if I know anything +about Colonel Pennington's way of doing things.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Having dispatched the Black Minorca to hold up the work until the +arrival of reinforcements, Colonel Pennington fairly burned the streets +en route to his home. He realized that there would be no more sleep +for him that night, and he was desirous of getting into a heavy ulster +before venturing forth again into the night air. + +The violent slam with which he closed the front door after him brought +Shirley, in dressing-gown and slippers, to the staircase. + +“Uncle Seth!” she called. + +“Here!” he replied from the hall below. + +“What's the matter?” + +“There's the devil to pay,” he answered. “That fellow Cardigan is back +of the N.C.O., after all, and he and Ogilvy have a gang of fifty +men down at the intersection of Water and B streets, cutting in a +jump-crossing of our line.” + +He dashed into the living room, and she heard him calling frantically +into the telephone. + +“At last!” she murmured, and crept down the stairs, pausing behind the +heavy portieres at the entrance to the living room. + +“That you, Poundstone?” she heard him saying rapidly into the +transmitter. “Pennington speaking. Young Bryce Cardigan is behind that +N.C.O. outfit, and it's a logging-road and not intended to build through +to Grant's Pass at all. Cardigan and Ogilvy are at Water and B streets +this very instant with a gang of fifty men cutting in a jump-crossing of +my line, curse them! They'll have it in by six o'clock to-morrow morning +if something isn't done--and once they get it in, the fat's in the fire. + +“Telephone the chief of police and order him to take his entire force +down there, if necessary, and stop that work. To blazes with that +temporary franchise! You stop that work for two hours, and I'll do +the rest. Tell the chief of police not to recognize that temporary +franchise. He can be suspicious of it, can't he, and refuse to let +the work go on until he finds you? And you can be hard to find for two +hours, can you not? Delay, delay, man! That's all I want... Yes, yes, +I understand. You get down about daylight and roast the chief of police +for interfering, but in the meantime!... Thank you, Poundstone, thank +you. Good-bye.” + +He stood at the telephone, the receiver still held to his ear and his +right forefinger holding down the hook while the line cleared. When +he spoke again, Shirley knew he was calling his mill-office. He got a +response immediately, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. + +“Sexton? Pennington speaking. I've sent over the Black Minorca with a +rifle and sixty rounds of ammunition... What? You can hear him shooting +already? Bully boy with a crockery eye! He'll clean that gang out +and keep them from working until the police arrive. You've telephoned +Rondeau, have you?... Good! He'll have his men waiting at the +log-landing, and there'll be no delay. As soon as you've seen the +switch-engine started for the woods, meet me down at Water and B +streets. Sexton, we've got to block them. It means a loss of millions to +me if we fail!” + +Shirley was standing in the doorway as he faced about from the +telephone. “Uncle Seth,” she said quietly, “use any honourable method of +defeating Bryce Cardigan, but call off the Black Minorca. I shall hold +you personally responsible for Bryce Cardigan's life, and if you fail +me, I shall never forgive you.” + +“Silly, silly girl!” he soothed her. “Don't you know I would not stoop +to bush-whacking? There's some shooting going on, but its wild shooting, +just to frighten Cardigan and his men off the job.” + +“You can't frighten him,” she cried passionately, “You know you can't. +He'll kill the Black Minorca, or the Black Minorca will kill him. Go +instantly and stop it.” + +“All right, all right!” he said rather humbly, and sprang down the front +steps into the waiting car. “I'll play the game fairly, Shirley, never +fear.” + +She stood in the doorway and watched the red tail-light, like a +malevolent eye, disappear down the street. And presently as she stood +there, down the boulevard a huge gray car came slipping noiselessly--so +noiselessly, in fact, that Shirley recognized it by that very quality of +silence. It was Bryce Cardigan's Napier. + +“George!” she called. “Come here.” + +The car slid over to the gate and stopped at the sight of the slim white +figure running down the garden walk. + +“Is Mr. Cardigan hurt?” she demanded in an agony of suspense. + +George Sea Otter grunted contemptuously. “Nobody hurt 'cept the Black +Minorca. I am taking him to your company hospital, miss. He tried to +shoot my boss, so I shoot him myself once through the leg. Now my boss +says: 'Take him to the Laguna Grande hospital, George.' Me, I would drop +this greaser in the bay if I was the boss.” + +She laughed hysterically. “On your way back from the hospital stop and +pick me up, George,” she ordered. “This senseless feud has gone far +enough. I must stop it--at once.” + +He touched his broad hat, and she returned to the house to dress. + +Meanwhile Colonel Pennington had reached the crossing once more, +simultaneously with the arrival of Sam Perkins, the chief of police, +accompanied by two automobiles crammed with patrolmen. Perkins strutted +up to Bryce Cardigan and Buck Ogilvy. + +“What's the meaning of all this row, Mr. Cardigan?” he demanded. + +“Something has slipped, Sam,” Bryce retorted pleasantly. “You've been +calling me Bryce for the past twenty years, and now you're mistering me! +The meaning of this row, you ask?” Bryce continued. “Well, I'm engaged +in making a jump-crossing of Colonel Pennington's tracks, under a +temporary franchise granted me by the city of Sequoia. Here's the +franchise.” And he thrust the document under the police chief's nose. + +“This is the first I've heard about any franchise,” Sam Perkins replied +suspiciously. “Seems to me you been mighty secret about this job. How do +I know this ain't a forgery?” + +“Call up the mayor and ask him,” Bryce suggested. + +“I'll do that,” quoth Mr. Perkins ponderously. “And in the meantime, +don't do any more digging or rail-cutting.” He hurried away to his +automobile, leaving a lieutenant in charge of the squad. + +“Also in the meantime, young man,” Colonel Pennington announced, “you +will pardon me if I take possession of my locomotive and flat-cars. I +observe you have finished unloading those rails.” + +“Help yourself, Colonel,” Bryce replied with an assumption of heartiness +he was far from feeling. + +“Thank you so much, Cardigan.” With the greatest good nature in life, +Pennington climbed into the cab, reached for the bell-cord, and rang +the bell vigorously. Then he permitted himself a triumphant toot of +the whistle, after which he threw off the air and gently opened the +throttle. He was not a locomotive-engineer but he had ridden in the +cab of his own locomotive and felt quite confident of his ability in a +pinch. + +With a creak and a bump the train started, and the Colonel ran it slowly +up until the locomotive stood on the tracks exactly where Buck Ogilvy +had been cutting in his crossing; whereupon the Colonel locked the +brakes, opened his exhaust, and blew the boiler down. And when the last +ounce of steam had escaped, he descended and smilingly accosted Bryce +Cardigan. + +“That engine being my property,” he announced, “I'll take the short end +of any bet you care to make, young man, that it will sit on those tracks +until your temporary franchise expires. I'd give a good deal to see +anybody not in my employ attempt to get up steam in that boiler until I +give the word. Cut in your jump-crossing now, if you can, you whelp, and +be damned to you. I've got you blocked!” + +“I rather imagine this nice gentleman has it on us, old dear,” chirped +Buck Ogilvy plaintively. “Well! We did our damndest, which angels +can't do no more. Let us gather up our tools and go home, my son, for +something tells me that if I hang around here I'll bust one of two +things--this sleek scoundrel's gray head or one of my bellicose veins! +Hello! Whom have we here?” + +Bryce turned and found himself facing Shirley Sumner. Her tender lip was +quivering, and the tears shone in her eyes like stars. He stared at her +in silence. + +“My friend,” she murmured tremulously, “didn't I tell you I would not +permit you to build the N.C.O.?” + +He bowed his head in rage and shame at his defeat. Buck Ogilvy took him +by the arm. “''Tis midnight's holy hour,'” he quoted, “'and silence +now is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er a still and pulseless world.' +Bryce, old chap, this is one of those occasions where silence is golden. +Speak not. I'll do it for you. Miss Sumner,” he continued, bowing +graciously, “and Colonel Pennington,” favouring that triumphant rascal +with an equally gracious bow, “we leave you in possession of the +field--temporarily. However, if anybody should drive up in a hack and +lean out and ask you, just tell him Buck Ogilvy has another trump tucked +away in his kimono.” + +Bryce turned to go, but with a sudden impulse Shirley laid her hand on +his arm--his left arm. “Bryce!” she murmured. + +He lifted her hand gently from his forearm, led her to the front of +the locomotive, and held her hand up to the headlight. Her fingers were +crimson with blood. + +“Your uncle's killer did that, Shirley,” he said ironically. “It's only +a slight flesh-wound, but that is no fault of your allies. Good-night.” + +And he left her standing, pale of face and trembling, in the white glare +of the headlight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Shirley made no effort to detain Bryce Cardigan as he walked to his car +and climbed into it. Ogilvy remained merely long enough to give orders +to the foreman to gather up the tools, store them in the machine-shop +of Cardigan's mill, and dismiss his gang; then he, too, entered the +automobile, and at a word from Bryce, the car slid noiselessly away into +the darkness. The track-cutting crew departed a few minutes later, and +when Shirley found herself alone with her uncle, the tumult in her heart +gave way to the tears she could no longer repress. Pennington stood by, +watching her curiously, coldly. + +Presently Shirley mastered her emotion and glanced toward him. + +“Well, my dear?” he queried nervously. + +“I--I think I had better go home,” she said without spirit. + +“I think so, too,” he answered. “Get into the Mayor's flivver, my dear, +and I'll drive you. And perhaps the least said about this affair the +better, Shirley. There are many things that you do not understand and +which cannot be elucidated by discussion.” + +“I can understand an attempt at assassination, Uncle Seth.” + +“That blackguard Minorca! I should have known better than to put him on +such a job. I told him to bluff and threaten; Cardigan, I knew, would +realize the grudge the Black Minorca has against him, and for that +reason I figured the greaser was the only man who could bluff him. While +I gave him orders to shoot, I told him distinctly not to hit anybody. +Good Lord, Shirley, surely you do not think I would wink at a murder!” + +“I do,” she answered passionately. “With Bryce Cardigan out of the way, +you would have a clear field before you--” + +“Oh, my dear, my dear! Surely you do not realize what you are saying. +You are beside yourself, Shirley. Please--please do not wound me so--so +horribly. You do not--you cannot realize what a desperate fight I have +been putting up for both our sakes. I am surrounded by enemies--the most +implacable enemies. They force me to fight the devil with fire--and here +you are, giving them aid and comfort.” + +“I want you to defeat Bryce Cardigan, if you can do it fairly.” + +“At another time and in a calmer mood we will discuss that villain,” + he said authoritatively. “If we argue the matter now, we are liable to +misunderstandings; we may quarrel, and that is something neither of us +can afford. Get into the car, and we will go home. There is nothing more +to be done to-night.” + +“Your sophistry does not alter my opinion,” she replied firmly. +“However, as you say, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss +it.” + +They drove home in silence. Shirley went at once to her room. For the +Colonel, however, the night's work had scarcely begun. The instant he +heard the door to his niece's room shut, he went to the telephone and +called up the Laguna Grande roundhouse. Sexton, his manager, answered. + +“Have you sent the switch-engine to the woods for Rondeau and his men?” + +“Just left.” + +“Good! Now, then, Sexton, listen to me: As you know, this raid of +Cardigan's has developed so suddenly I am more or less taken by surprise +and have had no time to prepare the kind of counter-attack that will be +most effective. However, with the crossing blocked, I gain time in which +to organize--only there must be no weak point in my organization. In +order to insure that, I am proceeding to San Francisco to-night by +motor, via the coast road. I will arrive late to-morrow night, and early +Saturday morning I will appear in the United States District Court with +our attorneys and file a complaint and petition for an order temporarily +restraining the N.C.O. from cutting our tracks. + +“I will have to make an affidavit to support the complaint, so I had +better be Johnny-on-the-spot to do it, rather than risk the delay of +making the affidavit tomorrow morning here and forwarding it by mail to +our attorneys. The judge will sign a restraining order, returnable in +from ten to thirty days--I'll try for thirty, because that will knock +out the N.C.O.'s temporary franchise--and after I have obtained the +restraining order, I will have the United States marshal telegraph it to +Ogilvy and Cardigan!” + +“Bully!” cried Sexton heartily. “That will fix their clock.” + +“In the meantime,” Pennington continued, “logs will be glutting our +landings. We need that locomotive for its legitimate purposes. Take all +that discarded machinery and the old boiler we removed from the mill +last fall, dump it on the tracks at the crossing, and get the locomotive +back on its run. Understand? The other side, having no means of removing +these heavy obstructions, will be blocked until I return; by that time +the matter will be in the District Court, Cardigan will be hung up until +his temporary franchise expires--and the city council will not renew it. +Get me?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I'll be back Sunday forenoon. Good-bye.” + +He hung up, went to his chauffeur's quarters over the garage, and routed +the man out of bed. Then he returned quietly to his room, dressed and +packed a bag for his journey, left a brief note for Shirley notifying +her of his departure, and started on his two-hundred-and-fifty mile +trip over the mountains to the south. As his car sped through sleeping +Sequoia and gained the open country, the Colonel's heart thrilled +pleasurably. He held cards and spades, big and little casino, four +aces and the joker; therefore he knew he could sweep the board at his +pleasure. And during his absence Shirley would have opportunity to +cool off, while he would find time to formulate an argument to lull her +suspicions upon his return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +Quite oblivious of her uncle's departure for San Francisco, Shirley lay +awake throughout the remainder of the night, turning over and over in +her mind the various aspects of the Cardigan-Fennington imbroglio. Of +one thing she was quite certain; peace must be declared at all hazards. +She had been obsessed of a desire, rather unusual in her sex, to see a +fight worth while; she had planned to permit it to go to a knockout, to +use Bryce Cardigan's language, because she believed Bryce Cardigan would +be vanquished--and she had desired to see him smashed--but not beyond +repair, for her joy in the conflict was to lie in the task of putting +the pieces together afterward! She realized now, however, that she +had permitted matters to go too far. A revulsion of feeling toward her +uncle, induced by the memory of Bryce Cardigan's blood on her white +finger-tips, convinced the girl that, at all hazards to her financial +future, henceforth she and her uncle must tread separate paths. She had +found him out at last, and because in her nature there was some of his +own fixity of purpose, the resolution cost her no particular pang. + +It was rather a relief, therefore, when the imperturbable James handed +her at breakfast the following note: + +Shirley, Dear + +After leaving you last night, I decided that in your present frame +of mind my absence for a few days might tend to a calmer and clearer +perception, on your part, of the necessary tactics which in a moment of +desperation, I saw fit, with regret, to pursue last night. And in the +hope that you will have attained your old attitude toward me before +my return, I am leaving in the motor for San Francisco. Your terrible +accusation has grieved me to such an extent that I do not feel equal to +the task of confronting you until, in a more judicial frame of mind, +you can truly absolve me of the charge of wishing to do away with young +Cardigan. Your affectionate Uncle Seth. + +Shirley's lip curled. With a rarer, keener intuition than she had +hitherto manifested, she sensed the hypocrisy between the lines; she was +not deceived. + +“He has gone to San Francisco for more ammunition,” she soliloquized. +“Very well, Unkie-dunk! While you're away, I shall manufacture a few +bombs myself.” + +After breakfast she left the house and walked to the intersection of B +with Water Street. Jules Rondeau and his crew of lumberjacks were there, +and with two policemen guarded the crossing. + +Rondeau glanced at Shirley, surprised, then lifted his hat. Shirley +looked from the woods bully to the locomotive and back to Rondeau. + +“Rondeau,” she said, “Mr. Cardigan is a bad man to fight. You fought him +once. Are you going to do it again?” + +He nodded. + +“By whose orders?” + +“Mr. Sexton, he tell me to do it.” + +“Well, Rondeau, some day I'll be boss of Laguna Grande and there'll +be no more fighting,” she replied, and passed on down B Street to the +office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. Moira McTavish looked up +as she entered. + +“Where is he, dear?” Shirley asked. “I must see him.” + +“In that office, Miss Shirley,” Moira replied, and pointed to the door. +Shirley stepped to the door, knocked, and then entered. Bryce Cardigan, +seated at his desk, looked up as she came in. His left arm was in a +sling, and he looked harassed and dejected. + +“Don't get up, Bryce,” she said as he attempted to rise. “I know you're +quite exhausted. You look it.” She sat down. “I'm so sorry,” she said +softly. + +His dull glance brightened. “It doesn't amount to that, Shirley.” And he +snapped his fingers. “It throbs a little and it's stiff and sore, so I +carry it in the sling. That helps a little. What did you want to see me +about?” + +“I wanted to tell you,” said Shirley, “that--that last night's affair +was not of my making.” He smiled compassionately. “I--I couldn't bear to +have you think I'd break my word and tell him.” + +“It never occurred to me that you had dealt me a hand from the bottom of +the deck, Shirley. Please don't worry about it. Your uncle has had two +private detectives watching Ogilvy and me.” + +“Oh!” she breathed, much relieved. A ghost of the old bantering smile +lighted her winsome features. “Well, then,” she challenged, “I suppose +you don't hate me.” + +“On the contrary, I love you,” he answered. “However, since you must +have known this for some time past, I suppose it is superfluous to +mention it. Moreover, I haven't the right--yet.” + +She had cast her eyes down modestly. She raised them now and looked at +him searchingly. “I suppose you'll acknowledge yourself whipped at last, +Bryce?” she ventured. + +“Would it please you to have me surrender?” He was very serious. + +“Indeed it would, Bryce.” + +“Why?” + +“Because I'm tired of fighting. I want peace. I'm--I'm afraid to let +this matter go any further. I'm truly afraid.” + +“I think I want peace, too,” he answered wearily. “I'd be glad to +quit--with honour. And I'll do it, too, if you can induce your uncle to +give me the kind of logging contract I want with his road.” + +“I couldn't do that, Bryce. He has you whipped--and he is not merciful +to the fallen. You'll have to--surrender unconditionally.” Again she +laid her little hand timidly on his wounded forearm. “Please give up, +Bryce--for my sake. If you persist, somebody will get killed.” + +“I suppose I'll have to,” he murmured sadly. “I dare say you're +right, though one should never admit defeat until he is counted out. +I suppose,” he continued bitterly, “your uncle is in high feather this +morning.” + +“I don't know, Bryce. He left in his motor for San Francisco about one +o'clock this morning.” + +For an instant Bryce Cardigan stared at her; then a slow, mocking little +smile crept around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes lighted with +mirth. + +“Glorious news, my dear Shirley, perfectly glorious! So the old fox has +gone to San Francisco, eh? Left in a hurry and via the overland route! +Couldn't wait for the regular passenger-steamer to-morrow, eh? Great +jumping Jehoshaphat! He must have had important business to attend to.” + And Bryce commenced to chuckle. “Oh, the poor old Colonel,” he continued +presently, “the dear old pirate! What a horrible right swing he's +running into! And you want me to acknowledge defeat! My dear girl, in +the language of the classic, there is nothing doing. I shall put in my +crossing Sunday morning, and if you don't believe it, drop around and +see me in action.” + +“You mustn't try,” protested Shirley. “Rondeau is there with his +crew--and he has orders to stop you. Besides, you can't expect help from +the police. Uncle Seth has made a deal with the Mayor,” Shirley pleaded +frantically. + +“That for the police and that venal Mayor Poundstone!” Bryce retorted, +with another snap of his fingers. “I'll rid the city of them at the fall +election.” + +“I came prepared to suggest a compromise, Bryce,” she declared, but he +interrupted her with a wave of his hand. + +“You can't effect a compromise. You've been telling me I shall never +build the N.C.O. because you will not permit me to. You're powerless, I +tell you. I shall build it.” + +“You shan't!” she fired back at him, and a spot of anger glowed in each +cheek. “You're the most stubborn and belligerent man I have ever known. +Sometimes I almost hate you.” + +“Come around at ten to-morrow morning and watch me put in the +crossing--watch me give Rondeau and his gang the run.” He reached over +suddenly, lifted her hand, and kissed it. “How I love you, dear little +antagonist!” he murmured. + +“If you loved me, you wouldn't oppose me,” she protested softly. “I tell +you again, Bryce, you make it very hard for me to be friendly with you.” + +“I don't want to be friendly with you. You're driving me crazy, +Shirley. Please run along home, or wherever you're bound. I've tried to +understand your peculiar code, but you're too deep for me; so let me go +my way to the devil. George Sea Otter is outside asleep in the tonneau +of the car. Tell him to drive you wherever you're going. I suppose +you're afoot to-day, for I noticed the Mayor riding to his office in +your sedan this morning.” + +She tried to look outraged, but for the life of her she could not +take offense at his bluntness; neither did she resent a look which she +detected in his eyes, even though it told her he was laughing at her. + +“Oh, very well,” she replied with what dignity she could muster. “Have +it your own way. I've tried to warn you. Thank you for your offer of +the car. I shall be glad to use it. Uncle Seth sold my car to Mayor +Poundstone last night. Mrs. P. admired it so!” + +“Ah! Then it was that rascally Poundstone who told your uncle about the +temporary franchise, thus arousing his suspicions to such an extent that +when he heard his locomotive rumbling into town, he smelled a rat and +hurried down to the crossing?” + +“Possibly. The Poundstones dined at our house last night.” + +“Pretty hard on you, I should say. But then I suppose you have to play +the game with Uncle Seth. Well, good morning, Shirley. Sorry to hurry +you away, but you must remember we're on a strictly business basis--yet; +and you mustn't waste my time.” + +“You're horrid, Bryce Cardigan.” + +“You're adorable. Good morning.” + +“You'll be sorry for this,” she warned him. “Good morning.” She passed +out into the general office, visited with Moira about five minutes, and +drove away in the Napier. Bryce watched her through the window. She +knew he was watching her, but nevertheless she could not forbear turning +round to verify her suspicions. When she did, he waved his sound arm at +her, and she flushed with vexation. + +“God bless her!” he murmured. “She's been my ally all along, and I never +suspected it! I wonder what her game can be.” + +He sat musing for a long time. “Yes,” he concluded presently, “old +Poundstone has double-crossed us--and Pennington made it worth his +while. And the Colonel sold the Mayor his niece's automobile. It's +worth twenty-five hundred dollars, at least, and since old Poundstone's +finances will not permit such an extravagance, I'm wondering how +Pennington expects him to pay for it. I smell a rat as big as a +kangaroo. In this case two and two don't make four. They make six! Guess +I'll build a fire under old Poundstone.” + +He took down the telephone-receiver and called up the Mayor. “Bryce +Cardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone,” he greeted the chief executive of +Sequoia. + +“Oh, hello, Bryce, my boy,” Poundstone boomed affably. “How's tricks?” + +“So-so! I hear you've bought that sedan from Colonel Pennington's niece. +Wish I'd known it was for sale. I'd have outbid you. Want to make a +profit on your bargain?” + +“No, not this morning, Bryce. I think we'll keep it. Mrs. P. has been +wanting a closed car for a long time, and when the Colonel offered me +this one at a bargain, I snapped it up. Couldn't afford a new one, you +know, but then this one's just as good as new.” + +“And you don't care to get rid of it at a profit?” Bryce repeated. + +“No, sirree!” + +“Oh, you're mistaken, Mr. Mayor. I think you do. I would suggest that +you take that car back to Pennington's garage and leave it there. That +would be the most profitable thing you could do.” + +“Wha--what--what in blue blazes are you driving at?” the Mayor +sputtered. + +“I wouldn't care to discuss it over the telephone. I take it, however, +that a hint to the wise is sufficient; and I warn you, Mayor, that if +you keep that car it will bring you bad luck. To-day is Friday, and +Friday is an unlucky day. I'd get rid of that sedan before noon if I +were you.” + +There was a long, fateful silence. Then in a singularly small, quavering +voice: “You think it best, Cardigan?” + +“I do. Return it to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, and no questions will be +asked. Good-bye!” + +When Shirley reached home at noon, she found her car parked in front of +the porte cochere; and a brief note, left with the butler, informed her +that after thinking the matter over, Mrs. Poundstone had decided the +Poundstone family could not afford such an extravagance, and accordingly +the car was returned with many thanks for the opportunity to purchase it +at such a ridiculously low figure. Shirley smiled, and put the car up in +the garage. When she returned to the house her maid Thelma informed her +that Mr. Bryce Cardigan had been calling her on the telephone. So she +called Bryce up at once. + +“Has Poundstone returned your car?” he queried. + +“Why, yes. What makes you ask?” + +“Oh, I had a suspicion he might. You see, I called him up and suggested +it; somehow His Honour is peculiarly susceptible to suggestions from me, +and--” + +“Bryce Cardigan,” she declared, “you're a sly rascal--that's what you +are. I shan't tell you another thing.” + +“I hope you had a stenographer at the dictograph when the Mayor and your +uncle cooked up their little deal,” he continued. “That was thoughtful +of you, Shirley. It was a bully club to have up your sleeve at the final +show-down, for with it you can make Unkie-dunk behave himself and force +that compromise you spoke of. Seriously, however, I don't want you to +use it, Shirley. We must avoid a scandal by all means; and praise be, +I don't need your club to beat your uncle's brains out. I'm taking HIS +club away from him to use for that purpose.” + +“Really, I believe you're happy to-day.” + +“Happy? I should tell a man! If the streets of Sequoia were paved with +eggs, I could walk them all day without making an omelette.” + +“It must be nice to feel so happy, after so many months of the blues.” + +“Indeed it is, Shirley. You see until very recently I was very much +worried as to your attitude toward me. I couldn't believe you'd so far +forget yourself as to love me in spite of everything--so I never took +the trouble to ask you. And now I don't have to ask you. I know! And +I'll be around to see you after I get that crossing in!” + +“You're perfectly horrid,” she blazed, and hung up without the formality +of saying good-bye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Shortly after Shirley's departure from his office, Bryce had a visit +from Buck Ogilvy. The latter wore a neatly pressed suit of Shepherd +plaid, with a white carnation in his lapel, and he was, apparently, the +most light-hearted young man in Humboldt County. He struck an attitude +and demanded: + +“Boss, what do you think of my new suit?” + +“You lunatic! Don't you know red blonds should never wear light shades? +You're dressed like a Negro minstrel.” + +“Well, I feel as happy as an end-man. And by the way, you're all chirked +up yourself. Who's been helping you to the elixir of life. When +we parted last night, you were forty fathoms deep in the slough of +despond.” + +“No less a divinity than Miss Shirley Sumner! She called this morning +to explain that last night's fiasco was none of her making, and quite +innocently she imparted the information that old Pennington lighted out +for San Francisco at one o'clock this morning. Wherefore I laugh. Te-he! +Ha-hah!” + +“Three long, loud raucous cheers for Uncle. He's gone to rush a +restraining order through the United States District Court. Wonder why +he didn't wire his attorneys to attend to the matter for him.” + +“He has the crossing blocked, and inasmuch as the Mayor feeds out of +Pennington's hand, the Colonel is quite confident that said crossing +will remain blocked, As for the restraining order--well, if one wants a +thing well done, one should do it oneself.” + +“All that doesn't explain your cheerful attitude, though.” + +“Oh, but it does. I've told you about old Duncan McTavish, Moira's +father, haven't I?” Ogilvy nodded, and Bryce continued: “When I fired +the old scoundrel for boozing, it almost broke his heart; he had to +leave Humboldt, where everybody knew him, so he wandered down into +Mendocino County and got a job sticking lumber in the drying-yard of +the Willits Lumber Company. He's been there two months now, and I am +informed by his employer that old Mac hasn't taken a drink in all that +time. And what's more, he isn't going to take one again.” + +“How do you know?” + +“Because I make it my business to find out. Mac was the finest +woods-boss this county ever knew; hence you do not assume that I would +lose the old scoundrel without making a fight for him, do you? Why, +Buck, he's been on the Cardigan pay-roll thirty years, and I only fired +him in order to reform him. Well, last week I sent one of Mac's old +friends down to Willits purposely to call on him and invite him out +'for a time'; but Mac wouldn't drink with him. No, sir, he couldn't be +tempted. On the contrary, he told the tempter that I had promised to +give him back his job if he remained on the water wagon for one year; he +was resolved to win back his job and his self-respect.” + +“I know what your plan is,” Ogilvy interrupted. “You're going to ask +Duncan McTavish to waylay Pennington on the road at some point where it +runs through the timber, kidnap him, and hold him until we have had time +to clear the crossing and cut Pennington's tracks. + +“We will do nothing of the sort,” Buck continued seriously. “Listen, +now, to Father's words of wisdom. This railroad-game is an old one +to me; I've fought at crossings before now, and whether successful or +defeated, I have always learned something in battle. Didn't you hear me +tell that girl and her villainous avuncular relative last night that I +had another ace up my kimono?” + +Bryce nodded. + +“That was not brag, old dear. I had the ace, and this morning I +played it--wherefore in my heart there is that peace that passeth +understanding--particularly since I have just had a telegram informing +me that my ace took the odd trick.” + +He opened a drawer in Bryce's desk and reached for the cigars he knew +were there. + +“Not at all a bad cigar for ten cents. However--you will recall that +from the very instant we decided to cut in that jump-crossing, we +commenced to plan against interference by Pennington; in consequence we +kept, or tried to keep, our decision a secret. However, there existed at +all times the possibility that Pennington might discover our benevolent +intentions and block us with his only weapon--a restraining order issued +by the judge of the United States District Court. + +“Now, one of the most delightful things I know about a court is that it +is open to all men seeking justice--or injustice disguised as justice. +Also there is a wise old saw to the effect that battles are won by the +fellow who gets there first with the most men. The situation from the +start was absurdly simple. If Pennington got to the District Court +first, we were lost!” + +“You mean you got there first?” exclaimed Bryce. + +“I did--by the very simple method of preparing to get there first in +case anything slipped. Something did slip--last night! However, I was +ready; so all I had to do was press the button, for as Omar Khayyam +remarked: 'What shall it avail a man if he buyeth a padlock for his +stable after his favourite stallion hath been lifted?' Several days +ago, my boy, I wrote a long letter to our attorney in San Francisco +explaining every detail of our predicament; the instant I received that +temporary franchise from the city council, I mailed a certified copy +of it to our attorney also. Then, in anticipation of our discovery +by Pennington, I instructed the attorney to prepare the complaint and +petition for a restraining order against Seth Pennington et al. and +stand by to rush the judge with it the instant he heard from me! + +“Well, about the time old Pennington started for San Francisco this +morning, I had our attorney out of bed and on the long-distance +telephone; at nine o'clock this morning he appeared in the United States +District Court; at nine-fifteen the judge signed a restraining order +forbidding our enemies to interfere with us in the exercise of a right +legally granted us by the city of Sequoia, and at nine-thirty a deputy +United States marshal started in an automobile for Sequoia, via the +overland route. He will arrive late to-morrow night, and on Sunday we +will get that locomotive out of our way and install our crossing.” + +“And Pennington--” + +“Ah, the poor Pennington! Mon pauvre Seth!” Buck sighed comically. “He +will be just twenty-four hours late.” + +“You old he-fox!” Bryce murmured. “You wicked, wicked man!” + +Buck Ogilvy lifted his lapel and sniffed luxuriously at his white +carnation, the while a thin little smile played around the corners of +his humorous mouth. “Ah,” he murmured presently, “life's pretty sweet, +isn't it!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Events followed each other with refreshing rapidity. While the crew of +the big locomotive on the crossing busied themselves getting up steam, +Sexton and Jules Rondeau toiled at the loading of the discarded boiler +and heavy castings aboard two flat-cars. By utilizing the steel derrick +on the company's wrecking-car, this task was completed by noon, and +after luncheon the mogul backed up the main line past the switch into +the Laguna Grande yards; whereupon the switch-engine kicked the two +flat-cars and the wrecking-car out of the yard and down to the crossing, +where the obstructions were promptly unloaded. The police watched +the operation with alert interest but forebore to interfere in this +high-handed closing of a public thoroughfare. + +To Sexton's annoyance and secret apprehension, Bryce Cardigan and Buck +Ogilvy promptly appeared on the scene, both very cheerful and lavish +with expert advice as to the best method of expediting the job in hand. +To Bryce's surprise Jules Rondeau appeared to take secret enjoyment of +this good-natured chaffing of the Laguna Grande manager. Occasionally +he eyed Bryce curiously but without animus, and presently he flashed the +latter a lightning wink, as if to say: “What a fool Sexton is to oppose +you!” + +“Well, Rondeau,” Bryce hailed the woods-boss cheerfully, “I see you have +quite recovered from that working over I gave you some time ago. No hard +feelings, I trust. I shouldn't care to have that job to do over again. +You're a tough one.” + +“By gar, she don' pay for have hard feelings wiz you, M'sieur,” Rondeau +answered bluntly. “We have one fine fight, but”--he shrugged--“I don' +want some more.” + +“Yes, by gar, an' she don' pay for cut other people's trees, M'sieur,” + Bryce mimicked him. “I shouldn't wonder if I took the value of that tree +out of your hide.” + +“I t'enk so, M'sieur.” He approached Bryce and lowered his voice. “For +one month I am no good all ze tam. We don' fight some more, M'sieur. And +I have feel ashame' for dose Black Minorca feller. Always wiz him eet +is ze knife or ze club--and now eet is ze rifle. COCHON! W'en I fight, I +fight wiz what le bon Dieu give me.” + +“You appear to have a certain code, after all,” Bryce laughed. “I am +inclined to like you for it. You're sporty in your way, you tremendous +scoundrel!” + +“Mebbeso,” Rondeau suggested hopefully, “M'sieur likes me for +woods-boss?” + +“Why, what's the matter with Pennington? Is he tired of you?” + +The colour mounted slowly to the woods bully's swarthy cheek. +“Mademoiselle Sumnair, he's tell me pretty soon he's goin' be boss of +Laguna Grande an' stop all thees fight. An' w'en Mademoiselle, he is in +the saddle, good-bye Jules Rondeau. Thees country--I like him. I feel +sad, M'sieur, to leave dose beeg trees.” He paused, looking rather +wistfully at Bryce. “I am fine woods-boss for somebody,” he suggested +hopefully. + +“You think Miss Sumner dislikes you then, Rondeau?” + +“I don' theenk. I know.” He sighed; his huge body seemed to droop. “I +am out of zee good luck now,” he murmured bitterly. “Everybody, she hate +Jules Rondeau. Colonel--she hate because I don' keel M'sieur Cardigan; +Mademoiselle, he hate because I try to keel M'sieur Cardigan; M'sieur +Sexton, she hate because I tell her thees mornin' she is one fool for +fight M'sieur Cardigan.” + +Again he sighed. “Dose beeg trees! In Quebec we have none. In zee woods, +M'sieur, I feel--here!” And he laid his great calloused, hairy hand over +his heart. “W'en I cut your beeg trees, M'sieur, I feel like hell.” + +“That infernal gorilla of a man is a poet,” Buck Ogilvy declared. “I'd +think twice before I let him get out of the country, Bryce.” + +“'Whose salt he eats, his song he sings,'” quoth Bryce. “I forgive you, +Rondeau, and when I need a woods-boss like you, I'll send for you.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +At eleven o'clock Saturday night the deputy United States marshal +arrived in Sequoia. Upon the advice of Buck Ogilvy, however, he made +no attempt at service that night, notwithstanding the fact that Jules +Rondeau and his bullies still guarded the crossing. At eight o'clock +Sunday morning, however, Bryce Cardigan drove him down to the crossing. +Buck Ogilvy was already there with his men, superintending the erection +of a huge derrick close to the heap of obstructions placed on the +crossing. Sexton was watching him uneasily, and flushed as Ogilvy +pointed him out to the marshal. + +“There's your meat, Marshal,” he announced. The marshal approached +and extended toward Sexton a copy of the restraining order. The latter +struck it aside and refused to accept it--whereupon the deputy marshal +tapped him on the shoulder with it. “Tag! You're out of the game, my +friend,” he said pleasantly. + +As the document fluttered to Sexton's feet, the latter turned to Jules +Rondeau. “I can no longer take charge here, Rondeau,” he explained. “I +am forbidden to interfere.” + +“Jules Rondeau can do ze job,” the woods-boss replied easily. “Ze law, +she have not restrain' me. I guess mebbeso you don' take dose theengs +away, eh, M'sieur Cardigan. Myself, I lak see.” + +The deputy marshal handed Rondeau a paper, at the same time showing his +badge. “You're out, too, my friend,” he laughed. “Don't be foolish and +try to buck the law. If you do, I shall have to place a nice little pair +of handcuffs on you and throw you in jail--and if you resist arrest, I +shall have to shoot you. I have one of these little restraining +orders for every able-bodied man in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's +employ--thanks to Mr. Ogilvy's foresight; so it is useless to try to +beat this game on a technicality.” + +Sexton, who still lingered, made a gesture of surrender. “Dismiss your +crew, Rondeau,” he ordered. “We're whipped to a frazzle.” + +A gleam of pleasure, not unmixed with triumph, lighted the dark eyes +of the French-Canadian. “I tol' M'sieur Sexton she cannot fight M'sieur +Cardigan and win,” he said simply, “Now mebbe he believe that Jules +Rondeau know somet'ing.” + +“Shut up,” Sexton roared petulantly. Rondeau shrugged contemptuously, +turned, and with a sweep of his great arm indicated to his men that they +were to go; then, without a backward glance to see that they followed, +the woods-boss strode away in the direction of the Laguna Grande mill. +Arrived at the mill-office, he entered, took down the telephone, and +called up Shirley Sumner. + +“Mademoiselle,” he said, “Jules Rondeau speaks to you. I have for you +zee good news. Bryce Cardigan, she puts in the crossing to-day. One man +of the law she comes from San Francisco with papers, and M'sieur +Sexton say to me: 'Rondeau, we are whip'. Deesmess your men.' So I have +deesmess doze men, and now I deesmess myself. Mebbeso bimeby I go to +work for M'sieur Cardigan. For Mademoiselle I have no weesh to make +trouble to fire me. I queet. I will not fight dose dirty fight some +more. Au revoir, mademoiselle. I go.” + +And without further ado he hung up. + +“What's this, what's this?” Sexton demanded. “You re going to quit? +Nonsense, Rondeau, nonsense!” + +“I will have my time, M'sieur,” said Jules Rondeau. “I go to work for a +man. Mebbeso I am not woods-boss for heem, but--I work.” + +“You'll have to wait until the Colonel returns, Rondeau.” + +“I will have my time,” said Jules Rondeau patiently. + +“Then you'll wait till pay-day for it, Rondeau. You know our rules. Any +man who quits without notice waits until the regular pay-day for his +money.” + +Jules advanced until he towered directly over the manager. “I tol' +M'sieur I would have my time,” he repeated once more. “Is M'sieur deaf +in zee ears?” He raised his right hand, much as a bear raises its paw; +his blunt fingers worked a little and there was a smoldering fire in his +dark eyes. + +Without further protest Sexton opened the safe, counted out the wages +due, and took Rondeau's receipt. + +“Thank you, M'sieur,” the woods-boss growled as he swept the coin into +his pocket. “Now I work for M'sieur Cardigan; so, M'sieur, I will have +zee switchengine weeth two flat-cars and zee wrecking-car. Doze dam +trash on zee crossing--M'sieur Cardigan does not like, and by gar, I +take heem away. You onderstand, M'sieur? I am Jules Rondeau, and I +work for M'sieur Cardigan. La la, M'sieur!” The great hand closed over +Sexton's collar. “Not zee pistol--no, not for Jules Rondeau.” + +Quite as easily as a woman dresses a baby, he gagged Sexton with +Sexton's own handkerchief, laid him gently on the floor and departed, +locking the door behind him and taking the key. At the corner of the +building, where the telephone-line entered the office, he paused, jerked +once at the wire, and passed on, leaving the broken ends on the ground. + +In the round-house he found the switch-engine crew on duty, waiting for +steam in the boiler. The withdrawal of both locomotives, brief as had +been their absence, had caused a glut of logs at the Laguna Grande +landings, and Sexton was catching up with the traffic by sending the +switch-engine crew out for one train-load, even though it was Sunday. +The crew had been used to receiving orders from Rondeau, and moreover +they were not aware of his recent action; hence at his command they ran +the switch-engine out of the roundhouse, coupled up the two flat-cars +and the wrecking-car, and backed down to the crossing. Upon arrival, +Jules Rondeau leaned out of the cab window and hailed Bryce. +“M'sieur,” he said, “do not bozzer to make zee derrick. I have here zee +wrecking-car--all you need; pretty soon we lift him off zee crossing, I +tell you, eh, M'sieur Cardigan?” + +Bryce stepped over to the switch-engine and looked up at his late enemy. +“By whose orders is this train here?” he queried. + +“Mine,” Rondeau answered. “M'sieur Sexton I have tie like one leetle pig +and lock her in her office. I work now for M'sieur.” + +And he did. He waited not for a confirmation from his new master but +proceeded to direct operations like the born driver and leader of +men that he was. With his late employer's gear he fastened to the +old castings and the boiler, lifted them with the derrick on the +wrecking-car, and swung them up and around onto the flat-cars. By the +middle of the afternoon the crossing was once more clear. Then the +Cardigan crew fell upon it while Jules Rondeau ran the train back to the +Laguna Grande yards, dismissed his crew, returned to the mill-office, +and released the manager. + +“You'll pay through the nose for this, you scoundrel,” Sexton whimpered. +“I'll fix you, you traitor.” + +“You feex nothing, M'sieur Sexton,” Rondeau replied imperturbably. “Who +is witness Jules Rondeau tie you up? Somebody see you, no? I guess you +don' feex me. Sacre! I guess you don' try.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +Colonel Pennington's discovery at San Francisco that Bryce Cardigan had +stolen his thunder and turned the bolt upon him, was the hardest blow +Seth Pennington could remember having received throughout thirty-odd +years of give and take. He was too old and experienced a campaigner, +however, to permit a futile rage to cloud his reason; he prided himself +upon being a foeman worthy of any man's steel. + +On Tuesday he returned to Sequoia. Sexton related to him in detail the +events which had transpired since his departure, but elicited nothing +more than a noncommittal grunt. + +“There is one more matter, sir, which will doubtless be of interest to +you,” Sexton continued apologetically. “Miss Sumner called me on the +telephone yesterday and instructed me formally to notify the board +of directors of the Laguna Grande Company of a special meeting of the +board, to be held here at two o'clock this afternoon. In view of the +impossibility of communicating with you while you were en route, I +conformed to her wishes. Our by-laws, as you know, stipulate that no +meeting of the board shall be called without formal written notice to +each director mailed twenty-four hours previously.” + +“What the devil do you mean, Sexton, by conforming to her wishes? Miss +Sumner is not a director of this company.” Pennington's voice was harsh +and trembled with apprehension. + +“Miss Sumner controls forty per cent. of the Laguna Grande stock, sir. I +took that into consideration.” + +“You lie!” Pennington all but screamed. “You took into consideration +your job as secretary and general manager. Damnation!” + +He rose and commenced pacing up and down his office. Suddenly he paused. +Sexton still stood beside his desk, watching him respectfully. “You +fool!” he snarled. “Get out of here and leave me alone.” + +Sexton departed promptly, glancing at his watch as he did so. It lacked +five minutes of two. He passed Shirley Sumner in the general office. + +“Shirley,” Pennington began in a hoarse voice as she entered his office, +“what is the meaning of this directors' meeting you have requested?” + +“Be seated, Uncle Seth,” the girl answered quietly. “If you will only +be quiet and reasonable, perhaps we can dispense with this directors' +meeting which appears to frighten you so.” + +He sat down promptly, a look of relief on his face. + +“I scarcely know how to begin, Uncle Seth,” Shirley commenced sadly. “It +hurts me terribly to be forced to hurt you, but there doesn't appear to +be any other way out of it. I cannot trust you to manage my financial +affairs in the future--this for a number of reasons, the principal one +being--” + +“Young Cardigan,” he interrupted in a low voice. + +“I suppose so,” she answered, “although I did think until very recently +that it was those sixteen townships of red cedar--that crown grant in +British Columbia in which you induced me to invest four hundred thousand +dollars. You will remember that you purchased that timber for me from +the Caribou Timber Company, Limited. You said it was an unparalleled +investment. Quite recently I learned--no matter how--that you were the +principal owner of the Caribou Timber Company, Limited! Smart as you +are, somebody swindled you with that red cedar. It was a wonderful stand +of timber--so read the cruiser's report--but fifty per cent. of it, +despite its green and flourishing appearance, is hollow-butted! And the +remaining fifty per cent. of sound timber cannot be logged unless the +rotten timber is logged also and gotten out of the way also. And I am +informed that logging it spells bankruptcy.” + +She gazed upon him steadily, but without malice; his face crimsoned and +then paled; presently his glance sought the carpet. While he struggled +to formulate a verbal defense against her accusation Shirley continued: + +“You had erected a huge sawmill and built and equipped a logging-road +before you discovered you had been swindled. So, in order to save +as much as possible from the wreck, you decided to unload your white +elephant on somebody else. I was the readiest victim. You were the +executor of my father's estate--you were my guardian and financial +adviser, and so you found it very, very easy to swindle me!” + +“I had my back to the wall,” he quavered. “I was desperate--and it +wasn't at all the bad investment you have been told it is. You had the +money--more money than you knew what to do with--and with the proceeds +of the sale of those cedar lands, I knew I could make an investment in +California redwood and more than retrieve my fortunes--make big money +for both of us.” + +“You might have borrowed the money from me. You know I have never +hesitated to join in your enterprises.” + +“This was too big a deal for you, Shirley. I had vision. I could see +incalculable riches in this redwood empire, but it was a tremendous +gamble and required twenty millions to swing it at the very start. I +dreamed of the control of California redwood; and if you will stand by +me, Shirley, I shall yet make my dream come true--and half of it shall +be yours. It has always been my intention to buy back from you secretly +and at a nice profit to you that Caribou red cedar, and with the +acquisition of the Cardigan properties I would have been in position to +do so. Why, that Cardigan tract in the San Hedrin which we will buy in +within a year for half a million is worth five millions at least. And +by that time, I feel certain--in fact, I know--the Northern Pacific will +commence building in from the south, from Willits.” + +She silenced him with a disdainful gesture. “You shall not smash the +Cardigans,” she declared firmly. + +“I shall--” he began, but he paused abruptly, as if he had suddenly +remembered that tact and not pugnacity was the requirement for the +handling of this ticklish situation. + +“You are devoid of mercy, of a sense of sportsmanship. Now, then, Uncle +Seth, listen to me: You have twenty-four hours in which to make up your +mind whether to accept my ultimatum or refuse it. If you refuse, I shall +prosecute you for fraud and a betrayal of trust as my father's executor +on that red-cedar timber deal.” + +He brightened a trifle. “I'm afraid that would be a long, hard row to +hoe, my dear, and of course, I shall have to defend myself.” + +“In addition,” the girl went on quietly, “the county grand jury shall +be furnished with a stenographic report of your conversation of Thursday +night with Mayor Poundstone. That will not be a long, hard row to hoe, +Uncle Seth, for in addition to the stenographer, I have another very +reliable witness, Judge Moore. Your casual disposal of my sedan as a +bribe to the Mayor will be hard to explain and rather amusing, in view +of the fact that Bryce Cardigan managed to frighten Mr. Poundstone into +returning the sedan while you were away. And if that is not sufficient +for my purposes, I have the sworn confession of the Black Minorca +that you gave him five hundred dollars to kill Bryce Cardigan. Your +woods-boss, Rondeau, will also swear that you approached him with a +proposition to do away with Bryce Cardigan. I think, therefore, that you +will readily see how impossible a situation you have managed to create +and will not disagree with me when I suggest that it would be better for +you to leave this county.” + +His face had gone gray and haggard. “I can't,” he murmured, “I can't +leave this great business now. Your own interests in the company render +such a course unthinkable. Without my hand at the helms, things will go +to smash.” + +“I'll risk that. I want to get rid of that worthless red-cedar timber; +so I think you had better buy it back from me at the same figure at +which, you sold it to me.” + +“But I haven't the money and I can't borrow it. I--I---” + +“I will have the equivalent in stock of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company. You will call on Judge Moore to complete the transaction and +leave with him your resignation as president of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company.” + +The Colonel raised his glance and bent it upon her in cold appraisal. +She met it with firmness, and the thought came to him: “She is a +Pennington!” And hope died out in his heart. He began pleading in +maudlin fashion for mercy, for compromise. But the girl was obdurate. + +“I am showing you more mercy than you deserve--you to whom mercy was +ever a sign of weakness, of vacillation. There is a gulf between us, +Uncle Seth--a gulf which for a long time I have dimly sensed and which, +because of my recent discoveries, has widened until it can no longer be +bridged.” + +He wrung his hands in desperation and suddenly slid to his knees before +her; with hypocritical endearments he strove to take her hand, but +she drew away from him. “Don't touch me,” she cried sharply and with a +breaking note in her voice. “You planned to kill Bryce Cardigan! And for +that--and that alone--I shall never forgive you.” + +She fled from the office, leaving him cringing and grovelling on the +floor. “There will be no directors' meeting, Mr. Sexton,” she informed +the manager as she passed through the general office. “It is postponed.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +That trying interview with her uncle had wrenched Shirley's soul to +a degree that left her faint and weak. She at once set out on a long +drive, in the hope that before she turned homeward again she might +regain something of her customary composure. + +Presently the asphaltum-paved street gave way to a dirt road and +terminated abruptly at the boundaries of a field that sloped gently +upward--a field studded with huge black redwood stumps showing dismally +through coronets of young redwoods that grew riotously around the +base of the departed parent trees. From the fringe of the thicket thus +formed, the terminus of an old skid-road showed and a signboard, freshly +painted, pointed the way to the Valley of the Giants. + +Shirley had not intended to come here, but now that she had arrived, it +occurred to her that it was here she wanted to come. Parking her car by +the side of the road, she alighted and proceeded up the old skid, now +newly planked and with the encroaching forestration cut away so that the +daylight might enter from above. On over the gentle divide she went and +down toward the amphitheatre where the primeval giants grew. And as she +approached it, the sound that is silence in the redwoods--the +thunderous diapason of the centuries--wove its spell upon her; quickly, +imperceptibly there faded from her mind the memory of that grovelling +Thing she had left behind in the mill-office, and in its place there +came a subtle peace, a feeling of awe, of wonder--such a feeling, +indeed, as must come to one in the realization that man is distant but +God is near. + +A cluster of wild orchids pendent from the great fungus-covered roots +of a giant challenged her attention. She gathered them. Farther on, in +a spot where a shaft of sunlight fell, she plucked an armful of golden +California poppies and flaming rhododendron, and with her delicate +burden she came at length to the giant-guarded clearing where the halo +of sunlight fell upon the grave of Bryce Cardigan's mother. There were +red roses on it--a couple of dozen, at least, and these she rearranged +in order to make room for her own offering. + +“Poor dear!” she murmured audibly. “God didn't spare you for much +happiness, did He?” + +A voice, deep, resonant, kindly, spoke a few feet away. “Who is it?” + +Shirley, startled, turned swiftly. Seated across the little amphitheatre +in a lumberjack's easy-chair fashioned from an old barrel, John Cardigan +sat, his sightless gaze bent upon her. “Who is it?” he repeated. + +“Shirley Sumner,” she answered. “You do not know me, Mr. Cardigan.” + +“No,” replied he, “I do not. That is a name I have heard, however. You +are Seth Pennington's niece. Is someone with you?” + +“I am quite alone, Mr. Cardigan.” + +“And why did you come here alone?” he queried. + +“I--I wanted to think.” + +“You mean you wanted to think clearly, my dear. Ah, yes, this is the +place for thoughts.” He was silent a moment. Then: “You were thinking +aloud, Miss Shirley Sumner. I heard you. You said: 'Poor dear, God +didn't spare you for much happiness, did He?' And I think you rearranged +my roses. Didn't I have them on her grave?” + +“Yes, Mr. Cardigan. I was merely making room for some wild flowers I had +gathered.” + +“Indeed. Then you knew--about her being here.” + +“Yes, sir. Some ten years ago, when I was a very little girl, I met your +son Bryce. He gave me a ride on his Indian pony, and we came here. So I +remember.” + +“Well, I declare! Ten years ago, eh? You've met, eh? You've met Bryce +since his return to Sequoia, I believe. He's quite a fellow now.” + +“He is indeed.” + +John Cardigan nodded sagely. “So that's why you thought aloud,” he +remarked impersonally. “Bryce told you about her. You are right, Miss +Shirley Sumner. God didn't give her much time for happiness--just three +years; but oh, such wonderful years! Such wonderful years! + +“It was mighty fine of you to bring flowers,” he announced presently. +“I appreciate that. I wish I could see you. You must be a dear, nice, +thoughtful girl. Won't you sit down and talk to me?” + +“I should be glad to,” she answered, and seated herself on the brown +carpet of redwood twigs close to his chair. + +“So you came up here to do a little clear thinking,” he continued in his +deliberate, amiable tones. “Do you come here often?” + +“This is the third time in ten years,” she answered. “I feel that I have +no business to intrude here. This is your shrine, and strangers should +not profane it.” + +“I think I should have resented the presence of any other person, Miss +Sumner. I resented you--until you spoke.” + +“I'm glad you said that, Mr. Cardigan. It sets me at ease.” + +“I hadn't been up here for nearly two years until recently. You see I--I +don't own the Valley of the Giants any more.” + +“Indeed. To whom have you sold it?” + +“I do not know, Miss Sumner. I had to sell; there was no other way out +of the jam Bryce and I were in; so I sacrificed my sentiment for my boy. +However, the new owner has been wonderfully kind and thoughtful. She +reorganized that old skid-road so even an old blind duffer like me +can find his way in and out without getting lost--and she had this +easy-chair made for me. I have told Judge Moore, who represents the +unknown owner, to extend my thanks to his client. But words are so +empty, Shirley Sumner. If that new owner could only understand how truly +grateful I am--how profoundly her courtesy touches me--” + +“HER courtesy?” Shirley echoed. “Did a woman buy the Giants?” + +He smiled down at her. “Why, certainly. Who but a woman--and a dear, +kind, thoughtful woman--would have thought to have this chair made and +brought up here for me?” + +Fell a long silence between them; then John Cardigan's trembling hand +went groping out toward the girl's. “Why, how stupid of me not to have +guessed it immediately!” he said. “You are the new owner. My dear +child, if the silent prayers of a very unhappy old man will bring God's +blessing on you--there, there, girl! I didn't intend to make you weep. +What a tender heart it is, to be sure!” + +She took his great toil-worn hand, and her hot tears fell on it, for his +gentleness, his benignancy, had touched her deeply. “Oh, you must not +tell anybody! You mustn't,” she cried. + +He put his hand on her shoulder as she knelt before him. “Good land +of love, girl, what made you do it? Why should a girl like you give +a hundred thousand dollars for my Valley of the Giants? Were +you”--hesitatingly--“your uncle's agent?” + +“No, I bought it myself--with my own money. My uncle doesn't know I am +the new owner. You see, he wanted it--for nothing.” + +“Ah, yes. I suspected as much a long time ago. Your uncle is the modern +type of business man. Not very much of an idealist, I'm afraid. But tell +me why you decided to thwart the plans of your relative.” + +“I knew it hurt you terribly to sell your Giants; they were dear to +you for sentimental reasons. I understood, also, why you were forced to +sell; so I--well, I decided the Giants would be safer in my possession +than in my uncle's. In all probability he would have logged this valley +for the sake of the clear seventy-two-inch boards he could get from +these trees.” + +“That does not explain satisfactorily, to me, why you took sides with a +stranger against your own kin,” John Cardigan persisted. “There must be +a deeper and more potent reason, Miss Shirley Sumner.” + +“Well,” Shirley made answer, glad that he could not see the flush of +confusion and embarrassment that crimsoned her cheek, “when I came to +Sequoia last May, your son and I met, quite accidentally. The stage to +Sequoia had already gone, and he was gracious enough to invite me to +make the journey in his car. Then we recalled having met as children, +and presently I gathered from his conversation that he and his +John-partner, as he called you, were very dear to each other. I was +witness to your meeting that night--I saw him take you in his big arms +and hold you tight because you'd--gone blind while he was away having a +good time. And you hadn't told him! I thought that was brave of you; +and later, when Bryce and Moira McTavish told me about you--how kind +you were, how you felt your responsibility toward your employees and the +community--well, I just couldn't help a leaning toward John-partner and +John-partner's boy, because the boy was so fine and true to his father's +ideals.” + +“Ah, he's a man. He is indeed,” old John Cardigan murmured proudly. “I +dare say you'll never get to know him intimately, but if you should--” + +“I know him intimately,” she corrected him. “He saved my life the day +the log-train ran away. And that was another reason. I owed him a debt, +and so did my uncle; but Uncle wouldn't pay his share, and I had to pay +for him.” + +“Wonderful,” murmured John Cardigan, “wonderful! But still you haven't +told me why you paid a hundred thousand dollars for the Giants when you +could have bought them for fifty thousand. You had a woman's reason, +I dare say, and women always reason from the heart, never the head. +However, if you do not care to tell me, I shall not insist. Perhaps I +have appeared, unduly inquisitive.” + +“I would rather not tell you,” she answered. + +A gentle, prescient smile fringed his old mouth; he wagged his leonine +head as if to say: “Why should I ask, when I know?” Fell again a restful +silence. Then: + +“Am I allowed one guess, Miss Shirley Sumner?” + +“Yes, but you would never guess the reason.” + +“I am a very wise old man. When one sits in the dark, one sees much that +was hidden from him in the full glare of the light. My son is proud, +manly, independent, and the soul of honour. He needed a hundred thousand +dollars; you knew it. Probably your uncle informed you. You wanted to +loan him some money, but--you couldn't. You feared to offend him by +proffering it; had you proffered it, he would have declined it. So you +bought my Valley of the Giants at a preposterous price and kept your +action a secret.” And he patted her hand gently, as if to silence +any denial, while far down the skid-road a voice--a half-trained +baritone--floated faintly to them through the forest. Somebody was +singing--or rather chanting--a singularly tuneless refrain, wild and +barbaric. + +“What is that?” Shirley cried. + +“That is my son, coming to fetch his old daddy home,” replied John +Cardigan. “That thing he's howling is an Indian war-song or paean of +triumph--something his nurse taught him when he wore pinafores. If +you'll excuse me, Miss Shirley Sumner, I'll leave you now. I generally +contrive to meet him on the trail.” + +He bade her good-bye and started down the trail, his stick tapping +against the old logging-cable stretched from tree to tree beside the +trail and marking it. + +Shirley was tremendously relieved. She did not wish to meet Bryce +Cardigan to-day, and she was distinctly grateful to John Cardigan for +his nice consideration in sparing her an interview. She seated herself +in the lumberjack's easy-chair so lately vacated, and chin in hand +gave herself up to meditation on this extraordinary old man and his +extraordinary son. + +A couple of hundred yards down the trail Bryce met his father. “Hello, +John Cardigan!” he called. “What do you mean by skallyhooting through +these woods without a pilot? Eh? Explain your reckless conduct.” + +“You great overgrown duffer,” his father retorted affectionately, +“I thought you'd never come.” He reached into his pocket for a +handkerchief, but failed to find it and searched through another pocket +and still another. “By gravy, son,” he remarked presently, “I do +believe I left my silk handkerchief--the one Moira gave me for my last +birthday--up yonder. I wouldn't lose that handkerchief for a farm. Skip +along and find it for me, son. I'll wait for you here. Don't hurry.” + +“I'll be back in a pig's whisper,” his son replied, and started briskly +up the trail, while his father leaned against a madrone tree and smiled +his prescient little smile. + +Bryce's brisk step on the thick carpet of withered brown twigs aroused +Shirley from her reverie. When she looked up, he was standing in the +centre of the little amphitheatre gazing at her. + +“You--you!” she stammered, and rose as if to flee from him. + +“The governor sent me back to look for his handkerchief, Shirley,” he +explained. “He didn't tell me you were here. Guess he didn't hear you.” + He advanced smilingly toward her. “I'm tremendously glad to see you +to-day, Shirley,” he said, and paused beside her. “Fate has been +singularly kind to me. Indeed, I've been pondering all day as to just +how I was to arrange a private and confidential little chat with you, +without calling upon you at your uncle's house.” + +“I don't feel like chatting to-day,” she answered a little drearily--and +then he noted her wet lashes. Instantly he was on one knee beside her; +with the amazing confidence that had always distinguished him in her +eyes, his big left arm went around her, and when her hands went to her +face, he drew them gently away. + +“I've waited too long, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Thank God, I can tell +you at last all the things that have been accumulating in my heart. +I love you, Shirley. I've loved you from that first day we met at the +station, and all these months of strife and repression have merely +served to make me love you the more. Perhaps you have been all the +dearer to me because you seemed so hopelessly unattainable.” + +He drew her head down on his breast; his great hand patted her hot +cheek; his honest brown eyes gazed earnestly, wistfully into hers. “I +love you,” he whispered. “All that I have--all that I am--all that I +hope to be--I offer to you, Shirley Sumner; and in the shrine of +my heart I shall hold you sacred while life shall last. You are not +indifferent to me, dear. I know you're not; but tell me--answer me--” + +Her violet eyes were uplifted to his, and in them he read the answer to +his cry. “Ah, may I?” he murmured, and kissed her. + +“Oh, my dear, impulsive, gentle big sweetheart,” she whispered--and then +her arms went around his neck, and the fullness of her happiness found +vent in tears he did not seek to have her repress. In the safe haven of +his arms she rested; and there, quite without effort or distress, she +managed to convey to him something more than an inkling of the thoughts +that were wont to come to her whenever they met. + +“Oh, my love!” he cried happily, “I hadn't dared dream of such happiness +until to-day. You were so unattainable--the obstacles between us were so +many and so great--” + +“Why to-day, Bryce?” she interrupted him. + +He took her adorable little nose in his great thumb and forefinger and +tweaked it gently. “The light began to dawn yesterday, my dear little +enemy, following an interesting half-hour which I put in with His Honour +the Mayor. Acting upon suspicion only, I told Poundstone I was prepared +to send him to the rock-pile if he didn't behave himself in the matter +of my permanent franchise for the N.C.O.--and the oily old invertebrate +wept and promised me anything if I wouldn't disgrace him. So I promised +I wouldn't do anything until the franchise matter should be definitely +settled--after which I returned to my office, to find awaiting me there +no less a person than the right-of-way man for the Northwestern Pacific. +He was a perfectly delightful young fellow, and he had a proposition to +unfold. It seems the Northwestern Pacific has decided to build up from +Willits, and all that powwow and publicity of Buck Ogilvy's about +the N.C.O. was in all probability the very thing that spurred them to +action. They figured the C.M. & St.P. was back of the N.C.O.--that +it was to be the first link of a chain of coast roads to be connected +ultimately with the terminus of the C.M. & St.P. on Gray's Harbour, +Washington, and if the N.C.O. should be built, it meant that a rival +road would get the edge on them in the matter of every stick of Humboldt +and Del Norte redwood--and they'd be left holding the sack.” + +“Why did they think that, dear?” + +“That amazing rascal Buck Ogilvy used to be a C. M. me that the money +had been deposited in escrow there awaiting formal deed. That money puts +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company in the clear--no receivership for +us now, my dear one. And I'm going right ahead with the building of the +N.C.O.--while our holdings down on the San Hedrin double in value, for +the reason that within three years they will be accessible and can be +logged over the rails of the Northwestern Pacific!” + +“Bryce,” Shirley declared, “haven't I always told you I'd never permit +you to build the N.C.O.?” + +“Of course,” he replied, “but surely you're going to withdraw your +objections now.” + +“I am not. You must choose between the N.C.O. and me.” And she met his +surprised gaze unflinchingly. + +“Shirley! You don't mean it?” + +“I do mean it. I have always meant it. I love you, dear, but for all +that, you must not build that road.” + +He stood up and towered above her sternly. “I must build it, Shirley. +I've contracted to do it, and I must keep faith with Gregory of the +Trinidad Timber Company. He's putting up the money, and I'm to do the +work and operate the line. I can't go back on him now.” + +“Not for my sake?” she pleaded. He shook his head. “I must go on,” he +reiterated. + +“Do you realize what that resolution means to us?” The girl's tones were +grave, her glance graver. + +“I realize what it means to me!” + +She came closer to him. Suddenly the blaze in her violet eyes gave +way to one of mirth. “Oh, you dear big booby!” she cried. “I was just +testing you.” And she clung to him, laughing. “You always beat me +down--you always win. Bryce, dear, I'm the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company--at least, I will be to-morrow, and I repeat for the last time +that you shall NOT build the N.C.O.--because I'm going to--oh, dear, I +shall die laughing at you--because I'm going to merge with the Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company, and then my railroad shall be your railroad, +and we'll extend it and haul Gregory's logs to tidewater for him also. +And--silly, didn't I tell you you'd never build the N.C.O.?” + +“God bless my mildewed soul!” he murmured, and drew her to him. + +In the gathering dusk they walked down the trail. Beside the madrone +tree John Cardigan waited patiently. + +“Well,” he queried when they joined him, “did you find my handkerchief +for me, son?” + +“I didn't find your handkerchief, John Cardigan,” Bryce answered, “but +I did find what I suspect you sent me back for--and that is a perfectly +wonderful daughter-in-law for you.” + +John Cardigan smiled and held out his arms for her. “This,” he said, “is +the happiest day that I have known since my boy was born.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +Colonel Seth Pennington was thoroughly crushed. Look which way he would, +the bedevilled old rascal could find no loophole for escape. + +“You win, Cardigan,” he muttered desperately as he sat in his office +after Shirley had left him. “You've had more than a shade in every round +thus far, and at the finish you've landed a clean knockout. If I had to +fight any man but you--” + +He sighed resignedly and pressed the push-button on his desk. Sexton +entered. “Sexton,” he said bluntly and with a slight quiver in his +voice, “my niece and I have had a disagreement. We have quarrelled over +young Cardigan. She's going to marry him. Now, our affairs are somewhat +involved, and in order to straighten them out, we spun a coin to see +whether she should sell her stock in Laguna Grande to me or whether I +should sell mine to her--and I lost. The book-valuation of the stock at +the close of last year's business, plus ten per cent. will determine +the selling price, and I shall resign as president. You will, in all +probability, be retained to manage the company until it is merged with +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company--when, I imagine, you will be given +ample notice to seek a new job elsewhere. Call Miss Sumner's attorney, +Judge Moore, on the telephone and ask him to come to the office at nine +o'clock to-morrow, when the papers can be drawn up and signed. That is +all.” + +The Colonel did not return to his home in Redwood Boulevard that night. +He had no appetite for dinner and sat brooding in his office until very +late; then he went to the Hotel Sequoia and engaged a room. He did not +possess sufficient courage to face his niece again. + +At four o'clock the next day the Colonel, his baggage, his automobile, +his chauffeur, and the solemn butler James, boarded the passenger +steamer for San Francisco, and at four-thirty sailed out of Humboldt Bay +over the thundering bar and on into the south. The Colonel was still a +rich man, but his dream of a redwood empire had faded, and once more he +was taking up the search for cheap timber. Whether he ever found it or +not is a matter that does not concern us. + +At a moment when young Henry Poundstone's dream of legal opulence +was fading, when Mayor Poundstone's hopes for domestic peace had been +shattered beyond repair, the while his cheap political aspirations had +been equally devastated because of a certain damnable document in +the possession of Bryce Cardigan, many events of importance were +transpiring. On the veranda of his old-fashioned home, John Cardigan +sat tapping the floor with his stick and dreaming dreams which, for the +first time in many years, were rose-tinted. Beside him Shirley sat, her +glance bent musingly out across the roofs of Sequoia and on to the +bay shore, where the smoke and exhaust-steam floated up from two +sawmills--her own and Bryce Cardigan's. To her came at regularly spaced +intervals the faint whining of the saws and the rumble of log-trains +crawling out on the log-dumps; high over the piles of bright, freshly +sawed lumber she caught from time to time the flash of white spray +as the great logs tossed from the trucks, hurtled down the skids, and +crashed into the Bay. At the docks of both mills vessels were loading, +their tall spars cutting the skyline above and beyond the smokestacks; +far down the Bay a steam schooner, loaded until her main-deck was almost +flush with the water, was putting out to sea, and Shirley heard the +faint echo of her siren as she whistled her intention to pass to +starboard of a wind-jammer inward bound in tow of a Cardigan tug. + +“It's wonderful,” she said presently, apropos of nothing. + +“Aye,” he replied in his deep, melodious voice, “I've been sitting here, +my dear, listening to your thoughts. You know something, now, of the +tie that binds my boy to Sequoia. This”--he waved his arm abroad in the +darkness--“this is the true essence of life--to create, to develop +the gifts that God has given us--to work and know the blessing of +weariness--to have dreams and see them come true. That is life, and I +have lived. And now I am ready to rest.” He smiled wistfully. “'The king +is dead. Long live the king.' I wonder if you, raised as you have been, +can face life in Sequoia resolutely with my son. It is a dull, drab +sawmill town, where life unfolds gradually without thrill--where the +years stretch ahead of one with only trees, among simple folk. The life +may be hard on you, Shirley; one has to acquire a taste for it, you +know.” + +“I have known the lilt of battle, John-partner,” she answered; “hence I +think I can enjoy the sweets of victory. I am content.” + +“And what a run you did give that boy Bryce!” + +She laughed softly. “I wanted him to fight; I had a great curiosity to +see the stuff that was in him,” she explained. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +Next day Bryce Cardigan, riding the top log on the end truck of a long +train just in from Cardigan's woods in Township Nine, dropped from the +end of the log as the train crawled through the mill-yard on its way to +the log-dump. He hailed Buck Ogilvy, where the latter stood in the door +of the office. + +“Big doings up on Little Laurel Creek this morning, Buck.” + +“Do tell!” Mr. Ogilvy murmured morosely. + +“It was great,” Bryce continued. “Old Duncan McTavish returned. I knew +he would. His year on the mourner's-bench expired yesterday, and he came +back to claim his old job of woods-boss.” + +“He's one year too late,” Ogilvy declared. “I wouldn't let that big +Canadian Jules Rondeau quit for a farm. Some woods-boss, that--and +his first job with this company was the dirtiest you could hand +him--smearing grease on the skid-road at a dollar and a half a day and +found. He's made too good to lose out now. I don't care what his private +morals may be. He CAN get out the logs, hang his rascally hide, and I'm +for him.” + +“I'm afraid you haven't anything to say about it, Buck,” Bryce replied +dryly. + +“I haven't, eh? Well, any time you deny me the privilege of hiring and +firing, you're going to be out the service of a rattling good general +manager, my son. Yes, sir! If you hold me responsible for results, I +must select the tools I want to work with.” + +“Oh, very well,” Bryce laughed. “Have it your own way. Only if you can +drive Duncan McTavish out of Cardigan's woods, I'd like to see you do +it. Possession is nine points of the law, Buck--and Old Duncan is in +possession.” + +“What do you mean--in possession?” + +“I mean that at ten o'clock this morning Duncan McTavish appeared at our +log-landing. The whisky-fat was all gone from him, and he appeared forty +years old instead of the sixty he is. With a whoop he came jumping over +the logs, straight for Jules Rondeau. The big Canuck saw him coming and +knew what his visit portended--so he wasn't taken unawares. It was a +case of fight for his job--and Rondeau fought.” + +“The devil you say!” + +“I do--and there was the devil to pay. It was a rough and tumble and +no grips barred--just the kind of fight Rondeau likes. Nevertheless +old Duncan floored him. While he's been away somebody taught him the +hammer-lock and the crotch-hold and a few more fancy ones, and he got +to work on Rondeau in a hurry. In fact, he had to, for if the tussle had +gone over five minutes, Rondeau's youth would have decided the issue.” + +“And Rondeau was whipped?” + +“To a whisper. Mac floored him, climbed him, and choked him until he +beat the ground with his free hand in token of surrender; whereupon old +Duncan let him up, and Rondeau went to his shanty and packed his turkey. +The last I saw of him he was headed over the hill to Camp Two on Laguna +Grande. He'll probably chase that assistant woods-boss I hired after the +consolidation, out of Shirley's woods and help himself to the fellow's +job. I don't care if he does. What interests me is the fact that the +old Cardigan woods-boss is back on the job in Cardigan's woods, and I'm +mighty glad of it. The old horsethief has had his lesson and will remain +sober hereafter. I think he's cured.” + +“The infamous old outlaw!” + +“Mac knows the San Hedrin as I know my own pocket. He'll be a tower of +strength when we open up that tract after the railroad builds in. By the +way, has my dad been down this morning?” + +“Yes. Moira read the mail to him and then took him up to the Valley of +the Giants. He said he wanted to do a little quiet figuring on that new +steam schooner you're thinking of building. He thinks she ought to be +bigger--big enough to carry two million feet.” + +Bryce glanced at his watch. “It's half after eleven,” he said. “Guess +I'll run up to the Giants and bring him home to luncheon.” + +He stepped into the Napier standing outside the office and drove away. +Buck Ogilvy waited until Bryce was out of sight; then with sudden +determination he entered the office. + +“Moira,” he said abruptly, approaching the desk where she worked, “your +dad is back, and what's more, Bryce Cardigan has let him have his old +job as woods-boss. And I'm here to announce that you're not going back +to the woods to keep house for him. Understand? Now, look here, Moira. +I've shilly-shallied around you for months, protesting my love, and I +haven't gotten anywhere. To-day I'm going to ask you for the last time. +Will you marry me? I need you worse than that rascal of a father of +yours does, and I tell you I'll not have you go back to the woods to +take care of him. Come, now, Moira. Do give me a definite answer.” + +“I'm afraid I don't love you well enough to marry you, Mr. Ogilvy,” + Moira pleaded. “I'm truly fond of you, but--” + +“The last boat's gone,” cried Mr. Ogilvy desperately. “I'm answered. +Well, I'll not stick around here much longer, Moira. I realize I must +be a nuisance, but I can't help being a nuisance when you're near me. So +I'll quit my good job here and go back to my old game of railroading.” + +“Oh, you wouldn't quit a ten-thousand-dollar job,” Moira cried, aghast. + +“I'd quit a million-dollar job. I'm desperate enough to go over to the +mill and pick a fight with the big bandsaw. I'm going away where I can't +see you. Your eyes are driving me crazy.” + +“But I don't want you to go, Mr. Ogilvy.” + +“Call me Buck,” he commanded sharply. + +“I don't want you to go, Buck,” she repeated meekly. “I shall feel +guilty, driving you out of a fine position.” + +“Then marry me and I'll stay.” + +“But suppose I don't love you the way you deserve--” + +“Suppose! Suppose!” Buck Ogilvy cried. “You're no longer certain of +yourself. How dare you deny your love for me? Eh? Moira, I'll risk it.” + +Her eyes turned to him timidly, and for the first time he saw in their +smoky depths a lambent flame. “I don't know,” she quavered, “and it's a +big responsibility in case--” + +“Oh, the devil take the case!” he cried rapturously, and took her +hands in his. “Do I improve with age, dear Moira?” he asked with boyish +eagerness; then, before she could answer, he swept on, a tornado of love +and pleading. And presently Moira was in his arms, he was kissing her, +and she was crying softly because--well, she admired Mr. Buck Ogilvy; +more, she respected him and was genuinely fond of him. She wondered, and +as she wondered, a quiet joy thrilled her in the knowledge that it did +not seem at all impossible for her to grow, in time, absurdly fond of +this wholesome red rascal. + +“Oh, Buck, dear,” she whispered, “I don't know, I'm sure, but perhaps +I've loved you a little bit for a long time.” + +“I'm perfectly wild over you. You're the most wonderful woman I ever +heard of. Old rosy-cheeks!” And he pinched them just to see the colour +come and go. + + John Cardigan was seated in his lumberjack's easy-chair as his son +approached. His hat lay on the litter of brown twigs beside him; his +chin was sunk on his breast, and his head was held a little to one side +in a listening attitude; a vagrant little breeze rustled gently a lock +of his fine, long white hair. Bryce stooped over the old man and shook +him gently by the shoulder. + +“Wake up, partner,” he called cheerfully. But John Cardigan did not +wake, and again his son shook him. Still receiving no response, Bryce +lifted the leonine old head and gazed into his father's face. “John +Cardigan!” he cried sharply. “Wake up, old pal.” + +The old eyes opened, and John Cardigan smiled up at his boy. “Good son,” + he whispered, “good son!” He closed his sightless eyes again as if +the mere effort of holding them open wearied him. “I've been sitting +here--waiting,” he went on in the same gentle whisper. “No, not waiting +for you, boy--waiting--” + +His head fell over on his son's shoulder; his hand went groping for +Bryce's. “Listen,” he continued. “Can't you hear it--the Silence? I'll +wait for you here, my son. Mother and I will wait together now--in +this spot she fancied. I'm tired--I want rest. Look after old Mac and +Moira--and Bill Dandy, who lost his leg at Camp Seven last fall--and Tom +Ellington's children--and--all the others, son. You know, Bryce. They're +your responsibilities. Sorry I can't wait to see the San Hedrin opened +up, but--I've lived my life and loved my love. Ah, yes, I've been +happy--so happy just doing things--and--dreaming here among my +Giants--and--” + +He sighed gently. “Good son,” he whispered again; his big body relaxed, +and the great heart of the Argonaut was still. Bryce held him until the +realization came to him that his father was no more--that like a watch, +the winding of which has been neglected, he had gradually slowed up and +stopped. + +“Good-bye, old John-partner!” he murmured. + +“You've escaped into the light at last. We'll go home together now, but +we'll come back again.” + +And with his father's body in his strong arms he departed from the +little amphitheatre, walking lightly with his heavy burden down the old +skid-road to the waiting automobile. And two days later John Cardigan +returned to rest forever--with his lost mate among the Giants, himself +at last an infinitesimal portion of that tremendous silence that is the +diapason of the ages. + +When the funeral was over, Shirley and Bryce lingered until they found +themselves alone beside the freshly turned earth. Through a rift in the +great branches two hundred feet above, a patch of cerulean sky +showed faintly; the sunlight fell like a broad golden shaft over the +blossom-laden grave, and from the brown trunk of an adjacent tree a gray +squirrel, a descendant, perhaps, of the gray squirrel that had been wont +to rob Bryce's pockets of pine-nuts twenty years before, chirped at them +inquiringly. + +“He was a giant among men,” said Bryce presently. “What a fitting place +for him to lie!” He passed his arm around his wife's shoulders and drew +her to him. “You made it possible, sweetheart.” + +She gazed up at him in adoration. And presently they left the Valley +of the Giants to face the world together, strong in their faith to live +their lives and love their loves, to dream their dreams and perchance +when life should be done with and the hour of rest at hand, to +surrender, sustained and comforted by the knowledge that those dreams +had come true. + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Valley of the Giants, by Peter B. 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Kyne + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Valley of the Giants, by Peter B. Kyne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Valley of the Giants + +Author: Peter B. Kyne + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5735] +This file was first posted on August 18, 2002 +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS *** + + + + +Text file produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + </h1> + <h2> + By Peter B. Kyne + </h2> + <h4> + Author of Cappy Ricks, The Long Chance, Etc. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h5> + Illustrated by Dean Cornwell<br /> (Illustrations are not available in this + edition) + </h5> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /> + <hr /> + <br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO MY WIFE + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + In the summer of 1850 a topsail schooner slipped into the cove under + Trinidad Head and dropped anchor at the edge of the kelp-fields. Fifteen + minutes later her small-boat deposited on the beach a man armed with long + squirrel-rifle and an axe, and carrying food and clothing in a brown + canvas pack. From the beach he watched the boat return and saw the + schooner weigh anchor and stand out to sea before the northwest trades. + When she had disappeared from his ken, he swung his pack to his broad and + powerful back and strode resolutely into the timber at the mouth of a + little river. + </p> + <p> + The man was John Cardigan; in that lonely, hostile land he was the first + pioneer. This is the tale of Cardigan and Cardigan's son, for in his + chosen land the pioneer leader in the gigantic task of hewing a path for + civilization was to know the bliss of woman's love and of parenthood, and + the sorrow that comes of the loss of a perfect mate; he was to know the + tremendous joy of accomplishment and worldly success after infinite + labour; and in the sunset of life he was to know the dull despair of + failure and ruin. Because of these things there is a tale to be told, the + tale of Cardigan's son, who, when his sire fell in the fray, took up the + fight to save his heritage—a tale of life with its love and hate, + its battle, victory, defeat, labour, joy, and sorrow, a tale of that + unconquerable spirit of youth which spurred Bryce Cardigan to lead a + forlorn hope for the sake not of wealth but of an ideal. Hark, then, to + this tale of Cardigan's redwoods: + </p> + <p> + Along the coast of California, through the secret valleys and over the + tumbled foothills of the Coast Range, extends a belt of timber of an + average width of thirty miles. In approaching it from the Oregon line the + first tree looms suddenly against the horizon—an outpost, as it + were, of the host of giants whose column stretches south nearly four + hundred miles to where the last of the rear-guard maintains eternal sentry + go on the crest of the mountains overlooking Monterey Bay. Far in the + interior of the State, beyond the fertile San Joaquin Valley, the allies + of this vast army hold a small sector on the west slope of the Sierras. + </p> + <p> + These are the redwood forests of California, the only trees of their kind + in the world and indigenous only to these two areas within the State. The + coast timber is known botanically as sequoia sempervirens, that in the + interior as sequoia gigantea. As the name indicates, the latter is the + larger species of the two, although the fibre of the timber is coarser and + the wood softer and consequently less valuable commercially than the + sequoia sempervirens—which in Santa Cruz, San Mateo, Marin, and + Sonoma counties has been almost wholly logged off, because of its + accessibility. In northern Mendocino, Humboldt, and Del Norte counties, + however, sixty years of logging seems scarcely to have left a scar upon + this vast body of timber. Notwithstanding sixty years of attrition, there + remain in this section of the redwood belt thousands upon thousands of + acres of virgin timber that had already attained a vigorous growth when + Christ was crucified. In their vast, sombre recesses, with the sunlight + filtering through their branches two hundred and fifty feet above, one + hears no sound save the tremendous diapason of the silence of the ages; + here, more forcibly than elsewhere in the universe, is one reminded of the + littleness of man and the glory of his creator. + </p> + <p> + In sizes ranging from five to twenty feet in diameter, the brown trunks + rise perpendicularly to a height of from ninety to a hundred and fifty + feet before putting forth a single limb, which frequently is more massive + than the growth which men call a tree in the forests of Michigan. + Scattered between the giants, like subjects around their king, one finds + noble fir, spruce, or pines, with some Valparaiso live oak, black oak, + pepper-wood, madrone, yew, and cedar. + </p> + <p> + In May and June, when the twisted and cowering madrone trees are putting + forth their clusters of creamy buds, when the white blossoms of the + dogwoods line the banks of little streams, when the azaleas and + rhododendrons, lovely and delicate as orchids, blaze a bed of glory, and + the modest little oxalis has thrust itself up through the brown carpet of + pine-needles and redwood-twigs, these wonderful forests cast upon one a + potent spell. To have seen them once thus in gala dress is to yearn + thereafter to see them again and still again and grieve always in the + knowledge of their inevitable death at the hands of the woodsman. + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan settled in Humboldt County, where the sequoia sempervirens + attains the pinnacle of its glory, and with the lust for conquest hot in + his blood, he filed upon a quarter-section of the timber almost on the + shore of Humboldt Bay—land upon which a city subsequently was to be + built. With his double-bitted axe and crosscut saw John Cardigan brought + the first of the redwood giants crashing to the earth above which it had + towered for twenty centuries, and in the form of split posts, railroad + ties, pickets, and shakes, the fallen giant was hauled to tidewater in + ox-drawn wagons and shipped to San Francisco in the little two-masted + coasting schooners of the period. Here, by the abominable magic of barter + and trade, the dismembered tree was transmuted into dollars and cents and + returned to Humboldt County to assist John Cardigan in his task of hewing + an empire out of a wilderness. + </p> + <p> + At a period in the history of California when the treasures of the + centuries were to be had for the asking or the taking, John Cardigan chose + that which others elected to cast away. For him the fertile wheat and + fruit-lands of California's smiling valleys, the dull placer gold in her + foot-hill streams, and the free grass, knee deep, on her cattle and + sheep-ranges held no lure; for he had been first among the Humboldt + redwoods and had come under the spell of the vastness and antiquity, the + majesty and promise of these epics of a planet. He was a big man with a + great heart and the soul of a dreamer, and in such a land as this it was + fitting he should take his stand. + </p> + <p> + In that wasteful day a timber-claim was not looked upon as valuable. The + price of a quarter-section was a pittance in cash and a brief residence in + a cabin constructed on the claim as evidence of good faith to a government + none too exacting in the restrictions with which it hedged about its + careless dissipation of the heritage of posterity. Hence, because redwood + timber-claims were easy to acquire, many men acquired them; but when the + lure of greener pastures gripped these men and the necessity for ready + money oppressed, they were wont to sell their holdings for a few hundred + dollars. Gradually it became the fashion in Humboldt to “unload” redwood + timber-claims on thrifty, far-seeing, visionary John Cardigan who appeared + to be always in the market for any claim worth while. + </p> + <p> + Cardigan was a shrewd judge of stumpage; with the calm certitude of a + prophet he looked over township after township and cunningly + checkerboarded it with his holdings. Notwithstanding the fact that + hillside timber is the best, John Cardigan in those days preferred to buy + valley timber, for he was looking forward to the day when the timber on + the watersheds should become available. He knew that when such timber + should be cut it would have to be hauled out through the valleys where his + untouched holdings formed an impenetrable barrier to the exit! Before long + the owners of timber on the watersheds would come to realize this and sell + to John Cardigan at a reasonable price. + </p> + <p> + Time passed. John Cardigan no longer swung an axe or dragged a cross-cut + saw through a fallen redwood. He was an employer of labour now, well known + in San Francisco as a manufacturer of split-redwood products, the + purchasers sending their own schooners for the cargo. And presently John + Cardigan mortgaged all of his timber holdings with a San Francisco bank, + made a heap of his winnings, and like a true adventurer staked his all on + a new venture—the first sawmill in Humboldt County. The timbers for + it were hewed out by hand; the boards and planking were whipsawed. + </p> + <p> + It was a tiny mill, judged by present-day standards, for in a + fourteen-hour working day John Cardigan and his men could not cut more + than twenty thousand feet of lumber. Nevertheless, when Cardigan looked at + his mill, his great heart would swell with pride. Built on tidewater and + at the mouth of a large slough in the waters of which he stored the logs + his woods-crew cut and peeled for the bull-whackers to haul with ox-teams + down a mile-long skid-road, vessels could come to Cardigan's mill dock to + load and lie safely in twenty feet of water at low tide. Also this dock + was sufficiently far up the bay to be sheltered from the heavy seas that + rolled in from Humboldt Bar, while the level land that stretched inland to + the timber-line constituted the only logical townsite on the bay. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said John Cardigan to himself exultingly when a long-drawn wail + told him his circular saw was biting into the first redwood log to be + milled since the world began, “I shall build a city and call it Sequoia. + By to-morrow I shall have cut sufficient timber to make a start. First I + shall build for my employees better homes than the rude shacks and + tent-houses they now occupy; then I shall build myself a fine residence + with six rooms, and the room that faces on the bay shall be the parlour. + When I can afford it, I shall build a larger mill, employ more men, and + build more houses. I shall encourage tradesmen to set up in business in + Sequoia, and to my city I shall present a church and a schoolhouse. We + shall have a volunteer fire department, and if God is good, I shall, at a + later date, get out some long-length fir-timber and build a schooner to + freight my lumber to market. And she shall have three masts instead of + two, and carry half a million feet of lumber instead of two hundred + thousand. First, however, I must build a steam tugboat to tow my schooner + in and out over Humboldt Bar. And after that—ah, well! That is + sufficient for the present.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Thus did John Cardigan dream, and as he dreamed he worked. The city of + Sequoia was born with the Argonaut's six-room mansion of rough redwood + boards and a dozen three-room cabins with lean-to kitchens; and the + tradespeople came when John Cardigan, with something of the largeness of + his own redwood trees, gave them ground and lumber in order to encourage + the building of their enterprises. Also the dream of the schoolhouse and + the church came true, as did the steam tugboat and the schooner with three + masts. The mill was enlarged until it could cut forty thousand feet on a + twelve-hour shift, and a planer and machines for making rustic siding and + tongued-and-grooved flooring and ceiling were installed. More ox-teams + appeared upon the skid-road, which was longer now; the cry of + “Timber-r-r!” and the thunderous roar of a falling redwood grew fainter + and fainter as the forest receded from the bay shore, and at last the + whine of the saws silenced these sounds forever in Sequoia. + </p> + <p> + At forty John Cardigan was younger than most men at thirty, albeit he + worked fourteen hours a day, slept eight, and consumed the remaining two + at his meals. But through all those fruitful years of toil he had still + found time to dream, and the spell of the redwoods had lost none of its + potency. He was still checker-boarding the forested townships with his + adverse holdings—the key-positions to the timber in back of beyond + which some day should come to his hand. Also he had competition now: other + sawmills dotted the bay shore; other three-masted schooners carried + Humboldt redwood to the world beyond the bar, over which they were + escorted by other and more powerful steam-tugs. This competition John + Cardigan welcomed and enjoyed, however, for he had been first in Humboldt, + and the townsite and a mile of tidelands fronting on deep water were his; + hence each incoming adventurer merely helped his dream of a city to come + true. + </p> + <p> + At forty-two Cardigan was the first mayor of Sequoia. At forty-four he was + standing on his dock one day, watching his tug kick into her berth the + first square-rigged ship that had ever come to Humboldt Bay to load a + cargo of clear redwood for foreign delivery. She was a big Bath-built + clipper, and her master a lusty down-Easter, a widower with one daughter + who had come with him around the Horn. John Cardigan saw this girl come up + on the quarter-deck and stand by with a heaving-line in her hand; calmly + she fixed her glance upon him, and as the ship was shunted in closer to + the dock, she made the cast to Cardigan. He caught the light heaving-line, + hauled in the heavy Manila stern-line to which it was attached, and + slipped the loop of the mooring-cable over the dolphin at the end of the + dock. + </p> + <p> + “Some men wanted aft here to take up the slack of the stern-line on the + windlass, sir,” he shouted to the skipper, who was walking around on top + of the house. “That girl can't haul her in alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't. I'm short-handed,” the skipper replied. “Jump aboard and help + her.” + </p> + <p> + Cardigan made a long leap from the dock to the ship's rail, balanced there + lightly a moment, and sprang to the deck. He passed the bight of the + stern-line in a triple loop around the drum of the windlass, and without + awaiting his instructions, the girl grasped the slack of the line and + prepared to walk away with it as the rope paid in on the windlass. + Cardigan inserted a belaying-pin in the windlass, paused and looked at the + girl. “Raise a chantey,” he suggested. Instantly she lifted a sweet + contralto in that rollicking old ballad of the sea—“Blow the Men + Down.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For tinkers and tailors and lawyers and all, + Way! Aye! Blow the men down! + They ship for real sailors aboard the Black Ball, + Give me some time to blow the men down. +</pre> + <p> + Round the windlass Cardigan walked, steadily and easily, and the girl's + eyes widened in wonder as he did the work of three powerful men. When the + ship had been warped in and the slack of the line made fast on the bitts, + she said: + </p> + <p> + “Please run for'd and help my father with the bow-lines. You're worth + three foremast hands. Indeed, I didn't expect to see a sailor on this + dock.” + </p> + <p> + “I had to come around the Horn to get here, Miss,” he explained, “and when + a man hasn't money to pay for his passage, he needs must work it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm the second mate,” she explained. “We had a succession of gales from + the Falklands to the Evangelistas, and there the mate got her in irons and + she took three big ones over the taffrail and cost us eight men. Working + short-handed, we couldn't get any canvas on her to speak of—long + voyage, you know, and the rest of the crew got scurvy.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a brave girl,” he told her. + </p> + <p> + “And you're a first-class A. B.,” she replied. “If you're looking for a + berth, my father will be glad to ship you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, but I can't go,” he called as he turned toward the companion + ladder. “I'm Cardigan, and I own this sawmill and must stay here and look + after it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a light, exultant feeling in his middle-aged heart as he + scampered along the deck. The girl had wonderful dark auburn hair and + brown eyes, with a milk-white skin that sun and wind had sought in vain to + blemish. And for all her girlhood she was a woman—bred from a race + (his own people) to whom danger and despair merely furnished a tonic for + their courage. What a mate for a man! And she had looked at him + pridefully. + </p> + <p> + They were married before the ship was loaded, and on a knoll of the + logged-over lands back of the town and commanding a view of the bay, with + the dark-forested hills in back and the little second-growth redwoods + flourishing in the front yard, he built her the finest home in Sequoia. He + had reserved this building-site in a vague hope that some day he might + utilize it for this very purpose, and here he spent with her three + wonderfully happy years. Here his son Bryce was born, and here, two days + later, the new-made mother made the supreme sacrifice of maternity. + </p> + <p> + For half a day following the destruction of his Eden John Cardigan sat + dumbly beside his wife, his great, hard hand caressing the auburn head + whose every thought for three years had been his happiness and comfort. + Then the doctor came to him and mentioned the matter of funeral + arrangements. + </p> + <p> + Cardigan looked up at him blankly. “Funeral arrangements?” he murmured. + “Funeral arrangements?” He passed his gnarled hand over his leonine head. + “Ah, yes, I suppose so. I shall attend to it.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and left the house, walking with bowed head out of Sequoia, up the + abandoned and decaying skid-road through the second-growth redwoods to the + dark green blur that marked the old timber. It was May, and Nature was + renewing herself, for spring comes late in Humboldt County. From an alder + thicket a pompous cock grouse boomed intermittently; the valley quail, in + pairs, were busy about their household affairs; from a clump of manzanita + a buck watched John Cardigan curiously. On past the landing where the big + bull donkey-engine stood (for with the march of progress, the logging + donkey-engine had replaced the ox-teams, while the logs were hauled out of + the woods to the landing by means of a mile-long steel cable, and there + loaded on the flat-cars of a logging railroad to be hauled to the mill and + dumped in the log-boom) he went, up the skid-road recently swamped from + the landing to the down timber where the crosscut men and barkpeelers were + at work, on into the green timber where the woods-boss and his men were + chopping. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me, McTavish,” he said to his woods-boss. They passed through a + narrow gap between two low hills and emerged in a long narrow valley where + the redwood grew thickly and where the smallest tree was not less than + fifteen feet in diameter and two hundred and fifty feet tall. McTavish + followed at the master's heels as they penetrated this grove, making their + way with difficulty through the underbrush until they came at length to a + little amphitheatre, a clearing perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, + oval-shaped and surrounded by a wall of redwoods of such dimensions that + even McTavish, who was no stranger to these natural marvels, was struck + with wonder. The ground in this little amphitheatre was covered to a depth + of a foot with brown, withered little redwood twigs to which the dead + leaves still clung, while up through this aromatic covering delicate + maidenhair ferns and oxalis had thrust themselves. Between the huge brown + boles of the redwoods woodwardia grew riotously, while through the great + branches of these sentinels of the ages the sunlight filtered. Against the + prevailing twilight of the surrounding forest it descended like a halo, + and where it struck the ground John Cardigan paused. + </p> + <p> + “McTavish,” he said, “she died this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sore distressed for you, sir,” the woods-boss answered. “We'd a + whisper in the camp yesterday that the lass was like to be in a bad way.” + </p> + <p> + Cardigan scuffed with his foot a clear space in the brown litter. “Take + two men from the section-gang, McTavish,” he ordered, “and have them dig + her grave here; then swamp a trail through the underbrush and out to the + donkey-landing, so we can carry her in. The funeral will be private.” + </p> + <p> + McTavish nodded. “Any further orders, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. When you come to that little gap in the hills, cease your logging + and bear off yonder.” He waved his hand. “I'm not going to cut the timber + in this valley. You see, McTavish, what it is. The trees here—ah, + man, I haven't the heart to destroy God's most wonderful handiwork. + Besides, she loved this spot, McTavish, and she called the valley her + Valley of the Giants. I—I gave it to her for a wedding present + because she had a bit of a dream that some day the town I started would + grow up to yonder gap, and when that time came and we could afford it, + 'twas in her mind to give her Valley of the Giants to Sequoia for a city + park, all hidden away here and unsuspected. + </p> + <p> + “She loved it, McTavish. It pleased her to come here with me; she'd make + up a lunch of her own cooking and I would catch trout in the stream by the + dogwoods yonder and fry the fish for her. Sometimes I'd barbecue a venison + steak and—well, 'twas our playhouse, McTavish, and I who am no + longer young—I who never played until I met her—I—I'm a + bit foolish, I fear, but I found rest and comfort here, McTavish, even + before I met her, and I'm thinking I'll have to come here often for the + same. She—she was a very superior woman, McTavish—very + superior. Ah, man, the soul of her! I cannot bear that her body should + rest in Sequoia cemetery, along with the rag tag and bobtail o' the town. + She was like this sunbeam, McTavish. She—she—” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” murmured McTavish huskily. “I ken. Ye wouldna gie her a common or a + public spot in which to wait for ye. An' ye'll be shuttin' down the mill + an' loggin'-camps an' layin' off the hands in her honour for a bit?” + </p> + <p> + “Until after the funeral, McTavish. And tell your men they'll be paid for + the lost time. That will be all, lad.” + </p> + <p> + When McTavish was gone, John Cardigan sat down on a small sugar-pine + windfall, his head held slightly to one side while he listened to that + which in the redwoods is not sound but rather the absence of it. And as he + listened, he absorbed a subtle comfort from those huge brown trees, so + emblematic of immortality; in the thought he grew closer to his Maker, and + presently found that peace which he sought. Love such as theirs could + never die... The tears came at last. + </p> + <p> + At sundown he walked home bearing an armful of rhododendrons and dogwood + blossoms, which he arranged in the room where she lay. Then he sought the + nurse who had attended her. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to hold my son,” he said gently. “May I?” + </p> + <p> + She brought him the baby and placed it in his great arms that trembled so; + he sat down and gazed long and earnestly at this flesh of his flesh and + blood of his blood. “You'll have her hair and skin and eyes,” he murmured. + “My son, my son, I shall love you so, for now I must love for two. Sorrow + I shall keep from you, please God, and happiness and worldly comfort shall + I leave you when I go to her.” He nuzzled his grizzled cheek against the + baby's face. “Just you and my trees,” he whispered, “just you and my trees + to help me hang on to a plucky finish.” + </p> + <p> + For love and paternity had come to him late in life, and so had his first + great sorrow; wherefore, since he was not accustomed to these heritages of + all flesh, he would have to adjust himself to the change. But his son and + his trees—ah, yes, they would help. And he would gather more + redwoods now! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + A young half-breed Digger woman, who had suffered the loss of the latest + of her numerous progeny two days prior to Mrs. Cardigan's death, was + installed in the house on the knoll as nurse to John Cardigan's son whom + he called Bryce, the family name of his mother's people. A Mrs. Tully, + widow of Cardigan's first engineer in the mill, was engaged as housekeeper + and cook; and with his domestic establishment reorganized along these + simple lines, John Cardigan turned with added eagerness to his business + affairs, hoping between them and his boy to salvage as much as possible + from what seemed to him, in the first pangs of his loneliness and + desolation, the wreckage of his life. + </p> + <p> + While Bryce was in swaddling clothes, he was known only to those females + of Sequoia to whom his half-breed foster mother proudly exhibited him when + taking him abroad for an airing in his perambulator. With his advent into + rompers, however, and the assumption of his American prerogative of free + speech, his father developed the habit of bringing the child down to the + mill office, to which he added a playroom that connected with his private + office. Hence, prior to his second birthday, Bryce divined that his father + was closer to him than motherly Mrs. Tully or the half-breed girl, albeit + the housekeeper sang to him the lullabys that mothers know while the + Digger girl, improvising blank verse paeans of praise and prophecy, + crooned them to her charge in the unmusical monotone of her tribal tongue. + His father, on the contrary, wasted no time in singing, but would toss him + to the ceiling or set him astride his foot and swing him until he screamed + in ecstasy. Moreover, his father took him on wonderful journeys which no + other member of the household had even suggested. Together they were wont + to ride to and from the woods in the cab of the logging locomotive, and + once they both got on the log carriage in the mill with Dan Keyes, the + head sawyer, and had a jolly ride up to the saw and back again, up and + back again until the log had been completely sawed; and because he had + refrained from crying aloud when the greedy saw bit into the log with a + shrill whine, Dan Keyes had given him a nickel to put in his tin bank. + </p> + <p> + Of all their adventures together, however, those which occurred on their + frequent excursions up to the Valley of the Giants impressed themselves + imperishably upon Bryce's memory. How well he remembered their first trip, + when, seated astride his father's shoulders with his sturdy little legs + around Cardigan's neck and his chubby little hands clasping the old man's + ears, they had gone up the abandoned skid-road and into the semi-darkness + of the forest, terminating suddenly in a shower of sunshine that fell in + an open space where a boy could roll and play and never get dirty. Also + there were several dozen gray squirrels there waiting to climb on his + shoulder and search his pockets for pine-nuts, a supply of which his + father always furnished. + </p> + <p> + Bryce always looked forward with eagerness to those frequent trips with + his father “to the place where Mother dear went to heaven.” From his perch + on his father's shoulders he could look vast distances into the underbrush + and catch glimpses of the wild life therein; when the last nut had been + distributed to the squirrels in the clearing, he would follow a flash of + blue that was a jay high up among the evergreen branches, or a flash of + red that was a woodpecker hammering a home in the bark of a sugar-pine. + Eventually, however, the spell of the forest would creep over the child; + intuitively he would become one with the all-pervading silence, climb into + his father's arms as the latter sat dreaming on the old sugar-pine + windfall, and presently drop off to sleep. + </p> + <p> + When Bryce was six years old, his father sent him to the public school in + Sequoia with the children of his loggers and mill-hands, thus laying the + foundation for a democratic education all too infrequent with the sons of + men rated as millionaires. At night old Cardigan (for so men had now + commenced to designate him!) would hear his boy's lessons, taking the + while an immeasurable delight in watching the lad's mind develop. As a + pupil Bryce was not meteoric; he had his father's patient, unexcitable + nature; and, like the old man, he possessed the glorious gift of + imagination. Never mediocre, he was never especially brilliant, but was + seemingly content to maintain a steady, dependable average in all things. + He had his mother's dark auburn hair, brown eyes, and fair white skin, and + quite early in life he gave promise of being as large and powerful a man + as his father. + </p> + <p> + Bryce's boyhood was much the same as that of other lads in Sequoia, save + that in the matter of toys and, later guns, fishing-rods, dogs, and ponies + he was a source of envy to his fellows. After his tenth year his father + placed him on the mill pay-roll, and on payday he was wont to line up with + the mill-crew to receive his modest stipend of ten dollars for carrying in + kindling to the cook in the mill kitchen each day after school. + </p> + <p> + This otherwise needless arrangement was old Cardigan's way of teaching his + boy financial responsibility. All that he possessed he had worked for, and + he wanted his son to grow up with the business to realize that he was a + part of it with definite duties connected with it developing upon him—duties + which he must never shirk if he was to retain the rich redwood heritage + his father had been so eagerly storing up for him. + </p> + <p> + When Bryce Cardigan was about fourteen years old there occurred an + important event in his life. In a commendable effort to increase his + income he had laid out a small vegetable garden in the rear of his + father's house, and here on a Saturday morning, while down on his knees + weeding carrots, he chanced to look up and discovered a young lady gazing + at him through the picket fence. She was a few years his junior, and a + stranger in Sequoia. Ensued the following conversation: “Hello, little + boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Hello yourself! I ain't a little boy.” + </p> + <p> + She ignored the correction. “What are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Weedin' carrots. Can't you see?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce, highly incensed at having been designated a little boy by this + superior damsel, saw his opportunity to silence her. “Cat's fur for kitten + breeches,” he retorted—without any evidence of originality, we must + confess. Whereat she stung him to the heart with a sweet smile and + promptly sang for him this ancient ballad of childhood: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What are little boys made of? + What are little boys made of? + Snakes and snails, + And puppy dog's tails, + And that's what little boys are made of.” + </pre> + <p> + Bryce knew the second verse and shrivelled inwardly in anticipation of + being informed that little girls are made of sugar and spice and + everything nice. Realizing that he had begun something which might not + terminate with credit to himself, he hung his head and for the space of + several minutes gave all his attention to his crop. And presently the + visitor spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “I like your hair, little boy. It's a pretty red.” + </p> + <p> + That settled the issue between them. To be hailed as little boy was bad + enough, but to be reminded of his crowning misfortune was adding insult to + injury. He rose and cautiously approached the fence with the intention of + pinching the impudent stranger, suddenly and surreptitiously, and sending + her away weeping. As his hand crept between the palings on its wicked + mission, the little miss looked at him in friendly fashion and queried: + </p> + <p> + “What's your name?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce's hand hesitated. “Bryce Cardigan,” he answered gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Shirley Sumner,” she ventured, “Let's be friends.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you come to live in Sequoia?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I don't live here. I'm just visiting here with my aunt and uncle. We're + staying at the hotel, and there's nobody to play with. My uncle's name is + Pennington. So's my aunt's. He's out here buying timber, and we live in + Michigan. Do you know the capital of Michigan?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do,” he answered. “The capital of Michigan is Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you big stupid! It isn't. It's Detroit.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't neither. It's Chicago.” + </p> + <p> + “I live there—so I guess I ought to know. So there!” + </p> + <p> + Bryce was vanquished, and an acute sense of his imperfections in matters + geographical inclined him to end the argument. “Well, maybe you're right,” + he admitted grudgingly. “Anyhow, what difference does it make?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. Evidently she was desirous of avoiding an argument if + possible. Her gaze wandered past Bryce to where his Indian pony stood with + her head out the window of her box-stall contemplating her master. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a dear little horse!” Shirley Sumner exclaimed. “Whose is he?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't a he. It's a she. And she belongs to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ride her?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very often now. I'm getting too heavy for her, so Dad's bought me a + horse that weighs nine hundred pounds. Midget only weighs five hundred.” + He considered her a moment while she gazed in awe upon this man with two + horses. “Can you ride a pony?” he asked, for no reason that he was aware + of. + </p> + <p> + She sighed, shaking her head resignedly. “We haven't any room to keep a + pony at our house in Detroit,” she explained, and added hopefully: “But + I'd love to ride on Midget. I suppose I could learn to ride if somebody + taught me how.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her again. At that period of his existence he was inclined to + regard girls as a necessary evil. For some immutable reason they existed, + and perforce must be borne with, and it was his hope that he would get + through life and see as little as possible of the exasperating sex. + Nevertheless, as Bryce surveyed this winsome miss through the palings, he + was sensible of a sneaking desire to find favour in her eyes—also + equally sensible of the fact that the path to that desirable end lay + between himself and Midget. He swelled with the importance of one who + knows he controls a delicate situation. “Well, I suppose if you want a + ride I'll have to give it to you,” he grumbled, “although I'm mighty busy + this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think you're so nice,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + A thrill shot through him that was akin to pain; with difficulty did he + restrain an impulse to dash wildly into the stable and saddle Midget in + furious haste. Instead he walked to the barn slowly and with extreme + dignity. When he reappeared, he was leading Midget, a little silverpoint + runt of a Klamath Indian pony, and Moses, a sturdy pinto cayuse from the + cattle ranges over in Trinity County. “I'll have to ride with you,” he + announced. “Can't let a tenderfoot like you go out alone on Midget.” + </p> + <p> + All aflutter with delightful anticipation, the young lady climbed up on + the gate and scrambled into the saddle when Bryce swung the pony broadside + to the gate. Then he adjusted the stirrups to fit her, passed a hair rope + from Midget's little hackamore to the pommel of Moses' saddle, mounted the + pinto, and proceeded with his first adventure as a riding-master. Two + hours of his valuable time did he give that morning before the call of + duty brought him back to the house and his neglected crop of carrots. When + he suggested tactfully, however, that it was now necessary that his guest + and Midget separate, a difficulty arose. Shirley Sumner refused point + blank to leave the premises. She liked Bryce for his hair and because he + had been so kind to her; she was a stranger in Sequoia, and now that she + had found an agreeable companion, it was far from her intention to desert + him. + </p> + <p> + So Miss Sumner stayed and helped Bryce weed his carrots, and since as a + voluntary labourer she was at least worth her board, at noon Bryce brought + her in to Mrs. Tully with a request for luncheon. When he went to the mill + to carry in the kindling for the cook, the young lady returned rather + sorrowfully to the Hotel Sequoia, with a fervent promise to see him the + next day. She did, and Bryce took her for a long ride up into the Valley + of the Giants and showed her his mother's grave. The gray squirrels were + there, and Bryce gave Shirley a bag of pine-nuts to feed them. Then they + put some flowers on the grave, and when they returned to town and Bryce + was unsaddling the ponies, Shirley drew Midget's nose down to her and + kissed it. Then she commenced to weep rather violently. + </p> + <p> + “What are you crying about?” Bryce demanded. Girls were so hard to + understand. + </p> + <p> + “I'm go-going h-h-h-home to-morrow,” she howled. + </p> + <p> + He was stricken with dismay and bade her desist from her vain repinings. + But her heart was broken, and somehow—Bryce appeared to act + automatically—he had his arm around her. “Don't cry, Shirley,” he + pleaded. “It breaks my heart to see you cry. Do you want Midget? I'll give + her to you.” + </p> + <p> + Between sobs Shirley confessed that the prospect of parting with him and + not Midget was provocative of her woe. This staggered Bryce and pleased + him immensely. And at parting she kissed him good-bye, reiterating her + opinion that he was the nicest, kindest boy she had ever met or hoped to + meet. + </p> + <p> + When Shirley and her uncle and aunt boarded the steamer for San Francisco, + Bryce stood disconsolate on the dock and waved to Shirley until he could + no longer discern her on the deck. Then he went home, crawled up into the + haymow and wept, for he had something in his heart and it hurt. He thought + of his elfin companion very frequently for a week, and he lost his + appetite, very much to Mrs. Tully's concern. Then the steelhead trout + began to run in Eel River, and the sweetest event that can occur in any + boy's existence—the sudden awakening to the wonder and beauty of + life so poignantly realized in his first love-affair—was lost sight + of by Bryce. In a month he had forgotten the incident; in six months he + had forgotten Shirley Sumner. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + The succeeding years of Bryce Cardigan's life, until he completed his + high-school studies and went East to Princeton, were those of the ordinary + youth in a small and somewhat primitive country town. He made frequent + trips to San Francisco with his father, taking passage on the steamer that + made bi-weekly trips between Sequoia and the metropolis—as The + Sequoia Sentinel always referred to San Francisco. He was an expert + fisherman, and the best shot with rifle or shot-gun in the county; he + delighted in sports and, greatly to the secret delight of his father + showed a profound interest in the latter's business. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the happy years of Bryce's boyhood his father continued to + enlarge and improve his sawmill, to build more schooners, and to acquire + more redwood timber. Lands, the purchase of which by Cardigan a decade + before had caused his neighbours to impugn his judgment, now developed + strategical importance. As a result those lands necessary to consolidate + his own holdings came to him at his own price, while his adverse holdings + that blocked the logging operations of his competitors went from him—also + at his own price. In fact, all well-laid plans matured satisfactorily with + the exception of one, and since it has a very definite bearing on the + story, the necessity for explaining it is paramount. + </p> + <p> + Contiguous to Cardigan's logging operations to the east and north of + Sequoia, and comparatively close in, lay a block of two thousand acres of + splendid timber, the natural, feasible, and inexpensive outlet for which, + when it should be logged, was the Valley of the Giants. For thirty years + John Cardigan had played a waiting game with the owner of that timber, for + the latter was as fully obsessed with the belief that he was going to sell + it to John Cardigan at a dollar and a half per thousand feet stumpage as + Cardigan was certain he was going to buy it for a dollar a thousand—when + he should be ready to do so and not one second sooner. He calculated, as + did the owner of the timber, that the time to do business would be a year + or two before the last of Cardigan's timber in that section should be + gone. + </p> + <p> + Eventually the time for acquiring more timber arrived. John Cardigan, + meeting his neighbour on the street, accosted him thus: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Bill: isn't it time we got together on that timber of yours? + You know you've been holding it to block me and force me to buy at your + figure.” + </p> + <p> + “That's why I bought it,” the other admitted smilingly. “Then, before I + realized my position, you checkmated me with that quarter-section in the + valley, and we've been deadlocked ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you a dollar a thousand stumpage for your timber, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “I want a dollar and a half.” + </p> + <p> + “A dollar is my absolute limit.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll keep my timber.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll keep my money. When I finish logging in my present holdings, I'm + going to pull out of that country and log twenty miles south of Sequoia. I + have ten thousand acres in the San Hedrin watershed. Remember, Bill, the + man who buys your timber will have to log it through my land—and I'm + not going to log that quarter-section in the valley. Hence there will be + no outlet for your timber in back.” + </p> + <p> + “Not going to log it? Why, what are you going to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm just going to let it stay there until I die. When my will is filed + for probate, your curiosity will be satisfied—but not until then.” + </p> + <p> + The other laughed. “John,” he declared, “you just haven't got the courage + to pull out when your timber adjoining mine is gone, and move twenty miles + south to the San Hedrin watershed. That will be too expensive a move, and + you'll only be biting off your nose to spite your face. Come through with + a dollar and a half, John.” + </p> + <p> + “I never bluff, Bill. Remember, if I pull out for the San Hedrin, I'll not + abandon my logging-camps there to come back and log your timber. One + expensive move is enough for me. Better take a dollar, Bill. It's a good, + fair price, as the market on redwood timber is now, and you'll be making + an even hundred per cent, on your investment. Remember, Bill, if I don't + buy your timber, you'll never log it yourself and neither will anybody + else. You'll be stuck with it for the next forty years—and taxes + aren't getting any lower. Besides, there's a good deal of pine and fir in + there, and you know what a forest fire will do to that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll hang on a little longer, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, too,” John Cardigan replied. And that night, as was his wont, + even though he realized that it was not possible for Bryce to gain a + profound understanding of the business problems to which he was heir, John + Cardigan discussed the Squaw Creek timber with his son, relating to him + the details of his conversation with the owner. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he thinks you're bluffing,” Bryce commented. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not, Bryce. I never bluff—that is, I never permit a bluff of + mine to be called, and don't you ever do it, either. Remember that, boy. + Any time you deliver a verdict, be sure you're in such a position you + won't have to reverse yourself. I'm going to finish logging in that + district this fall, so if I'm to keep the mill running, I'll have to + establish my camps on the San Hedrin watershed right away.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce pondered. “But isn't it cheaper to give him his price on Squaw Creek + timber than go logging in the San Hedrin and have to build twenty miles of + logging railroad to get your logs to the mill?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be, son, if I HAD to build the railroad. Fortunately, I do not. + I'll just shoot the logs down the hillside to the San Hedrin River and + drive them down the stream to a log-boom on tidewater.” + </p> + <p> + “But there isn't enough water in the San Hedrin to float a redwood log, + Dad. I've fished there, and I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true—in the summer and fall. But when the winter freshets + come on and the snow begins to melt in the spring up in the Yola Bolas, + where the San Hedrin has its source, we'll have plenty of water for + driving the river. Once we get the logs down to tide-water, we'll raft + them and tow them up to the mill. So you see, Bryce, we won't be bothered + with the expense of maintaining a logging railroad, as at present.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce looked at his father admiringly. “I guess Dan Keyes is right, Dad,” + he said. “Dan says you're crazy—like a fox. Now I know why you've + been picking up claims in the San Hedrin watershed.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't, Bryce. I've never told you, but I'll tell you now the real + reason. Humboldt County has no rail connection with the outside world, so + we are forced to ship our lumber by water. But some day a railroad will be + built in from the south—from San Francisco; and when it comes, the + only route for it to travel is through our timber in the San Hedrin + Valley. I've accumulated that ten thousand acres for you, my son, for the + railroad will never be built in my day. It may come in yours, but I have + grown weary waiting for it, and now that my hand is forced, I'm going to + start logging there. It doesn't matter, son. You will still be logging + there fifty years from now. And when the railroad people come to you for a + right of way, my boy, give it to them. Don't charge them a cent. It has + always been my policy to encourage the development of this county, and I + want you to be a forward-looking, public-spirited citizen. That's why I'm + sending you East to college. You've been born and raised in this town, and + you must see more of the world. You mustn't be narrow or provincial, + because I'm saving up for you, my son, a great many responsibilities, and + I want to educate you to meet them bravely and sensibly.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, regarding the boy gravely and tenderly. “Bryce, lad,” he said + presently, “do you ever wonder why I work so hard and barely manage to + spare the time to go camping with you in vacation time?” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you take it easy, Dad? You do work awfully hard, and I have + wondered about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have to work hard, my son, because I started something a long time ago, + when work was fun. And now I can't let go. I employ too many people who + are dependent on me for their bread and butter. When they plan a marriage + or the building of a home or the purchase of a cottage organ, they have to + figure me in on the proposition. I didn't have a name for the part I + played in these people's lives until the other night when I was helping + you with your algebra. I'm the unknown quantity.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” Bryce protested. “You're the known quantity.” + </p> + <p> + Cardigan smiled. “Well, maybe I am,” he admitted. “I've always tried to + be. And if I have succeeded, then you're the unknown quantity, Bryce, + because some day you'll have to take my place; they will have to depend + upon you when I am gone. Listen to me, son. You're only a boy, and you + can't understand everything I tell you now, but I want you to remember + what I tell you, and some day understanding will come to you. You mustn't + fail the people who work for you—who are dependent upon your + strength and brains and enterprises to furnish them with an opportunity + for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When you are the boss of + Cardigan's mill, you must keep the wheels turning; you must never shut + down the mill or the logging-camps in dull times just to avoid a loss you + can stand better than your employees.” + </p> + <p> + His hard, trembling old hand closed over the boy's. “I want you to be a + brave and honourable man,” he concluded. + </p> + <p> + True to his word, when John Cardigan finished his logging in his old, + original holdings adjacent to Sequoia and Bill Henderson's Squaw Creek + timber, he quietly moved south with his Squaw Creek woods-gang and joined + the crew already getting out logs in the San Hedrin watershed. Not until + then did Bill Henderson realize that John Cardigan had called his bluff—whereat + he cursed himself for a fool and a poor judge of human nature. He had + tried a hold-up game and had failed; a dollar a thousand feet stumpage was + a fair price; for years he had needed the money; and now, when it was too + late, he realized his error. Luck was with Henderson, however; for shortly + thereafter there came again to Sequoia one Colonel Seth Pennington, a + millionaire white-pine operator from Michigan. The Colonel's Michigan + lands had been logged off, and since he had had one taste of cheap timber, + having seen fifty-cent stumpage go to five dollars, the Colonel, like + Oliver Twist, desired some more of the same. On his previous visit to + Sequoia he had seen his chance awaiting him in the gradually decreasing + market for redwood lumber and the corresponding increase of melancholia in + the redwood operators; hence he had returned to Michigan, closed out his + business interests there, and returned to Sequoia on the alert for an + investment in redwood timber. From a chair-warmer on the porch of the + Hotel Sequoia, the Colonel had heard the tale of how stiff-necked old John + Cardigan had called the bluff of equally stiff-necked old Bill Henderson; + so for the next few weeks the Colonel, under pretense of going hunting or + fishing on Squaw Creek, managed to make a fairly accurate cursory cruise + of the Henderson timber—following which he purchased it from the + delighted Bill for a dollar and a quarter per thousand feet stumpage and + paid for it with a certified check. With his check in his hand, Henderson + queried: + </p> + <p> + “Colonel, how do you purpose logging that timber?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel smiled. “Oh, I don't intend to log it. When I log timber, it + has to be more accessible. I'm just going to hold on and outgame your + former prospect, John Cardigan. He needs that timber; he has to have it—and + one of these days he'll pay me two dollars for it.” + </p> + <p> + Bill Henderson raised an admonitory finger and shook it under the + Colonel's nose. “Hear me, stranger,” he warned. “When you know John + Cardigan as well as I do, you'll change your tune. He doesn't bluff.” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't?” The Colonel laughed derisively. “Why, that move of his over + to the San Hedrin was the most monumental bluff ever pulled off in this + country.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir. You wait and see.” + </p> + <p> + “I've seen already. I know.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for one thing, Henderson, I noticed Cardigan has carefully housed + his rolling-stock—and he hasn't scrapped his five miles of logging + railroad and three miles of spurs.” + </p> + <p> + Old Bill Henderson chewed his quid of tobacco reflectively and spat at a + crack in the sidewalk. “No,” he replied, “I'll admit he ain't started + scrappin' it yet, but I happen to know he's sold the rollin'-stock an' + rails to the Freshwater Lumber Company, so I reckon they'll be scrappin' + that railroad for him before long.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was visibly moved. “If your information is authentic,” he said + slowly, “I suppose I'll have to build a mill on tidewater and log the + timber.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twon't pay you to do that at the present price of redwood lumber.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm in no hurry. I can wait for better times.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when better times arrive, you'll find that John Cardigan owns the + only water-front property on this side of the bay where the water's deep + enough to let a ship lie at low tide and load in safety.” + </p> + <p> + “There is deep water across the bay and plenty of water-front property for + sale. I'll find a mill-site there and tow my logs across.” + </p> + <p> + “But you've got to dump 'em in the water on this side. Everything north of + Cardigan's mill is tide-flat; he owns all the deep-water frontage for a + mile south of Sequoia, and after that come more tide-flats. If you dump + your logs on these tide-flats, they'll bog down in the mud, and there + isn't water enough at high tide to float 'em off or let a tug go in an' + snake 'em off.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a discouraging sort of person,” the Colonel declared irritably. “I + suppose you'll tell me now that I can't log my timber without permission + from Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + Old Bill spat at another crack; his faded blue eyes twinkled + mischievously. “No, that's where you've got the bulge on John, Colonel. + You can build a logging railroad from the southern fringe of your timber + north and up a ten per cent. grade on the far side of the Squaw Creek + watershed, then west three miles around a spur of low hills, and then + south eleven miles through the level country along the bay shore. If you + want to reduce your Squaw Creek grade to say two per cent., figure on ten + additional miles of railroad and a couple extra locomotives. You + understand, of course, Colonel, that no Locomotive can haul a long + trainload of redwood logs up a long, crooked, two per cent. grade. You + have to have an extry in back to push.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I'll build my road from Squaw Creek gulch south through that + valley where those whopping big trees grow. That's the natural outlet for + the timber. See here:” [graphic] + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pennington took from his pocket the rough sketch-map of the region + which we have reproduced herewith and pointed to the spot numbered “11.” + </p> + <p> + “But that valley ain't logged yet,” explained Henderson. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry. Cardigan will sell that valley to me—also a right of + way down his old railroad grade and through his logged-over lands to + tidewater.” + </p> + <p> + “Bet you a chaw o' tobacco he won't. Those big trees in that valley ain't + goin' to be cut for no railroad right o' way. That valley's John + Cardigan's private park; his wife's buried up there. Why, Colonel, that's + the biggest grove of the biggest sequoia sempervirens in the world, an' + many's the time I've heard John say he'd almost as lief cut off his right + hand as fell one o' his giants, as he calls 'em. I tell you, Colonel, John + Cardigan's mighty peculiar about them big trees. Any time he can get a day + off he goes up an' looks 'em over.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my very dear sir,” the Colonel protested, “if the man will not + listen to reason, the courts will make him. I can condemn a right of way, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “We-ll,” said old Bill, wagging his head sagely, “mebbe you can, an' then + again mebbe you can't. It took me a long time to figger out just where I + stood, but mebbe you're quicker at figgers than I am. Anyhow, Colonel, + good luck to you, whichever way the cat jumps.” + </p> + <p> + This illuminating conversation had one effect on Colonel Seth Pennington. + It decided him to make haste slowly; so without taking the trouble to make + the acquaintance of John Cardigan, he returned to Detroit, there to await + the next move in this gigantic game of chess. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + No man is infallible, and in planning his logging operations in the San + Hedrin watershed, John Cardigan presently made the discovery that he had + erred in judgment. That season, from May to November, his woods-crew put + thirty million feet of logs into the San Hedrin River, while the mill + sawed on a reserve supply of logs taken from the last of the old choppings + adjacent to Squaw Creek. That year, however, the rainfall in the San + Hedrin country was fifty per cent. less than normal, and by the first of + May of the following year Cardigan's woods-crew had succeeded in driving + slightly less than half of the cut of the preceding year to the boom on + tidewater at the mouth of the river. + </p> + <p> + “Unless the Lord'll gi' us a lot more water in the river,” the woods-boss + McTavish complained, “I dinna see how I'm to keep the mill runnin'.” He + was taking John Cardigan up the riverbank and explaining the situation. + “The heavy butt-logs hae sunk to the bottom,” he continued. “Wie a normal + head o' water, the lads'll move them, but wi' the wee drappie we have the + noo—” He threw up his hamlike hands despairingly. + </p> + <p> + Three days later a cloud-burst filled the river to the brim; it came at + night and swept the river clean of Cardigan's clear logs, An army of + Juggernauts, they swept down on the boiling torrent to tidewater, reaching + the bay shortly after the tide had commenced to ebb. + </p> + <p> + Now, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and a log-boom is a + chaplet of a small logs, linked end to end by means of short chains; hence + when the vanguard of logs on the lip of that flood reached the log-boom, + the impetus of the charge was too great to be resisted. Straight through + the weakest link in this boom the huge saw-logs crashed and out over + Humboldt Bar to the broad Pacific. With the ebb tide some of them came + back, while others, caught in cross-currents, bobbed about the Bay all + night and finally beached at widely scattered points. Out of the fifteen + million feet of logs less than three million feet were salvaged, and this + task in itself was an expensive operation. + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan received the news calmly. “Thank God we don't have a + cloud-burst more than once in ten years,” he remarked to his manager. + “However, that is often enough, considering the high cost of this one. + Those logs were worth eight dollars a thousand feet, board measure, in the + millpond, and I suppose we've lost a hundred thousand dollars' worth.” + </p> + <p> + He turned from the manager and walked away through the drying yard, up the + main street of Sequoia, and on into the second-growth timber at the edge + of the town. Presently he emerged on the old, decaying skid-road and + continued on through his logged-over lands, across the little divide and + down into the quarter-section of green timber he had told McTavish not to + cut. Once in the Valley of the Giants, he followed a well-worn foot-path + to the little amphitheatre, and where the sunlight filtered through like a + halo and fell on a plain little white marble monument, he paused and sat + down on the now almost decayed sugar-pine windfall. + </p> + <p> + “I've come for a little comfort, sweetheart,” he murmured to her who slept + beneath the stone. Then he leaned back against a redwood tree, removed his + hat, and closed his eyes, holding his great gray head the while a little + to one side in a listening attitude. Long he sat there, a great, + time-bitten devotee at the shrine of his comfort; and presently the + harried look left his strong, kind face and was replaced by a little + prescient smile—the sort of smile worn by one who through bitter + years has sought something very, very precious and has at length + discovered it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + It was on the day that John Cardigan received the telegram from Bryce + saying that, following four years at Princeton and two years of travel + abroad, he was returning to Sequoia to take over his redwood heritage—that + he discovered that a stranger and not the flesh of his flesh and the blood + of his blood was to reap the reward of his fifty years of endeavour. Small + wonder, then, that he laid his leonine head upon his desk and wept, + silently, as the aged and helpless weep. + </p> + <p> + For a long time he sat there lethargic with misery. Eventually he roused + himself, reached for the desk telephone, and pressed a button on the + office exchange-station. His manager, one Thomas Sinclair, answered. + “Thomas,” he said calmly, “you know, of course, that Bryce is coming home. + Tell George to take the big car and go over to Red Bluff for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll attend to it, Mr Cardigan. Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I'll wait until Bryce gets home.” + </p> + <p> + George Sea Otter, son of Bryce Cardigan's old half-breed nurse, was a + person in whose nature struggled the white man's predilection for + advertisement and civic pride and the red man's instinct for adornment. + For three years he had been old man Cardigan's chauffeur and + man-of-all-work about the latter's old-fashioned home, and in the former + capacity he drove John Cardigan's single evidence of extravagance—a + Napier car, which was very justly regarded by George Sea Otter as the king + of automobiles, since it was the only imported car in the county. Upon + receipt of orders, therefore, from Sinclair, to drive the Napier over to + Red Bluff and meet his future boss and one-time playfellow, George Sea + Otter arrayed himself in a pair of new black corduroy trousers, yellow + button shoes, a blue woollen shirt with a large scarlet silk handkerchief + tied around the neck, a pair of beaded buckskin gloves with fringe + dependent from the gauntlet, and a broad white beaver hat with a + rattlesnake-skin band. Across the windshield of the Napier he fastened an + orange-coloured pennant bearing in bright green letters the legend: MY + CITY—SEQUOIA. As a safety-first precaution against man and beast en + route, he buckled a gun-scabbard to the spare tires on the running-board + and slipped a rifle into the scabbard within quick and easy reach of his + hand; and arrayed thus, George descended upon Red Bluff at the helm of the + king of automobiles. + </p> + <p> + When the overland train coasted into Red Bluff and slid to a grinding + halt, Bryce Cardigan saw that the Highest Living Authority had descended + from the train also. He had elected to designate her thus in the absence + of any information anent her Christian and family names, and for the + further reason that quite obviously she was a very superior person. He had + a vague suspicion that she was the kind of girl in whose presence a man + always feels that he must appear on parade—one of those alert, + highly intelligent young women so extremely apt to reduce an ordinarily + intelligent young man to a state of gibbering idiocy or stupid immobility. + </p> + <p> + Bryce had travelled in the same car with the Highest Living Authority from + Chicago and had made up his mind by observation that with a little + encouragement she could be induced to mount a soap-box and make a speech + about Women's Rights; that when her native State should be granted equal + suffrage she would run for office or manage somebody's political campaign; + that she could drive an automobile and had probably been arrested for + speeding; that she could go around any golf links in the country in ninety + and had read Maeterlinck and enjoyed it. + </p> + <p> + Bryce could see that she was the little daughter of some large rich man. + The sparsity of jewellery and the rich simplicity of her attire proved + that, and moreover she was accompanied by a French maid to whom she spoke + French in a manner which testified that before acquiring the French maid + she had been in the custody of a French nurse. She possessed poise. For + the rest, she had wonderful jet-black hair, violet eyes, and milk-white + skin, a correct nose but a somewhat generous mouth, Bryce guessed she was + twenty or twenty-one years old and that she had a temper susceptible of + being aroused. On the whole, she was rather wonderful but not dazzling—at + least, not to Bryce Cardigan. He told himself she merely interested him as + a type—whatever he meant by that. + </p> + <p> + The fact that this remarkable young woman had also left the train at Red + Bluff further interested him, for he knew Red Bluff and while giving due + credit to the many lovely damsels of that ambitious little city, Bryce had + a suspicion that no former Red Bluff girl would dare to invade the old + home town with a French maid. He noted, as further evidence of the + correctness of his assumption, that the youthful baggage-smasher at the + station failed to recognize her and was evidently dazzled when, followed + by the maid struggling with two suit-cases, she approached him and in pure + though alien English (the Italian A predominated) inquired the name and + location of the best hotel and the hour and point of departure of the + automobile stage for San Hedrin. The youth had answered her first question + and was about to answer the second when George Sea Otter, in all his + barbaric splendour, came pussy-footing around the corner of the station in + old man Cardigan's regal touring-car. + </p> + <p> + The Highest Living Authority, following the gaze of the baggage-smasher, + turned and beheld George Sea Otter. Beyond a doubt he was of the West + westward. She had heard that California stage-drivers were picturesque + fellows, and in all probability the displacing of the old Concord coach of + the movie-thriller in favour of the motor-stage had not disturbed the + idiosyncrasies of the drivers in their choice of raiment. She noted the + rifle-stock projecting from the scabbard, and a vision of a stage hold-up + flashed across her mind. Ah, yes, of course—the express messenger's + weapon, no doubt! And further to clinch her instant assumption that here + was the Sequoia motor-stage, there was the pennant adorning the + wind-shield! + </p> + <p> + Dismissing the baggage-smasher with a gracious smile, the Highest Living + Authority approached George Sea Otter, noting, the while, further evidence + that this car was a public conveyance, for the young man who had been her + fellow-passenger was heading toward the automobile also. She heard him + say: + </p> + <p> + “Hello, George, you radiant red rascal! I'm mighty glad to see you, boy. + Shake!” + </p> + <p> + They shook, George Sea Otter's dark eyes and white teeth flashing + pleasurably. Bryce tossed his bag into the tonneau; the half-breed opened + the front door; and the young master had his foot on the running-board and + was about to enter the car when a soft voice spoke at his elbow: + </p> + <p> + “Driver, this is the stage for Sequoia, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + George Sea Otter could scarcely credit his auditory nerves. “This car?” he + demanded bluntly, “this—the Sequoia stage! Take a look, lady. This + here's a Napier imported English automobile. It's a private car and + belongs to my boss here.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry I slandered your car,” she replied demurely. “I observed the + pennant on the wind-shield, and I thought—” + </p> + <p> + Bryce Cardigan turned and lifted his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Quite naturally, you thought it was the Sequoia stage,” he said to her. + He turned a smoldering glance upon George Sea Otter. “George,” he declared + ominously, but with a sly wink that drew the sting from his words, “if + you're anxious to hold down your job the next time a lady speaks to you + and asks you a simple question, you answer yes or no and refrain from + sarcastic remarks. Don't let your enthusiasm for this car run away with + you.” He faced the girl again. “Was it your intention to go out to Sequoia + on the next trip of the stage?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That means you will have to wait here three days until the stage returns + from Sequoia,” Bryce replied. + </p> + <p> + “I realized, of course, that we would arrive here too late to connect with + the stage if it maintained the customary schedule for its departure,” she + explained, “but it didn't occur to me that the stage-driver wouldn't wait + until our train arrived. I had an idea his schedule was rather elastic.” + </p> + <p> + “Stage-drivers have no imagination, to speak of,” Bryce assured her. To + himself he remarked: “She's used to having people wait on her.” + </p> + <p> + A shade of annoyance passed over the classic features of the Highest + Living Authority. “Oh, dear,” she complained, “how fearfully awkward! Now + I shall have to take the next train to San Francisco and book passage on + the steamer to Sequoia—and Marcelle is such a poor sailor. Oh, + dear!” + </p> + <p> + Bryce had an inspiration and hastened to reveal it. + </p> + <p> + “We are about to start for Sequoia now, although the lateness of our start + will compel us to put up tonight at the rest-house on the south fork of + Trinity River and continue the journey in the morning. However, this + rest-house is eminently respectable and the food and accommodations are + extraordinarily good for mountains; so, if an invitation to occupy the + tonneau of my car will not be construed as an impertinence, coming as it + does from a total stranger, you are at liberty to regard this car as to + all intents and purposes the public conveyance which so scandalously + declined to wait for you this morning.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him searchingly for a brief instant: then with a peculiarly + winning smile and a graceful inclination of her head she thanked him and + accepted his hospitality—thus: + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly not! You are very kind, and I shall be eternally + grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for that vote of confidence. It makes me feel that I have your + permission to introduce myself. My name is Bryce Cardigan, and I live in + Sequoia when I'm at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Cardigan's Redwoods?” she questioned. He nodded. “I've heard of you, I + think,” she continued. “I am Shirley Sumner.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not live in Sequoia.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I'm going to hereafter. I was there about ten years ago.” + </p> + <p> + He grinned and thrust out a great hand which she surveyed gravely for a + minute before inserting hers in it. “I wonder,” he said, “if it is to be + my duty to give you a ride every time you come to Sequoia? The last time + you were there you wheedled me into giving you a ride on my pony, an + animal known as Midget. Do you, by any chance, recall that incident?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him wonderingly. “Why—why you're the boy with the + beautiful auburn hair,” she declared. He lifted his hat and revealed his + thick thatch in all its glory. “I'm not so sensitive about it now,” he + explained. “When we first met, reference to my hair was apt to rile me.” + He shook her little hand with cordial good-nature. “What a pity it wasn't + possible for us to renew acquaintance on the train, Miss Sumner!” + </p> + <p> + “Better late than never, Mr. Cardigan, considering the predicament in + which you found me. What became of Midget?” + </p> + <p> + “Midget, I regret to state, made a little pig of herself one day and died + of acute indigestion. She ate half a sack of carrots, and knowing full + well that she was eating forbidden fruit, she bolted them, and for her + failure to Fletcherize—but speaking of Fletcherizing, did you dine + aboard the train?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “So did I, Miss Sumner; hence I take it that you are quite + ready to start.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite, Mr. Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we'll drift. George, suppose you pile Miss Sumner's hand-baggage in + the tonneau and then pile in there yourself and keep Marcelle company. + I'll drive; and you can sit up in front with me, Miss Sumner, snug behind + the wind-shield where you'll not be blown about.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure this is going to be a far pleasanter journey than the stage + could possibly have afforded,” she said graciously as Bryce slipped in + beside her and took the wheel. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind to share the pleasure with me, Miss Sumner.” He went + through his gears, and the car glided away on its journey. “By the way,” + he said suddenly as he turned west toward the distant blue mountains of + Trinity County, “how did you happen to connect me with Cardigan's + redwoods?” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard my uncle, Colonel Seth Pennington, speak of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Seth Pennington means nothing in my young life. I never heard of + him before; so I dare say he's a newcomer in our country. I've been away + six years,” he added in explanation. + </p> + <p> + “We're from Michigan. Uncle was formerly in the lumber business there, but + he's logged out now.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. So he came West, I suppose, and bought a lot of redwood timber + cheap from some old croaker who never could see any future to the redwood + lumber industry. Personally, I don't think he could have made a better + investment. I hope I shall have the pleasure of making his acquaintance + when I deliver you to him. Perhaps you may be a neighbour of mine. Hope + so.” + </p> + <p> + At this juncture George Sea Otter, who had been an interested listener to + the conversation, essayed a grunt from the rear seat. Instantly, to + Shirley Sumner's vast surprise, her host grunted also; whereupon George + Sea Otter broke into a series of grunts and guttural exclamations which + evidently appeared quite intelligible to her host, for he slowed down to + five miles an hour and cocked one ear to the rear; apparently he was + profoundly interested in whatever information his henchman had to impart. + When George Sea Otter finished his harangue, Bryce nodded and once more + gave his attention to tossing the miles behind him. + </p> + <p> + “What language was that?” Shirley Sumner inquired, consumed with + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Digger Indian,” he replied. “George's mother was my nurse, and he and I + grew up together. So I can't very well help speaking the language of the + tribe.” + </p> + <p> + They chattered volubly on many subjects for the first twenty miles; then + the road narrowed and commenced to climb steadily, and thereafter Bryce + gave all of his attention to the car, for a deviation of a foot from the + wheel-rut on the outside of the road would have sent them hurtling over + the grade into the deep-timbered canons below. Their course led through a + rugged wilderness, widely diversified and transcendently beautiful, and + the girl was rather glad of the opportunity to enjoy it in silence. Also + by reason of the fact that Bryce's gaze never wavered from the road + immediately in front of the car, she had a chance to appraise him + critically while pretending to look past him to the tumbled, snow-covered + ranges to their right. + </p> + <p> + She saw a big, supple, powerful man of twenty-five or six, with the + bearing and general demeanour of one many years his elder. His rich, dark + auburn hair was wavy, and a curling lock of it had escaped from the band + of his cap at the temple; his eyes were brown to match his hair and were + the striking feature of a strong, rugged countenance, for they were spaced + at that eminently proper interval which proclaims an honest man. His nose + was high, of medium thickness and just a trifle long—the nose of a + thinker. His ears were large, with full lobes—the ears of a generous + man. The mouth, full-lipped but firm, the heavy jaw and square chin, the + great hands (most amazingly free from freckles) denoted the man who would + not avoid a fight worth while. Indeed, while the girl was looking covertly + at him, she saw his jaw set and a sudden, fierce light leap up in his + eyes, which at first sight had seemed to her rather quizzical. + Subconsciously he lifted one hand from the wheel and clenched it; he + wagged his head a very little bit; consequently she knew his thoughts were + far away, and for some reason, not quite clear to her, she would have + preferred that they weren't. As a usual thing, young men did not go + wool-gathering in her presence; so she sought to divert his thoughts to + present company. + </p> + <p> + “What a perfectly glorious country!” she exclaimed. “Can't we stop for + just a minute to appreciate it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied abstractedly as he descended from the car and sat at her + feet while she drank in the beauty of the scene, “it's a he country; I + love it, and I'm glad to get back to it.” + </p> + <p> + Upon their arrival at the rest-house, however, Bryce cheered up, and + during dinner was very attentive and mildly amusing, although Shirley's + keen wits assured her that this was merely a clever pose and sustained + with difficulty. She was confirmed in this assumption when, after sitting + with him a little on the porch after dinner, she complained of being weary + and bade him good-night. She had scarcely left him when he called: + </p> + <p> + “George!” + </p> + <p> + The half-breed slid out of the darkness and sat down beside him. A moment + later, through the open window of her room just above the porch where + Bryce and George Sea Otter sat, Shirley heard the former say: + </p> + <p> + “George, when did you first notice that my father's sight was beginning to + fail?” + </p> + <p> + “About two years ago, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “What made you notice it?” + </p> + <p> + “He began to walk with his hands held out in front of him, and sometimes + he lifted his feet too high.” + </p> + <p> + “Can he see at all now, George?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, a little bit—enough to make his way to the office and + back.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor old governor! George, until you told me this afternoon, I hadn't + heard a word about it. If I had, I never would have taken that two-year + jaunt around the world.” + </p> + <p> + George Sea Otter grunted. “That's what your father said, too. So he + wouldn't tell you, and he ordered everybody else to keep quiet about it. + Myself—well, I didn't want you to go home and not know it until you + met him.” + </p> + <p> + “That was mighty kind and considerate of you, George. And you say this man + Colonel Pennington and my father have been having trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—” Here George Sea Otter gracefully unburdened himself of a + fervent curse directed at Shirley's avuncular relative; whereupon that + young lady promptly left the window and heard no more. + </p> + <p> + They were on the road again by eight o'clock next morning, and just as + Cardigan's mill was blowing the six o'clock whistle, Bryce stopped the car + at the head of the street leading down to the water-front. “I'll let you + drive now, George,” he informed the silent Sea Otter. He turned to Shirley + Sumner. “I'm going to leave you now,” he said. “Thank you for riding over + from Red Bluff with me. My father never leaves the office until the + whistle blows, and so I'm going to hurry down to that little building you + see at the end of the street and surprise him.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped out on the running-board, stood there a moment, and extended + his hand. Shirley had commenced a due and formal expression of her + gratitude for having been delivered safely in Sequoia, when George Sea + Otter spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Here comes John Cardigan,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Drive Miss Sumner around to Colonel Pennington's house,” Bryce ordered, + and even while he held Shirley's hand, he turned to catch the first + glimpse of his father. Shirley followed his glance and saw a tall, + powerfully built old man coming down the street with his hands thrust a + little in front of him, as if for protection from some invisible + assailant. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor old father!” she heard Bryce Cardigan murmur. “My dear old + pal! And I've let him grope in the dark for two years!” + </p> + <p> + He released her hand and leaped from the car. “Dad!” he called. “It is I—Bryce. + I've come home to you at last.” + </p> + <p> + The slightly bent figure of John Cardigan straightened with a jerk; he + held out his arms, trembling with eagerness, and as the car continued on + to the Pennington house Shirley looked back and saw Bryce folded in his + father's embrace. She did not, however, hear the heart-cry with which the + beaten old man welcomed his boy. + </p> + <p> + “Sonny, sonny—oh, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. Bryce, + I'm whipped—I've lost your heritage. Oh, son! I'm old—I can't + fight any more. I'm blind—I can't see my enemies. I've lost your + redwood trees—even your mother's Valley of the Giants.” + </p> + <p> + And he commenced to weep for the third time in fifty years. And when the + aged and helpless weep, nothing is more terrible. Bryce Cardigan said no + word, but held his father close to his great heart and laid his cheek + gently against the old man's, tenderly as a woman might. And presently, + from that silent communion of spirit, each drew strength and comfort. As + the shadows fell in John Cardigan's town, they went home to the house on + the hill. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Shirley Sumner's eyes were still moist when George Sea Otter, in obedience + to the instructions of his youthful master, set her, the French maid, and + their hand-baggage down on the sidewalk in front of Colonel Seth + Pennington's house. The half-breed hesitated a moment, undecided whether + he would carry the hand-baggage up to the door or leave that task for a + Pennington retainer; then he noted the tear-stains on the cheeks of his + fair passenger. Instantly he took up the hand-baggage, kicked open the + iron gate, and preceded Shirley up the cement walk to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Just wait a moment, if you please, George,” Shirley said as he set the + baggage down and started back for the car. He turned and beheld her + extracting a five-dollar bill from her purse. “For you, George,” she + continued. “Thank you so much.” + </p> + <p> + In all his life George Sea Otter had never had such an experience—he, + happily, having been raised in a country where, with the exception of + waiters, only a pronounced vagrant expects or accepts a gratuity from a + woman. He took the bill and fingered it curiously; then his white blood + asserted itself and he handed the bill back to Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said respectfully. “If you are a man—all right. But + from a lady—no. I am like my boss. I work for you for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley did not understand his refusal, but her instinctive tact warned + her not to insist. She returned the bill to her purse, thanked him again, + and turned quickly to hide the slight flush of annoyance. George Sea Otter + noted it. + </p> + <p> + “Lady,” he said with great dignity, “at first I did not want to carry your + baggage. I did not want to walk on this land.” And with a sweeping gesture + he indicated the Pennington grounds. “Then you cry a little because my + boss is feeling bad about his old man. So I like you better. The old man—well, + he has been like father to me and my mother—and we are Indians. My + brothers, too—they work for him. So if you like my boss and his old + man, George Sea Otter would go to hell for you pretty damn' quick. You bet + you my life!” + </p> + <p> + “You're a very good boy, George,” she replied, with difficulty repressing + a smile at his blunt but earnest avowal. “I am glad the Cardigans have + such an honest, loyal servant.” + </p> + <p> + George Sea Otter's dark face lighted with a quick smile. “Now you pay me,” + he replied and returned to the car. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and a Swedish maid stood in the entrance regarding her + stolidly. “I'm Miss Sumner,” Shirley informed her. “This is my maid + Marcelle. Help her in with the hand-baggage.” She stepped into the hall + and called: “Ooh-hooh! Nunky-dunk!” + </p> + <p> + “Ship ahoy!” An answering call came to her from the dining room, across + the entrance-hall, and an instant later Colonel Seth Pennington stood in + the doorway, “Bless my whiskers! Is that you, my dear?” he cried, and + advanced to greet her. “Why, how did you get here, Shirley? I thought + you'd missed the stage.” + </p> + <p> + She presented her cheek for his kiss. “So I did, Uncle, but a nice + red-haired young man named Bryce Cardigan found me in distress at Red + Bluff, picked me up in his car, and brought me here.” She sniffed + adorably. “I'm so hungry,” she declared, “and here I am, just in time for + dinner. Is my name in the pot?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't, Shirley, but it soon will be. How perfectly bully to have you + with me again, my dear! And what a charming young lady you've grown to be + since I saw you last! You're—why, you've been crying! By Jove, I had + no idea you'd be so glad to see me again.” + </p> + <p> + She could not forego a sly little smile at his egoism. + </p> + <p> + “You're looking perfectly splendid, Uncle Seth,” she parried. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm feeling perfectly splendid. This is a wonderful country, Shirley, + and everything is going nicely with me here. By the way, who did you say + picked you up in his car?” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Cardigan. Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, we haven't met. Son of old John Cardigan, I dare say. I've heard of + him. He's been away from Sequoia for quite a while, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he was abroad for two years after he was graduated from Princeton.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! Well, it's about time he came home to take care of that + stiff-necked old father of his.” He stepped to the bell and pressed it, + and the butler answered. “Set a place at dinner for Miss Shirley, James,” + he ordered. “Thelma will show you your rooms, Shirley. I was just about to + sit down to dinner. I'll wait for you.” + </p> + <p> + While Shirley was in the living room Colonel Pennington's features wore an + expression almost pontifical, but when she had gone, the atmosphere of + paternalism and affection which he radiated faded instantly. The Colonel's + face was in repose now—cold, calculating, vaguely repellent. He + scowled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, isn't that the devil's luck?” he soliloquized. “Young Cardigan is + probably the only man in Sequoia—dashed awkward if they should + become interested in each other—at this time. Everybody in town, + from lumberjacks to bankers, has told me what a fine fellow Bryce Cardigan + is. They say he's good-looking; certainly he is educated and has acquired + some worldly polish—just the kind of young fellow Shirley will find + interesting and welcome company in a town like this. Many things can + happen in a year—and it will be a year before I can smash the + Cardigans. Damn it!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Along the well-remembered streets of Sequoia Bryce Cardigan and his father + walked arm in arm, their progress continuously interrupted by well-meaning + but impulsive Sequoians who insisted upon halting the pair to shake hands + with Bryce and bid him welcome home. In the presence of those third + parties the old man quickly conquered the agitation he had felt at this + long-deferred meeting with his son, and when presently they left the + business section of the town and turned into a less-frequented street, his + emotion assumed the character of a quiet joy, evidenced in a more erect + bearing and a firmer tread, as if he strove, despite his seventy-six + years, not to appear incongruous as he walked beside his splendid son. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could see you more clearly,” he said presently. His voice as + well as his words expressed profound regret, but there was no hint of + despair or heartbreak now. + </p> + <p> + Bryce, who up to this moment had refrained from discussing his father's + misfortunes, drew the old man a little closer to his side. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong with your eyes, pal?” he queried. He did not often address + his parent, after the fashion of most sons, as “Father,” “Dad” or “Pop.” + They were closer to each other than that, and a rare sense of perfect + comradeship found expression, on Bryce's part, in such salutations as + “pal,” “partner” and, infrequently, “old sport.” When arguing with his + father, protesting with him or affectionately scolding him, Bryce, with + mock seriousness, sometimes called the old man John Cardigan. + </p> + <p> + “Cataracts, son,” his father answered. “Merely the penalty of old age.” + </p> + <p> + “But can't something be done about it?” demanded Bryce. “Can't they be + cured somehow or other?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly they can. But I shall have to wait until they are completely + matured and I have become completely blind; then a specialist will perform + an operation on my eyes, and in all probability my sight will be restored + for a few years. However, I haven't given the matter a great deal of + consideration. At my age one doesn't find very much difficulty in making + the best of everything. And I am about ready to quit now. I'd like to, in + fact; I'm tired.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you can't quit until you've seen your redwoods again,” Bryce + reminded him. “I suppose it's been a long time since you've visited the + Valley of the Giants; your long exile from the wood-goblins has made you a + trifle gloomy, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan nodded. “I haven't seen them in a year and a half, Bryce. + Last time I was up, I slipped between the logs on the old skid-road and + like to broke my old fool neck. But even that wasn't warning enough for + me. I cracked right on into the timber and got lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Lost? Poor old partner! And what did you do about it?” + </p> + <p> + “The sensible thing, my boy. I just sat down under a tree and waited for + George Sea Otter to trail me and bring me home.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he find you? Or did you have to spend the night in the woods?” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan smiled humorously. “I did not. Along about sunset George + found me. Seems he'd been following me all the time, and when I sat down + he waited to make certain whether I was lost or just taking a rest where I + could be quiet and think.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been leaving to an Indian the fulfillment of my duty,” Bryce + murmured bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, son. You have never been deficient in that,” the old man + protested. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you have the old skid-road planked with refuse lumber so you + wouldn't fall through? And you might have had the woods-boss swamp a new + trail into the timber and fence it on both sides, in order that you might + feel your way along.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, quite true,” admitted the old man. “But then, I don't spend money + quite as freely as I used to, Bryce. I consider carefully now before I + part with a dollar.” + </p> + <p> + “Pal, it wasn't fair of you to make me stay away so long. If I had only + known—if I had remotely suspected—” + </p> + <p> + “You'd have spoiled everything—of course. Don't scold me, son. + You're all I have now, and I couldn't bear to send for you until you'd had + your fling.” His trembling old hand crept over and closed upon his boy's + hand, so firm but free from signs of toil. “It was my pleasure, Bryce,” he + continued, “and you wouldn't deny me my choice of sport, would you? + Remember, lad, I never had a boyhood; I never had a college education, and + the only real travel I have ever had was when I worked my way around Cape + Horn as a foremast hand, and all I saw then was water and hardships; all + I've seen since is my little world here in Sequoia and in San Francisco.” + </p> + <p> + “You've sacrificed enough—too much—for me, Dad.” + </p> + <p> + “It pleased me to give you all the advantages I wanted and couldn't afford + until I was too old and too busy to consider them. Besides, it was your + mother's wish. We made plans for you before you were born, and I promised + her—ah, well, why be a cry-baby? I knew I could manage until you + were ready to settle down to business. And you HAVE enjoyed your little + run, haven't you?” he concluded wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “I have, Dad.” Bryce's great hand closed over the back of his father's + neck; he shook the old man with mock ferocity. “Stubborn old lumberjack!” + he chided. + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan shook with an inward chuckle, for the loving abuse his boy + had formed a habit of heaping on him never failed to thrill him. + Instinctively Bryce had realized that to-night obvious sympathy copiously + expressed was not the medicine for his father's bruised spirit; hence he + elected to regard the latter's blindness as a mere temporary annoyance, + something to be considered lightly, if at all; and it was typical of him + now that the subject had been discussed briefly, to resolve never to refer + to it again. He released his hold on the old man's neck and tapped the + latter's gray head lightly, while with his tongue he made hollow-sounding + noises against the roof of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! I thought so,” he declared. “After your fifty-odd years in the lumber + business your head has become packed with sawdust—” + </p> + <p> + “Be serious and talk to me, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to send you to bed without your supper. Talk to you? You bet I'll + talk to you, John Cardigan; and I'll tell you things, too, you scandalous + bunko-steerer. To-morrow morning I'm going to put a pair of overalls on + you, arm you with a tin can and a swab, and set you to greasing the + skidways. Partner, you've deceived me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense. If I had whimpered, that would only have spoiled + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, you were forced to cable me to hurry home.” + </p> + <p> + “I summoned you the instant I realized I was going to need you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't, John Cardigan. You summoned me because, for the first + time in your life, you were panicky and let yourself get out of hand.” + </p> + <p> + His father nodded slowly. “And you aren't over it yet,” Bryee continued, + his voice no longer bantering but lowered affectionately. “What's the + trouble, Dad? Trot out your old panic and let me inspect it. Trouble must + be very real when it gets my father on the run.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Bryce, very real indeed. As I remarked before, I've lost your + heritage for you.” He sighed. “I waited till you would be able to come + home and settle down to business; now you're home, and there isn't any + business to settle down to.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce chuckled, for he was indeed far from being worried over business + matters, his consideration now being entirely for his father's peace of + mind. “All right,” he retorted, “Father has lost his money and we'll have + to let the servants go and give up the old home. That part of it is + settled; and weak, anemic, tenderly nurtured little Bryce Cardigan must + put his turkey on his back and go into the woods looking for a job as + lumberjack ... Busted, eh? Did I or did I not hear the six o'clock whistle + blow at the mill? Bet you a dollar I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have title to everything—yet.” + </p> + <p> + “How I do have to dig for good news! Then it appears we still have a + business; indeed, we may always have a business, for the very fact that it + is going but not quite gone implies a doubt as to its ultimate departure, + and perhaps we may yet scheme a way to retain it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my boy, when I think of my years of toil and scheming, of the big + dreams I dreamed—” + </p> + <p> + “Belay all! If we can save enough out of the wreck to insure you your + customary home comforts, I shan't cry, partner. I have a profession to + fall back on. Yes, sirree. I own a sheep-skin, and it says I'm an + electrical and civil engineer.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “I said it. An electrical and civil engineer. Slipped one over on you at + college, John Cardigan, when all the time you thought I was having a good + time. Thought I'd come home and surprise you.” + </p> + <p> + “Bu-bu-but—” + </p> + <p> + “It drives me wild to have a man sputter at me. I'm an electrical and + civil engineer, I tell you, and my two years of travel have been spent + studying the installation and construction of big plants abroad.” He + commenced to chuckle softly. “I've known for years that our sawmill was a + debilitated old coffee-grinder and would have to be rebuilt, so I wanted + to know how to rebuild it. And I've known for years that some day I might + have to build a logging railroad—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy! And you've got your degree?” + </p> + <p> + “Partner, I have a string of letters after my name like the tail of a + comet.” + </p> + <p> + “You comfort me,” the old man answered simply. “I have reproached myself + with the thought that I reared you with the sole thought of making a + lumberman out of you—and when I saw your lumber business slipping + through my fingers—” + </p> + <p> + “You were sorry I didn't have a profession to fall back on, eh? Or were + you fearful lest you had raised the usual rich man's son? If the latter, + you did not compliment me, pal. I've never forgotten how hard you always + strove to impress me with a sense of the exact weight of my responsibility + as your successor.” + </p> + <p> + “How big are you now?” his father queried suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” Bryce answered, for his father's pleasure putting aside his + normal modesty, “I'm six feet two inches tall, and I weigh two hundred + pounds in the pink of condition. I have a forty-eight-inch chest, with + five and a half inches chest-expansion, and a reach as long as a + gorilla's. My underpinning is good, too; I'm not one of these fellows with + spidery legs and a barrel-chest. I can do a hundred yards in ten seconds; + I'm no slouch of a swimmer; and at Princeton they say I made football + history. And in spite of it all, I haven't an athletic heart.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very encouraging, my boy—very. Ever do any boxing?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a little. I'm fairly up in the manly art of self-defence.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good. And I suppose you did some wrestling at your college + gymnasium, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. I went in for everything my big carcass could stand.” + </p> + <p> + The old man wagged his head approvingly, and they had reached the gate of + the Cardigan home before he spoke again. “There's a big buck woods-boss up + in Pennington's camp,” he remarked irrelevantly. “He's a French Canadian + imported from northern Michigan by Colonel Pennington. I dare say he's the + only man in this country who measures up to you physically. He can fight + with his fists and wrestle right cleverly, I'm told. His name is Jules + Rondeau, and he's top dog among the lumberjacks. They say he's the + strongest man in the county.” He unlatched the gate. “Folks used to say + that about me once,” he continued wistfully. “Ah, if I could have my eyes + to see you meet Jules Rondeau!” + </p> + <p> + The front portal of the quaint old Cardigan residence opened, and a + silver-haired lady came out on the porch and hailed Bryce. She was Mrs. + Tully, John Cardigan's old housekeeper, and almost a mother to Bryce. “Oh, + here's my boy!” she cried, and a moment later found herself encircled by + Bryce's arms and saluted with a hearty kiss. + </p> + <p> + As he stepped into the familiar entrance-hall, Bryce paused, raised his + head and sniffed suspiciously, like a bird-dog. Mrs. Tully, arms akimbo, + watched him pleasurably. “I smell something,” he declared, and advanced a + step down the hall for another sniff; then, in exact imitation of a + foxhound, he gave tongue and started for the kitchen. Mrs. Tully, waddling + after, found him “pointing” two hot blackberry pies which had but a few + minutes previous been taken from the oven. He was baying lugubriously. + </p> + <p> + “They're wild blackberries, too,” Mrs. Tully announced pridefully. “I + remembered how fond you used to be of wild-blackberry pie—so I + phoned up to the logging-camp and had the woods-boss send a man out to + pick them.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm still a pie-hound, Mrs. Tully, and you're still the same dear, + thoughtful soul. I'm so glad now that I had sense enough to think of you + before I turned my footsteps toward the setting sun.” He patted her gray + head. “Mrs. T.,” he declared, “I've brought you a nice big collar of Irish + lace—bought it in Belfast, b'gosh. It comes down around your neck + and buckles right here with an old ivory cameo I picked up in Burma and + which formerly was the property of a Hindu queen.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tully simpered with pleasure and protested that her boy was too kind. + “You haven't changed a single speck,” she concluded proudly. + </p> + <p> + “Has the pie?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not.” + </p> + <p> + “How many did you make?” + </p> + <p> + “Two.” + </p> + <p> + “May I have one all for myself, Mrs. Tully?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you may, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, but I do not want it for myself. Mrs. Tully, will you please + wrap one of those wonderful pies in a napkin and the instant George Sea + Otter comes in with the car, tell him to take the pie over to Colonel + Pennington's house and deliver it to Miss Sumner? There's a girl who + doubtless thinks she has tasted pie in her day, and I want to prove to her + that she hasn't.” He selected a card from his card-case, sat down, and + wrote: + </p> + <p> + Dear Miss Sumner: + </p> + <p> + Here is a priceless hot wild-blackberry pie, especially manufactured in my + honour. It is so good I wanted you to have some. In all your life you have + never tasted anything like it. + </p> + <p> + Sincerely, BRYCE CARDIGAN. + </p> + <p> + He handed the card to Mrs. Tully and repaired to his old room to remove + the stains of travel before joining his father at dinner. + </p> + <p> + Some twenty minutes later his unusual votive offering was delivered by + George Sea Otter to Colonel Pennington's Swedish maid, who promptly + brought it in to the Colonel and Shirley Sumner, who were even then at + dinner in the Colonel's fine burl-redwood-panelled dining room. Miss + Sumner's amazement was so profound that for fully a minute she was mute, + contenting herself with scrutinizing alternately the pie and the card that + accompanied it. Presently she handed the card to her uncle, who affixed + his pince-nez and read the epistle with deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't this young Cardigan a truly remarkable young man, Shirley?” he + declared. “Why, I have never heard of anything like his astounding action. + If he had sent you over an armful of American Beauty roses from his + father's old-fashioned garden, I could understand it, but an infernal + blackberry pie! Good heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “I told you he was different,” she replied. To the Colonel's amazement she + did not appear at all amused. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pennington poked a fork through the delicate brown crust. “I + wonder if it is really as good as he says it is, Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. If it wasn't, he wouldn't have sent it.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “By intuition,” she replied. And she cut into the pie and helped the + Colonel to a quadrant of it. + </p> + <p> + “That was a genuine hayseed faux-pas,” announced the Colonel a few moments + later as Shirley was pouring coffee from a samovar-shaped percolator in + the library. “The idea of anybody who has enjoyed the advantages that + fellow has, sending a hot blackberry pie to a girl he has just met!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the idea!” she echoed. “I find it rather charming.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean amusing.” + </p> + <p> + “I said 'charming.' Bryce Cardigan is a man with the heart and soul of a + boy, and I think it was mighty sweet of him to share his pie with me. If + he had sent roses, I should have suspected him of trying to 'rush' me, but + the fact that he sent a blackberry pie proves that he's just a natural, + simple, sane, original citizen—just the kind of person a girl can + have for a dear friend without incurring the risk of having to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat that this is most extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “Only because it is an unusual thing for a young man to do, although, + after all, why shouldn't he send me a blackberry pie if he thought a + blackberry pie would please me more than an armful of roses? Besides, he + may send the roses to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Most extraordinary!” the Colonel reiterated. + </p> + <p> + “What should one expect from such an extraordinary creature? He's an + extraordinary fine-looking young man, with an extraordinary scowl and an + extraordinary crinkly smile that is friendly and generous and free from + masculine guile. Why, I think he's just the kind of man who WOULD send a + girl a blackberry pie.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel noticed a calm little smile fringing her generous mouth. He + wished he could tell, by intuition, what she was thinking about—and + what effect a hot wild-blackberry pie was ultimately to have upon the + value of his minority holding in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Not until dinner was finished and father and son had repaired to the + library for their coffee and cigars did Bryce Cardigan advert to the + subject of his father's business affairs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John Cardigan,” he declared comfortably, “to-day is Friday. I'll + spend Saturday and Sunday in sinful sloth and the renewal of old + acquaintance, and on Monday I'll sit in at your desk and give you a + long-deferred vacation. How about that programme, pard?” + </p> + <p> + “Our affairs are in such shape that they could not possibly be hurt or + bettered, no matter who takes charge of them now,” Cardigan replied + bitterly. “We're about through. I waited too long and trusted too far; and + now—well, in a year we'll be out of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything right to the + end. George Sea Otter informed me that you've been having trouble with + this Johnny-come-lately, Colonel Pennington. Is he the man who has us + where the hair is short?” + </p> + <p> + The old man nodded. + </p> + <p> + “The Squaw Creek timber deal, eh?” Bryce suggested. + </p> + <p> + Again the old man nodded. “You wrote me all about that,” Bryce continued. + “You had him blocked whichever way he turned—so effectually blocked, + in fact, that the only pleasure he has derived from his investment since + is the knowledge that he owns two thousand acres of timber with the + exclusive right to pay taxes on it, walk in it, look at it and admire it—in + fact, do everything except log it, mill it, and realize on his investment. + It must make him feel like a bally jackass.” + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand,” his father reminded him, “no matter what the + Colonel's feeling on that score may be, misery loves company, and not + until I had pulled out of the Squaw Creek country and started logging in + the San Hedrin watershed, did I realize that I had been considerable of a + jackass myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Bryce admitted, “there can be no doubt but that you cut off your + nose to spite your face.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence between them for several minutes. Bryce's thoughts + harked back to that first season of logging in the San Hedrin, when the + cloud-burst had caught the river filled with Cardigan logs and whirled + them down to the bay, to crash through the log-boom at tidewater and + continue out to the open sea. In his mind's eye he could still see the + red-ink figures on the profit-and-loss statement Sinclair, his father's + manager, had presented at the end of that year. + </p> + <p> + The old man appeared to divine the trend of his son's thoughts. “Yes, + Bryce, that was a disastrous year,” he declared. “The mere loss of the + logs was a severe blow, but in addition I had to pay out quite a little + money to settle with my customers. I was loaded up with low-priced orders + that year, although I didn't expect to make any money. The orders were + merely taken to keep the men employed. You understand, Bryce! I had a good + crew, the finest in the country; and if I had shut down, my men would have + scattered and—well, you know how hard it is to get that kind of a + crew together again. Besides, I had never failed my boys before, and I + couldn't bear the thought of failing them then. Half the mills in the + country were shut down at the time, and there was a lot of distress among + the unemployed. I couldn't do it, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce nodded. “And when you lost the logs, you couldn't fill those + low-priced orders. Then the market commenced to jump and advanced three + dollars in three months—” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, my son. And my customers began to crowd me to fill those old + orders. Praise be, my regular customers knew I wasn't the kind of + lumberman who tries to crawl out of filling low-priced orders after the + market has gone up. Nevertheless I couldn't expect them to suffer with me; + my failure to perform my contracts, while unavoidable, nevertheless would + have caused them a severe loss, and when they were forced to buy + elsewhere, I paid them the difference between the price they paid my + competitors and the price at which they originally placed their orders + with me. And the delay in delivery caused them further loss.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly a hundred thousand—to settle for losses to my local + customers alone. Among my orders I had three million feet of clear lumber + for shipment to the United Kingdom, and these foreign customers, thinking + I was trying to crawfish on my contracts, sued me and got judgment for + actual and exemplary damages for my failure to perform, while the + demurrage on the ships they sent to freight the lumber sent me hustling to + the bank to borrow money.” + </p> + <p> + He smoked meditatively for a minute. “I've always been land-poor,” he + explained apologetically. “Never kept much of a reserve working-capital + for emergencies, you know. Whenever I had idle money, I put it into timber + in the San Hedrin watershed, because I realized that some day the railroad + would build in from the south, tap that timber, and double its value. I've + not as yet found reason to doubt the wisdom of my course; but”—he + sighed—“the railroad is a long time coming!” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan here spoke of a most important factor in the situation. The + crying need of the country was a feeder to some transcontinental railroad. + By reason of natural barriers, Humboldt County was not easily accessible + to the outside world except from the sea, and even this avenue of ingress + and egress would be closed for days at a stretch when the harbour bar was + on a rampage. With the exception of a strip of level, fertile land, + perhaps five miles wide and thirty miles long and contiguous to the + seacoast, the heavily timbered mountains to the north, east, and south + rendered the building of a railroad that would connect Humboldt County + with the outside world a profoundly difficult and expensive task. The + Northwestern Pacific, indeed, had been slowly building from San Francisco + Bay up through Marin and Sonoma counties to Willits in Mendocino County. + But there it had stuck to await that indefinite day when its finances and + the courage of its board of directors should prove equal to the colossal + task of continuing the road two hundred miles through the mountains to + Sequoia on Humboldt Bay. For twenty years the Humboldt pioneers had lived + in hope of this; but eventually they had died in despair or were in + process of doing so. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Dad. It will come,” Bryce assured his father. “It's bound + to.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not in my day. And when it comes, a stranger may own your San + Hedrin timber and reap the reward of my lifetime of labour.” + </p> + <p> + Again a silence fell between them, broken presently by the old man. “That + was a mistake—logging in the San Hedrin,” he observed. “I had my + lesson that first year, but I didn't heed it. If I had abandoned my camps + there, pocketed my pride, paid Colonel Pennington two dollars for his + Squaw Creek timber, and rebuilt my old logging-road, I would have been + safe to-day. But I was stubborn; I'd played the game so long, you know—I + didn't want to let that man Pennington outgame me. So I tackled the San + Hedrin again. We put thirty million feet of logs into the river that year, + and when the freshet came, McTavish managed to make a fairly successful + drive. But he was all winter on the job, and when spring came and the men + went into the woods again, they had to leave nearly a million feet of + heavy butt logs permanently stranded in the slack water along the banks, + while perhaps another million feet of lighter logs had been lifted out of + the channel by the overflow and left high and dry when the water receded. + There they were, Bryce, scattered up and down the river, far from the + cables and logging-donkeys, the only power we could use to get those + monsters back into the river again, and I was forced to decide whether + they should be abandoned or split during the summer into railroad ties, + posts, pickets, and shakes—commodities for which there was very + little call at the time and in which, even when sold, there could be no + profit after deducting the cost of the twenty-mile wagon haul to Sequoia, + and the water freight from Sequoia to market. So I abandoned them.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember that phase of it, partner.” + </p> + <p> + “To log it the third year only meant that more of those heavy logs would + jam and spell more loss. Besides, there was always danger of another + cloud-burst which would put me out of business completely, and I couldn't + afford the risk.” + </p> + <p> + “That was the time you should have offered Colonel Pennington a handsome + profit on his Squaw Creek timber, pal.” + </p> + <p> + “If my hindsight was as good as my foresight, and I had my eyesight, I + wouldn't be in this dilemma at all,” the old man retorted briskly. “It's + hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and besides, I was obsessed with the + need of protecting your heritage from attack in any direction.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan straightened up in his chair and laid the tip of his right + index finger in the centre of the palm of his left hand. “Here was the + situation, Bryce: The centre of my palm represents Sequoia; the end of my + fingers represents the San Hedrin timber twenty miles south. Now, if the + railroad built in from the south, you would win. But if it built in from + Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the north from the base of my hand, the terminus + of the line would be Sequoia, twenty miles from your timber in the San + Hedrin watershed!” + </p> + <p> + Bryce nodded. “In which event,” he replied, “we, would be in much the same + position with our San Hedrin timber as Colonel Pennington is with his + Squaw Creek timber. We would have the comforting knowledge that we owned + it and paid taxes on it but couldn't do a dad-burned thing with it!” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are! The thing to do, then, as I viewed the situation, Bryce, + was to acquire a body of timber NORTH of Sequoia and be prepared for + either eventuality. And this I did.” + </p> + <p> + Silence again descended upon them; and Bryce, gazing into the open + fireplace, recalled an event in that period of his father's activities: + Old Bill Henderson had come up to their house to dinner one night, and + quite suddenly, in the midst of his soup, the old fox had glared across at + his host and bellowed: + </p> + <p> + “John, I hear you've bought six thousand acres up in Township Nine.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan had merely nodded, and Henderson had continued: + </p> + <p> + “Going to log it or hold it for investment?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a good buy,” Cardigan had replied enigmatically; “so I thought I'd + better take it at the price. I suppose Bryce will log it some day.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish Bryce wasn't such a boy, John. See here, now, neighbour. I'll + 'fess up. I took that money Pennington gave me for my Squaw Creek timber + and put it back into redwood in Township Nine, slam-bang up against your + holdings there. John, I'd build a mill on tidewater if you'd sell me a + site, and I'd log my timber if—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll sell you a mill-site, Bill, and I won't stab you to the heart, + either. Consider that settled.” + </p> + <p> + “That's bully, John; but still, you only dispose of part of my troubles. + There's twelve miles of logging-road to build to get my logs to the mill, + and I haven't enough ready money to make the grade. Better throw in with + me, John, and we'll build the road and operate it for our joint interest.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not throw in with you, Bill, at my time of life, I don't want to + have the worry of building, maintaining, and operating twelve miles of + private railroad. But I'll loan you, without security—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to take an unsecured note, John. Everything I've got is + hocked.” + </p> + <p> + “—the money you need to build and equip the road,” finished + Cardigan. “In return you are to shoulder all the grief and worry of the + road and give me a ten-year contract at a dollar and a half per thousand + feet, to haul my logs down to tidewater with your own. My minimum haul + will be twenty-five million feet annually, and my maximum fifty million—” + </p> + <p> + “Sold!” cried Henderson. And it was even so. + </p> + <p> + Bryce came out of his reverie. “And now?” he queried of his father. + </p> + <p> + “I mortgaged the San Hedrin timber in the south to buy the timber in the + north, my son; then after I commenced logging in my new holdings, came + several long, lean years of famine. I stuck it out, hoping for a change + for the better; I couldn't bear to close down my mill and logging-camps, + for the reason that I could stand the loss far more readily than the men + who worked for me and depended upon me. But the market dragged in the + doldrums, and Bill Henderson died, and his boys got discouraged, and—” + </p> + <p> + A sudden flash of inspiration illumined Bryce Cardigan's brain. “And they + sold out to Colonel Pennington,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. The Colonel took over my contract with Henderson's company, + along with the other assets, and it was incumbent upon him, as assignee, + to fulfill the contract. For the past two years the market for redwood has + been most gratifying, and if I could only have gotten a maximum supply of + logs over Pennington's road, I'd have worked out of the hole, but—” + </p> + <p> + “He manages to hold you to a minimum annual haul of twenty-five million + feet, eh?” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan nodded. “He claims he's short of rolling-stock—that + wrecks and fires have embarrassed the road. He can always find excuses for + failing to spot in logging-trucks for Cardigan's logs. Bill Henderson + never played the game that way. He gave me what I wanted and never held me + to the minimum haulage when I was prepared to give him the maximum.” + </p> + <p> + “What does Colonel Pennington want, pard?” + </p> + <p> + “He wants,” said John Cardigan slowly, “my Valley of the Giants and a + right of way through my land from the valley to a log-dump on deep water.” + </p> + <p> + “And you refused him?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. You know my ideas on that big timber.” His old head sank low + on his breast. “Folks call them Cardigan's Redwoods now,” he murmured. + “Cardigan's Redwoods—and Pennington would cut them! Oh, Bryce, the + man hasn't a soul!” + </p> + <p> + “But I fail to see what the loss of Cardigan's Redwoods has to do with the + impending ruin of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company,” his son reminded + him. “We have all the timber we want.” + </p> + <p> + “My ten-year contract has but one more year to run, and recently I tried + to get Pennington to renew it. He was very nice and sociable, but—he + named me a freight-rate, for a renewal of the contract for five years, of + three dollars per thousand feet. That rate is prohibitive and puts us out + of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” Bryce returned evenly. “How about the State railroad + commission? Hasn't it got something to say about rates?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—on common carriers. But Pennington's load is a private + logging-road; my contract will expire next year, and it is not incumbent + upon Pennington to renew it. And one can't operate a sawmill without logs, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Bryce calmly, “we'll shut the mill down when the log-hauling + contract expires, hold our timber as an investment, and live the simple + life until we can sell it or a transcontinental road builds into Humboldt + County and enables us to start up the mill again.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan shook his head. “I'm mortgaged to the last penny,” he + confessed, “and Pennington has been buying Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company + first-mortgage bonds until he is in control of the issue. He'll buy in the + San Hedrin timber at the foreclosure sale, and in order to get it back and + save something for you out of the wreckage, I'll have to make an + unprofitable trade with him. I'll have to give him my timber adjoining his + north of Sequoia, together with my Valley of the Giants, in return for the + San Hedrin timber, to which he'll have a sheriff's deed. But the mill, all + my old employees, with their numerous dependents—gone, with you left + land-poor and without a dollar to pay your taxes. Smashed—like + that!” And he drove his fist into the palm of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps—but not without a fight,” Bryce answered, although he knew + their plight was well-nigh hopeless. “I'll give that man Pennington a run + for his money, or I'll know the reason.” + </p> + <p> + The telephone on the table beside him tinkled, and he took down the + receiver and said “Hello!” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” came the clear, sweet voice of Shirley Sumner over the wire. “Do + you feel as savage as all that, Mr. Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + For the second time in his life the thrill that was akin to pain came to + Bryce Cardigan. He laughed. “If I had known you were calling, Miss + Sumner,” he said, “I shouldn't have growled so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're forgiven—for several reasons, but principally for + sending me that delicious blackberry pie. Of course, it discoloured my + teeth temporarily, but I don't care. The pie was worth it, and you were + awfully dear to think of sending it. Thank you so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad you liked it, Miss Sumner. I dare to hope that I may have the + privilege of seeing you soon again.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. One good pie deserves another. Some evening next week, when + that dear old daddy of yours can spare his boy, you might be interested to + see our burl-redwood-panelled dining room Uncle Seth is so proud of. I'm + too recent an arrival to know the hour at which Uncle Seth dines, but I'll + let you know later and name a definite date. Would Thursday night be + convenient?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. Thank you a thousand times.” + </p> + <p> + She bade him good-night. As he turned from the telephone, his father + looked up. “What are you going to do to-morrow, lad?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “I have to do some thinking to-morrow,” Bryce answered. “So I'm going up + into Cardigan's Redwoods to do it. Up there a fellow can get set, as it + were, to put over a thought with a punch in it.” + </p> + <p> + “The dogwoods and rhododendron are blooming now,” the old man murmured + wistfully. Bryce knew what he was thinking of. “I'll attend to the flowers + for Mother,” he assured Cardigan, and he added fiercely: “And I'll attend + to the battle for Father. We may lose, but that man Pennington will know + he's been in a fight before we fin—-” + </p> + <p> + He broke off abruptly, for he had just remembered that he was to dine at + the Pennington house the following Thursday—and he was not the sort + of man who smilingly breaks bread with his enemy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + For many years there had been installed in Cardigan's mill a clock set to + United States observatory time and corrected hourly by the telegraph + company. It was the only clock of its kind in Sequoia; hence folk set + their watches by it, or rather by the whistle on Cardigan's mill. With a + due appreciation of the important function of this clock toward his + fellow-citizens, old Zeb Curry, the chief engineer and a stickler for + being on time, was most meticulous in his whistle-blowing. With a sage and + prophetic eye fixed upon the face of the clock, and a particularly greasy + hand grasping the whistle-cord, Zeb would wait until the clock registered + exactly six-fifty-nine and a half—whereupon the seven o'clock + whistle would commence blowing, to cease instantly upon the stroke of the + hour. It was old Zeb's pride and boast that with a single exception, + during the sixteen years the clock had been in service, no man could say + that Zeb had been more than a second late or early with his + whistle-blowing. That exception occurred when Bryce Cardigan, invading the + engine room while Zeb was at luncheon, looped the whistle-cord until the + end dangled seven feet above ground. As a consequence Zeb, who was a + short, fat little man, was forced to leap at it several times before + success crowned his efforts and the whistle blew. Thereafter for the + remainder of the day his reason tottered on its throne, due to the fact + that Bryce induced every mill employee to call upon the engineer and + remind him that he must be growing old, since he was no longer dependable! + </p> + <p> + On the morning following Bryce Cardigan's return to Sequoia, Zeb Curry, as + per custom, started his engine at six-fifty-eight. That gave the huge + bandsaws two minutes in which to attain their proper speed and afforded + Dan Kenyon, the head sawyer, ample time to run his steam log-carriage out + to the end of the track; for Daniel, too, was a reliable man in the matter + of starting his daily uproar on time. + </p> + <p> + At precisely six fifty-nine and a half, therefore, the engineer's hand + closed over the handle of the whistle-cord, and Dan Kenyon, standing on + the steam-carriage with his hand on the lever, took a thirty-second squint + through a rather grimy window that gave upon the drying-yard and the + mill-office at the head of it. + </p> + <p> + The whistle ceased blowing, but still Dan Kenyon stood at his post, + oblivious of the hungry saws. Ten seconds passed; then Zeb Curry, + immeasurably scandalized at Daniel's tardiness, tooted the whistle sharply + twice; whereupon Dan woke up, threw over the lever, and walked his log up + to the saw. + </p> + <p> + For the next five hours Zeb Curry had no opportunity to discuss the matter + with the head sawyer. After blowing the twelve o'clock whistle, however, + he hurried over to the dining-hall, where the mill hands already lined the + benches, shovelling food into their mouths as only a lumberman or a miner + can. Dan Kenyon sat at the head of the table in the place of honour sacred + to the head sawyer, and when his mouth would permit of some activity other + than mastication, Zeb Curry caught his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, you, Dan Kenyon,” he shouted across the table, “what happened to you + this mornin'? It was sixteen seconds between the tail end o' my whistle + an' the front end o' your whinin'. First thing you know, you'll be gettin' + so slack an' careless-like some other man'll be ridin' that log-carriage + o' yourn.” + </p> + <p> + “I was struck dumb,” Dan Kenyon replied. “I just stood there like one o' + these here graven images. Last night on my way home from work I heerd the + young feller was back—he got in just as we was knockin' off for the + day; an' this mornin' just as you cut loose, Zeb, I'll be danged if he + didn't show up in front o' the office door, fumblin' for the keyhole. Yes, + sirree! That boy gets in at six o'clock last night an' turns to on his + paw's job when the whistle blows this mornin' at seven.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean young Bryce Cardigan?” Zeb queried incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “I shore do.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't possible,” Zeb declared. “You seen a new bookkeeper, mebbe, but + you didn't see Bryce. He aint no such hog for labour as his daddy before + him, I'm tellin' you. Not that there's a lazy bone in his body, for there + ain't, but because that there boy's got too much sense to come bollin' + down to work at seven o'clock the very first mornin' he's back from + Yurrup.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm layin' you ten to one I seen him,” Dan replied defiantly, “an' what's + more, I'll bet a good cigar—a ten-center straight—the boy + don't leave till six o'clock to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “You're on,” answered the chief engineer. “Them's lumberjack hours, man. + From seven till six means work—an' only fools an' hosses keeps them + hours.” + </p> + <p> + The head sawyer leaned across the table and pounded with the handle of his + knife until he had the attention of all present. “I'm a-goin' to tell you + young fellers somethin',” he announced. “Ever since the old boss got so he + couldn't look after his business with his own eyes, things has been goin' + to blazes round this sawmill, but they ain't a-goin' no more. How do I + know? Well, I'll tell you. All this forenoon I kept my eye on the office + door—I can see it through a mill winder; an' I'm tellin' you the old + boss didn't show up till ten o'clock, which the old man ain't never been a + ten o'clock business man at no time. Don't that prove the boy's took his + place?” + </p> + <p> + Confused murmurs of affirmation and negation ran up and down the long + table. Dan tapped with his knife again. “You hear me,” he warned. “Thirty + year I've been ridin' John Cardigan's log-carriages; thirty year I've been + gettin' everythin' out of a log it's possible to git out, which is more'n + you fellers at the trimmers can git out of a board after I've sawed it off + the cant. There's a lot o' you young fellers that've been takin' John + Cardigan's money under false pretenses, so if I was you I'd keep both eyes + on my job hereafter. For a year I've been claimin' that good No. 2 stock + has been chucked into the slab-fire as refuge lumber.” (Dan meant refuse + lumber.) “But it won't be done no more. The raftsman tells me he seen + Bryce down at the end o' the conveyin' belt givin' that refuge the + once-over—so step easy.” + </p> + <p> + “What does young Cardigan know about runnin' a sawmill?” a planer-man + demanded bluntly. “They tell me he's been away to college an' travellin' + the past six years.” + </p> + <p> + “Wa-ll,” drawled the head sawyer, “you git to talkin' with him some day + an' see how much he knows about runnin' a sawmill. What he knows will + surprise you. Yes, indeed, you'll find he knows considerable. He's picked + up loose shingles around the yard an' bundled 'em in vacation times, an' I + want to see the shingle-weaver that can teach him some tricks. Also, I've + had him come up on the steam carriage more'n once an' saw up logs, while + at times I've seen him put in a week or two on the sortin' table. In a + pinch, with a lot o' vessels loadin' here at the dock an' the skippers + raisin' Cain because they wasn't gettin' their cargo fast enough, I've + seen him work nights an' Sundays tallyin' with the best o' them. Believe + me that boy can grade lumber.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I'll tell you somethin' else,” Zeb Curry cut in. “If the new boss + ever tells you to do a thing his way, you do it an' don't argue none as to + whether he knows more about it than you do or not.” + </p> + <p> + “A whole lot o' dagos an' bohunks that's come into the woods since the + blue-noses an' canucks an' wild Irish went out had better keep your eyes + open,” Dan Kenyon warned sagely. “There ain't none o' you any better'n you + ought to be, an' things have been pretty durned slack around Cardigan's + mill since the old man went blind, but—you watch out. There's a + change due. Bryce Cardigan is his father's son. He'll do things.” + </p> + <p> + “Which he's big enough to throw a bear uphill by the tail,” Zeb Curry + added, “an' you fellers all know how much tail a bear has.” + </p> + <p> + “Every mornin' for thirty years, 'ceptin' when we was shut down for + repairs,” Dan continued, “I've looked through that winder, when John + Cardigan wasn't away from Sequoia, to watch him git to his office on time. + He's there when the whistle blows, clear up to the time his eyes go back + on him, an' then he arrives late once or twice on account o' havin' to go + careful. This mornin', for the first time in fifty year, he stays in bed; + but—his son has the key in the office door when the whistle blows, + an'—” + </p> + <p> + Dan Kenyon paused abruptly; the hum of conversation ceased, and silence + fell upon the room as Bryce Cardigan strolled in the door, nodded to the + men, and slid in on the bench to a seat beside the head sawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Dan—hello, Zeb,” he said and shook hands with each. “I'm + mighty glad to see you both again. Hello, everybody. I'm the new boss, so + I suppose I'd better introduce myself—there are so many new faces + here. I'm Bryce Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Zeb Curry volunteered, “an' he's like his daddy. He ain't ashamed + to work with his men, an' he ain't ashamed to eat with his men, nuther. + Glad you're back with us again, boy—mighty glad. Dan, here, he's + gittin' slacker'n an old squaw with his work an' needs somebody to jerk + him up, while the rest o' these here—” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed that about Dan,” Bryce interrupted craftily. “He's slowing up, + Zeb. He must have been fifteen seconds late this morning—or + perhaps,” he added “you were fifteen seconds earlier than the clock.” + </p> + <p> + Dan grinned, and Bryce went on seriously: “I'm afraid you're getting too + old to ride the log-carriage, Dan. You've been at it a long time; so, with + the utmost good will in the world toward you, you're fired. I might as + well tell you now. You know me, Dan. I always did dislike beating about + the bush.” + </p> + <p> + “Fired!” Dan Kenyon's eyes popped with amazement and horror. “Fired—after + thirty years!” he croaked. + </p> + <p> + “Fired!” There was unmistakable finality in Bryce's tones. “You're hired + again, however, at a higher salary, as mill-superintendent. You can get + away with that job, can't you, Dan? In fact,” he added without waiting for + the overjoyed Dan to answer him, “you've got to get away with it, because + I discharged the mill-superintendent I found on the job when I got down + here this morning. He's been letting too many profits go into the + slab-fire. In fact, the entire plant has gone to glory. Fire-hose old and + rotten—couldn't stand a hundred-pound pressure; fire-buckets and + water-barrels empty, axes not in their proper places, fire-extinguishers + filled with stale chemical—why, the smallest kind of a fire here + would get beyond our control with that man on the job. Besides, he's + changed the grading-rules. I found the men putting clear boards with + hard-grained streaks in them in with the No. 1 clear. The customer may not + kick at a small percentage of No. 2 in his No. 1 but it's only fair to + give it to him at two dollars a thousand less.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” purred Zeb Curry, “they don't grade lumber as strict nowadays as + they used to before you went away. Colonel Pennington says we're a lot o' + back numbers out this way an' too generous with our grades. First thing he + did was to call a meetin' of all the Humboldt lumber manufacturers an' + organize 'em into an association. Then he had the gradin'-rules changed. + The retailers hollered for a while, but bimeby they got used to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did my father join that association?” Bryce demanded quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He told Pennington he wasn't goin' to be no obstructionist in the + trade, but he did kick like a bay steer on them new gradin'-rules an' + refused to conform to 'em. Said he was too old an' had been too long in + business to start gougin' his customers at his time o' life. So he got out + o' the association.” + </p> + <p> + “Bully for John Cardigan!” Bryce declared. “I suppose we could make a + little more money by cheapening our grade, but the quality of our lumber + is so well known that it sells itself and saves us the expense of + maintaining a corps of salesmen.” + </p> + <p> + “From what I hear tell o' the Colonel,” Dan observed sagely, “the least he + ever wants is a hundred and fifty per cent. the best of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” old Zeb observed gravely, “an' so fur as I can see, he ain't none + too perticular how he gets it.” He helped himself to a toothpick, and + followed by the head sawyer, abruptly left the room—after the + fashion of sawmill men and woodsmen, who eat as much as they can as + quickly as they can and eventually die of old age rather than indigestion. + Bryce ate his noonday meal in more leisurely fashion and at its conclusion + stepped into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you live, cook?” he demanded of that functionary; and upon being + informed, he retired to the office and called up the Sequoia meat-market. + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Cardigan speaking,” he informed the butcher. “Do you ever buy any + pigs from our mill cook?” + </p> + <p> + “Not any more,” the butcher answered. “He stung me once with a dozen fine + shoats. They looked great, but after I had slaughtered them and had them + dressed, they turned out to be swill-fed hogs—swill and alfalfa.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” Bryce hung up. “I knew that cook was wasteful,” he declared, + turning to his father's old manager, one Thomas Sinclair. “He wastes food + in order to take the swill home to his hogs—and nobody watches him. + Things have certainly gone to the devil,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “No fault of mine,” Sinclair protested. “I've never paid any attention to + matters outside the office. Your father looked after everything else.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce looked at Sinclair. The latter was a thin, spare, nervous man in the + late fifties, and though generally credited with being John Cardigan's + manager, Bryce knew that Sinclair was in reality little more than a + glorified bookkeeper—and a very excellent bookkeeper indeed. Bryce + realized that in the colossal task that confronted him he could expect no + real help from Sinclair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, “my father looked after everything else—while he + could.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you'll soon get the business straightened out and running smoothly + again,” Sinclair declared confidently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad I started on the job to-day, rather than next Monday, as I + planned to do last night.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped to the window and looked out. At the mill-dock a big steam + schooner and a wind-jammer lay; in the lee of the piles of lumber, sailors + and long-shoremen, tallymen and timekeeper lounged, enjoying the brief + period of the noon hour still theirs before the driving mates of the + lumber-vessels should turn them to on the job once more. To his right and + left stretched the drying yard, gangway on gangway formed by the serried + rows of lumber-piles, the hoop-horses placidly feeding from their nosebags + while the strong-armed fellows who piled the lumber sat about in little + groups conversing with the mill-hands. + </p> + <p> + As Bryce looked, a puff of white steam appeared over the roof of the old + sawmill, and the one o'clock whistle blew. Instantly that scene of + indolence and ease turned to one of activity. The mill-hands lounging in + the gangways scurried for their stations in the mill; men climbed to the + tops of the lumber-piles, while other men passed boards and scantlings up + to them; the donkey-engines aboard the vessels rattled; the cargo-gaffs of + the steam schooner swung outward, and a moment later two great sling-loads + of newly sawed lumber rose in the air, swung inward, and descended to the + steamer's decks. + </p> + <p> + All about Bryce were scenes of activity, of human endeavour; and to him in + that moment came the thought: “My father brought all this to pass—and + now the task of continuing it is mine! All those men who earn a living in + Cardigan's mill and on Cardigan's dock—those sailors who sail the + ships that carry Cardigan's lumber into the distant marts of men—are + dependent upon me; and my father used to tell me not to fail them. Must my + father have wrought all this in vain? And must I stand by and see all this + go to satisfy the overwhelming ambition of a stranger?” His big hands + clenched. “No!” he growled savagely. + </p> + <p> + “If I stick around this office a minute longer, I'll go crazy,” Bryce + snarled then. “Give me your last five annual statements, Mr. Sinclair, + please.” + </p> + <p> + The old servitor brought forth the documents in question. Bryce stuffed + them into his pocket and left the office. Three quarters of an hour later + he entered the little amphitheatre in the Valley of the Giants and paused + with an expression of dismay. One of the giants had fallen and lay + stretched across the little clearing. In its descent it had demolished the + little white stone over his mother's grave and had driven the fragments of + the stone deep into the earth. + </p> + <p> + The tremendous brown butt quite ruined the appearance of the amphitheatre + by reason of the fact that it constituted a barrier some fifteen feet high + and of equal thickness athwart the centre of the clearing, with fully + three quarters of the length of the tree lost to sight where the fallen + monarch had wedged between its more fortunate fellows. The fact that the + tree was down, however, was secondary to the fact that neither wind nor + lightning had brought it low, but rather the impious hand of man; for the + great jagged stump showed all too plainly the marks of cross-cut saw and + axe; a pile of chips four feet deep littered the ground. + </p> + <p> + For fully a minute Bryce stood dumbly gazing upon the sacrilege before his + rage and horror found vent in words. “An enemy has done this thing,” he + cried aloud to the wood-goblins. “And over her grave!” + </p> + <p> + Presently, smothering his emotion, he walked the length of the dead giant, + and where the top tapered off to a size that would permit of his stepping + across it, he retraced his steps on the other side of the tree until he + had reached a point some fifty feet from the butt—when the vandal's + reason for felling the monster became apparent. + </p> + <p> + It was a burl tree. At the point where Bryce paused a malignant growth had + developed on the trunk of the tree, for all the world like a tremendous + wart. This was the burl, so prized for table-tops and panelling because of + the fact that the twisted, wavy, helter-skelter grain lends to the wood an + extraordinary beauty when polished. Bryee noted that the work of removing + this excrescence had been accomplished very neatly. With a cross-cut saw + the growth, perhaps ten feet in diameter, had been neatly sliced off much + as a housewife cuts slice after slice from a loaf of bread. He guessed + that these slices, practically circular in shape, had been rolled out of + the woods to some conveyance waiting to receive them. + </p> + <p> + What Bryce could not understand, however, was the stupid brutality of the + raiders in felling the tree merely for that section of burl. By permitting + the tree to stand and merely building a staging up to the burl, the latter + could have been removed without vital injury to the tree—whereas by + destroying the tree the wretches had evidenced all too clearly to Bryce a + wanton desire to add insult to injury. + </p> + <p> + Bryce inspected the scars on the stump carefully. They were + weather-stained to such an extent that to his experienced eye it was + evident the outrage had been committed more than a year previously; and + the winter rains, not to mention the spring growth of grasses and + underbrush, had effectually destroyed all trace of the trail taken by the + vandals with their booty. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old Dad!” he murmured. “I'm glad now he has been unable to get up + here and see this. It would have broken his heart. I'll have this tree + made into fence-posts and the stump dynamited and removed this summer. + After he is operated on and gets back his sight, he will come up here—and + he must never know. Perhaps he will have forgotten how many trees stood in + this circle. And I'll fill in the hole left by the stump and plant some + manzanita there to hide the—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Peeping out from under a chip among the litter at his feet was + the moldy corner of a white envelope. In an instant Bryce had it in his + hand. The envelope was dirty and weather-beaten, but to a certain extent + the redwood chips under which it had lain hidden had served to protect it, + and the writing on the face was still legible. The envelope was empty and + addressed to Jules Rondeau, care of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, + Sequoia, California. + </p> + <p> + Bryce read and reread that address. “Rondeau!” he muttered. “Jules + Rondeau! I've heard that name before—ah, yes! Dad spoke of him last + night. He's Pennington's woods-boss—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. An enemy had done this thing—and in all the world John + Cardigan had but one enemy—Colonel Seth Pennington. Had Pennington + sent his woods-boss to do this dirty work out of sheer spite? Hardly. The + section of burl was gone, and this argued that the question of spite had + been purely a matter of secondary consideration. + </p> + <p> + Evidently, Bryce reasoned, someone had desired that burl redwood greatly, + and that someone had not been Jules Rondeau, since a woods-boss would not + be likely to spend five minutes of his leisure time in consideration of + the beauties of a burl table-top or panel. Hence, if Rondeau had + superintended the task of felling the tree, it must have been at the + behest of a superior; and since a woods-boss acknowledges no superior save + the creator of the pay-roll, the recipient of that stolen burl must have + been Colonel Pennington. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he thrilled. If Jules Rondeau had stolen that burl to present it + to Colonel Pennington, his employer, then the finished article must be in + Pennington's home! And Bryce had been invited to that home for dinner the + following Thursday by the Colonel's niece. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go, after all,” he told himself. “I'll go—and I'll see what I + shall see.” + </p> + <p> + He was too wrought up now to sit calmly down in the peace and quietude of + the giants, and digest the annual reports Sinclair had given him. He + hastened back to the mill-office and sought Sinclair. + </p> + <p> + “At what hour does the logging-train leave the Laguna Grande Lumber + Company's yard for our log-landing in Township Nine?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Eight a.m. and one p.m. daily, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any maps of the holdings of Pennington and ourselves in that + district?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me have them, please. I know the topography of that district + perfectly, but I am not familiar with the holdings in and around ours.” + </p> + <p> + Sinclair gave him the maps, and Bryce retired to his father's private + office and gave himself up to a study of them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + When Shirley Sumner descended to the breakfast room on the morning + following her arrival in Sequoia, the first glance at her uncle's stately + countenance informed her that during the night something had occurred to + irritate Colonel Seth Pennington and startle him out of his customary + bland composure. He greeted her politely but coldly, and without even the + perfunctory formality of inquiring how she had passed the night, he came + directly to the issue, + </p> + <p> + “Shirley,” he began, “did I hear you calling young Cardigan on the + telephone after dinner last night or did my ears deceive me?” + </p> + <p> + “Your ears are all right, Uncle Seth. I called Mr. Cardigan up to thank + him for the pie he sent over, and incidentally to invite him over here to + dinner on Thursday night.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I heard you asking somebody to dinner, and as you don't know a + soul in Sequoia except young Cardigan, naturally I opined that he was to + be the object of our hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel coughed slightly. From the manner in which he approached the + task of buttering his hot cakes Shirley knew he had something more to say + and was merely formulating a polite set of phrases in which to express + himself. She resolved to help him along. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it's quite all right to have invited him; isn't it, Uncle + Seth?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly, my dear. Quite all right, but er—ah, slightly + inconvenient.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so sorry. If I had known—Perhaps some other night—” + </p> + <p> + “I am expecting other company Thursday night—unfortunately, Brayton, + the president of the Bank of Sequoia, is coming up to dine and discuss + some business affairs with me afterward; so if you don't mind, my dear, + suppose you call young Cardigan up and ask him to defer his visit until + some later date.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Uncle. There is no particular reason why I should have Mr. + Cardigan on Thursday if his presence would mean the slightest interference + with your plans. What perfectly marvellous roses! How did you succeed in + growing them, Uncle Seth?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled sourly. “I didn't raise them,” he replied. “That half-breed + Indian that drives John Cardigan's car brought them around about an hour + ago, along with a card. There it is, beside your plate.” + </p> + <p> + She blushed ever so slightly. “I suppose Bryce Cardigan is vindicating + himself,” she murmured as she withdrew the card from the envelope. As she + had surmised, it was Bryce Cardigan's. Colonel Pennington was the + proprietor of a similar surmise. + </p> + <p> + “Fast work, Shirley,” he murmured banteringly. “I wonder what he'll send + you for luncheon. Some dill pickles, probably.” + </p> + <p> + She pretended to be very busy with the roses, and not to have heard him. + Her uncle's sneer was not lost on her, however; she resented it but chose + to ignore it for the present; and when at length she had finished + arranging the flowers, she changed the conversation adroitly by + questioning her relative anent the opportunities for shopping in Sequoia. + The Colonel, who could assimilate a hint quicker than most ordinary + mortals, saw that he had annoyed her, and he promptly hastened to make + amends by permitting himself to be led readily into this new + conversational channel. As soon as he could do so, however, he excused + himself on the plea of urgent business at the office, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Shirley, left alone at the breakfast-table, picked idly at the preserved + figs the owlish butler set before her. Vaguely she wondered at her uncle's + apparent hostility to the Cardigans; she was as vaguely troubled in the + knowledge that until she should succeed in eradicating this hostility, it + must inevitably act as a bar to the further progress of her friendship + with Bryce Cardigan. And she told herself she did not want to lose that + friendship. She wasn't the least bit in love with him albeit she realized + he was rather lovable. The delight which she had experienced in his + society lay in the fact that he was absolutely different from any other + man she had met. His simplicity, his utter lack of “swank,” his + directness, his good nature, and dry sense of humour made him shine + luminously in comparison with the worldly, rather artificial young men she + had previously met—young men who said and did only those things + which time, tradition, and hallowed memory assured them were done by the + right sort of people. Shirley had a suspicion that Bryce Cardigan could—and + would—swear like a pirate should his temper be aroused and the + circumstances appear to warrant letting off steam. Also she liked him + because he was imaginative—because he saw and sensed and properly + understood without a diagram or a blueprint. And lastly, he was a good, + devoted son and was susceptible of development into a congenial and wholly + acceptable comrade to a young lady absolutely lacking in other means of + amusement. + </p> + <p> + She finished her breakfast in thoughtful silence; then she went to the + telephone and called up Bryce at his home. Mrs. Tully, all aflutter with + curiosity, was quite insistent that Shirley should leave her name and + telephone number, but failing to carry her point, consented to inform the + latter that Mr. Bryce was at the office. She gave Shirley the telephone + number. + </p> + <p> + When the girl called the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, Bryce answered. + He recognized her voice instantly and called her name before she had + opportunity to announce her identity. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much for the beautiful roses, Mr. Cardigan,” she began. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you liked them. Nobody picks flowers out of our garden, you + know. I used to, but I'll be too busy hereafter to bother with the + garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Then I am not to expect any more roses?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a stupid clodhopper. Of course you may. By the way, Miss Sumner, does + your uncle own a car?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he does—a little old rattletrap which he drives himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll send George over with the Napier this afternoon. You might care + to take a spin out into the surrounding country. By the way, Miss Sumner, + you are to consider George and that car as your personal property. I fear + you're going to find Sequoia a dull place; so whenever you wish to go for + a ride, just call me up, and I'll have George report to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But think of all the expensive gasoline and tires!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you mustn't look at things from that angle after you cross the + Rocky Mountains on your way west. Moreover, mine is the only real car in + the country, and I know you like it. What are you going to do this + afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “For some real sport I would suggest that you motor up to Laguna Grande. + That's Spanish for Big Lagoon, you know. Take a rod with you. There are + some land-locked salmon in the lagoon—that is, there used to be; and + if you hook one you'll get a thrill.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't any rod.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send you over a good one.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have nobody to teach me how to use it,” she hinted daringly. + </p> + <p> + “I appreciate that compliment,” he flashed back at her, “but unfortunately + my holidays are over for a long, long time. I took my father's place in + the business this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “So soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Things have been happening while I was away. However, speaking of + fishing, George Sea Otter will prove an invaluable instructor. He is a + good boy and you may trust him implicitly. On Thursday evening you can + tell me what success you had with the salmon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that reminds me, Mr. Cardigan. You can't come Thursday evening, after + all.” And she explained the reason. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” he replied, “I'm mighty glad you tipped me off about that. I + couldn't possibly remain at ease in the presence of a banker-particularly + one who will not lend me money.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you come Wednesday night instead.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll call that a bet. Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + She chuckled at his frank good humour. “Thank YOU, Mr Cardigan, for all + your kindness and thoughtfulness; and if you WILL persist in being nice to + me, you might send George Sea Otter and the car at one-thirty. I'll be + glad to avail myself of both until I can get a car of my own sent up from + San Francisco. Till Wednesday night, then. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + As Bryce Cardigan hung up, he heaved a slight sigh, and a parody on a + quatrain from “Lalla Rookh” ran through his mind: + </p> + <p> + I never loved a dear gazelle, To glad me with its limpid eye, But when I + learned to love it well, The gol-darned thing was sure to die! + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to get out of the habit of playing; he found himself the + possessor of a very great desire to close down the desk, call on Shirley + Sumner, and spend the remainder of the day basking in the sunlight of her + presence. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + The days passed swiftly, as they have a habit of passing after one has + discovered one's allotted task in life and has proceeded to perform it. + Following his discovery of the outrage committed on his father's + sanctuary, Bryce wasted considerable valuable time and effort in a futile + endeavour to gather some further hint of the identity of the vandals; but + despairing at last, he dismissed the matter from his mind, resolving only + that on Thursday he would go up into Pennington's woods and interview the + redoubtable Jules Rondeau. Bryce's natural inclination was to wait upon M. + Rondeau immediately, if not sooner, but the recollection of his dinner + engagement at the Pennington home warned him to proceed cautiously; for + while harbouring no apprehensions as to the outcome of a possible clash + with Rondeau, Bryce was not so optimistic as to believe he would escape + unscathed from an encounter. Experience had impressed upon him the fact + that in a rough-and-tumble battle nobody is quite so thoroughly at home as + a lumberjack; once in a clinch with such a man, even a champion gladiator + of the prize ring may well feel apprehensive of the outcome. + </p> + <p> + Wednesday evening at five o'clock Mr. Sinclair, the manager, came into + Bryce's office with a handful of folded papers. “I have here,” he + announced in his clerky voice with a touch of solemnity to it, “a trial + balance. I have not had time to make an exact inventory; but in order to + give you some idea of the condition of your father's affairs, I have used + approximate figures and prepared a profit-and-loss account.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce reached for the papers. + </p> + <p> + “You will note the amount charged off to profit and loss under the head of + 'Pensions,'” Sinclair continued. “It amounts approximately to two thousand + dollars a month, and this sum represents payments to crippled employees + and the dependent families of men killed in the employ of the Company.” + </p> + <p> + “In addition to these payments, your father owns thirty-two thirty-acre + farms which he has cleared from his logged-over lands. These little farms + are equipped with bungalows and outbuildings built by your father and + represent a considerable investment. As you know, these farms are + wonderfully rich, and are planted in apples and berries. Other lands + contiguous to them sell readily at two hundred dollars an acre, and so you + will see that your father has approximately two hundred thousand dollars + tied up in these little farms.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has given a life-lease at nothing a year for each farm to former + employees who have been smashed beyond the possibility of doing the hard + work of the mill and woods,” Bryce reminded the manager. “Hence you must + not figure those farms among our assets.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Sinclair replied evenly. “Formal leases have never been + executed, and the tenants occupy the property at your father's pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that will be about as far as the discussion on that point need + proceed,” Bryce replied smilingly. “My father's word has always been + considered sufficient in this country; his verbal promise to pay has + always been collateral enough for those who know him.” + </p> + <p> + “But my dear boy,” Sinclair protested, “while that sort of philanthropy is + very delightful when one can afford the luxury, it is scarcely practical + when one is teetering on the verge of financial ruin. After all, Bryce, + self-preservation is the first law of human nature, and the sale of those + farms would go a long way toward helping the Cardigan Redwood Lumber + Company out of the hole it is in at present.” + </p> + <p> + “And we're really teetering on the edge of financial ruin, eh?” Bryce + queried calmly. + </p> + <p> + “That is expressing your condition mildly. The semi-annual payment of + interest on the bonded indebtedness falls due on July first—and + we're going to default on it, sure as death and taxes. Colonel Pennington + holds a majority of our bonds, and that means prompt suit for + foreclosure.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Sinclair,” Bryce retorted, carefully pigeon-holing the + documents the manager had handed him, “I'll tell you what we'll do. For + fifty years my father has played the game in this community like a sport + and a gentleman, and I'll be damned if his son will dog it now, at the + finish. I gather from your remarks that we could find ready sale for those + thirty-two little farms?” + </p> + <p> + “I am continually receiving offers for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they were not included in the list of properties covered by our + bonded indebtedness?” + </p> + <p> + “No, your father refused to include them. He said he would take a chance + on the financial future of himself and his boy, but not on his helpless + dependents.” + </p> + <p> + “Good old John Cardigan! Well, Sinclair, I'll not take a chance on them + either; so to-morrow morning you will instruct our attorney to draw up + formal life-leases on those farms, and to make certain they are absolutely + unassailable. Colonel Pennington may have the lands sold to satisfy a + deficiency judgment against us, but while those life-leases from the + former owner are in force, my father's proteges cannot be dispossessed. + After they are dead, of course, Pennington may take the farms—and be + damned to him.” + </p> + <p> + Sinclair stared in frank amazement at his youthful superior. “You are + throwing away two hundred thousand dollars,” he said distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't thrown it away—yet. You forget, Sinclair, that we're + going to fight first—and fight like fiends; then if we lose—well, + the tail goes with the hide, By the way, Sinclair, are any of those farms + untenanted at the present time?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Old Bill Tarpey, who lost his three boys in a forest fire over on + the San Hedrin, passed out last week. The Tarpey boys died in the Cardigan + employ, and so your father gave Bill the use of a farm out near + Freshwater.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'd better be his successor, Sinclair. You're no longer a young + man, and you've been thirty years in this office. Play safe, Sinclair, and + include yourself in one of those life-leases.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! United we stand, divided we fall, Sinclair; and let there be no + moaning of the bar when a Cardigan puts out to sea.” + </p> + <p> + Smiling, he rose from his desk, patted the bewildered Sinclair on the + latter's grizzled head, and then reached for his hat. “I'm dining out + to-night, Sinclair, and I wouldn't be a kill-joy at the feast, for a ripe + peach. Your confounded figures might make me gloomy; so we'll just reserve + discussion of them till to-morrow morning. Be a sport, Sinclair, and for + once in your life beat the six o'clock whistle. In other words, I suggest + that you go home and rest for once.” + </p> + <p> + He left Sinclair staring at him rather stupidly. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Colonel Pennington's imported British butler showed Bryce into the + Pennington living room at six-thirty, announcing him with due ceremony. + Shirley rose from the piano where she had been idly fingering the keys and + greeted him with every appearance of pleasure—following which, she + turned to present her visitor to Colonel Pennington, who was standing in + his favourite position with his back to the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Seth, this is Mr. Cardigan, who was so very nice to me the day I + landed in Red Bluff.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel bowed. “I have to thank you, sir, for your courtesy to my + niece.” He had assumed an air of reserve, of distinct aloofness, despite + his studied politeness. Bryce stepped forward with extended hand, which + the Colonel grasped in a manner vaguely suggestive of that clammy-palmed + creation of Charles Dickens—Uriah Heep. Bryce was tempted to squeeze + the lax fingers until the Colonel should bellow with pain; but resisting + the ungenerous impulse, he replied instead: + </p> + <p> + “Your niece, Colonel, is one of those fortunate beings the world will + always clamour to serve.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true, Mr. Cardigan. When she was quite a little girl I came under + her spell myself.” + </p> + <p> + “So did I, Colonel. Miss Sumner has doubtless told you of our first + meeting some twelve years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. May I offer you a cocktail, Mr. Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, certainly. Dad and I have been pinning one on about this time + every night since my return.” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley belongs to the Band of Hope,” the Colonel explained. “She's ready + at any time to break a lance with the Demon Rum. Back in Michigan, where + we used to live, she saw too many woodsmen around after the spring drive. + So we'll have to drink her share, Mr. Cardigan. Pray be seated.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce seated himself. “Well, we lumbermen are a low lot and naturally fond + of dissipation,” he agreed. “I fear Miss Sumner's Prohibition tendencies + will be still further strengthened after she has seen the mad-train.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” Shirley queried. + </p> + <p> + “The mad-train runs over your uncle's logging railroad up into Township + Nine, where his timber and ours is located. It is the only train operated + on Sunday, and it leaves Sequoia at five p.m. to carry the Pennington and + Cardigan crews back to the woods after their Saturday-night celebration in + town. As a usual thing, all hands, with the exception of the brakeman, + engineers, and fireman, are singing, weeping or fighting drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you provide transportation for them to come to town Saturday + nights?” Shirley protested. + </p> + <p> + “They ride in on the last trainload of logs, and if we didn't let them do + it, they'd ask for their time. It's the way of the gentle lumberjack. And + of course, once they get in, we have to round them up on Sunday afternoon + and get them back on the job. Hence the mad-train.” + </p> + <p> + “Do they fight, Mr. Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + “Frequently. I might say usually. It's quite an inspiring sight to see a + couple of lumberjacks going to it on a flat-car travelling thirty miles an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + “But aren't they liable to fall off and get killed?” + </p> + <p> + “No. You see, they're used to fighting that way. Moreover, the engineer + looks back, and if he sees any signs of Donnybrook Fair, he slows down.” + </p> + <p> + “How horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. The right of way is lined with empty whiskey bottles.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pennington spoke up. “We don't have any fighting on the mad-train + any more,” he said blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! How do you prevent it?” Bryce asked. + </p> + <p> + “My woods-boss, Jules Rondeau, makes them keep the peace,” Pennington + replied with a small smile. “If there's any fighting to be done, he does + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean among his own crew, of course,” Bryce suggested. + </p> + <p> + “No, he's in charge of the mad-train, and whether a fight starts among + your men or ours, he takes a hand. He's had them all behaving mildly for + quite a while, because he can whip any man in the country, and everybody + realizes it. I don't know what I'd do without Rondeau. He certainly makes + those bohunks of mine step lively.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-h-h! Do you employ bohunks, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. They cost less; they are far less independent than most men + and more readily handled. And you don't have to pamper them—particularly + in the matter of food. Why, Mr Cardigan, with all due respect to your + father, the way he feeds his men is simply ridiculous! Cake and pie and + doughnuts at the same meal!” The Colonel snorted virtuously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dad started in to feed his men the same food he fed himself, and I + suppose the habits one forms in youth are not readily changed in old age, + Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “But that makes it hard for other manufacturers,” the Colonel protested. + “I feed my men good plain food and plenty of it—quite better food + than they were used to before they came to this country; but I cannot seem + to satisfy them. I am continuously being reminded, when I do a thing thus + and so, that John Cardigan does it otherwise. Your respected parent is the + basis for comparison in this country, Cardigan, and I find it devilish + inconvenient.” He laughed indulgently and passed his cigarette-case to + Bryce. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Seth always grows restless when some other man is the leader,” + Shirley volunteered with a mischievous glance at Pennington. “He was the + Great Pooh-Bah of the lumber-trade back in Michigan, but out here he has + to play second fiddle. Don't you, Nunky-dunk?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I do, my dear,” the Colonel admitted with his best air of + hearty expansiveness. “I'm afraid I do. However, Mr. Cardigan, now that + you have—at least, I have been so informed—taken over your + father's business, I am hoping we will be enabled to get together on many + little details and work them out on a common basis to our mutual + advantage. We lumbermen should stand together and not make it hard for + each other. For instance, your scale of wages is totally disproportionate + to the present high cost of manufacture and the mediocre market; yet just + because you pay it, you set a precedent which we are all forced to follow. + However,” he concluded, “let's not talk shop. I imagine we have enough of + that during the day. Besides, here are the cocktails.” + </p> + <p> + With the disposal of the cocktails, the conversation drifted into a + discussion of Shirley's adventures with a salmon in Big Lagoon. The + Colonel discoursed learnedly on the superior sport of muskellunge-fishing, + which prompted Bryce to enter into a description of going after swordfish + among the islands of the Santa Barbara channel. “Trout-fishing when the + fish gets into white water is good sport; salmon-fishing is fine, and the + steel-head in Eel River are hard to beat; muskellunge are a delight, and + tarpon are not so bad if you're looking for thrills; but for genuine + inspiration give me a sixteen-foot swordfish that will leap out of the + water from three to six feet, and do it three or four hundred times—all + on a line and rod so light one dares not state the exact weight if he + values his reputation for veracity. Once I was fishing at San—” + </p> + <p> + The butler appeared in the doorway and bowed to Shirley, at the time + announcing that dinner was served. The girl rose and gave her arm to + Bryce; with her other arm linked through her uncle's she turned toward the + dining room. + </p> + <p> + Just inside the entrance Bryce paused. The soft glow of the candles in the + old-fashioned silver candlesticks upon the table was reflected in the + polished walls of the room-walls formed of panels of the most exquisitely + patterned redwood burl Bryce Cardigan had ever seen. Also the panels were + unusually large. + </p> + <p> + Shirley Sumner's alert glance followed Bryce's as it swept around the + room. “This dining room is Uncle Seth's particular delight, Mr. Cardigan,” + she explained. + </p> + <p> + “It is very beautiful, Miss Sumner. And your uncle has worked wonders in + the matter of having it polished. Those panels are positively the largest + and most beautiful specimens of redwood burl ever turned out in this + country. The grain is not merely wavy; it is not merely curly; it is + actually so contrary that you have here, Colonel Pennington, a room + absolutely unique, in that it is formed of bird's-eye burl. Mark the deep + shadows in it. And how it does reflect those candles!” + </p> + <p> + “It is beautiful,” the Colonel declared. “And I must confess to a + pardonable pride in it, although the task of keeping these walls from + being marred by the furniture knocking against them requires the utmost + care.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce turned and his brown eyes blazed into the Colonel's. “Where DID you + succeed in finding such a marvellous tree?” he queried pointedly. “I know + of but one tree in Humboldt County that could have produced such beautiful + burl.” + </p> + <p> + For about a second Colonel Pennington met Bryce's glance unwaveringly; + then he read something in his guest's eyes, and his glance shifted, while + over his benign countenance a flush spread quickly. Bryce noted it, and + his quickly roused suspicions were as quickly kindled into certainty. + “Where did you find that tree?” he repeated innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Rondeau, my woods-boss, knew I was on the lookout for something special—something + nobody else could get; so he kept his eyes open.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” There was just a trace of irony in Bryce's tones as he drew + Shirley's chair and held it for her. “As you say, Colonel, it is difficult + to keep such soft wood from being marred by contact with the furniture. + And you are fortunate to have such a woods-boss in your employ. Such loyal + fellows are usually too good to be true, and quite frequently they put + their blankets on their backs and get out of the country when you least + expect it. I dare say it would be a shock to you if Rondeau did that.” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking the veiled threat behind that apparently innocent + observation, and the Colonel, being a man of more than ordinary + astuteness, realized that at last he must place his cards on the table. + His glance, as he rested it on Bryce now, was baleful, ophidian. “Yes,” he + said, “I would be rather disappointed. However, I pay Rondeau rather more + than it is customary to pay woods-bosses; so I imagine he'll stay—unless, + of course, somebody takes a notion to run him out of the county. And when + that happens, I want to be on hand to view the spectacle.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce sprinkled a modicum of salt in his soup. “I'm going up into Township + Nine to-morrow afternoon,” he remarked casually. “I think I shall go over + to your camp and pay the incomparable Jules a brief visit. Really, I have + heard so much about that woods-boss of yours, Colonel, that I ache to take + him apart and see what makes him go.” + </p> + <p> + Again the Colonel assimilated the hint, but preferred to dissemble. “Oh, + you can't steal him from me, Cardigan,” he laughed. “I warn you in advance—so + spare yourself the effort.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try anything once,” Bryce retorted with equal good nature. “However, + I don't want to steal him from you. I want to ascertain from him where he + procured this burl. There may be more of the same in the neighbourhood + where he got this.” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn't tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “He might. I'm a persuasive little cuss when I choose to exert myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Rondeau is not communicative. He requires lots of persuading.” + </p> + <p> + “What delicious soup!” Bryce murmured blandly. “Miss Sumner, may I have a + cracker?” + </p> + <p> + The dinner passed pleasantly; the challenge and defiance between guest and + host had been so skillfully and gracefully exchanged that Shirley hadn't + the slightest suspicion that these two well-groomed men had, under her + very nose, as it were, agreed to be enemies and then, for the time being, + turned their attention to other and more trifling matters. Coffee was + served in the living room, and through the fragrant smoke of Pennington's + fifty-cent perfectos a sprightly three-cornered conversation continued for + an hour. Then the Colonel, secretly enraged at the calm, mocking, + contemplative glances which Bryce ever and anon bestowed upon him, and + unable longer to convince himself that he was too apprehensive—that + this cool young man knew nothing and would do nothing even if he knew + something—rose, pleaded the necessity for looking over some papers, + and bade Bryce good-night. Foolishly he proffered Bryce a limp hand; and a + demon of deviltry taking possession of the latter, this time he squeezed + with a simple, hearty earnestness, the while he said: + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Pennington, I hope I do not have to assure you that my visit here + this evening has not only been delightful but—er—instructive. + Good-night, sir, and pleasant dreams.” + </p> + <p> + With difficulty the Colonel suppressed a groan. However, he was not the + sort of man who suffers in silence; for a minute later the butler, leaning + over the banisters as his master climbed the stairs to his library, heard + the latter curse with an eloquence that was singularly appealing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + Colonel Seth Pennington looked up sourly as a clerk entered his private + office. “Well?” he demanded brusquely. When addressing his employees, the + Colonel seldom bothered to assume his pontifical manner. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bryce Cardigan is waiting to see you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Show him in.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce entered. “Good morning, Colonel,” he said pleasantly and brazenly + thrust out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Not for me, my boy,” the Colonel assured him. “I had enough of that last + night. We'll just consider the hand-shaking all attended to, if you + please. Have a chair; sit down and tell me what I can do to make you + happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm delighted to find you in such a generous frame of mind, Colonel. You + can make me genuinely happy by renewing, for ten years on the same terms + as the original contract, your arrangement to freight the logs of the + Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company from the woods to tidewater.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pennington cleared his throat with a propitiatory “Ahem-m-m!” Then + he removed his gold spectacles and carefully wiped them with a silk + handkerchief, as carefully replaced them upon his aristocratic nose, and + then gazed curiously at Bryce. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul!” he breathed. + </p> + <p> + “I realized, of course, that this is reopening an issue which you have + been pleased to regard as having been settled in the last letter my father + had from you, and wherein you named terms that were absolutely + prohibitive.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear young friend! My very dear young friend! I must protest at being + asked to discuss this matter. Your father and I have been over it in + detail; we failed to agree, and that settles it. As a matter of fact, I am + not in position to handle your logs with my limited rolling-stock, and + that old hauling contract which I took over when I bought the mills, + timber-lands, and logging railroad from the late Mr. Henderson and + incorporated into the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, has been an + embarrassment I have longed to rid myself of. Under those circumstances + you could scarcely expect me to saddle myself with it again, at your mere + request and solely to oblige you.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect you to agree to my request. I am not quite that + optimistic,” Bryce replied evenly. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you ask me?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that possibly, if I reopened negotiations, you might have a + reasonable counter-proposition to suggest.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't thought of any.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose if I agreed to sell you that quarter-section of timber in the + little valley over yonder” (he pointed to the east) “and the natural + outlet for your Squaw Creek timber, you'd quickly think of one,” Bryce + suggested pointedly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not in the market for that Valley of the Giants, as your + idealistic father prefers to call it. Once I would have purchased it for + double its value, but at present I am not interested.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless it would be an advantage for you to possess it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, the possession of that big timber is an advantage I expect + to enjoy before I acquire many more gray hairs. But I do not expect to pay + for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect me to offer it to you as a bonus for renewing our hauling + contract?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel snapped his fingers. “By George,” he declared, “that's a + bright idea, and a few months ago I would have been inclined to consider + it very seriously. But now—” + </p> + <p> + “You figure you've got us winging, eh?” Bryce was smiling pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “I am making no admissions,” Pennington responded enigmatically “—nor + any hauling contracts for my neighbour's logs,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “You may change your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I'll have to abandon logging in Township Nine and go back to + the San Hedrin,” Bryce sighed resignedly. + </p> + <p> + “If you do, you'll go broke. You can't afford it. You're on the verge of + insolvency this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, since you decline to haul our logs, after the expiration of + our present contract, and in view of the fact that we are not financially + able to build our own logging railroad, that the wisest course my father + and I could pursue would be to sell our timber in Township Nine to you. It + adjoins your holdings in the same township” + </p> + <p> + “I had a notion the situation would begin to dawn upon you.” The Colonel + was smiling now; his handsome face was gradually assuming the expression + pontifical. “I'll give you a dollar a thousand feet stumpage for it.” + </p> + <p> + “On whose cruise?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my own cruisers will estimate it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I can't accept that offer. We paid a dollar and a half for it, + you know, and if we sold it to you at a dollar, the sale would not bring + us sufficient money to take up our bonded indebtedness; we'd only have the + San Hedrin timber and the Valley of the Giants left, and since we cannot + log either of these at present, naturally we'd be out of business.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the way I figured it, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—we're not going out of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me for disagreeing with you. I think you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much! We can't afford it.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel smiled benignantly. “My dear boy, my very dear young friend, + listen to me. Your paternal ancestor is the only human being who has ever + succeeded in making a perfect monkey of me. When I wanted to purchase from + him a right of way through his absurd Valley of the Giants, in order that + I might log my Squaw Creek timber, he refused me. And to add insult to + injury, he spouted a lot of rot about his big trees, how much they meant + to him, and the utter artistic horror of running a logging-train through + the grove—particularly since he planned to bequeath it to Sequoia as + a public park. He expects the city to grow up to it during the next twenty + years. + </p> + <p> + “My boy, that was the first bad break your father made. His second break + was his refusal to sell me a mill-site. He was the first man in this + county, and he had been shrewd enough to hog all the water-front real + estate and hold onto it. I remember he called himself a progressive + citizen, and when I asked him why he was so assiduously blocking the + wheels of progress, he replied that the railroad would build in from the + south some day, but that when it did, its builders would have to be + assured of terminal facilities on Humboldt Bay. 'By holding intact the + spot where rail and water are bound to meet,' he told me, 'I insure the + terminal on tidewater which the railroad must have before consenting to + build. But if I sell it to Tom, Dick, and Harry, they will be certain to + gouge the railroad when the latter tries to buy it from them. They may + scare the railroad away.'” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally!” Bryce replied. “The average human being is a hog, and + merciless when he has the upper hand. He figures that a bird in the hand + is worth two in the bush. My father, on the contrary, has always planned + for the future. He didn't want that railroad blocked by land-speculators + and its building delayed. The country needed rail connection with the + outside world, and moreover his San Hedrin timber isn't worth a hoot until + that feeder to a transcontinental road shall be built to tap it.” + </p> + <p> + “But he sold Bill Henderson the mill-site on tidewater that he refused to + sell me, and later I had to pay Henderson's heirs a whooping price for it. + And I haven't half the land I need.” + </p> + <p> + “But he needed Henderson then. They had a deal on together. You must + remember, Colonel, that while Bill Henderson held that Squaw Creek timber + he later sold you, my father would never sell him a mill-site. Can't you + see the sporting point of view involved? My father and Bill Henderson were + good-natured rivals; for thirty years they had tried to outgame each other + on that Squaw Creek timber. Henderson thought he could force my father to + buy at a certain price, and my father thought he could force Henderson to + sell at a lesser price; they were perfectly frank about it with each other + and held no grudges. Of course, after you bought Henderson out, you + foolishly took over his job of trying to outgame my father. That's why you + bought Henderson out, isn't it? You had a vision of my father's paying you + a nice profit on your investment, but he fooled you, and now you're peeved + and won't play.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce hitched his chair farther toward the Colonel. “Why shouldn't my dad + be nice to Bill Henderson after the feud ended?” he continued. “They could + play the game together then, and they did. Colonel, why can't you be as + sporty as Henderson and my father? They fought each other, but they fought + fairly and in the open, and they never lost the respect and liking each + had for the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not renew your logging contract. That is final, young man. No man + can ride me with spurs and get away with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I knew that yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why have you called on me to-day, taking up my time on a dead + issue?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to give you one final chance to repent. I know your plan. You + have it in your power to smash the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, + acquire it at fifty per cent. of its value, and merge its assets with your + Laguna Grande Lumber Company. You are an ambitious man. You want to be the + greatest redwood manufacturer in California, and in order to achieve your + ambitions, you are willing to ruin a competitor: you decline to play the + game like a thoroughbred.” + </p> + <p> + “I play the game of business according to the rules of the game; I do + nothing illegal, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And nothing generous or chivalrous. Colonel, you know your plea of a + shortage of rolling-stock is that the contract for hauling our logs has + been very profitable and will be more profitable in the future if you will + accept a fifty-cent-per-thousand increase on the freight-rate and renew + the contract for ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing, young man. Remember, you are not in a position to ask + favours.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I suppose we'll have to go down fighting?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not anticipate much of a fight.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll get as much as I can give you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not at all apprehensive.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll begin by running your woods-boss out of the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah-h!” + </p> + <p> + “You know why, of course—those burl panels in your dining room. + Rondeau felled a tree in our Valley of the Giants to get that burl for + you, Colonel Pennington.” + </p> + <p> + Pennington flushed. “I defy you to prove that,” he almost shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I'll make Rondeau confess; perhaps he'll even tell me who sent + him after the burl. Upon my word, I think you inspired that dastardly + raid. At any rate, I know Rondeau is guilty, and you, as his employer and + the beneficiary of his crime, must accept the odium.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel's face went white. “I do not admit anything except that you + appear to have lost your head, young man. However, for the sake of + argument: granting that Rondeau felled that tree, he did it under the + apprehension that your Valley of the Giants is a part of my Squaw Creek + timber adjoining.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe that. There was malice in the act—brutality even; + for my mother's grave identified the land as ours, and Rondeau felled the + tree on her tombstone.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is so, and Rondeau felled that tree—I do not believe he did—I + am sincerely sorry, Cardigan, Name your price and I will pay you for the + tree. I do not desire any trouble to develop over this affair.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't pay for that tree,” Bryce burst forth. “No pitiful human being + can pay in dollars and cents for the wanton destruction of God's + handiwork. You wanted that burl and when my father was blind and could no + longer make his Sunday pilgrimage up to that grove, your woods-boss went + up and stole that which you knew you could not buy.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be about all from you, young man. Get out of my office. And by + the way, forget that you have met my niece.” + </p> + <p> + “It's your office—so I'll get out. As for your second command”—he + snapped his fingers in Pennington's face—“fooey!” + </p> + <p> + When Bryce had gone, the Colonel hurriedly called his logging-camp on the + telephone and asked for Jules Rondeau, only to be informed, by the + timekeeper who answered the telephone, that Rondeau was up in the green + timber with the choppers and could not be gotten to the telephone in less + than two hours. + </p> + <p> + “Do not send for him, then,” Pennington commanded. “I'm coming up on the + eleven-fifteen train and will talk to him when he comes in for his lunch.” + </p> + <p> + At eleven o'clock, and just as the Colonel was leaving to board the + eleven-fifteen logging-train bound empty for the woods, Shirley Sumner + made her appearance in his office. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Seth,” she complained, “I'm lonesome. The bookkeeper tells me + you're going up to the logging-camp. May I go with you?” + </p> + <p> + “By all means. Usually I ride in the cab with the engineer and fireman; + but if you're coming, I'll have them hook on the caboose. Step lively, my + dear, or they'll be holding the train for us and upsetting our schedule.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + By virtue of their logging-contract with Pennington, the Cardigans and + their employees were transported free over Pennington's logging railroad; + hence, when Bryce Cardigan resolved to wait upon Jules Rondeau in the + matter of that murdered Giant, it was characteristic of him to choose the + shortest and most direct route to his quarry, and as the long string of + empty logging-trucks came crawling off the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's + log-dump, he swung over the side, quite ignorant of the fact that Shirley + and her precious relative were riding in the little caboose in the rear. + </p> + <p> + At twelve-ten the train slid in on the log landing of the Laguna Grande + Lumber Company's main camp, and Bryce dropped off and approached the + engineer of the little donkey-engine used for loading the logs. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Rondeau?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The engineer pointed to a huge, swarthy man approaching across the + clearing in which the camp was situated. “That's him,” he replied. And + without further ado, Bryce strode to meet his man. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Jules Rondeau?” he demanded as he came up to the woods-boss. The + latter nodded. “I'm Bryce Cardigan,” his interrogator announced, “and I'm + here to thrash you for chopping that big redwood tree over in that little + valley where my mother is buried.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Rondeau smiled. “Wiz pleasure, M'sieur.” And without a moment's + hesitation he rushed. Bryce backed away from him warily, and they circled. + </p> + <p> + “When I get through with you, Rondeau,” Bryce said distinctly, “it'll take + a good man to lead you to your meals. This country isn't big enough for + both of us, and since you came here last, you've got to go first.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce stepped in, feinted for Rondeau's jaw with his right, and when the + woods-boss quickly covered, ripped a sizzling left into the latter's + midriff. Rondeau grunted and dropped his guard, with the result that + Bryce's great fists played a devil's tattoo on his countenance before he + could crouch and cover. + </p> + <p> + “This is a tough one,” thought Bryce. His blows had not, apparently, had + the slightest effect on the woods-boss. Crouched low and with his arms + wrapped around his head, Rondeau still came on unfalteringly, and Bryce + was forced to give way before him; to save his hands, he avoided the risk + of battering Rondeau's hard head and sinewy arms. + </p> + <p> + Already word that the woods-boss was battling with a stranger had been + shouted into the camp dining room, and the entire crew of that camp, + abandoning their half-finished meal, came pouring forth to view the + contest. Out of the tail of his eye Bryce saw them coming, but he was not + apprehensive, for he knew the code of the woodsman: “Let every man roll + his own hoop.” It would be a fight to a finish, for no man would + interfere; striking, kicking, gouging, biting, or choking would not be + looked upon as unsportsmanlike; and as Bryce backed cautiously away from + the huge, lithe, active, and powerful man before him, he realized that + Jules Rondeau was, as his father had stated, “top dog among the + lumberjacks.” + </p> + <p> + Rondeau, it was apparent, had no stomach for Bryce's style of combat. He + wanted a rough-and-tumble fight and kept rushing, hoping to clinch; if he + could but get his great hands on Bryce, he would wrestle him down, climb + him, and finish the fight in jig-time. But a rough-and-tumble was exactly + what Bryce was striving to avoid; hence when Rondeau rushed, Bryce + side-stepped and peppered the woodsman's ribs. But the woods-crew, which + by now was ringed around them, began to voice disapproval of this style of + battle. + </p> + <p> + “Clinch with him, dancing-master,” a voice roared. + </p> + <p> + “Tie into him, Rondeau,” another shouted. + </p> + <p> + “It's a fair match,” cried another, “and the red one picked on the main + push. He was looking for a fight, an' he ought to get it; but these fancy + fights don't suit me. Flop him, stranger, flop him.” + </p> + <p> + “Rondeau can't catch him,” a fourth man jeered. “He's a foot-racer, not a + fighter.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly two powerful hands were placed between Bryce's shoulders, + effectually halting his backward progress; then he was propelled violently + forward until he collided with Rondeau. With a bellow of triumph, the + woods-boss's gorilla-like arms were around Bryce, swinging him until he + faced the man who had forced him into that terrible grip. This was no less + a personage than Colonel Seth Pennington, and it was obvious he had taken + charge of what he considered the obsequies. + </p> + <p> + “Stand back, you men, and give them room,” he shouted. “Rondeau will take + care of him now. Stand back, I say. I'll discharge the man that + interferes.” + </p> + <p> + With a heave and a grunt Rondeau lifted his antagonist, and the pair went + crashing to the earth together, Bryce underneath. And then something + happened. With a howl of pain, Rondeau rolled over on his back and lay + clasping his left wrist in his right hand, while Bryce scrambled to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + “The good old wrist-lock does the trick,” he announced; and stooping, he + grasped the woods-boss by the collar with his left hand, lifted him, and + struck him a terrible blow in the face with his right. But for the arm + that upheld him, Rondeau would have fallen. To have him fall, however, was + not part of Bryce's plan. Jerking the fellow toward him, he passed his arm + around Rondeau's neck, holding the latter's head as in a vise with the + crook of his elbow. And then the battering started. When it was finished, + Bryce let his man go, and Rondeau, bloody, sobbing, and semi-conscious, + sprawled on the ground. + </p> + <p> + Bryce bent over him. “Now, damn you,” he roared, “who felled that tree in + Cardigan's Redwoods?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, M'sieur. Enough—I confess!” The words were a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Did Colonel Pennington suggest it to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He want ze burl. By gar, I do not want to fell zat tree—” + </p> + <p> + “That's all I want to know.” Stooping, Bryce seized Rondeau by the nape of + the neck and the slack of his overalls, lifted him shoulder-high and threw + him, as one throws a sack of meal, full at Colonel Pennington. + </p> + <p> + “You threw me at him. Now I throw him at you. You damned, thieving, + greedy, hypocritical scoundrel, if it weren't for your years and your gray + hair, I'd kill you.” + </p> + <p> + The helpless hulk of the woods-boss descended upon the Colonel's expansive + chest and sent him crashing earthward. Then Bryce, war-mad, turned to face + the ring of Laguna Grande employees about him. + </p> + <p> + “Next!” he roared. “Singly, in pairs, or the whole damned pack!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cardigan!” + </p> + <p> + He turned. Colonel Pennington's breath had been knocked out of his body by + the impact of his semi-conscious woods-boss, and he lay inert, gasping + like a hooked fish. Beside him Shirley Sumner was kneeling, her hands + clasping her uncle's, but with her violet eyes blazing fiercely on Bryce + Cardigan. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you?” she cried. “You coward! To hurt my uncle!” + </p> + <p> + He gazed at her a moment, fiercely, defiantly, his chest rising and + falling from his recent exertions, his knotted fists gory with the blood + of his enemy. Then the light of battle died, and he hung his head. “I'm + sorry,” he murmured, “not for his sake, but yours. I didn't know you were + here. I forgot—myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never speak to you again so long as I live,” she burst out + passionately. + </p> + <p> + He advanced a step and stood gazing down upon her. Her angry glance met + his unflinchingly; and presently for him the light went out of the world. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he murmured. “Good-bye.” And with bowed head he turned and + made off through the green timber toward his own logging-camp five miles + distant. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + With the descent upon his breast of the limp body of his big woods-bully, + Colonel Pennington had been struck to earth as effectively as if a + fair-sized tree had fallen on him. Indeed, with such force did his proud + head collide with terra firma that had it not been for the soft cushion of + ferns and tiny redwood twigs, his neck must have been broken by the shock. + To complete his withdrawal from active service, the last whiff of breath + had been driven from his lungs; and for the space of a minute, during + which Jules Rondeau lay heavily across his midriff, the Colonel was quite + unable to get it back. Pale, gasping, and jarred from soul to suspenders, + he was merely aware that something unexpected and disconcerting had + occurred. + </p> + <p> + While the Colonel fought for his breath, his woodsmen remained in the + offing, paralyzed into inactivity by reason of the swiftness and + thoroughness of Bryce Cardigan's work; then Shirley motioned to them to + remove the wreckage, and they hastened to obey. + </p> + <p> + Freed from the weight on the geometric centre of his being, Colonel + Pennington stretched his legs, rolled his head from side to side, and + snorted violently several times like a buck. After the sixth snort he felt + so much better that a clear understanding of the exact nature of the + catastrophe came to him; he struggled and sat up, looking around a little + wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Where—did—Cardigan—go?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + One of his men pointed to the timber into which the enemy had just + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Surround him—take him,” Pennington ordered. “I'll give—a + month's pay—to each of—the six men that bring—that + scoundrel to me. Get him—quickly! Understand?” + </p> + <p> + Not a man moved. Pennington shook with fury. “Get him,” he croaked. “There + are enough of you to do—the job. Close in on him—everybody. + I'll give a month's pay to—everybody.” + </p> + <p> + A man of that indiscriminate mixture of Spaniard and Indian known in + California as cholo swept the circle of men with an alert and knowing + glance. His name was Flavio Artelan, but his straight black hair, dark + russet complexion, beady eyes, and hawk nose gave him such a resemblance + to a fowl that he was known among his fellows as the Black Minorca, + regardless of the fact that this sobriquet was scarcely fair to a very + excellent breed of chicken. “That offer's good enough for me,” he remarked + in businesslike tones. “Come on—everybody. A month's pay for five + minutes' work. I wouldn't tackle the job with six men, but there are + twenty of us here.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry,” the Colonel urged them. + </p> + <p> + Shirley Sumner's flashing glance rested upon the Black Minorca. “Don't you + dare!” she cried. “Twenty to one! For shame!” + </p> + <p> + “For a month's pay,” he replied impudently, and grinned evilly. “And I'm + takin' orders from my boss.” He started on a dog-trot for the timber, and + a dozen men trailed after him. + </p> + <p> + Shirley turned helplessly on her uncle, seized his arm and shook it + frantically. “Call them back! Call them back!” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle got uncertainly to his feet. “Not on your life!” he growled, and + in his cold gray eyes there danced the lights of a thousand devils. “I + told you the fellow was a ruffian. Now, perhaps, you'll believe me. We'll + hold him until Rondeau revives, and then—” + </p> + <p> + Shirley guessed the rest, and she realized that it was useless to plead—that + she was only wasting time. “Bryce! Bryce!” she called. “Run! They're after + you. Twenty of them! Run, run—for my sake!” + </p> + <p> + His voice answered her from the timber: “Run? From those cattle? Not from + man or devil.” A silence. Then: “So you've changed your mind, have you? + You've spoken to me again!” There was triumph, exultation in his voice. + “The timber's too thick, Shirley. I couldn't get away anyhow—so I'm + coming back.” + </p> + <p> + She saw him burst through a thicket of alder saplings into the clearing, + saw half a dozen of her uncle's men close in around him like wolves around + a sick steer; and at the shock of their contact, she moaned and hid her + face in her trembling hands. + </p> + <p> + Half man and half tiger that he was, the Black Minorca, as self-appointed + leader, reached Bryce first. The cholo was a squat, powerful little man, + with more bounce to him than a rubber ball; leading his men by a dozen + yards, he hesitated not an instant but dodged under the blow Bryce lashed + out at him and came up inside the latter's guard, feeling for Bryce's + throat. Instead he met Bryce's knee in his abdomen, and forthwith he + folded up like an accordion. + </p> + <p> + The next instant Bryce had stooped, caught him by the slack of the + trousers and the scruff of the neck and thrown him, as he had thrown + Rondeau, into the midst of the men advancing to his aid. Three of them + went down backward; and Bryce, charging over them, stretched two more with + well-placed blows from left and right, and continued on across the + clearing, running at top speed, for he realized that for all the + desperation of his fight and the losses already inflicted on his + assailants, the odds against him were insurmountable. + </p> + <p> + Seeing him running away, the Laguna Grande woods-men took heart and hope + and pursued him. Straight for the loading donkey at the log-landing Bryce + ran. Beside the donkey stood a neat tier of firewood; in the chopping + block, where the donkey-fireman had driven it prior to abandoning his post + to view the contest between Bryce and Jules Rondeau, was a double-bitted + axe. Bryce jerked it loose, swung it, whirled on his pursuers, and rushed + them. Like turkeys scattering before the raid of a coyote they fled in + divers directions and from a safe distance turned to gaze apprehensively + upon this demon they had been ordered to bring in. + </p> + <p> + Bryce lowered the axe, removed his hat, and mopped his moist brow. From + the centre of the clearing men were crawling or staggering to safety—with + the exception of the Black Minorca, who lay moaning softly. Colonel + Pennington, seeing his fondest hopes expire, lost his head completely. + </p> + <p> + “Get off my property, you savage,” he shrilled. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a nut, Colonel,” Bryce returned soothingly. “I'll get off—when + I get good and ready, and not a second sooner. In fact, I was trying to + get off as rapidly as I could when you sent your men to bring me back. + Prithee why, old thing? Didst crave more conversation with me, or didst + want thy camp cleaned out?” + </p> + <p> + He started toward Pennington, who backed hastily away. Shirley stood her + ground, bending upon Bryce, as he approached her, a cold and disapproving + glance. “I'll get you yet,” the Colonel declared from the shelter of an + old stump behind which he had taken refuge. + </p> + <p> + “Barking dogs never bite, Colonel. And that reminds me: I've heard enough + from you. One more cheep out of you, my friend, and I'll go up to my own + logging-camp, return here with a crew of bluenoses and wild Irish and run + your wops, bohunks, and cholos out of the county. I don't fancy the class + of labour you're importing into this county, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel, evidently deciding that discretion was the better part of + valour, promptly subsided, although Bryce could see that he was mumbling + threats to himself, though not in an audible voice. + </p> + <p> + The demon Cardigan halted beside Shirley and stood gazing down at her. He + was smiling at her whimsically. She met his glance for a few seconds; then + her lids were lowered and she bit her lip with vexation. + </p> + <p> + “Shirley,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You are presumptuous,” she quavered. + </p> + <p> + “You set me an example in presumption,” he retorted good humouredly. “Did + you not call ME by MY first name a minute ago?” He glanced toward Colonel + Pennington and observed the latter with his neck craned across his + protecting stump. He was all ears. Bryce pointed sternly across the + clearing, and the Colonel promptly abandoned his refuge and retreated + hastily in the direction indicated. + </p> + <p> + The heir to Cardigan's Redwoods bent over the girl. “You spoke to me—after + your promise not to, Shirley,” he said gently. “You will always speak to + me.” + </p> + <p> + She commenced to cry softly. “I loathe you,” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “For you I have the utmost respect and admiration,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “No, you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't hurt my uncle—the only + human being in all this world who is dear to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Gosh!” he murmured plaintively. “I'm jealous of that man. However, I'm + sorry I hurt him. He is no longer young, while I—well, I forgot the + chivalry my daddy taught me. I give you my word I came here to fight + fairly—” + </p> + <p> + “He merely tried to stop you from fighting.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn't, Shirley. He interfered and fouled me. Still, despite that, + if I had known you were a spectator I think I should have controlled + myself and refrained from pulling off my vengeance in your presence. I + shall never cease to regret that I subjected you to such a distressing + spectacle. I do hope, however, that you will believe me when I tell you I + am not a bully, although when there is a fight worth while, I never dodge + it. And this time I fought for the honour of the House of Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “If you want me to believe that, you will beg my uncle's pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't do that. He is my enemy and I shall hate him forever; I shall + fight him and his way of doing business until he reforms or I am + exhausted.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him, showing a face in which resentment, outrage, and + wistfulness were mirrored. + </p> + <p> + “You realize, of course, what your insistence on that plan means, Mr. + Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + “Call me Bryce,” he pleaded. “You're going to call me that some day + anyhow, so why not start now?” + </p> + <p> + “You are altogether insufferable, sir. Please go away and never presume to + address me again. You are quite impossible.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “I do not give up that readily, Shirley. I didn't know + how dear—what your friendship meant to me, until you sent me away; I + didn't think there was any hope until you warned me those dogs were + hunting me—and called me Bryce.” He held out his hand. “'God gave us + our relations,'” he quoted, “'but thank God, we can choose our friends.' + And I'll be a good friend to you, Shirley Sumner, until I have earned the + right to be something more. Won't you shake hands with me? Remember, this + fight to-day is only the first skirmish in a war to the finish—and I + am leading a forlorn hope. If I lose—well, this will be good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate you,” she answered drearily. “All our fine friendship—smashed—and + you growing stupidly sentimental. I didn't think it of you. Please go + away. You are distressing me.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at her tenderly, forgivingly, wistfully, but she did not see it. + “Then it is really good-by,” he murmured with mock dolorousness. + </p> + <p> + She nodded her bowed head. “Yes,” she whispered. “After all, I have some + pride, you know. You mustn't presume to be the butterfly preaching + contentment to the toad in the dust.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will it, Shirley.” He turned away. “I'll send your axe back with + the first trainload of logs from my camp, Colonel,” he called to + Pennington. + </p> + <p> + Once more he strode away into the timber. Shirley watched him pass out of + her life, and gloried in what she conceived to be his agony, for she had + both temper and spirit, and Bryce Cardigan calmly, blunderingly, rather + stupidly (she thought) had presumed flagrantly on brief acquaintance. Her + uncle was right. He was not of their kind of people, and it was well she + had discovered this before permitting herself to develop a livelier + feeling of friendship for him. It was true he possessed certain manly + virtues, but his crudities by far outweighed these. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel's voice broke in upon her bitter reflections. “That fellow + Cardigan is a hard nut to crack—I'll say that for him.” He had + crossed the clearing to her side and was addressing her with his customary + air of expansiveness. “I think, my dear, you had better go back into the + caboose, away from the prying eyes of these rough fellows. I'm sorry you + came, Shirley. I'll never forgive myself for bringing you. If I had + thought—but how could I know that scoundrel was coming here to raise + a disturbance? And only last night he was at our house for dinner!” + </p> + <p> + “That's just what makes it so terrible, Uncle Seth,” she quavered. + </p> + <p> + “It IS hard to believe that a man of young Cardigan's evident intelligence + and advantages could be such a boor, Shirley. However, I, for one, am not + surprised. You will recall that I warned you he might be his father's son. + The best course to pursue now is to forget that you have ever met the + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what could have occurred to make such a madman of him?” the girl + queried wonderingly. “He acted more like a demon than a human being.” + </p> + <p> + “Just like his old father,” the Colonel purred benevolently. “When he + can't get what he wants, he sulks. I'll tell you what got on his + confounded nerves. I've been freighting logs for the senior Cardigan over + my railroad; the contract for hauling them was a heritage from old Bill + Henderson, from whom I bought the mill and timber-lands; and of course as + his assignee it was incumbent upon me to fulfill Henderson's contract with + Cardigan, even though the freight-rate was ruinous. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this morning young Cardigan came to my office, reminded me that the + contract would expire by limitation next year and asked me to renew it, + and at the same freight-rate. I offered to renew the contract but at a + higher freight-rate, and explained to him that I could not possibly + continue to haul his logs at a loss. Well, right away he flew into a rage + and called me a robber; whereupon I informed him that since he thought me + a robber, perhaps we had better not attempt to have any business dealings + with each other—that I really didn't want his contract at any price, + having scarcely sufficient rolling-stock to handle my own logs. That made + him calm down, but in a little while he lost his head again and grew + snarly and abusive—to such an extent, indeed, that finally I was + forced to ask him to leave my office.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, Uncle Seth, I cannot understand why he should make such a + furious attack upon your employee.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel laughed with a fair imitation of sincerity and tolerant + amusement. “My dear, that is no mystery to me. There are men who, finding + it impossible or inadvisable to make a physical attack upon their enemy, + find ample satisfaction in poisoning his favourite dog, burning his house, + or beating up one of his faithful employees. Cardigan picked on Rondeau + for the reason that a few days ago he tried to hire Rondeau away from me—offered + him twenty-five dollars a month more than I was paying him, by George! Of + course when Rondeau came to me with Cardigan's proposition, I promptly met + Cardigan's bid and retained Rondeau; consequently Cardigan hates us both + and took the earliest opportunity to vent his spite on us.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel sighed and brushed the dirt and leaves from his tweeds. + “Thunder,” he continued philosophically, “it's all in the game, so why + worry over it? And why continue to discuss an unpleasant topic, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + A groan from the Black Minorca challenged her attention. “I think that man + is badly hurt, Uncle,” she suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Serves him right,” he returned coldly. “He tackled that cyclone full + twenty feet in advance of the others; if they'd all closed in together, + they would have pulled him down. I'll have that cholo and Rondeau sent + down with the next trainload of logs to the company hospital. They're a + poor lot and deserve manhandling—” + </p> + <p> + They paused, facing toward the timber, from which came a voice, powerful, + sweetly resonant, raised in song. Shirley knew that half-trained baritone, + for she had heard it the night before when Bryce Cardigan, faking his own + accompaniment at the piano, had sung for her a number of carefully + expurgated lumberjack ballads, the lunatic humour of which had delighted + her exceedingly. She marvelled now at his choice of minstrelsy, for the + melody was hauntingly plaintive—the words Eugene Field's poem of + childhood, “Little Boy Blue.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The little toy dog is covered with dust, + But sturdy and stanch he stands; + And the little toy soldier is red with rust, + And his musket molds in his hands. + Time was when the little toy dog was new, + And the soldier was passing fair; + And that was the time when our little boy blue, + Kissed them and put them there.” + </pre> + <p> + “Light-hearted devil, isn't he?” the Colonel commented approvingly. “And + his voice isn't half bad. Just singing to be defiant, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley did not answer. But a few minutes previously she had seen the + singer a raging fury, brandishing an axe and driving men before him. She + could not understand. And presently the song grew faint among the timber + and died away entirely. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle took her gently by the arm and steered her toward the caboose. + “Well, what do you think of your company now?” he demanded gayly. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she answered soberly, “that you have gained an enemy worth + while and that it behooves you not to underestimate him.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + Through the green timber Bryce Cardigan strode, and there was a lilt in + his heart now. Already he had forgotten the desperate situation from which + he had just escaped; he thought only of Shirley Sumner's face, + tear-stained with terror; and because he knew that at least some of those + tears had been inspired by the gravest apprehensions as to his physical + well-being, because in his ears there still resounded her frantic warning, + he realized that however stern her decree of banishment had been, she was + nevertheless not indifferent to him. And it was this knowledge that had + thrilled him into song and which when his song was done had brought to his + firm mouth a mobility that presaged his old whimsical smile—to his + brown eyes a beaming light of confidence and pride. + </p> + <p> + The climax had been reached—and passed; and the result had been far + from the disaster he had painted in his mind's eye ever since the + knowledge had come to him that he was doomed to battle to a knockout with + Colonel Pennington, and that one of the earliest fruits of hostilities + would doubtless be the loss of Shirley Sumner's prized friendship. Well, + he had lost her friendship, but a still small voice whispered to him that + the loss was not irreparable—whereat he swung his axe as a + bandmaster swings his baton; he was glad that he had started the war and + was now free to fight it out unhampered. + </p> + <p> + Up hill and down dale he went. Because of the tremendous trees he could + not see the sun; yet with the instinct of the woodsman, an instinct as + infallible as that of a homing pigeon, he was not puzzled as to direction. + Within two hours his long, tireless stride brought him out into a clearing + in the valley where his own logging-camp stood. He went directly to the + log-landing, where in a listless and half-hearted manner the loading crew + were piling logs on Pennington's logging-trucks. + </p> + <p> + Bryce looked at his watch. It was two o'clock; at two-fifteen Pennington's + locomotive would appear, to back in and couple to the long line of trucks. + And the train was only half loaded. + </p> + <p> + “Where's McTavish?” Bryce demanded of the donkey-driver. + </p> + <p> + The man mouthed his quid, spat copiously, wiped his mouth with the back of + his hand, and pointed. “Up at his shanty,” he made answer, and grinned at + Bryce knowingly. + </p> + <p> + Up through the camp's single short street, flanked on each side with the + woodsmen's shanties, Bryce went. Dogs barked at him, for he was a stranger + in his own camp; children, playing in the dust, gazed upon him owlishly. + At the most pretentious shanty on the street Bryce turned in. He had never + seen it before, but he knew it to be the woods-boss's home, for unlike its + neighbours the house was painted with the coarse red paint that is used on + box-cars, while a fence, made of fancy pointed pickets painted white, + inclosed a tiny garden in front of the house. As Bryce came through the + gate, a young girl rose from where she knelt in a bed of freshly + transplanted pansies. + </p> + <p> + Bryce lifted his hat. “Is Mr. McTavish at home?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “He cannot see anybody,” she hastened to add. “He's sick.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he'll see me. And I wonder if you're Moira McTavish.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm Moira.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Bryce Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + A look of fright crept into the girl's eyes. “Are you—Bryce + Cardigan?” she faltered, and looked at him more closely. “Yes, you're Mr. + Bryce. You've changed—but then it's been six years since we saw you + last, Mr. Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + He came toward her with outstretched hand. “And you were a little girl + when I saw you last. Now—you're a woman.” She grasped his hand with + the frank heartiness of a man. “I'm mighty glad to meet you again, Moira. + I just guessed who you were, for of course I should never have recognized + you. When I saw you last, you wore your hair in a braid down your back.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm twenty years old,” she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “Stand right where you are until I have looked at you,” he commanded, and + backed off a few feet, the better to contemplate her. + </p> + <p> + He saw a girl slightly above medium height, tanned, robust, simply gowned + in a gingham dress. Her hands were soiled from her recent labours in the + pansy-bed, and her shoes were heavy and coarse; yet neither hands nor feet + were large or ungraceful. Her head was well formed; her hair, jet black + and of unusual lustre and abundance, was parted in the middle and held in + an old-fashioned coil at the nape of a neck the beauty of which was + revealed by the low cut of her simple frock. Moira was a decided brunette, + with that wonderful quality of skin to be seen only among brunettes who + have roses in their cheeks; her brow was broad and spiritual; in her eyes, + large, black, and listrous, there was a brooding tenderness not untouched + with sorrow—some such expression, indeed, as da Vinci put in the + eyes of his Mona Lisa. Her nose was patrician, her face oval; her lips, + full and red, were slightly parted in the adorable Cupid's bow which is + the inevitable heritage of a short upper lip; her teeth were white as + Parian marble; and her full breast was rising and falling swiftly, as if + she laboured under suppressed excitement. + </p> + <p> + So delightful a picture did Moira McTavish make that Bryce forgot all his + troubles in her sweet presence. “By the gods, Moira,” he declared + earnestly, “you're a peach! When I saw you last, you were awkward and + leggy, like a colt. I'm sure you weren't a bit good-looking. And now + you're the most ravishing young lady in seventeen counties. By jingo, + Moira, you're a stunner and no mistake. Are you married?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, blushing pleasurably at his unpolished but sincere + compliments. + </p> + <p> + “What? Not married. Why, what the deuce can be the matter with the + eligible young fellows hereabouts?” + </p> + <p> + “There aren't any eligible young fellows hereabouts, Mr. Bryce. And I've + lived in these woods all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “That's why you haven't been discovered.” + </p> + <p> + “And I don't intend to marry a lumberjack and continue to live in these + woods,” she went on earnestly, as if she found pleasure in this + opportunity to announce her rebellion. Despite her defiance, however, + there was a note of sad resignation in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know a thing about it, Moira. Some bright day your Prince + Charming will come by, riding the log-train, and after that it will always + be autumn in the woods for you. Everything will just naturally turn to + crimson and gold.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know, Mr Bryce?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “I read about it in a book.” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer spring in the woods, I think. It seems—It's so foolish of + me, I know; I ought to be contented, but it's hard to be contented when it + is always winter in one's heart. That frieze of timber on the skyline + limits my world, Mr Bryce. Hills and timber, timber and hills, and the + thunder of falling redwoods. And when the trees have been logged off so we + can see the world, we move back into green timber again.” She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you lonely, Moira?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Moira!” he murmured absently. + </p> + <p> + The thought that he so readily understood touched her; a glint of tears + was in her sad eyes. He saw them and placed his arm fraternally around her + shoulders. “Tut-tut, Moira! Don't cry,” he soothed her. “I understand + perfectly, and of course we'll have to do something about it. You're too + fine for this.” With a sweep of his hand he indicated the camp. He had led + her to the low stoop in front of the shanty. “Sit down on the steps, + Moira, and we'll talk it over. I really called to see your father, but I + guess I don't want to see him after all—if he's sick.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him bravely. “I didn't know you at first, Mr. Bryce. I + fibbed. Father isn't sick. He's drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so when I saw the loading-crew taking it easy at the + log-landing. I'm terribly sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “I loathe it—and I cannot leave it,” she burst out vehemently. “I'm + chained to my degradation. I dream dreams, and they'll never come true. I—I—oh + Mr. Bryce, Mr. Bryce, I'm so unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” he retorted. “We all get our dose of it, you know, and just at + present I'm having an extra helping, it seems. You're cursed with too much + imagination, Moira. I'm sorry about your father. He's been with us a long + time, and my father has borne a lot from him for old sake's sake; he told + me the other night that he has discharged Mac fourteen times during the + past ten years, but to date he hasn't been able to make it stick. For all + his sixty years, Moira, your confounded parent can still manhandle any man + on the pay-roll, and as fast as Dad put in a new woods-boss old Mac drove + him off the job. He simply declines to be fired, and Dad's worn out and + too tired to bother about his old woods-boss any more. He's been waiting + until I should get back.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Moira wearily. “Nobody wants to be Cardigan's woods-boss + and have to fight my father to hold his job. I realize what a nuisance he + has become.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce chuckled. “I asked Father why he didn't stand pat and let Mac work + for nothing; having discharged him, my father was under no obligation to + give him his salary just because he insisted on being woods-boss. Dad + might have starved your father out of these woods, but the trouble was + that old Mac would always come and promise reform and end up by borrowing + a couple of hundred dollars, and then Dad had to hire him again to get it + back! Of course the matter simmers down to this: Dad is so fond of your + father that he just hasn't got the moral courage to work him over—and + now that job is up to me. Moira, I'm not going to beat about the bush with + you. They tell me your father is a hopeless inebriate.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he is, Mr. Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been drinking to excess?” + </p> + <p> + “About ten years, I think. Of course, he would always take a few drinks + with the men around pay-day, but after Mother died, he began taking his + drinks between pay-days. Then he took to going down to Sequoia on Saturday + nights and coming back on the mad-train, the maddest of the lot. I suppose + he was lonely, too. He didn't get real bad, however, till about two years + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Just about the time my father's eyes began to fail him and he ceased + coming up into the woods to jack Mac up? So he let the brakes go and + started to coast, and now he's reached the bottom! I couldn't get him on + the telephone to-day or yesterday. I suppose he was down in Arcata, + liquoring up.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded miserably. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we have to get logs to the mill, and we can't get them with old + John Barleycorn for a woods-boss, Moira. So we're going to change + woods-bosses, and the new woods-boss will not be driven off the job, + because I'm going to stay up here a couple of weeks and break him in + myself. By the way, is Mac ugly in his cups?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, no,” she answered fervently. “Drunk or sober, he has never + said an unkind word to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you manage to get money to clothe yourself? Sinclair tells me + Mac needs every cent of his two hundred and fifty dollars a month to enjoy + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I used to steal from him,” the girl admitted. “Then I grew ashamed of + that, and for the past six months I've been earning my own living. Mr. + Sinclair was very kind. He gave me a job waiting on table in the camp + dining room. You see, I had to have something here. I couldn't leave my + father. He had to have somebody to take care of him. Don't you see, Mr. + Bryce?” + </p> + <p> + “Sinclair is a fuzzy old fool,” Bryce declared with emphasis. “The idea of + our woods-boss's daughter slinging hash to lumberjacks. Poor Moira!” + </p> + <p> + He took one of her hands in his, noting the callous spots on the plump + palm, the thick finger-joints that hinted so of toil, the nails that had + never been manicured save by Moira herself. “Do you remember when I was a + boy, Moira, how I used to come up to the logging-camps to hunt and fish? I + always lived with the McTavishes then. And in September, when the + huckleberries were ripe, we used to go out and pick them together. Poor + Moira! Why, we're old pals, and I'll be shot if I'm going to see you + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him shyly, with beaming eyes. “You haven't changed a bit, + Mr. Bryce. Not one little bit!” + </p> + <p> + “Let's talk about you, Moira. You went to school in Sequoia, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was graduated from the high school there. I used to ride the + log-trains into town and back again.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news! Listen, Moira. I'm going to fire your father, as I've said, + because he's working for old J.B. now, not the Cardigan Redwood Lumber + Company. I really ought to pension him after his long years in the + Cardigan service, but I'll be hanged if we can afford pensions any more—particularly + to keep a man in booze; so the best our old woods-boss gets from me is + this shanty, or another like it when we move to new cuttings, and a + perpetual meal-ticket for our camp dining room while the Cardigans remain + in business. I'd finance him for a trip to some State institution where + they sometimes reclaim such wreckage, if I didn't think he's too old a dog + to be taught new tricks.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she suggested sadly, “you had better talk the matter over with + him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'd rather not. I'm fond of your father, Moira. He was a man when I + saw him last—such a man as these woods will never see again—and + I don't want to see him again until he's cold sober. I'll write him a + letter. As for you, Moira, you're fired, too. I'll not have you waiting on + table in my logging-camp—not by a jugful! You're to come down to + Sequoia and go to work in our office. We can use you on the books, helping + Sinclair, and relieve him of the task of billing, checking tallies, and + looking after the pay-roll. I'll pay you a hundred dollars a month, Moira. + Can you get along on that?” + </p> + <p> + Her hard hand closed over his tightly, but she did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Moira. It's a go, then. Hills and timber—timber and + hills—and I'm going to set you free. Perhaps in Sequoia you'll find + your Prince Charming. There, there, girl, don't cry. We Cardigans had + twenty-five years of faithful service from Donald McTavish before he + commenced slipping; after all, we owe him something, I think.” + </p> + <p> + She drew his hand suddenly to her lips and kissed it; her hot tears of joy + fell on it, but her heart was too full for mere words. + </p> + <p> + “Fiddle-de-dee, Moira! Buck up,” he protested, hugely pleased, but + embarrassed withal. “The way you take this, one would think you had + expected me to go back on an old pal and had been pleasantly surprised + when I didn't. Cheer up, Moira! Cherries are ripe, or at any rate they + soon will be; and if you'll just cease shedding the scalding and listen to + me, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll advance you two months' salary for—well, + you'll need a lot of clothes and things in Sequoia that you don't need + here. And I'm glad I've managed to settle the McTavish hash without + kicking up a row and hurting your feelings. Poor old Mac! I'm sorry I + can't bear with him, but we simply have to have the logs, you know.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, stooped, and pinched her ear; for had he not known her since + childhood, and had they not gathered huckleberries together in the long + ago? She was sister to him—just another one of his problems—and + nothing more. “Report on the job as soon as possible, Moira,” he called to + her from the gate. Then the gate banged behind him, and with a smile and a + debonair wave of his hand, he was striding down the little camp street + where the dogs and the children played in the dust. + </p> + <p> + After a while Moira walked to the gate and leaning upon it, looked down + the street toward the log-landing where Bryce was ragging the laggard crew + into some thing like their old-time speed. Presently the locomotive backed + in and coupled to the log tram, and when she saw Bryce leap aboard and + seat himself on a top log in such a position that he could not fail to see + her at the gate, she waved to him. He threw her a careless kiss, and the + train pulled out. + </p> + <p> + Presently, when Moira lifted her Madonna glance to the frieze of timber on + the skyline, there was a new glory in her eyes; and lo, it was autumn in + the woods, for over that hill Prince Charming had come to her, and life + was all crimson and gold! + </p> + <p> + When the train loaded with Cardigan logs crawled in on the main track and + stopped at the log-landing in Pennington's camp, the locomotive uncoupled + and backed in on the siding for the purpose of kicking the caboose, in + which Shirley and Colonel Pennington had ridden to the woods, out onto the + main line again—where, owing to a slight downhill grade, the + caboose, controlled by the brakeman, could coast gently forward and be + hooked on to the end of the log-train for the return journey to Sequoia. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the afternoon Shirley, following the battle royal between Bryce + and the Pennington retainers, had sat dismally in the caboose. She was + prey to many conflicting emotions; but having had what her sex term “a + good cry,” she had to a great extent recovered her customary poise—and + was busily speculating on the rapidity with which she could leave Sequoia + and forget she had ever met Bryce Cardigan—when the log-train + rumbled into the landing and the last of the long string of trucks came to + a stop directly opposite the caboose. + </p> + <p> + Shirley happened to be looking through the grimy caboose window at that + moment. On the top log of the load the object of her unhappy speculations + was seated, apparently quite oblivious of the fact that he was back once + more in the haunt of his enemies, although knowledge that the + double-bitted axe he had so unceremoniously borrowed of Colonel Pennington + was driven deep into the log beside him, with the haft convenient to his + hand, probably had much to do with Bryce's air of detached indifference. + He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his chin in his cupped hands, + and a pipe thrust aggressively out the corner of his mouth, the while he + stared moodily at his feet. + </p> + <p> + Shirley suspected she knew what he was thinking of; he was less than six + feet from her, and a morbid fascination moved her to remain at the window + and watch the play of emotions over his strong, stern face. She told + herself that should he move, should he show the slightest disposition to + raise his head and bring his eyes on a level with hers, she would dodge + away from the window in time to escape his scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + She reckoned without the engine. With a smart bump it struck the caboose + and shunted it briskly up the siding; at the sound of the impact Bryce + raised his troubled glance just in time to see Shirley's body, yielding to + the shock, sway into full view at the window. + </p> + <p> + With difficulty he suppressed a grin. “I'll bet my immortal soul she was + peeking at me,” he soliloquized. “Confound the luck! Another meeting this + afternoon would be embarrassing.” Tactfully he resumed his study of his + feet, not even looking up when the caboose, after gaining the main track, + slid gently down the slight grade and was coupled to the rear + logging-truck. Out of the tail of his eye he caught a glimpse of Colonel + Pennington passing alongside the log-train and entering the caboose; he + heard the engineer shout to the brakeman—who had ridden down from + the head of the train to unlock the siding switch and couple the caboose—to + hurry up, lock the switch, and get back aboard the engine. + </p> + <p> + “Can't get this danged key to turn in the lock,” the brakeman shouted + presently. “Lock's rusty, and something's gone bust inside.” + </p> + <p> + Minutes passed. Bryce's assumed abstraction became real, for he had many + matters to occupy his busy brain, and it was impossible for him to sit + idle without adverting to some of them. Presently he was subconsciously + aware that the train was moving gently forward; almost immediately, it + seemed to him, the long string of trucks had gathered their customary + speed; and then suddenly it dawned upon Bryce that the train had started + off without a single jerk—and that it was gathering headway rapidly. + </p> + <p> + He looked ahead—and his hair grew creepy at the roots. There was no + locomotive attached to the train! It was running away down a two per cent. + grade, and because of the tremendous weight of the train, it was gathering + momentum at a fearful rate. + </p> + <p> + The reason for the runaway dawned on Bryce instantly. The road, being + privately owned, was, like most logging-roads, neglected as to roadbed and + rolling-stock; also it was undermanned, and the brake-man, who also acted + as switchman, had failed to set the hand-brakes on the leading truck after + the engineer had locked the air-brakes. As a result, during the five or + six minutes required to “spot in” the caboose, and an extra minute or two + lost while the brakeman struggled with the recalcitrant lock on the + switch, the air had leaked away through the worn valves and rubber tubing, + and the brakes had been released—so that the train, without warning, + had quietly and almost noiselessly slid out of the log-landing and started + on its mad career. Before the engineer could beat it to the other switch + with the locomotive, run out on the main track, let the runaway gradually + catch up with him and hold it—no matter how or what happened to him + or his engine—the first logging-truck had cleared the switch and + blocked pursuit. There was nothing to do now save watch the wild runaway + and pray, for of all the mad runaways in a mad world, a loaded + logging-train is by far the worst. + </p> + <p> + For an instant after realizing his predicament, Bryce Cardigan was tempted + to jump and take his chance on a few broken bones, before the train could + reach a greater speed than twenty miles an hour. His impulse was to run + forward and set the handbrake on the leading truck, but a glance showed + him that even with the train standing still he could not hope to leap from + truck to truck and land on the round, freshly peeled surface of the logs + without slipping for he had no calks in his boots. And to slip now meant + swift and horrible death. + </p> + <p> + “Too late!” he muttered. “Even if I could get to the head of the train, I + couldn't stop her with the hand-brake; should I succeed in locking the + wheels, the brute would be doing fifty miles an hour by that time—the + front truck would slide and skid, leave the tracks and pile up with me at + the bottom of a mess of wrecked rolling-stock and redwood logs.” + </p> + <p> + Then he remembered. In the wildly rolling caboose Shirley Sumner rode with + her uncle, while less than two miles ahead, the track swung in a sharp + curve high up along the hillside above Mad River. Bryce knew the leading + truck would never take that curve at high speed, even if the ancient + rolling-stock should hold together until the curve was reached, but would + shoot off at a tangent into the canyon, carrying trucks, logs, and caboose + with it, rolling over and over down the hillside to the river. + </p> + <p> + “The caboose must be cut out of this runaway,” Bryce soliloquized, “and it + must be cut out in a devil of a hurry. Here goes nothing in particular, + and may God be good to my dear old man.” + </p> + <p> + He jerked his axe out of the log, drove it deep into the top log toward + the end, and by using the haft to cling to, crawled toward the rear of the + load and looked down at the caboose coupling. The top log was a + sixteen-foot butt; the two bottom logs were eighteen footers. With a + silent prayer of thanks to Providence, Bryce slid down to the landing thus + formed. He was still five feet above the coupling, however; but by leaning + over the swaying, bumping edge and swinging the axe with one hand, he + managed to cut through the rubber hose on the air connection. “The blamed + thing might hold and drag the caboose along after I've pulled out the + coupling-pin,” he reflected. “And I can't afford to take chances now.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless he took them. Axe in hand, he leaped down to the narrow ledge + formed by the bumper in front of the cabooses—driving his face into + the front of the caboose; and he only grasped the steel rod leading from + the brake-chains to the wheel on the roof in time to avoid falling half + stunned between the front of the caboose and the rear of the + logging-truck. The caboose had once been a box-car; hence there was no + railed front platform to which Bryce might have leaped in safety. Clinging + perilously on the bumper, he reached with his foot, got his toe under the + lever on the side, jerked it upward, and threw the pin out of the + coupling; then with his free hand he swung the axe and drove the great + steel jaws of the coupling apart. + </p> + <p> + The caboose was cut out! But already the deadly curve was in sight; in two + minutes the first truck would reach it; and the caboose, though cut loose, + had to be stopped, else with the headway it had gathered, it, too, would + follow the logging-trucks to glory. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Bryce clung to the brake-rod, weak and dizzy from the effects + of the blow when, leaping down from the loaded truck to the caboose + bumper, his face had smashed into the front of the caboose. His chin was + bruised, skinned, and bloody; his nose had been broken, and twin rivulets + of blood ran from his nostrils. He wiped it away, swung his axe, drove the + blade deep into the bumper and left it there with the haft quivering; + turning, he climbed swiftly up the narrow iron ladder beside the brake-rod + until he reached the roof; then, still standing on the ladder, he reached + the brake-wheel and drew it promptly but gradually around until the + wheel-blocks began to bite, when he exerted his tremendous strength to the + utmost and with his knees braced doggedly against the front of the + caboose, held the wheel. + </p> + <p> + The brake screamed, but the speed of the caboose was not appreciably + slackened. “It's had too good a start!” Bryce moaned. “The momentum is + more than I can overcome. Oh, Shirley, my love! God help you!” + </p> + <p> + He cast a sudden despairing look over his shoulder downward at the + coupling. He was winning, after all, for a space of six feet now yawned + between the end of the logging-truck and the bumper of the caboose. If he + could but hold that tremendous strain on the wheel for a quarter of a + mile, he might get the demon caboose under control! Again he dug his knees + into the front of the car and twisted on the wheel until it seemed that + his muscles must crack. + </p> + <p> + After what seemed an eon of waiting, he ventured another look ahead. The + rear logging-truck was a hundred yards in front of him now, and from the + wheels of the caboose an odour of something burning drifted up to him. + “I've got your wheels locked!” he half sobbed. “I'll hold you yet, you + brute. Slide! That's it! Slide, and flatten your infernal wheels. Hah! + You're quitting—quitting. I'll have you in control before we reach + the curve. Burn, curse you, burn!” + </p> + <p> + With a shriek of metal scraping metal, the head of the Juggernaut ahead + took the curve, clung there an instant, and was catapulted out into space. + Logs weighing twenty tons were flung about like kindling; one instant, + Bryce could see them in the air; the next they had disappeared down the + hillside. A deafening crash, a splash, a cloud of dust— + </p> + <p> + With a protesting squeal, the caboose came to the point where the + logging-train had left the right of way, carrying rails and ties with it. + The wheels on the side nearest the bank slid into the dirt first and + plowed deep into the soil; the caboose came to an abrupt stop, trembled + and rattled, overtopped its centre of gravity, and fell over against the + cut-bank, wearily, like a drunken hag. + </p> + <p> + Bryce, still clinging to the brake, was fully braced for the shock and was + not flung off. Calmly he descended the ladder, recovered the axe from the + bumper, climbed back to the roof, tiptoed off the roof to the top of the + bank and sat calmly down under a manzanita bush to await results, for he + was quite confident that none of the occupants of the confounded caboose + had been treated to anything worse than a wild ride and a rare fright, and + he was curious to see how Shirley Sumner would behave in an emergency. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pennington was first to emerge at the rear of the caboose. He + leaped lightly down the steps, ran to the front of the car, looked down + the track, and swore feelingly. Then he darted back to the rear of the + caboose. + </p> + <p> + “All clear and snug as a bug under a chip, my dear,” he called to Shirley. + “Thank God, the caboose became uncoupled—guess that fool brakeman + forgot to drop the pin; it was the last car, and when it jumped the track + and plowed into the dirt, it just naturally quit and toppled over against + the bank. Come out, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley came out, dry-eyed, but white and trembling. The Colonel placed + his arm around her, and she hid her face on his shoulder and shuddered. + “There, there!” he soothed her affectionately. “It's all over, my dear. + All's well that ends well.” + </p> + <p> + “The train,” she cried in a choking voice. “Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “In little pieces—down in Mad River.” He laughed happily. “And the + logs weren't even mine! As for the trucks, they were a lot of ratty + antiques and only fit to haul Cardigan's logs. About a hundred yards of + roadbed ruined—that's the extent of my loss, for I'd charged off the + trucks to profit and loss two years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Cardigan,” she sobbed. “I saw him—he was riding a top log on + the train. He—ah, God help him!” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel shook her with sudden ferocity. “Young Cardigan,” he cried + sharply. “Riding the logs? Are you certain?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, and her shoulders shook piteously. + </p> + <p> + “Then Bryce Cardigan is gone!” Pennington's pronouncement was solemn, + deadly with its flat finality. “No man could have rolled down into Mad + River with a trainload of logs and survived. The devil himself couldn't.” + He heaved a great sigh, and added: “Well, that clears the atmosphere + considerably, although for all his faults, I regret, for his father's + sake, that this dreadful affair has happened. Well, it can't be helped, + Shirley. Don't cry, my dear. I know it's terrible, but—there, there + my love. Do brace up. Poor devil! For all his damnable treatment of me, I + wouldn't have had this happen for a million dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley burst into wild weeping. Bryce's heart leaped, for he understood + the reason for her grief. She had sent him away in anger, and he had gone + to his death; ergo it would be long before Shirley would forgive herself. + Bryce had not intended presenting himself before her in his battered and + bloody condition, but the sight of her distress now was more than he could + bear. He coughed slightly, and the alert Colonel glanced up at him + instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be hanged!” The words fell from Pennington's lips with a + heartiness that was almost touching. “I thought you'd gone with the + train.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to have disappointed you, old top,” Bryce replied blithely, “but + I'm just naturally stubborn. Too bad about the atmosphere you thought + cleared a moment ago! It's clogged worse than ever now.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of Bryce's voice, Shirley raised her head, whirled and looked + up at him. He held his handkerchief over his gory face that the sight + might not distress her; he could have whooped with delight at the joy that + flashed through her wet lids. + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Cardigan,” she commanded sternly, “come down here this instant.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a pretty sight, Shirley. Better let me go about my business.” + </p> + <p> + She stamped her foot. “Come here!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, since you insist,” he replied, and he slid down the bank. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get up there—and what do you mean by hiding there + spying on me, you—you—oh, YOU!” + </p> + <p> + “Cuss a little, if it will help any,” he suggested. “I had to get out of + your way—out of your sight—and up there was the best place. I + was on the roof of the caboose when it toppled over, so all I had to do + was step ashore and sit down.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn't you stay there?” she demanded furiously. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't let me,” he answered demurely. “And when I saw you weeping + because I was supposed to be with the angels, I couldn't help coughing to + let you know I was still hanging around, ornery as a book-agent.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you ruin your face, Mr. Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + “Tried to take a cast of the front end of the caboose in my classic + countenance—that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “But you were riding the top log on the last truck—” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, but I wasn't hayseed enough to stay there until we struck this + curve. I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I climbed down to the + bumper of the caboose, uncoupled it from the truck, climbed up on the + roof, and managed to get the old thing under control with the hand-brake; + then I skedaddled up into the brush because I knew you were inside, and—-By + the way, Colonel Pennington, here is your axe, which I borrowed this + afternoon. Much obliged for its use. The last up-train is probably waiting + on the siding at Freshwater to pass the late lamented; consequently a walk + of about a mile will bring you a means of transportation back to Sequoia. + Walk leisurely—you have lots of time. As for myself, I'm in a hurry, + and my room is more greatly to be desired than my company, so I'll start + now.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his hat, turned, and walked briskly down the ruined track. + </p> + <p> + Shirley made a little gesture of dissent, half opened her lips to call him + back, thought better of it, and let him go. When he was out of sight, it + dawned on her that he had risked his life to save hers. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Seth,” she said soberly, “what would have happened to us if Bryce + Cardigan had not come up here to-day to thrash your woods-boss?” + </p> + <p> + “We'd both be in Kingdom Come now,” he answered truthfully. + </p> + <p> + “Under the circumstances, then,” Shirley continued, “suppose we all agree + to forget that anything unusual happened to-day—” + </p> + <p> + “I bear the young man no ill will, Shirley, but before you permit yourself + to be carried away by the splendour of his action in cutting out the + caboose and getting it under control, it might be well to remember that + his own precious hide was at stake also. He would have cut the caboose out + even if you and I had not been in it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he would not,” she insisted, for the thought that he had done it for + her sake was very sweet to her and would persist. “Cooped up in the + caboose, we did not know the train was running away until it was too late + for us to jump, while Bryce Cardigan, riding out on the logs, must have + known it almost immediately. He would have had time to jump before the + runaway gathered too much headway—and he would have jumped, Uncle + Seth, for his father's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he certainly didn't stay for mine, Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + She dried her moist eyes and blushed furiously. “Uncle Seth,” she pleaded, + taking him lovingly by the arm, “let's be friends with Bryce Cardigan; + let's get together and agree on an equitable contract for freighting his + logs over our road.” + </p> + <p> + “You are now,” he replied severely, “mixing sentiment and business; if you + persist, the result will be chaos. Cardigan has in a large measure squared + himself for his ruffianly conduct earlier in the day, and I'll forgive him + and treat him with courtesy hereafter; but I want you to understand, + Shirley, that such treatment by me does not constitute a license for that + fellow to crawl up in my lap and be petted. He is practically a pauper + now, which makes him a poor business risk, and you'll please me greatly by + leaving him severely alone—by making him keep his distance.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not do that,” she answered with a quiet finality that caused her + uncle to favour her with a quick, searching glance. + </p> + <p> + He need not have worried, however, for Bryce Cardigan was too well aware + of his own financial condition to risk the humiliation of asking Shirley + Sumner to share it with him. Moreover, he had embarked upon a war—a + war which he meant to fight to a finish. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + George Sea Otter, summoned by telephone, came out to Freshwater, the + station nearest the wreck, and transported his battered young master back + to Sequoia. Here Bryce sought the doctor in the Cardigan Redwood Lumber + Company's little hospital and had his wrecked nose reorganized and his + cuts bandaged. It was characteristic of his father's son that when this + detail had been attended to, he should go to the office and work until the + six o'clock whistle blew. + </p> + <p> + Old Cardigan was waiting for him at the gate when he reached home. George + Sea Otter had already given the old man a more or less garbled account of + the runaway log-train, and Cardigan eagerly awaited his son's arrival in + order to ascertain the details of this new disaster which had come upon + them. For disaster it was, in truth. The loss of the logs was trifling—perhaps + three or four thousand dollars; the destruction of the rolling-stock was + the crowning misfortune. Both Cardigans knew that Pennington would eagerly + seize upon this point to stint his competitor still further on + logging-equipment, that there would be delays—purposeful but + apparently unavoidable—before this lost rolling-stock would be + replaced. And in the interim the Cardigan mill, unable to get a sufficient + supply of logs to fill orders in hand, would be forced to close down. Full + well Pennington knew that anything which, tends to bring about a shortage + of raw material for any manufacturing plant will result inevitably in the + loss of customers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, son,” said John Cardigan mildly as Bryce unlatched the gate, + “another bump, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—right on the nose.” + </p> + <p> + “I meant another bump to your heritage, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm worrying more about my nose, partner. In fact, I'm not worrying about + my heritage at all. I've come to a decision on that point: We're going to + fight and fight to the last; we're going down fighting. And by the way, I + started the fight this afternoon. I whaled the wadding out of that bucko + woods-boss of Pennington's, and as a special compliment to you, John + Cardigan, I did an almighty fine job of cleaning. Even went so far as to + muss the Colonel up a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Wow, wow, Bryce! Bully for you! I wanted that man Rondeau taken apart. He + has terrorized our woods-men for a long time. He's king of the mad-train, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce was relieved. His father did not know, then, of the act of vandalism + in the Valley of the Giants. This fact strengthened Bryce's resolve not to + tell him—also to get the fallen monarch sawed up and the stump + blasted out before an operation should restore his father's sight and + reveal to him the crowning cruelty of his enemy. + </p> + <p> + Arm in arm they walked up the garden path together. + </p> + <p> + Just as they entered the house, the telephone in the hall tinkled, and + Bryce answered. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cardigan,” came Shirley Sumner's voice over the wire. + </p> + <p> + “Bryce,” he corrected her. + </p> + <p> + She ignored the correction, + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know what to say to you,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “There is no necessity for saying anything, Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “But you saved our lives, and at least have a right to expect due and + grateful acknowledgment of our debt. I rang up to tell you how splendid + and heroic your action was—” + </p> + <p> + “I had my own life to save, Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not think of that at the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—I didn't think of your uncle's, either,” he replied without + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure we never can hope to catch even with you, Mr. Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't try. Your revered relative will not; so why should you?” + </p> + <p> + “You are making it somewhat hard for me to—to—rehabilitate our + friendship, Mr. Cardigan. We have just passed through a most extraordinary + day, and if at evening I can feel as I do now, I think you ought to do + your share—and help.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless your heart,” he murmured. “The very fact that you bothered to ring + me up at all makes me your debtor. Shirley, can you stand some plain + speaking—between friends, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, Mr. Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Bryce, “listen to this: I am your uncle's enemy until + death do us part. Neither he nor I expect to ask or to give quarter, and + I'm going to smash him if I can.” + </p> + <p> + “If you do, you smash me,” she warned him. + </p> + <p> + “Likewise our friendship. I'm sorry, but it's got to be done if I can do + it. Shall—shall we say good-bye, Shirley?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes-s-s!” There was a break in her voice. “Good-bye, Mr Cardigan. I + wanted you to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye! Well, that's cutting the mustard,” he murmured sotto voce, “and + there goes another bright day-dream.” Unknown to himself, he spoke + directly into the transmitter, and Shirley, clinging half hopefully to the + receiver at the other end of the wire, heard him—caught every + inflection of the words, commonplace enough, but freighted with the pathos + of Bryce's first real tragedy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bryce!” she cried sharply. But he did not hear her; he had hung up + his receiver now. + </p> + <p> + The week that ensued was remarkable for the amount of work Bryce + accomplished in the investigation of his father's affairs—also for a + visit from Donald McTavish, the woods-boss. Bryce found him sitting in the + private office one morning at seven o'clock. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, McTavish,” he saluted the woods-boss cheerfully and extended his + hand for a cordial greeting. His wayward employee stood up, took the + proffered hand in both of his huge and callous ones, and held it rather + childishly. + </p> + <p> + “Weel! 'Tis the wee laddie hissel,” he boomed. “I'm glad to see ye, boy.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd have seen me the day before yesterday—if you had been + seeable,” Bryce reminded him with a bright smile. “Mac, old man, they tell + me you've gotten to be a regular go-to-hell.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll nae deny I take a wee drappie now an' then,” the woods-boss admitted + frankly, albeit there was a harried, hangdog look in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Bryce sat down at his desk, lighted his pipe, and looked McTavish over + soberly. The woods-boss was a big, raw-boned Scotsman, with a plentiful + sprinkling of silver in his thick mane of red hair, which fell far down on + his shoulders. A tremendous nose rose majestically out of a face so strong + and rugged one searched in vain for aught of manly beauty in it; his long + arms hung gorilla-like, almost to his knees, and he was slightly stooped, + as if from bearing heavy burdens. Though in the late fifties, his years + had touched him lightly; but John Barleycorn had not been so considerate. + Bryce noted that McTavish was carrying some thirty pounds of whiskey fat + and that the pupils of his fierce blue eyes were permanently distended, + showing that alcohol had begun to affect his brain. His hands trembled as + he stood before Bryce, smiling fatuously and plucking at the cuffs of his + mackinaw. The latter realized that McTavish was waiting for him to broach + the object of the visit; so with an effort he decided to begin the + disagreeable task. + </p> + <p> + “Mac, did Moira give you my message?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess we understand each other, Mac. Was there something else you + wanted to see me about?” + </p> + <p> + McTavish sidled up to the desk. “Ye'll no be firin' auld Mac oot o' hand?” + he pleaded hopefully. “Mon, ha ye the heart to do it—after a' these + years?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce nodded. “If you have the heart—after all these years—to + draw pay you do not earn, then I have the heart to put a better man in + your place.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye was ever a laddie to hae your bit joke.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no good arguing, Mac. You're off the pay-roll onto the pension-roll—your + shanty in the woods, your meals at the camp kitchen, your clothing and + tobacco that I send out to you. Neither more nor less!” He reached into + his desk and drew forth a check. “Here's your wages to the fifteenth. It's + the last Cardigan check you'll ever finger. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm + terribly in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will ye pit in ma place?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. However, it won't be a difficult task to find a better man + than you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll nae let him work.” McTavish's voice deepened to a growl. “You worked + that racket on my father. Try it on me, and you'll answer to me—personally. + Lay the weight of your finger on your successor, Mac, and you'll die in + the county poor-farm. No threats, old man! You know the Cardigans; they + never bluff.” + </p> + <p> + McTavish's glance met the youthful master's for several seconds; then the + woods-boss trembled, and his gaze sought the office floor. Bryce knew he + had his man whipped at last, and McTavish realized it, too, for quite + suddenly he burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Dinna fire me, lad,” he pleaded. “I'll gae back on the job an' leave + whusky alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing, Mac. Leave whiskey alone for a year and I'll discharge + your successor to give you back your job. For the present however, my + verdict stands. You're discharged.” + </p> + <p> + “Who kens the Cardigan woods as I ken them?” McTavish blubbered. “Who'll + swamp a road into timber sixty per cent. clear when the mill's runnin' on + foreign orders an' the owd man's calling for clear logs? Who'll fell trees + wi' the least amount o' breakage? Who'll get the work out o' the men? + Who'll—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't plead, Mac,” Bryce interrupted gently. “You're quite through, and I + can't waste any more time on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye dinna mean it, lad. Ye canna mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “On your way, Mac. I loathe arguments. And don't forget your check.” + </p> + <p> + “I maun see yer faither aboot this. He'll nae stand for sic treatment o' + an auld employee.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce's temper flared up. “You keep away from my father. You've worried + him enough in the past, you drunkard. If you go up to the house to annoy + my father with your pleadings, McTavish, I'll manhandle you.” He glanced + at his watch. “The next train leaves for the woods in twenty minutes. If + you do not go back on it and behave yourself, you can never go back to + Cardigan woods.” + </p> + <p> + “I will nae take charity from any man,” McTavish thundered. “I'll nae + bother the owd man, an' I'll nae go back to yon woods to live on yer + bounty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go somewhere, Mac, and be quick about it. Only—when you've + reformed, please come back. You'll be mighty welcome. Until then, however, + you're as popular with me—that is, in a business way—as a wet + dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye're nae the man yer faither was,” the woods-boss half sobbed. “Ye hae a + heart o' stone.” + </p> + <p> + “You've been drunk for fifteen days—and I'm paying you for it, Mac,” + Bryce reminded him gently. “Don't leave your check behind. You'll need + it.” + </p> + <p> + With a fine show of contempt and rage, McTavish tore the check into strips + and threw them at Bryce. “I was never a mon to take charity,” he roared + furiously, and left the office. Bryce called after him a cheerful + good-bye, but he did not answer. And he did not remain in town; neither + did he return to his shanty in the woods. For a month his whereabouts + remained a mystery; then one day Moira received a letter from him + informing her that he had a job knee-bolting in a shingle mill in + Mendocino County. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + In the interim Bryce had not been idle. From his woods-crew he picked an + old, experienced hand—one Jabez Curtis—to take the place of + the vanished McTavish. Colonel Pennington, having repaired in three days + the gap in his railroad, wrote a letter to the Cardigan Redwood Lumber + Company, informing Bryce that until more equipment could be purchased and + delivered to take the place of the rolling-stock destroyed in the wreck, + the latter would have to be content with half-deliveries; whereupon Bryce + irritated the Colonel profoundly by purchasing a lot of second-hand trucks + from a bankrupt sugar-pine mill in Lassen County and delivering them to + the Colonel's road via the deck of a steam schooner. + </p> + <p> + “That will insure delivery of sufficient logs to get out our orders on + file,” Bryce informed his father. “While we are morally certain our mill + will run but one year longer, I intend that it shall run full capacity for + that year. In fact, I'm going to saw in that one year remaining to us as + much lumber as we would ordinarily saw in two years. To be exact, I'm + going to run a night-shift.” + </p> + <p> + The sightless old man raised both hands in deprecation. “The market won't + absorb it,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “Then we'll stack it in piles to air-dry and wait until the market is + brisk enough to absorb it,” Bryce replied. + </p> + <p> + “Our finances won't stand the overhead of that night-shift, I tell you,” + his father warned. + </p> + <p> + “I know we haven't sufficient cash on hand to attempt it, Dad, but—I'm + going to borrow some.” + </p> + <p> + “From whom? No bank in Sequoia will lend us a penny, and long before you + came home I had sounded every possible source of a private loan.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you sound the Sequoia Bank of Commerce?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. Pennington owns the controlling interest in that bank, and + I was never a man to waste my time.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce chuckled. “I don't care where the money comes from so long as I get + it, partner. Pennington's money may be tainted; in fact, I'd risk a bet + that it is; but our employees will accept it for wages nevertheless. + Desperate circumstances require desperate measures you know, and the day + before yesterday, when I was quite ignorant of the fact that Colonel + Pennington controls the Sequoia Bank of Commerce, I drifted in on the + president and casually struck him for a loan of one hundred thousand + dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be shot, Bryce! What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Said he'd take the matter under consideration and give me an answer this + morning. He asked me, of course, what I wanted that much money for, and I + told him I was going to run a night-shift, double my force of men in the + woods, and buy some more logging-trucks, which I can get rather cheap. + Well, this morning I called for my answer—and got it. The Sequoia + Bank of Commerce will loan me up to a hundred thousand, but it won't give + me the cash in a lump sum. I can have enough to buy the logging-trucks + now, and on the first of each month, when I present my pay-roll, the bank + will advance me the money to meet it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce, I am amazed.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not—since you tell me Colonel Pennington controls that bank. + That the bank should accommodate us is the most natural procedure + imaginable. Pennington is only playing safe—which is why the bank + declined to give me the money in a lump sum. If we run a night-shift, + Pennington knows that we can't dispose of our excess output under present + market conditions. The redwood trade is in the doldrums and will remain in + them to a greater or less degree until the principal redwood centres + secure a rail outlet to the markets of the country. It's a safe bet our + lumber is going to pile up on the mill dock; hence, when the smash comes + and the Sequoia Bank of Commerce calls our loan and we cannot possibly + meet it, the lumber on hand will prove security for the loan, will it not? + In fact, it will be worth two or three dollars per thousand more then than + it is now, because it will be air-dried. And inasmuch as all the signs + point to Pennington's gobbling us anyhow, it strikes me as a rather good + business on his part to give us sufficient rope to insure a thorough job + of hanging.” + </p> + <p> + “But what idea have you got back of such a procedure, Bryce?” + </p> + <p> + “Merely a forlorn hope, Dad. Something might turn up. The market may take + a sudden spurt and go up three or four dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and it may take a sudden spurt and drop three or four dollars,” + his father reminded him. + </p> + <p> + Bryce laughed. “That would be Pennington's funeral, Dad. And whether the + market goes up or comes down, it costs us nothing to make the experiment.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true.” his father agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Then, if you'll come down to the office to-morrow morning, Dad, we'll + hold a meeting of our board of directors and authorize me, as president of + the company, to sign the note to the bank. We're borrowing this without + collateral, you know.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan sighed. Such daring financial acrobatics were not usual with + him, but as Bryce had remarked there was no reason why, in their present + predicament, they should not gamble. Hence he entered no further + objection, and the following day the agreement was entered into with the + bank. Bryce closed by wire for the extra logging-equipment and immediately + set about rounding up a crew for the woods and for the night-shift in the + mill. + </p> + <p> + For a month Bryce was as busy as the proverbial one-armed paper-hanger + with the itch, and during all that time he did not see Shirley Sumner or + hear of her, directly or indirectly. Only at infrequent intervals did he + permit himself to think of her, for he was striving to forget, and the + memory of his brief glimpse of paradise was always provocative of pain. + </p> + <p> + Moira McTavish, in the meantime, had come down from the woods and entered + upon her duties in the mill office. The change from her dull, drab life, + giving her, as it did, an opportunity for companionship with people of + greater mentality and refinement than she had been used to, quickly + brought about a swift transition in the girl's nature. With the passing of + the coarse shoes and calico dresses and the substitution of the kind of + clothing all women of Moira's instinctive refinement and natural beauty + long for, the girl became cheerful, animated, and imbued with the optimism + of her years. At first old Sinclair resented the advent of a woman in the + office; then he discovered that Moira's efforts lightened his own labours + in exact proportion to the knowledge of the business which she assimilated + from day to day. + </p> + <p> + Moira worked in the general office, and except upon occasions when Bryce + desired to look at the books or Moira brought some document into the + private office for his perusal, there were days during which his pleasant + “Good morning, Moira,” constituted the extent of their conversation. To + John Cardigan, however, Moira was a ministering angel. Gradually she + relieved Bryce of the care of the old man. She made a cushion for his + easy-chair in the office; she read the papers to him, and the + correspondence, and discussed with him the receipt and delivery of orders, + the movements of the lumber-fleet, the comedies and tragedies of his + people, which had become to him matters of the utmost importance. She + brushed his hair, dusted his hat, and crowned him with it when he left the + office at nightfall, and whenever Bryce was absent in the woods or in San + Francisco, it fell to her lot to lead the old man to and from the house on + the hill. To his starved heart her sweet womanly attentions were + tremendously welcome, and gradually he formed the habit of speaking of + her, half tenderly, half jokingly, as “my girl.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce had been absent in San Francisco for ten days. He had planned to + stay three weeks, but finding his business consummated in less time, he + returned to Sequoia unexpectedly. Moira was standing at the tall + bookkeeping desk, her beautiful dark head bent over the ledger, when he + entered the office and set his suitcase in the corner. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Mr. Bryce?” she queried. + </p> + <p> + “The identical individual, Moira. How did you guess it was I?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him then, and her wonderful dark eyes lighted with a + flame Bryce had not seen in them heretofore. “I knew you were coming,” she + replied simply. + </p> + <p> + “But how could you know? I didn't telegraph because I wanted to surprise + my father, and the instant the boat touched the dock, I went overside and + came directly here. I didn't even wait for the crew to run out the + gangplank—so I know nobody could have told you I was due.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite right, Mr. Bryce. Nobody told me you were coming, but I + just knew, when I heard the Noyo whistling as she made the dock, that you + were aboard, and I didn't look up when you entered the office because I + wanted to verify my—my suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “You had a hunch, Moira. Do you get those telepathic messages very often?” + He was crossing the office to shake her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I've never noticed particularly—that is, until I came to work here. + But I always know when you are returning after a considerable absence.” + She gave him her hand. “I'm so glad you're back.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he demanded bluntly. + </p> + <p> + She flushed. “I—I really don't know, Mr. Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” he persisted, “what do you think makes you glad?” + </p> + <p> + “I had been thinking how nice it would be to have you back, Mr. Bryce. + When you enter the office, it's like a breeze rustling the tops of the + Redwoods. And your father misses you so; he talks to me a great deal about + you. Why, of course we miss you; anybody would.” + </p> + <p> + As he held her hand, he glanced down at it and noted how greatly it had + changed during the past few months. The skin was no longer rough and + brown, and the fingers, formerly stiff and swollen from hard work, were + growing more shapely. From her hand his glance roved over the girl, noting + the improvements in her dress, and the way the thick, wavy black hair was + piled on top of her shapely head. + </p> + <p> + “It hadn't occurred to me before, Moira,” he said with a bright impersonal + smile that robbed his remark of all suggestion of masculine flattery, “but + it seems to me I'm unusually glad to see you, also. You've been fixing + your hair different.” + </p> + <p> + The soft lambent glow leaped again into Moira's eyes. He had noticed her—particularly. + “Do you like my hair done that way?” she inquired eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether I do or not. It's unusual—for you. You look + mighty sweetly old-fashioned with it coiled in back—somewhat like an + old-fashioned daguerreotype of my mother. Is this new style the latest in + hairdressing in Sequoia?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, Mr. Bryce. I copied it from Colonel Pennington's niece, Miss + Sumner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he replied briefly. “You've met her, have you? I didn't know she was + in Sequoia still.” + </p> + <p> + “She's been away, but she came back last week. I went to the Valley of the + Giants last Saturday afternoon—” + </p> + <p> + Bryce interrupted. “You didn't tell my father about the tree that was cut, + did you?” he demanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Good girl! He mustn't know. Go on, Moira. I interrupted you.” + </p> + <p> + “I met Miss Sumner up there. She was lost; she'd followed the old trail + into the timber, and when the trees shut out the sun, she lost all sense + of direction. She was terribly frightened and crying when I found her and + brought her home.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I swan, Moira! What was she doing in our timber?” + </p> + <p> + “She told me that once, when she was a little girl, you had taken her for + a ride on your pony up to your mother's grave. And it seems she had a + great curiosity to see that spot again and started out without saying a + word to any one. Poor dear! She was in a sad state when I found her.” + </p> + <p> + “How fortunate you found her! I've met Miss Sumner three or four times. + That was when she first came to Sequoia. She's a stunning girl, isn't + she?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, Mr. Bryce. She's the first lady I've ever met. She's + different.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt! Her kind are not a product of homely little communities like + Sequoia. And for that matter, neither is her wolf of an uncle. What did + Miss Sumner have to say to you, Moira?” + </p> + <p> + “She told me all about herself—and she said a lot of nice things + about you, Mr. Bryce, after I told her I worked for you. And when I showed + her the way home, she insisted that I should walk home with her. So I did—and + the butler served us with tea and toast and marmalade. Then she showed me + all her wonderful things—and gave me some of them. Oh, Mr. Bryce, + she's so sweet. She had her maid dress my hair in half a dozen different + styles until they could decide on the right style, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And that's it—eh, Moira?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded brightly. + </p> + <p> + “I can see that you and Miss Sumner evidently hit it off just right with + each other. Are you going to call on her again?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! She begged me to. She says she's lonesome.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say she is, Moira. Well, her choice of a pal is a tribute to the + brains I suspected her of possessing, and I'm glad you've gotten to know + each other. I've no doubt you find life a little lonely sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, Mr. Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “How's my father?” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid. I've taken good care of him for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Moira, you're a sweetheart of a girl. I don't know how we ever managed to + wiggle along without you.” Fraternally—almost paternally—he + gave her radiant cheek three light little pats as he strode past her to + the private office. He was in a hurry to get to his desk, upon which he + could see through the open door a pile of letters and orders, and a moment + later he was deep in a perusal of them, oblivious to the fact that ever + and anon the girl turned upon him her brooding, Madonna-like glance. + </p> + <p> + That night Bryce and his father, as was their custom after dinner, + repaired to the library, where the bustling and motherly Mrs. Tully served + their coffee. This good soul, after the democratic fashion in vogue in + many Western communities, had never been regarded as a servant; neither + did she so regard herself. She was John Cardigan's housekeeper, and as + such she had for a quarter of a century served father and son their meals + and then seated herself at the table with them. This arrangement had but + one drawback, although this did not present itself until after Bryce's + return to Sequoia and his assumption of the direction of the Cardigan + destinies. For Mrs. Tully had a failing common to many of her sex: she + possessed for other people's business an interest absolutely incapable of + satisfaction—and she was, in addition, garrulous beyond belief. The + library was the one spot in the house which at the beginning of her + employment John Cardigan had indicated to Mrs. Tully as sanctuary for him + and his; hence, having served the coffee this evening, the amiable + creature withdrew, although not without a pang as she reflected upon the + probable nature of their conversation and the void which must inevitably + result by reason of the absence of her advice and friendly cooperation and + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had Mrs. Tully departed than Bryce rose and closed the door + behind her. John Cardigan opened the conversation with a contented grunt: + </p> + <p> + “Plug the keyhole, son,” he continued. “I believe you have something on + your mind—and you know how Mrs. Tully resents the closing of that + door. Estimable soul that she is, I have known her to eavesdrop. She can't + help it, poor thing! She was born that way.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce clipped a cigar and held a lighted match while his father “smoked + up.” Then he slipped into the easy-chair beside the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John Cardigan,” he began eagerly, “fate ripped a big hole in our + dark cloud the other day and showed me some of the silver lining. I've + been making bad medicine for Colonel Pennington. Partner, the pill I'm + rolling for that scheming scoundrel will surely nauseate him when he + swallows it.” + </p> + <p> + “What's in the wind, boy?” + </p> + <p> + “We're going to parallel Pennington's logging-road.” + </p> + <p> + “Inasmuch as that will cost close to three quarters of a million dollars, + I'm of the opinion that we're not going to do anything of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. Nevertheless, if I can demonstrate to a certain party that it + will not cost more than three quarters of a million, he'll loan me the + money.” + </p> + <p> + The old man shook his head. “I don't believe it, Bryce. Who's the crazy + man?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Gregory. He's Scotch.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I know he's crazy. When he hands you the money, you'll find he's + talking real money but thinking of Confederate greenbacks. For a sane + Scotchman to loan that much money without collateral security would be + equivalent to exposing his spinal cord and tickling it with a rat-tail + file.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce laughed. “Pal,” he declared, “if you and I have any brains, they + must roll around in our skulls like buckshot in a tin pan. Here we've been + sitting for three months, and twiddling our thumbs, or lying awake nights + trying to scheme a way out of our difficulties, when if we'd had the sense + that God gives geese we would have solved the problem long ago and ceased + worrying. Listen, now, with all your ears. When Bill Henderson wanted to + build the logging railroad which he afterward sold to Pennington, and + which Pennington is now using as a club to beat our brains out, did he + have the money to build it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did he get it?” + </p> + <p> + “I loaned it to him. He only had about eight miles of road to build then, + so I could afford to accommodate him.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he pay you back?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he gave me a ten-year contract for hauling our logs at a dollar and + a half a thousand feet, and I merely credited his account with the amount + of the freight-bills he sent me until he'd squared up the loan, principal + and interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if Bill Henderson financed himself on that plan, why didn't we + think of using the same time-honoured plan for financing a road to + parallel Pennington's?” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan sat up with a jerk. “By thunder!” he murmured. That was as + close as he ever came to uttering an oath. “By thunder!” he repeated. “I + never thought of that! But then,” he added, “I'm not so young as I used to + be, and there are any number of ideas which would have occurred to me + twenty years ago but do not occur to me now.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, John Cardigan. I forgive you. Now, then, continue to listen: + to the north of that great block of timber held by you and Pennington lie + the redwood holdings of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of them before.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, timber away in there in back of beyond has never been well + advertised, because it is regarded as practically inaccessible. By + extending his logging-road and adding to his rolling-stock, Pennington + could make it accessible, but he will not. He figures on buying all that + back timber rather cheap when he gets around to it, for the reason that + the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company cannot possibly mill its timber until + a railroad connects its holdings with the outside world. They can hold it + until their corporation franchise expires, and it will not increase + sufficiently in value to pay taxes.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why the blamed fools ever bought in there, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “When they bought, it looked like a good buy. You will remember that some + ten years ago a company was incorporated with the idea of building a + railroad from Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the line of the Southern Pacific, + down the Oregon and California coast to tap the redwood belt.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember. There was a big whoop and hurrah and then the proposition + died abornin'. The engineers found that the cost of construction through + that mountainous country was prohibitive.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, before the project died, Gregory and his associates believed that + it was going to survive. They decided to climb in on the ground floor—had + some advance, inside information that the road was to be built; go they + quietly gathered together thirty thousand acres of good stuff and then sat + down to wait for the railroad, And they are still waiting. Gregory, by the + way, is the president of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company. He's an + Edinburgh man, and the fly American promoters got him to put up the price + of the timber and then mortgaged their interests to him as security for + the advance. He foreclosed on their notes five years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And there he is with his useless timber!” John Cardigan murmured + thoughtfully. “The poor Scotch sucker!” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't poor. The purchase of that timber didn't even dent his + bank-roll. He's what they call in England a tinned-goods manufacturer—purveyor + to His Majesty the King, and all that. But he would like to sell his + timber, and being Scotch, naturally he desires to sell it at a profit. In + order to create a market for it, however, he has to have an outlet to that + market. We supply the outlet—with his help; and what happens? Why, + timber that cost him fifty and seventy-five cents per thousand feet + stumpage—and the actual timber will overrun the cruiser's estimate + every time—will be worth two dollars and fifty cents—perhaps + more.” + </p> + <p> + The elder Cardigan turned slowly in his chair and bent his sightless gaze + upon his son. “Well, well,” he cried impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “He loans us the money to build our road. We build it—on through our + timber and into his. The collateral security which we put up will be a + twenty-five-years contract to haul his logs to tidewater on Humboldt Bay, + at a base freight-rate of one dollar and fifty cents, with an increase of + twenty-five cents per thousand every five years thereafter, and an option + for a renewal of the contract upon expiration, at the rate of freight last + paid. We also grant him perpetual booming-space for his logs in the slough + which we own and where we now store our logs until needed at the mill. In + addition we sell him, at a reasonable figure, sufficient land fronting on + tidewater to enable him to erect a sawmill, lay out his yards, and build a + dock out into the deep water. + </p> + <p> + “Thus Gregory will have that which he hasn't got now—an outlet to + his market by water; and when the railroad to Sequoia builds in from the + south, it will connect with the road which we have built from Sequoia up + into Township Nine to the north; hence Gregory will also have an outlet to + his market by rail. He can easily get a good manager to run his lumber + business until he finds a customer for it, and in the meantime we will be + charging his account with our freight-bills against him and gradually pay + off the loan without pinching ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you talked with Gregory?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I met him while I was in San Francisco. Somebody brought him up to a + meeting of the Redwood Lumber Manufacturers' Association, and I pounced on + him like an owl on a mouse.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan's old hand came gropingly forth and rested affectionately + upon his boy's. “What a wonderful scheme it would have been a year ago,” + he murmured sadly. “You forget, my son, that we cannot last in business + long enough to get that road built though Gregory should agree to finance + the building of it. The interest on our bonded indebtedness is payable on + the first—” + </p> + <p> + “We can meet it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, but we can't meet the fifty thousand dollars which, under the terms + of our deed of trust, we are required to pay in on July first of each year + as a sinking fund toward the retirement of our bonds. By super-human + efforts—by sacrificing a dozen cargoes, raising hob with the market, + and getting ourselves disliked by our neighbours—we managed to meet + half of it this year and procure an extension of six months on the balance + due. + </p> + <p> + “That is Pennington's way. He plays with us as a cat does with a mouse, + knowing, like the cat, that when he is weary of playing, he will devour + us. And now, when we are deeper in debt than ever, when the market is + lower and more sluggish than it has been in fifteen years, to hope to meet + the interest and the next payment to the sinking fund taxes my optimism. + Bryce, it just can't be done. We'd have our road about half completed when + we'd bust up in business; indeed, the minute Pennington suspected we were + paralleling his line, he'd choke off our wind. I tell you it can't be + done.” + </p> + <p> + But Bryce contradicted him earnestly. “It can be done,” he said. “Gregory + knows nothing of our financial condition. Our rating in the reports of the + commercial agencies is as good as it ever was, and a man's never broke + till somebody finds it out.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that if we can start building our road and have it half completed + before Pennington jumps on us, GREGORY WILL SIMPLY HAVE TO COME TO OUR AID + IN SELF-DEFENSE. Once he ties up with us, he's committed to the task of + seeing us through. If we fall, he must pick us up and carry us, whether he + wants to or not; and I will so arrange the deal that he will have to. I + can do it, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan raised his hand. “No,” he said firmly, “I will not allow you + to do this. That way—that is the Pennington method. If we fall, my + son, we pass out like gentlemen, not blackguards. We will not take + advantage of this man Gregory's faith. If he joins forces with us, we lay + our hand on the table and let him look.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he'll never join hands with us, partner. We're done.” + </p> + <p> + “We're not done, my son. We have one alternative, and I'm going to take + it. I've got to—for your sake. Moreover, your mother would have + wished it so.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do. I'm going to sell Pennington my Valley of the Giants. Thank + God, that quarter-section does not belong to the Cardigan Redwood Lumber + Company. It is my personal property, and it is not mortgaged. Pennington + can never foreclose on it—and until he gets it, twenty-five hundred + acres of virgin timber on Squaw Creek are valueless—nay, a source of + expense to him. Bryce, he has to have it; and he'll pay the price, when he + knows I mean business.” + </p> + <p> + With a sweeping gesture he waved aside the arguments that rose to his + son's lips. “Lead me to the telephone,” he commanded; and Bryce, + recognizing his sire's unalterable determination, obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “Find Pennington's number in the telephone-book,” John Cardigan commanded + next. + </p> + <p> + Bryce found it, and his father proceeded to get the Colonel on the wire. + “Pennington,” he said hoarsely, “this is John Cardigan speaking. I've + decided to sell you that quarter-section that blocks your timber on Squaw + Creek.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” the Colonel purred. “I had an idea you were going to present it + to the city for a natural park.” + </p> + <p> + “I've changed my mind. I've decided to sell at your last offer.” + </p> + <p> + “I've changed my mind, too. I've decided not to buy—at my last + offer. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly John Cardigan hung the receiver on the hook, turned and groped for + his son. When he found him, the old man held him for a moment in his arms. + “Lead me upstairs, son,” he murmured presently. “I'm tired. I'm going to + bed.” + </p> + <p> + When Colonel Seth Pennington turned from the telephone and faced his + niece, Shirley read his triumph in his face. “Old Cardigan has capitulated + at last,” he cried exultingly. “We've played a waiting game and I've won; + he just telephoned to say he'd accept my last offer for his Valley of the + Giants, as the sentimental old fool calls that quarter-section of huge + redwoods that blocks the outlet to our Squaw Creek timber.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're not going to buy it. You told him so, Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'm not going to buy it—at my last offer. It's worth five + thousand dollars in the open market, and once I offered him fifty thousand + for it. Now I'll give him five.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why he wants to sell,” Shirley mused. “From what Bryce Cardigan + told me once, his father attaches a sentimental value to that strip of + woods; his wife is buried there; it's—or rather, it used to be—a + sort of shrine to the old gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “He's selling it because he's desperate. If he wasn't teetering on the + verge of bankruptcy, he'd never let me outgame him,” Pennington replied + gayly. “I'll say this for the old fellow: he's no bluffer. However, since + I know his financial condition almost to a dollar, I do not think it would + be good business to buy his Valley of the Giants now. I'll wait until he + has gone bust—and save twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you're biting off your nose to spite your face, Uncle Seth. The + Laguna Grande Lumber Company needs that outlet. In dollars and cents, what + is it worth to the Company?” + </p> + <p> + “If I thought I couldn't get it from Cardigan a few months from now, I'd + go as high as a hundred thousand for it to-night,” he answered coolly. + </p> + <p> + “In that event, I advise you to take it for fifty thousand. It's terribly + hard on old Mr. Cardigan to have to sell it, even at that price.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand these matters, Shirley. Don't try. And don't waste + your sympathy on that old humbug. He has to dig up fifty thousand dollars + to pay on his bonded indebtedness, and he's finding it a difficult job. + He's just sparring for time, but he'll lose out.” + </p> + <p> + As if to indicate that he considered the matter closed, the Colonel drew + his chair toward the fire, picked up a magazine, and commenced idly to + slit the pages. Shirley studied the back of his head for some time, then + got out some fancy work and commenced plying her needle. And as she plied + it, a thought, nebulous at first, gradually took form in her head until + eventually she murmured loud enough for the Colonel to hear: + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” Pennington queried. + </p> + <p> + “Something nice for somebody who did something nice for me,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “That McTavish girl?” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Moira! Isn't she sweet, Uncle Seth? I'm going to give her that black + suit of mine. I've scarcely worn it—” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” he interrupted with an indulgent yawn. “Well, do whatever + makes for your happiness, my dear. That's all money is for.” + </p> + <p> + About two o'clock the following afternoon old Judge Moore, of the Superior + Court of Humboldt County, drifted into Bryce Cardigan's office, sat down + uninvited, and lifted his long legs to the top of an adjacent chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bryce, my boy,” he began, “a little bird tells me your daddy is + considering the sale of Cardigan's Redwoods, or the Valley of the Giants, + as your paternal ancestor prefers to refer to that little old + quarter-section out yonder on the edge of town. How about it?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce stared at him a moment questioningly. “Yes, Judge,” he replied, + “we'll sell, if we get our price.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” his visitor drawled, “I have a client who might be persuaded. I'm + here to talk turkey. What's your price?” + </p> + <p> + “Before we talk price,” Bryce parried, “I want you to answer a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Let her fly,” said Judge Moore. + </p> + <p> + “Are you, directly or indirectly, acting for Colonel Pennington?” + </p> + <p> + “That's none of your business, young man—at least, it would be none + of your business if I were, directly or indirectly, acting for that + unconvicted thief. To the best of my information and belief, Colonel + Pennington doesn't figure in this deal in any way, shape, or manner; and + as you know, I've been your daddy's friend for thirty years.” + </p> + <p> + Still Bryce was not convinced, notwithstanding the fact that he would have + staked his honour on the Judge's veracity. Nobody knew better than he in + what devious ways the Colonel worked, his wonders to perform. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “your query is rather sudden, Judge, but still I can name + you a price. I will state frankly, however, that I believe it to be over + your head. We have several times refused to sell to Colonel Pennington for + a hundred thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally that little dab of timber is worth more to Pennington than to + anybody else. However, my client has given me instructions to go as high + as a hundred thousand if necessary to get the property.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “I said it. One hundred thousand dollars of the present standard weight + and fineness.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Moore's last statement swept away Bryce's suspicions. He required + now no further evidence that, regardless of the identity of the Judge's + client, that client could not possibly be Colonel Seth Pennington or any + one acting for him, since only the night before Pennington had curtly + refused to buy the property for fifty thousand dollars. For a moment Bryce + stared stupidly at his visitor. Then he recovered his wits. + </p> + <p> + “Sold!” he almost shouted, and after the fashion of the West extended his + hand to clinch the bargain. The Judge shook it solemnly. “The Lord loveth + a quick trader,” he declared, and reached into the capacious breast pocket + of his Prince Albert coat. “Here's the deed already made out in favour of + myself, as trustee.” He winked knowingly. + </p> + <p> + “Client's a bit modest, I take it,” Bryce suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very. Of course I'm only hazarding a guess, but that guess is that my + client can afford the gamble and is figuring on giving Pennington a pain + where he never knew it to ache him before. In plain English, I believe the + Colonel is in for a razooing at the hands of somebody with a small grouch + against him.” + </p> + <p> + “May the Lord strengthen that somebody's arm,” Bryce breathed fervently. + “If your client can afford to hold out long enough, he'll be able to buy + Pennington's Squaw Creek timber at a bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “My understanding is that such is the programme.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce reached for the deed, then reached for his hat. “If you'll be good + enough to wait here, Judge Moore, I'll run up to the house and get my + father to sign this deed. The Valley of the Giants is his personal + property, you know. He didn't include it in his assets when incorporating + the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later he returned with the deed duly signed by John + Cardigan and witnessed by Bryce; whereupon the Judge carelessly tossed his + certified check for a hundred thousand dollars on Bryce's desk and + departed whistling “Turkey in the Straw.” Bryce reached for the telephone + and called up Colonel Pennington. + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Cardigan speaking,” he began, but the Colonel cut him short. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, impulsive young friend,” he interrupted in oleaginous tones, + “how often do you have to be told that I am not quite ready to buy that + quarter-section?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” Bryce retorted, “I merely called up to tell you that every dollar + and every asset you have in the world, including your heart's blood, isn't + sufficient to buy the Valley of the Giants from us now.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? What's that? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, my dear, overcautious, and thoroughly unprincipled enemy, it was + sold five minutes ago for the tidy sum of one hundred thousand dollars, + and if you don't believe me, come over to my office and I'll let you feast + your eyes on the certified check.” + </p> + <p> + He could hear a distinct gasp. After an interval of five seconds, however, + the Colonel recovered his poise. “I congratulate you,” he purred. “I + suppose I'll have to wait a little longer now, won't I? Well—patience + is my middle name. Au revoir.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel hung up. His hard face was ashen with rage, and he stared at a + calendar on the wall with his cold, phidian stare. However, he was not + without a generous stock of optimism. “Somebody has learned of the low + state of the Cardigan fortune,” he mused, “and taken advantage of it to + induce the old man to sell at last. They're figuring on selling to me at a + neat profit. And I certainly did overplay my hand last night. However, + there's nothing to do now except sit tight and wait for the new owner's + next move.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, in the general office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, + joy was rampant. Bryce Cardigan was doing a buck and wing dance around the + room, while Moira McTavish, with her back to her tall desk, watched him, + in her eyes a tremendous joy and a sweet, yearning glow of adoration that + Bryce was too happy and excited to notice. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he paused before her. “Moira, you're a lucky girl,” he declared. + “I thought this morning you were going back to a kitchen in a + logging-camp. It almost broke my heart to think of fate's swindling you + like that.” He put his arm around her and gave her a brotherly hug. “It's + autumn in the woods, Moira, and all the underbrush is golden.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, though it was winter in her heart. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + Not the least of the traits which formed Shirley Sumner's character was + pride. Proud people quite usually are fiercely independent and + meticulously honest—and Shirley's pride was monumental. Hers was the + pride of lineage, of womanhood, of an assured station in life, combined + with that other pride which is rather difficult of definition without + verbosity and is perhaps better expressed in the terse and illuminating + phrase “a dead-game sport.” Unlike her precious relative, unlike the + majority of her sex, Shirley had a wonderfully balanced sense of the + eternal fitness of things; her code of honour resembled that of a very + gallant gentleman. She could love well and hate well. + </p> + <p> + A careful analysis of Shirley's feelings toward Bryce Cardigan immediately + following the incident in Pennington's woods, had showed her that under + more propitious circumstances she might have fallen in love with that + tempestuous young man in sheer recognition of the many lovable and manly + qualities she had discerned in him. As an offset to the credit side of + Bryce's account with her, however, there appeared certain debits in the + consideration of which Shirley always lost her temper and was immediately + quite certain she loathed the unfortunate man. + </p> + <p> + He had been an honoured and (for aught Shirley knew to the contrary) + welcome guest in the Penninton home one night, and the following day had + assaulted his host, committed great bodily injuries upon the latter's + employees for little or no reason save the satisfaction of an abominable + temper, made threats of further violence, declared his unfaltering enmity + to her nearest and best-loved relative, and in the next breath had had the + insolence to prate of his respect and admiration for her. Indeed, in + cogitating on this latter incongruity, Shirley recalled that the + extraordinary fellow had been forced rather abruptly to check himself in + order to avoid a fervid declaration of love! And all of this under the + protection of a double-bitted axe, one eye on her and the other on his + enemies. + </p> + <p> + However, all of these grave crimes and misdemeanors were really + insignificant compared with his crowning offense. What had infuriated + Shirley was the fact that she had been at some pains to inform Bryce + Cardigan that she loathed him—whereat he had looked her over coolly, + grinned a little, and declined to believe her! Then, seemingly as if fate + had decreed that her futility should be impressed upon her still further, + Bryce Cardigan had been granted an opportunity to save, in a strikingly + calm, heroic, and painful manner, her and her uncle from certain and + horrible death, thus placing upon Shirley an obligation that was as + irritating to acknowledge as it was futile to attempt to reciprocate. + </p> + <p> + That was where the shoe pinched. Before that day was over she had been + forced to do one of two things—acknowledge in no uncertain terms her + indebtedness to him, or remain silent and be convicted of having been, in + plain language, a rotter. So she had telephoned him and purposely left + ajar the door to their former friendly relations. + </p> + <p> + Monstrous! He had seen the open door and deliberately slammed it in her + face. Luckily for them both she had heard, all unsuspected by him as he + slowly hung the receiver on the hook, the soliloquy wherein he gave her a + pointed hint of the distress with which he abdicated—which knowledge + was all that deterred her from despising him with the fervour of a woman + scorned. + </p> + <p> + Resolutely Shirley set herself to the task of forgetting Bryce when, after + the passage of a few weeks, she realized that he was quite sincere in his + determination to forget her. Frequent glimpses of him on the streets of + Sequoia, the occasional mention of his name in the Sequoia Sentinel, the + very whistle of Cardigan's mill, made her task a difficult one; and + presently in desperation she packed up and departed for an indefinite stay + in the southern part of the State. At the end of six weeks, however, she + discovered that absence had had the traditional effect upon her heart and + found herself possessed of a great curiosity to study the villain at short + range and discover, if possible, what new rascality he might be + meditating. About this time, a providential attack of that aristocratic + ailment, gout, having laid Colonel Pennington low, she told herself her + duty lay in Sequoia, that she had Shirley Sumner in hand at last and that + the danger was over. In consequence, she returned to Sequoia. + </p> + <p> + The fascination which a lighted candle holds for a moth is too well known + to require further elucidation here. In yielding one day to a desire to + visit the Valley of the Giants, Shirley told herself that she was going + there to gather wild blackberries. She had been thinking of a certain + blackberry pie, which thought naturally induced reflection on Bryce + Cardigan and reminded Shirley of her first visit to the Giants under the + escort of a boy in knickerbockers. She had a very vivid remembrance of + that little amphitheatre with the sunbeams falling like a halo on the + plain tombstone; she wondered if the years had changed it all and decided + that there could not possibly be any harm in indulging a very natural + curiosity to visit and investigate. + </p> + <p> + Her meeting with Moira McTavish that day, and the subsequent friendship + formed with the woods-boss's daughter, renewed all her old apprehensions. + On the assumption that Shirley and Bryce were practically strangers to + each other (an assumption which Shirley, for obvious reasons, did not + attempt to dissipate), Moira did not hesitate to mention Bryce very + frequently. To her he was the one human being in the world utterly worth + while, and it is natural for women to discuss, frequently and at great + length, the subject nearest their hearts. In the three stock subjects of + the admirable sex—man, dress, and the ills that flesh is heir to—man + readily holds the ascendancy; and by degrees Moira—discovering that + Shirley, having all the dresses she required (several dozen more, in fact) + and being neither subnormal mentally nor fragile physically, gave the last + two topics scant attention—formed the habit of expatiating at great + length on the latter. Moira described Bryce in minute detail and related + to her eager auditor little unconscious daily acts of kindness, + thoughtfulness, or humour performed by Bryce—his devotion to his + father, his idealistic attitude toward the Cardigan employees, his + ability, his industry, the wonderful care he bestowed upon his + fingernails, his marvellous taste in neckwear, the boyishness of his + lighter and the mannishness of his serious moments. And presently, little + by little, Shirley's resentment against him faded, and in her heart was + born a great wistfulness bred of the hope that some day she would meet + Bryce Cardigan on the street and that he would pause, lift his hat, smile + at her his compelling smile and, forthwith proceed to bully her into being + friendly and forgiving—browbeat her into admitting her change of + heart and glorying in it. + </p> + <p> + To this remarkable state of mind had Shirley Sumner attained at the time + old John Cardigan, leading his last little trump in a vain hope that it + would enable him to take the odd trick in the huge game he had played for + fifty years, decided to sell his Valley of the Giants. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after joining her uncle in Sequoia, Shirley had learned from the + Colonel the history of old man Cardigan and his Valley of the Giants, or + as the townspeople called it, Cardigan's Redwoods. Therefore she was + familiar with its importance to the assets of the Laguna Grande Lumber + Company, since, while that quarter-section remained the property of John + Cardigan, two thousand five hundred acres of splendid timber owned by the + former were rendered inaccessible. Her uncle had explained to her that + ultimately this would mean the tying up of some two million dollars, and + inasmuch as the Colonel never figured less than five per cent. return on + anything, he was in this instance facing a net loss of one hundred + thousand dollars for each year obstinate John Cardigan persisted in + retaining that quarter-section. + </p> + <p> + “I'd gladly give him a hundred thousand for that miserable little dab of + timber and let him keep a couple of acres surrounding his wife's grave, if + the old fool would only listen to reason,” the Colonel had complained + bitterly to her. “I've offered him that price a score of times, and he + tells me blandly the property isn't for sale. Well, he who laughs last + laughs best, and if I can't get that quarter-section by paying more than + ten times what it's worth in the open market, I'll get it some other way, + if it costs me a million.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” Shirley had queried at the time. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, my dear,” he had answered darkly. “You wouldn't understand + the procedure if I told you. I'll have to run all around Robin Hood's barn + and put up a deal of money, one way or another, but in the end I'll get it + all back with interest—and Cardigan's Redwoods! The old man can't + last forever, and what with his fool methods of doing business, he's about + broke, anyhow. I expect to do business with his executor or his receiver + within a year.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley, as explained in a preceding chapter, had been present the night + John Cardigan, desperate and brought to bay at last, had telephoned + Pennington at the latter's home, accepting Pennington's last offer for the + Valley of the Giants. The cruel triumph in the Colonel's handsome face as + he curtly rebuffed old Cardigan had been too apparent for the girl to + mistake; recalling her conversation with him anent the impending + possibility of his doing business with John Cardigan's receiver or + executor, she realized now that a crisis had come in the affairs of the + Cardigans, and across her vision there flashed again the vision of Bryce + Cardigan's homecoming—of a tall old man with his trembling arms + clasped around his boy, with grizzled cheek laid against his son's, as one + who, seeking comfort through bitter years, at length had found it. + </p> + <p> + Presently another thought came to Shirley. She knew Bryce Cardigan was far + from being indifferent to her; she had given him his opportunity to be + friendly with her again, and he had chosen to ignore her though sorely + against his will. For weeks Shirley had pondered this mysterious action, + and now she thought she caught a glimpse of the reason underlying it all. + In Sequoia, Bryce Cardigan was regarded as the heir to the throne of + Humboldt's first timber-king, but Shirley knew now that as a timber-king, + Bryce Cardigan bade fair to wear a tinsel crown. Was it this knowledge + that had led him to avoid her? + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” she mused. “He's proud. Perhaps the realization that he will + soon be penniless and shorn of his high estate has made him chary of + acquiring new friends in his old circle. Perhaps if he were secure in his + business affairs—Ah, yes! Poor boy! He was desperate for fifty + thousand dollars!” Her heart swelled. “Oh, Bryce, Bryce,” she murmured, “I + think I'm beginning to understand some of your fury that day in the woods. + It's all a great mystery, but I'm sure you didn't intend to be so—so + terrible. Oh, my dear, if we had only continued to be the good friends we + started out to be, perhaps you'd let me help you now. For what good is + money if one cannot help one's dear friends in distress. Still, I know you + wouldn't let me help you, for men of your stamp cannot borrow from a + woman, no matter how desperate their need. And yet—you only need a + paltry fifty thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley carried to bed with her that night the woes of the Cardigans, and + in the morning she telephoned Moira McTavish and invited the latter to + lunch with her at home that noon. It was in her mind to question Moira + with a view to acquiring additional information. When Moira came, Shirley + saw that she had been weeping. + </p> + <p> + “My poor Moira!” she said, putting her arms around her visitor. “What has + happened to distress you? Has your father come back to Sequoia? Forgive me + for asking. You never mentioned him, but I have heard—There, there, + dear! Tell me all about it.” + </p> + <p> + Moira laid her head on Shirley's shoulder and sobbed for several minutes. + Then, “It's Mr. Bryce,” she wailed. “He's so unhappy. Something's + happened; they're going to sell Cardigan's Redwoods; and they—don't + want to. Old Mr. Cardigan is home—ill; and just before I left the + office, Mr. Bryce came in—and stood a moment looking—at me—so + tragically I—I asked him what had happened. Then he patted my cheek—oh, + I know I'm just one of his responsibilities—and said 'Poor Moira! + Never any luck!' and went into his—private office. I waited a + little, and then I went in too; and—oh, Miss Sumner, he had his head + down on his desk, and when I touched his head, he reached up and took my + hand and held it—and laid his cheek against it a little while—and + oh, his cheek was wet. It's cruel of God—to make him—unhappy, + He's good—too good. And—oh, I love him so, Miss Shirley, I + love him so—and he'll never, never know. I'm just one of his—responsibilities, + you know; and I shouldn't presume. But nobody—has ever been kind to + me but Mr. Bryce—and you. And I can't help loving people who are + kind—and gentle to nobodies.” + </p> + <p> + The hysterical outburst over, Shirley led the girl to her cozy + sitting-room upstairs and prevailed upon the girl to put on one of her own + beautiful negligees. Moira's story—her confession of love, so tragic + because so hopeless—had stirred Shirley deeply. She seated herself + in front of Moira and cupped her chin in her palm. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, dear,” she said, “you couldn't possibly see anybody you loved + suffer so and not feel dreadfully about it. And when a man like Bryce + Cardigan is struck down, he's apt to present rather a tragic and helpless + figure. He wanted sympathy, Moira—woman's sympathy, and it was dear + of you to give it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd gladly die for him,” Moira answered simply. “Oh, Miss Shirley, you + don't know him the way we who work for him do. If you did, you'd love him, + too. You couldn't help it, Miss Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he loves you, too, Moira.” The words came with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + Moira shook her head hopelessly. “No, Miss Shirley. I'm only one of his + many human problems, and he just won't go back on me, for old sake's sake. + We played together ten years ago, when he used to spend his vacations at + our house in Cardigan's woods, when my father was woods-boss. He's Bryce + Cardigan—and I—I used to work in the kitchen of his + logging-camp.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Moira. He may love you, even though you do not suspect it. + You mustn't be so despairing. Providence has a way of working out these + things. Tell me about his trouble, Moira.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it's money. He's been terribly worried for a long time, and I'm + afraid things aren't going right with the business. I've felt ever since + I've been there that there's something that puts a cloud over Mr. Bryce's + smile. It hurts them terribly to have to sell the Valley of the Giants, + but they have to; Colonel Pennington is the only one who would consider + buying it; they don't want him to have it—and still they have to + sell to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I happen to know, Moira, that he isn't going to buy it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is—but not at a price that will do them any good. They have + always thought he would be eager to buy whenever they decided to sell, and + now he says he doesn't want it, and old Mr. Cardigan is ill over it all. + Mr. Bryce says his father has lost his courage at last; and oh, dear, + things are in such a mess. Mr. Bryce started to tell me all about it—and + then he stopped suddenly and wouldn't say another word.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley smiled. She thought she understood the reason for that. However, + she did not pause to speculate on it, since the crying need of the present + was the distribution of a ray of sunshine to broken-hearted Moira. + </p> + <p> + “Silly,” she chided, “how needlessly you are grieving! You say my uncle + has declined to buy the Valley of the Giants?” + </p> + <p> + Moira nodded. + </p> + <p> + “My uncle doesn't know what he's talking about, Moira. I'll see that he + does buy it. What price are the Cardigans asking for it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Colonel Pennington has offered them a hundred thousand dollars for + it time and again, but last night he withdrew that offer. Then they named + a price of fifty thousand, and he said he didn't want it at all.” + </p> + <p> + “He needs it, and it's worth every cent of a hundred thousand to him, + Moira. Don't worry, dear. He'll buy it, because I'll make him, and he'll + buy it immediately; only you must promise me not to mention a single word + of what I'm telling you to Bryce Cardigan, or in fact, to anybody. Do you + promise?” + </p> + <p> + Moira seized Shirley's hand and kissed it impulsively. “Very well, then,” + Shirley continued. “That matter is adjusted, and now we'll all be happy. + Here comes Thelma with luncheon. Cheer up, dear, and remember that + sometime this afternoon you're going to see Mr. Bryce smile again, and + perhaps there won't be so much of a cloud over his smile this time.” + </p> + <p> + When Moira returned to the office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, + Shirley rang for her maid. “Bring me my motor-coat and hat, Thelma,” she + ordered, “and telephone for the limousine.” She seated herself before the + mirror at her dressing-table and dusted her adorable nose with a + powder-puff. “Mr. Smarty Cardigan,” she murmured happily, “you walked + rough-shod over my pride, didn't you! Placed me under an obligation I + could never hope to meet—and then ignored me—didn't you? Very + well, old boy. We all have our innings sooner or later, you know, and I'm + going to make a substantial payment on that huge obligation as sure as my + name is Shirley Sumner. Then, some day when the sun is shining for you + again, you'll come to me and be very, very humble. You're entirely too + independent, Mr. Cardigan, but, oh, my dear, I do hope you will not need + so much money. I'll be put to my wit's end to get it to you without + letting you know, because if your affairs go to smash, you'll be perfectly + intolerable. And yet you deserve it. You're such an idiot for not loving + Moira. She's an angel, and I gravely fear I'm just an interfering, + mischievous, resentful little devil seeking vengeance on—” + </p> + <p> + She paused suddenly. “No, I'll not do that, either,” she soliloquized. + “I'll keep it myself—for an investment. I'll show Uncle Seth I'm a + business woman, after all. He has had his fair chance at the Valley of the + Giants, after waiting years for it, and now he has deliberately sacrificed + that chance to be mean and vindictive. I'm afraid Uncle Seth isn't very + sporty—after what Bryce Cardigan did for us that day the log-train + ran away. I'll have to teach him not to hit an old man when he's down and + begging for mercy. <i>I</i>'LL buy the Valley but keep my identity secret + from everybody; then, when Uncle Seth finds a stranger in possession, + he'll have a fit, and perhaps, before he recovers, he'll sell me all his + Squaw Creek timber—only he'll never know I'm the buyer. And when I + control the outlet—well, I think that Squaw Creek timber will make + an excellent investment if it's held for a few years. Shirley, my dear, + I'm pleased with you. Really, I never knew until now why men could be so + devoted to business. Won't it be jolly to step in between Uncle Seth and + Bryce Cardigan, hold up my hand like a policeman, and say: 'Stop it, boys. + No fighting, IF you please. And if anybody wants to know who's boss around + here, start something.'” + </p> + <p> + And Shirley laid her head upon the dressing-table and laughed heartily. + She had suddenly bethought herself of Aesop's fable of the lion and the + mouse! + </p> + <p> + When her uncle came home that night, Shirley observed that he was + preoccupied and disinclined to conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I noticed in this evening's paper,” she remarked presently, “that Mr. + Cardigan has sold his Valley of the Giants. So you bought it, after all?” + </p> + <p> + “No such luck!” he almost barked. “I'm an idiot. I should be placed in + charge of a keeper. Now, for heaven's sake, Shirley, don't discuss that + timber with me, for if you do, I'll go plain, lunatic crazy. I've had a + very trying day.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Uncle Seth!” she purred sweetly. Her apparent sympathy soothed his + rasped soul. He continued: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll get the infernal property, and it will be worth what I have to + pay for it, only it certainly does gravel me to realize that I am about to + be held up, with no help in sight. I'll see Judge Moore to-morrow and + offer him a quick profit for his client. That's the game, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I do hope the new owner exhibits some common sense, Uncle dear,” she + replied, and turned back to the piano. “But I greatly fear,” she added to + herself, “that the new owner is going to prove a most obstinate creature + and frightfully hard to discover.” + </p> + <p> + True to his promise, the Colonel called on Judge Moore bright and early + the following morning. “Act Three of that little business drama entitled + 'The Valley of the Giants,' my dear Judge,” he announced pleasantly. “I + play the lead in this act. You remember me, I hope. I played a bit in Act + Two.” + </p> + <p> + “In so far as my information goes, sir, you've been cut out of the cast in + Act Three. I don't seem to find any lines for you to speak.” + </p> + <p> + “One line, Judge, one little line. What profit does your client want on + that quarter-section?” + </p> + <p> + “That quarter-section is not in the market, Colonel. When it is, I'll send + for you, since you're the only logical prospect should my client decide to + sell. And remembering how you butted in on politics in this county last + fall and provided a slush-fund to beat me and place a crook on the + Superior Court bench, in order to give you an edge in the many suits you + are always filing or having filed against you, I rise to remark that you + have about ten split seconds in which to disappear from my office. If you + linger longer, I'll start throwing paper-weights.” And as if to emphasize + his remark, the Judge's hand closed over one of the articles in question. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel withdrew with what dignity he could muster. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + Upon his return from the office that night, Bryce Cardigan found his + father had left his bed and was seated before the library fire. + </p> + <p> + “Feeling a whole lot better to-day, eh, pal?” his son queried. + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan smiled. “Yes, son,” he replied plaintively. “I guess I'll + manage to live till next spring.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I knew there was nothing wrong with you, John Cardigan, that a + healthy check wouldn't cure. Pennington rather jolted you, though, didn't + he?” + </p> + <p> + “He did, Bryce. It was jolt enough to be forced to sell that quarter—I + never expected we'd have to do it; but when I realize that it was a case + of sacrificing you or my Giants, of course you won. And I didn't feel so + badly about it as I used to think I would. I suppose that's because there + is a certain morbid pleasure in a real sacrifice for those we love. And I + never doubted but that Pennington would snap up the property the instant I + offered to sell. Hence his refusal—in the face of our desperate need + for money to carry on until conditions improve—almost floored your + old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we can afford to draw our breath now, and that gives us a fighting + chance, partner. And right after dinner you and I will sit down and start + brewing a pot of powerful bad medicine for the Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Son, I've been sitting here simmering all day.” There was a note of the + old dominant fighting John Cardigan in his voice now. “And it has occurred + to me that even if I must sit on the bench and root, I've not reached the + point where my years have begun to affect my thinking ability.” He touched + his leonine head. “I'm as right as a fox upstairs, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “Right-o, Johnny. We'll buck the line together. After dinner you trot out + your plan of campaign and I'll trot out mine; then we'll tear them apart, + select the best pieces of each and weld them into a perfect whole.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, dinner disposed of, father and son sat down together to + prepare the plan of campaign. For the space of several minutes a silence + settled between them, the while they puffed meditatively upon their + cigars. Then the old man spoke. + </p> + <p> + “We'll have to fight him in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because if Pennington knows, or even suspects the identity of the man who + is going to parallel his logging railroad, he will throw all the weight of + his truly capable mind, his wealth and his ruthlessness against you—and + you will be smashed. To beat that man, you must do more than spend money. + You will have to outthink him, outwork him, outgame him, and when + eventually you have won, you'll know you've been in the fight of your + career. You have one advantage starting out. The Colonel doesn't think you + have the courage to parallel his road in the first place; in the second + place, he knows you haven't the money; and in the third place he is + morally certain you cannot borrow it, because you haven't any collateral + to secure your note. + </p> + <p> + “We are mortgaged now to the limit, and our floating indebtedness is very + large; on the face of things and according to the Colonel's very correct + inside information, we're helpless; and unless the lumber-market stiffens + very materially this year, by the time our hauling-contract with + Pennington's road expires, we'll be back where we were yesterday before we + sold the Giants. Pennington regards that hundred thousand as get-away + money for us. So, all things considered, the Colonel, will be slow to + suspect us of having an ace in the hole; but by jinks we have it, and + we're going to play it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bryce, “we're going to let somebody else play it for us. The + point you make—to wit, that we must remain absolutely in the + background—is well taken.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” agreed the old man. “Now let us proceed to the next point. + You must engage some reliable engineer to look over the proposed route of + the road and give us an estimate of the cost of construction.” + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of argument we will consider that done, and that the + estimate comes within the scope of the sum Gregory is willing to advance + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Your third step, then, will be to incorporate a railroad company under + the laws of the State of California.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I'll favour the fair State of New Jersey with our trade,” Bryce + suggested dryly. “I notice that when Pennington bought out the Henderson + interests and reorganized that property, he incorporated the Laguna Grande + Lumber Company under the laws of the State of New Jersey, home of the + trusts. There must be some advantage connected with such a course.” + </p> + <p> + “Have it your own way, boy. What's good enough for the Colonel is good + enough for us. Now, then, you are going to incorporate a company to build + a road twelve miles long—and a private road, at that. That would be + a fatal step. Pennington would know somebody was going to build a + logging-road, and regardless of who the builders were, he would have to + fight them in self-protection. How are you going to cover your trail, my + son?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce pondered. “I will, to begin, have a dummy board of directors. Also, + my road cannot be private; it must be a common carrier, and that's where + the shoe pinches. Common carriers are subject to the rules and regulations + of the Railroad Commission.” + </p> + <p> + “They are wise and just rules,” commented the old man, “expensive to obey + at times, but quite necessary. We can obey and still be happy. Objection + overruled.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, since we must be a common carrier, we might as well carry our + deception still further and incorporate for the purpose of building a road + from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, there to connect with the Southern + Pacific.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan smiled. “The old dream revived, eh? Well, the old jokes + always bring a hearty laugh. People will laugh at your company, because + folks up this way realize that the construction cost of such a road is + prohibitive, not to mention the cost of maintenance, which would be + tremendous and out of all proportion to the freight area tapped.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, since we're not going to build more than twelve miles of our road + during the next year, and probably not more than ten miles additional + during the present century, we won't worry over it. It doesn't cost a cent + more to procure a franchise to build a road from here to the moon. If we + fail to build to Grant's Pass, our franchise to build the uncompleted + portion of the road merely lapses and we hold only that portion which we + have constructed. That's all we want to hold.” + </p> + <p> + “How about rights of way?” + </p> + <p> + “They will cost us very little, if anything. Most or the landowners along + the proposed route will give us rights of way free gratis and for nothing, + just to encourage the lunatics. Without a railroad the land is valueless; + and as a common carrier they know we can condemn rights of way + capriciously withheld—something we cannot do as a private road. + Moreover, deeds to rights of way can be drawn with a time-limit, after + which they revert to the original owners.” + </p> + <p> + “Good strategy, my son! And certainly as a common carrier we will be + welcomed by the farmers and cattlemen along our short line. We can handle + their freight without much annoyance and perhaps at a slight profit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that about completes the rough outline of our plan. The next thing + to do is to start and keep right on moving, for as old Omar has it, 'The + bird of time hath but a little way to flutter,' and the birdshot is + catching up with him. We have a year in which to build our road; if we do + not hurry, the mill will have to shut down for lack of logs, when our + contract with Pennington expires.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget the manager for our new corporation—the vice-president + and general manager. The man we engage must be the fastest and most + convincing talker in California; not only must he be able to tell a lie + with a straight face, but he must be able to believe his own lies. And he + must talk in millions, look millions, and act as if a million dollars were + equivalent in value to a redwood stump. In addition, he must be a man of + real ability and a person you can trust implicitly.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the very man you mention. His name is Buck Ogilvy and only this + very day I received a letter from him begging me for a small loan. I have + Buck on ice in a fifth-class San Francisco hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about him, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't have to. You've just told me about him, However, I'll read you his + letter. I claim there is more character in a letter than in a face.” + </p> + <p> + Here Bryce read aloud: + </p> + <p> + Golden Gate Hotel—Rooms fifty cents—and up. San Francisco, + California, August fifteenth, 1916. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR CARDIGAN: Hark to the voice of one crying in the wilderness; then + picture to yourself the unlovely spectacle of a strong man crying. + </p> + <p> + Let us assume that you have duly considered. Now wind up your wrist and + send me a rectangular piece of white, blue, green, or pink paper bearing + in the lower right-hand corner, in your clear, bold chirography, the magic + words “Bryce Cardigan”—with the little up-and-down hook and flourish + which identifies your signature given in your serious moods and lends + value to otherwise worthless paper. Five dollars would make me chirk up; + ten would start a slight smile; twenty would put a beam in mine eye; fifty + would cause me to utter shrill cries of unadulterated joys and a hundred + would inspire me to actions like unto those of a whirling dervish. + </p> + <p> + I am so flat busted my arches make hollow sounds as I tread the hard + pavements of a great city, seeking a job. Pausing on the brink of despair, + that destiny which shapes our ends inspired me to think of old times and + happier days and particularly of that pink-and-white midget of a girl who + tended the soda-fountain just back of the railroad station at Princeton. + You stole that damsel from me, and I never thanked you. Then I remembered + you were a timber-king with a kind heart and that you lived somewhere in + California; so I looked in the telephone book and found the address of the + San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. You have a + mean man in charge there. I called on him, told him I was an old college + pal of yours, and tried to borrow a dollar. He spurned me with contumely—so + much of it, in fact, that I imagine you have a number of such friends. + While he was abusing me, I stole from his desk the stamped envelope which + bears to you these tidings of great woe; and while awaiting your reply, be + advised that I subsist on the bitter cud of reflection, fresh air, and + water, all of which, thank God, cost nothing. + </p> + <p> + My tale is soon told. When you knew me last, I was a prosperous young + contractor. Alas! I put all my eggs in one basket and produced an omelet. + Took a contract to build a railroad in Honduras. Honduras got to fighting + with Nicaragua; the government I had done business with went out of + business; and the Nicaraguan army recruited all my labourers and mounted + them on my mules and horses, swiped all my grub, and told me to go home. I + went. Why stay? Moreover, I had an incentive consisting of about an inch + of bayonet—fortunately not applied in a vital spot—which + accelerated rather than decreased my speed. + </p> + <p> + Hurry, my dear Cardigan. Tempest fidgets; remember Moriarity—which, + if you still remember your Latin, means: “Time flies. Remember to-morrow!” + I finished eating my overcoat the day before yesterday. + </p> + <p> + Make it a hundred, and God will bless you. When I get it, I'll come to + Sequoia and kiss you. I'll pay you back sometime—of course. + </p> + <p> + Wistfully thine—Buck Ogilvy + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Delays are dangerous, and procrastination is the thief of time.—B. + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan chuckled. “I'd take Buck Ogilvy, Bryce. He'll do. Is he + honest?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. He was, the last time I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then wire him a hundred. Don't wait for the mail. The steamer that + carries your letter might be wrecked and your friend Ogilvy forced to + steal.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already wired him the hundred. In all probability he is now out + whirling like a dervish.” + </p> + <p> + “Good boy! Well, I think we've planned sufficient for the present, Bryce. + You'd better leave for San Francisco to-morrow and close your deal with + Gregory. Arrange with him to leave his own representative with Ogilvy to + keep tab on the job, check the bills, and pay them as they fall due; and + above all things, insist that Gregory shall place the money in a San + Francisco bank, subject to the joint check of his representative and ours. + Hire a good lawyer to draw up the agreement between you; be sure you're + right, and then go ahead—full speed. When you return to Sequoia, + I'll have a few more points to give you. I'll mull them over in the + meantime.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + When Bryce Cardigan walked down the gang-plank at the steamship-dock in + San Francisco, the first face he saw among the waiting crowd was Buck + Ogilvy's. Mr. Ogilvy wore his over-coat and a joyous smile, proving that + in so far as he was concerned all was well with the world; he pressed + forward and thrust forth a great speckled paw for Bryce to shake. Bryce + ignored it. + </p> + <p> + “Why, don't you remember me?” Ogilvy demanded. “I'm Buck Ogilvy.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce looked him fairly in the eye and favoured him with a lightning wink. + “I have never heard of you, Mr. Ogilvy. You are mistaking me for someone + else.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry,” Ogilvy murmured. “My mistake! Thought you were Bill Kerrick, who + used to be a partner of mine. I'm expecting him on this boat, and he's the + speaking image of you.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce nodded and passed on, hailed a taxicab, and was driven to the San + Francisco office of his company. Five minutes later the door opened and + Buck Ogilvy entered. + </p> + <p> + “I was a bit puzzled at the dock, Bryce,” he explained as they shook + hands, “but decided to play safe and then follow you to your office. + What's up? Have you killed somebody, and are the detectives on your trail? + If so, 'fess up and I'll assume the responsibility for your crime, just to + show you how grateful I am for that hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wasn't being shadowed, Buck, but my principal enemy was coming down + the gangplank right behind me, and—” + </p> + <p> + “So was my principal enemy,” Ogilvy interrupted. “What does our enemy look + like?” + </p> + <p> + “Like ready money. And if he had seen me shaking hands with you, he'd have + suspected a connection between us later on. Buck, you have a good job—about + five hundred a month.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, old man. I'd work for you for nothing. What are we going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Build twelve miles of logging railroad and parallel the line of the old + wolf I spoke of a moment ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news! We'll do it. How soon do you want it done?” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as possible. You're the vice-president and general manager.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept the nomination. What do I do first?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen carefully to my story, analyze my plan for possible weak spots, + and then get busy, because after I have provided the funds and given the + word 'Go!' the rest is up to you. I must not be known in the transaction + at all, because that would be fatal. And I miss my guess if, once we start + building or advertising the building of the road, you and I and everybody + connected with the enterprise will not be shadowed day and night by an + army of Pinkertons.” + </p> + <p> + “I listen,” said Buck Ogilvy, and he inclined a large speckled ear in + Bryce's direction, the while his large speckled hand drew a scratch-pad + toward him. + </p> + <p> + Three hours later Ogilvy was in possession of the most minute details of + the situation in Sequoia, had tabulated, indexed, and cross-indexed them + in his ingenious brain and was ready for business—and so announced + himself. “And inasmuch as that hundred you sent me has been pretty well + shattered,” he concluded, “suppose you call in your cold-hearted manager + who refused me alms on your credit, and give him orders to honour my + sight-drafts. If I'm to light in Sequoia looking like ready money, I've + got to have some high-class, tailor-made clothes, and a shine and a shave + and a shampoo and a trunk and a private secretary. If there was a railroad + running into Sequoia, I'd insist on a private car.” + </p> + <p> + This final detail having been attended to, Mr. Ogilvy promptly proceeded + to forget business and launched forth into a recital of his manifold + adventures since leaving Princeton; and when at length all of their + classmates had been accounted for and listed as dead, married, prosperous, + or pauperized, the amiable and highly entertaining Buck took his departure + with the announcement that he would look around a little and try to buy + some good second-hand grading equipment and a locomotive, in addition to + casting an eye over the labour situation and sending a few wires East for + the purpose of sounding the market on steel rails. Always an enthusiast in + all things, in his mind's eye Mr. Ogilvy could already see a long + trainload of logs coming down the Northern California & Oregon + Railroad, as he and Bryce had decided to christen the venture. + </p> + <p> + “N. C. & O.,” Mr. Ogilvy murmured. “Sounds brisk and snappy. I like + it. Hope that old hunks Pennington likes it, too. He'll probably feel that + N. C. & O. stands for Northern California Outrage.” + </p> + <p> + When Bryce Cardigan returned to Sequoia, his labours, insofar as the + building of the road were concerned, had been completed. His agreement + with Gregory of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company had been signed, + sealed, and delivered; the money to build the road had been deposited in + bank; and Buck Ogilvy was already spending it like a drunken sailor. From + now on, Bryce could only watch, wait, and pray. + </p> + <p> + On the next steamer a surveying party with complete camping-equipment + arrived in Sequoia, purchased a wagon and two horses, piled their dunnage + into the wagon, and disappeared up-country. Hard on their heels came Mr. + Buck Ogilvy, and occupied the bridal suite in the Hotel Sequoia, + arrangements for which had previously been made by wire. In the sitting + room of the suite Mr. Ogilvy installed a new desk, a filing-cabinet, and a + brisk young male secretary. + </p> + <p> + He had been in town less than an hour when the editor of the Sequoia + Sentinel sent up his card. The announcement of the incorporation of the + Northern California Outrage (for so had Mr. Ogilvy, in huge enjoyment of + the misery he was about to create, dubbed the road) had previously been + flashed to the Sentinel by the United Press Association, as a local + feature story, and already speculation was rife in Sequoia as to the + identity of the harebrained individuals who dared to back an enterprise as + nebulous as the millennium. Mr. Ogilvy was expecting the visit—in + fact, impatiently awaiting it; and since the easiest thing he did was to + speak for publication, naturally the editor of the Sentinel got a story + which, to that individual's simple soul, seemed to warrant a seven-column + head—which it received. Having boned up on the literature of the + Redwood Manufacturers' Association, what Buck Ogilvy didn't know about + redwood timber, redwood lumber, the remaining redwood acreage and market + conditions, past and present, might have been secreted in the editorial + eye without seriously hampering the editorial sight. He stated that the + capital behind the project was foreign, that he believed in the success of + the project and that his entire fortune was dependent upon the completion + of it. In glowing terms he spoke of the billions of tons of + timber-products to be hauled out of this wonderfully fertile and + little-known country, and confidently predicted for the county a future + commercial supremacy that would be simply staggering to contemplate. + </p> + <p> + When Colonel Seth Pennington read this outburst he smiled. “That's a + bright scheme on the part of that Trinidad Redwood Timber Company gang to + start a railroad excitement and unload their white elephant,” he declared. + “A scheme like that stuck them with their timber, and I suppose they + figure there's a sucker born every minute and that the same old gag might + work again. Chances are they have a prospect in tow already.” + </p> + <p> + When Bryce Cardigan read it, he laughed. The interview was so like Buck + Ogilvy! In the morning the latter's automobile was brought up from the + steamship-dock, and accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Ogilvy disappeared + into the north following the bright new stakes of his surveying-gang, and + for three weeks was seen no more. As for Bryce Cardigan, that young man + buckled down to business, and whenever questioned about the new railroad + was careful to hoot at the idea. + </p> + <p> + On a day when Bryce's mind happened to be occupied with thoughts of + Shirley Sumner, he bumped into her on the main street of Sequoia, and to + her great relief but profound surprise, he paused in his tracks, lifted + his hat, smiled, and opened his mouth to say something—thought + better of it, changed his mind, and continued on about his business. As + Shirley passed him, she looked him squarely in the face, and in her glance + there was neither coldness nor malice. + </p> + <p> + Bryce felt himself afire from heels to hair one instant, and cold and + clammy the next, for Shirley spoke to him. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mr. Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, turned, and approached her. “Good morning, Shirley,” he + replied. “How have you been?” + </p> + <p> + “I might have been dead, for all the interest you took in me,” she replied + sharply. “As matters stand, I'm exceedingly well—thank you. By the + way, are you still belligerent?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. “I have to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Still peeved at my uncle?” + </p> + <p> + Again he nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I think you're a great big grouch, Bryce Cardigan,” she flared at him + suddenly. “You make me unutterably weary.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” he answered, “but just at present I am forced to subject you + to the strain. Say a year from now, when things are different with me, + I'll strive not to offend.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not be here a year from now,” she warned him. He bowed. “Then I'll + go wherever you are—and bring you back.” And with a mocking little + grin, he lifted his hat and passed on. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + Though Buck Ogilvy was gone from Sequoia for a period of three weeks, he + was by no means forgotten. His secretary proved to be an industrious + press-agent who by mail, telegraph, and long-distance telephone managed + daily to keep the editor of the Sequoia Sentinel fully apprised of all + developments in the matter of the Northern California Oregon Railroad + Company—including some that had not as yet developed! The result was + copious and persistent publicity for the new railroad company, and the + arousing in the public mind of a genuine interest in this railroad which + was to do so much for the town of Sequoia. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Seth Pennington was among those who, skeptical at first and + inclined to ridicule the project into an early grave, eventually found + himself swayed by the publicity and gradually coerced into serious + consideration of the results attendant upon the building of the road. The + Colonel was naturally as suspicious as a rattlesnake in August; hence he + had no sooner emerged from the ranks of the frank scoffers than his alert + mind framed the question: + </p> + <p> + “How is this new road—improbable as I know it to be—going to + affect the interests of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, if the + unexpected should happen and those bunco-steerers should actually build a + road from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, and thus construct a feeder to + a transcontinental line?” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes of serious reflection sufficed to bring the Colonel to the + verge of panic, notwithstanding the fact that he was ashamed of himself + for yielding to fright despite his firm belief that there was no reason + why he should be frightened. Similar considerations occur to a small boy + who is walking home in the dark past a cemetery. + </p> + <p> + The vital aspects of his predicament dawned on the Colonel one night at + dinner, midway between the soup and the fish. So forcibly did they occur + to him, in fact, that for the nonce he forgot that his niece was seated + opposite him. + </p> + <p> + “Confound them,” the Colonel murmured distinctly, “I must look into this + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Look into what, Uncle dear?” Shirley asked innocently. + </p> + <p> + “This new railroad that man Ogilvy talks of building—which means, + Shirley, that with Sequoia as his starting point, he is going to build a + hundred and fifty miles north to connect with the main line of the + Southern Pacific in Oregon.” + </p> + <p> + “But wouldn't that be the finest thing that could possibly happen to + Humboldt County?” she demanded of him. + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly it would—to Humboldt County; but to the Laguna Grande + Lumber Company, in which you have something more than a sentimental + interest, my dear, it would be a blow. A large part of the estate left by + your father is invested in Laguna Grande stock, and as you know, all of my + efforts are devoted to appreciating that stock and to fighting against + anything that has a tendency to depreciate it.” + </p> + <p> + “Which reminds me, Uncle Seth, that you never discuss with me any of the + matters pertaining to my business interests,” she suggested. + </p> + <p> + He beamed upon her with his patronizing and indulgent smile. “There is no + reason why you should puzzle that pretty head of yours with business + affairs while I am alive and on the job,” he answered. “However, since you + have expressed a desire to have this railroad situation explained to you, + I will do so. I am not interested in seeing a feeder built from Sequoia + north to Grant's Pass, and connecting with the Southern Pacific, but I am + tremendously interested in seeing a feeder built south from Sequoia toward + San Francisco, to connect with the Northwestern Pacific.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “For cold, calculating business reasons, my dear.” He hesitated a moment + and then resumed: “A few months ago I would not have told you the things I + am about to tell you, Shirley, for the reason that a few months ago it + seemed to me you were destined to become rather friendly with young + Cardigan. When that fellow desires to be agreeable, he can be rather a + likable boy—lovable, even. You are both young; with young people who + have many things in common and are thrown together in a community like + Sequoia, a lively friendship may develop into an ardent love; and it has + been my experience that ardent love not infrequently leads to the altar.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley blushed, and her uncle chuckled good-naturedly. “Fortunately,” he + continued, “Bryce Cardigan had the misfortune to show himself to you in + his true colours, and you had the good sense to dismiss him. Consequently + I see no reason why I should not explain to you now what I considered it + the part of wisdom to withhold from you at that time—provided, of + course, that all this does not bore you to extinction.” + </p> + <p> + “Do go on, Uncle Seth. I'm tremendously interested,” averred Shirley. + </p> + <p> + “Shortly after I launched the Laguna Grande Lumber Company—in which, + as your guardian and executor of your father's estate, I deemed it wise to + invest part of your inheritance—I found myself forced to seek + further for sound investments for your surplus funds. Now, good timber, + bought cheap, inevitably will be sold dear. At least, such has been my + observation during a quarter of a century—and old John Cardigan had + some twenty thousand acres of the finest redwood timber in the State—timber + which had cost him an average price of less than fifty cents per thousand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in this instance the old man had overreached himself, and finding + it necessary to increase his working capital, he incorporated his holdings + into the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company and floated a bond-issue of a + million dollars. They were twenty-year six per cent. certificates; the + security was ample, and I invested for you three hundred thousand dollars + in Cardigan bonds. I bought them at eighty, and they were worth two + hundred; at least, they would have been worth two hundred under my + management—” + </p> + <p> + “How did you manage to buy them so cheap?” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Old Cardigan had had a long run of bad luck—due to bad management + and bad judgment, my dear—and when a corporation is bonded, the + bondholders have access to its financial statements. From time to time I + discovered bondholders who needed money and hence unloaded at a sacrifice; + but by far the majority of the bonds I purchased for your account were + owned by local people who had lost confidence in John Cardigan and the + future of the redwood lumber industry hereabouts. You understand, do you + not?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand what all this has to do with a railroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—I shall proceed to explain.” He held up his index finger. + “Item one: For years old John Cardigan has rendered valueless, because + inaccessible, twenty-five hundred acres of Laguna Grande timber on Squaw + Creek. His absurd Valley of the Giants blocks the outlet, and of course he + persisted in refusing me a right of way through that little dab of timber + in order to discourage me and force me to sell him that Squaw Creek timber + at his price.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Shirley agreed, “I dare say that was his object. Was it + reprehensible of him, Uncle Seth?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit, my dear. He was simply playing the cold game of business. I + would have done the same thing to Cardigan had the situation been + reversed. We played a game together—and I admit that he won, fairly + and squarely.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why is it that you feel such resentment against him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't resent the old fool, Shirley. He merely annoys me. I suppose + I feel a certain natural chagrin at having been beaten, and in consequence + cherish an equally natural desire to pay the old schemer back in his own + coin. Under the rules as we play the game, such action on my part is + perfectly permissible, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she agreed frankly, “I think it is, Uncle Seth. Certainly, if he + blocked you and rendered your timber valueless, there is no reason why, if + you have the opportunity, you should not block him—and render his + timber valueless.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel banged the table with his fist so heartily that the silver + fairly leaped. “Spoken like a man!” he declared. “I HAVE the opportunity + and am proceeding to impress the Cardigans with the truth of the old + saying that every dog must have his day. When Cardigan's contract with our + road for the hauling of his logs expires by limitation next year, I am not + going to renew it—at least not until I have forced him to make me + the concessions I desire, and certainly not at the present ruinous + freight-rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Shirley eagerly, “if you got a right of way through his + Valley of the Giants, you would renew the contract he has with you for the + hauling of his logs, would you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I would have, before young Cardigan raised such Hades that day in the + logging-camp, before old Cardigan sold his Valley of the Giants to another + burglar—and before I had gathered indubitable evidence that neither + of the Cardigans knows enough about managing a sawmill and selling lumber + to guarantee a reasonable profit on the capital they have invested and + still pay the interest on their bonded and floating indebtedness. Shirley, + I bought those Cardigan bonds for you because I thought old Cardigan knew + his business and would make the bonds valuable—make them worth par. + Instead, the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company is tottering on the verge of + bankruptcy; the bonds I purchased for you are now worth less than I paid + for them, and by next year the Cardigans will default on the interest. + </p> + <p> + “So I'm going to sit tight and decline to have any more business dealings + with the Cardigans. When their hauling contract expires, I shall not renew + it under any circumstances; that will prevent them from getting logs, and + so they will automatically go out of the lumber business and into the + hands of a receiver; and since you are the largest individual stockholder, + I, representing you and a number of minor bondholders, will dominate the + executive committee of the bondholders when they meet to consider what + shall be done when the Cardigans default on their interest and the payment + due the sinking fund. I shall then have myself appointed receiver for the + Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, investigate its affairs thoroughly, and + see for myself whether or no there is a possibility of working it out of + the jam it is in and saving you a loss on your bonds. + </p> + <p> + “I MUST pursue this course, my dear, in justice to you and the other + bondholders. If, on the other hand, I find the situation hopeless or + conclude that a period of several years must ensue before the Cardigans + work out of debt, I shall recommend to the bank which holds the deed of + trust and acts as trustee, that the property be sold at public auction to + the highest bidder to reimburse the bondholders. Of course,” he hastened + to add, “if the property sells for more than the corporation owes such + excess will then in due course be turned over to the Cardigans.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it likely to sell at a price in excess of the indebtedness?” Shirley + queried anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible, but scarcely probable,” he answered dryly. “I have in + mind, under those circumstances, bidding the property in for the Laguna + Grande Lumber Company and merging it with our holdings, paying part of the + purchase-price of the Cardigan property in Cardigan bonds, and the + remainder in cash.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will the Cardigans do then, Uncle Seth?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, long before the necessity for such a contingency arises, the old + man will have been gathered to the bosom of Abraham; and after the + Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company has ceased to exist, young Cardigan can go + to work for a living.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you give him employment, Uncle Seth?” + </p> + <p> + “I would not. Do you think I'm crazy, Shirley? Remember, my dear, there is + no sentiment in business. If there was, we wouldn't have any business.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand, Uncle Seth—with the exception of what effect + the building of the N. C. O. has upon your plans.” + </p> + <p> + “Item two,” he challenged, and ticked it off on his middle finger. “The + Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company owns two fine bodies of redwood timber + widely separated—one to the south of Sequoia in the San Hedrin + watershed and at present practically valueless because inaccessible, and + the other to the north of Sequoia, immediately adjoining our holdings in + Township Nine and valuable because of its accessibility.” He paused a + moment and looked at her smilingly, “The logging railroad of our + corporation, the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, makes it accessible. Now, + while the building of the N.C.O. would be a grand thing for the county in + general, we can get along without it because it doesn't help us out + particularly. We already have a railroad running from our timber to + tidewater, and we can reach the markets of the world with our ships.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand, Uncle Seth. When Cardigan's hauling contract with + our road expires, his timber in Township Nine will depreciate in value + because it will no longer be accessible, while our timber, being still + accessible, retains its value.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. And to be perfectly frank with you, Shirley, I do not want + Cardigan's timber in Township Nine given back its value through + accessibility provided by the N.C.O. If that road is not built, Cardigan's + timber in Township Nine will be valuable to us, but not to another living + soul. Moreover, the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company has a raft of fine + timber still farther north and adjoining the holdings of our company and + Cardigan's, and if this infernal N.C.O. isn't built, we'll be enabled to + buy that Trinidad timber pretty cheap one of these bright days, too.” + </p> + <p> + “All of which appears to me to constitute sound business logic, Uncle + Seth.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. “Item three,” he continued, and ticked it off on his third + finger: “I want to see the feeder for a transcontinental line built into + Sequoia from the south, for the reason that it will tap the Cardigan + holdings in the San Hedrin watershed and give a tremendous value to timber + which at the present time is rather a negative asset; consequently I would + prefer to have that value created after Cardigan's San Hedrin timber has + been merged with the assets of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company.” + </p> + <p> + “And so—” + </p> + <p> + “I must investigate this N.C.O. outfit and block it if possible—and + it should be possible.” + </p> + <p> + “How, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't considered the means, my dear. Those come later. For the + present I am convinced that the N.C.O. is a corporate joke, sprung on the + dear public by the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company to get the said dear + public excited, create a real-estate boom, and boost timber-values. Before + the boom collapses—a condition which will follow the collapse of the + N.C.O.—the Trinidad people hope to sell their holdings and get from + under.” + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said Shirley, demurely, “the more I see of business, the more + fascinating I find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley, it's the grandest game in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” she added musingly, “old Mr. Cardigan is so blind and + helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll be saying that about me some day if I live to be as old as John + Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, I feel sorry for him, Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you'll continue to waste your sympathy on him rather than on his + son, I'll not object,” he retorted laughingly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bryce Cardigan is able to take care of himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and mean enough.” + </p> + <p> + “He saved our lives, Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + “He had to—in order to save his own. Don't forget that, my dear.” + Carefully he dissected a sand-dab and removed the backbone. “I'd give a + ripe peach to learn the identity of the scheming buttinsky who bought old + Cardigan's Valley of the Giants,” he said presently. “I'll be hanged if + that doesn't complicate matters a little.” + </p> + <p> + “You should have bought it when the opportunity offered,” she reminded + him. “You could have had it then for fifty thousand dollars less than you + would have paid for it a year ago—and I'm sure that should have been + sufficient indication to you that the game you and the Cardigans had been + playing so long had come to an end. He was beaten and acknowledged it, and + I think you might have been a little more generous to your fallen enemy, + Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say,” he admitted lightly. “However, I wasn't, and now I'm going + to be punished for it, my dear: so don't roast me any more. By the way, + that speckled hot-air fellow Ogilvy, who is promoting the Northern + California Oregon Railroad, is back in town again. Somehow, I haven't much + confidence in that fellow. I think I'll wire the San Francisco office to + look him up in Dun's and Bradstreet's. Folks up this way are taking too + much for granted on that fellow's mere say—so, but I for one intend + to delve for facts—particularly with regard to the N.C.O. bank-roll + and Ogilvy's associates. I'd sleep a whole lot more soundly to-night if I + knew the answer to two very important questions.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they, Uncle Seth?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'd like to know whether the N.C.O. is genuine or a screen to hide + the operations of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company.” + </p> + <p> + “It might,” said Shirley, with one of those sudden flashes of intuition + peculiar to women, “be a screen to hide the operations of Bryce Cardigan. + Now that he knows you aren't going to renew his hauling contract, he may + have decided to build his own logging railroad.” + </p> + <p> + After a pause the Colonel made answer: “No, I have no fear of that. It + would cost five hundred thousand dollars to build that twelve-mile line + and bridge Mad River, and the Cardigans haven't got that amount of money. + What's more, they can't get it.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose,” she persisted, “that the real builder of the road should + prove to be Bryce Cardigan, after all. What would you do?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pennington's eyes twinkled. “I greatly fear, my dear, I should + make a noise like something doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you lost the battle.” + </p> + <p> + “In that event the Laguna Grande Lumber Company wouldn't be any worse off + than it is at present. The principal loser, as I view the situation, would + be Miss Shirley Sumner, who has the misfortune to be loaded up with + Cardigan bonds. And as for Bryce Cardigan—well, that young man would + certainly know he'd been through a fight.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he'll fight to the last, Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I believe he will,” Pennington replied soberly. + </p> + <p> + “I'd love to see you beat him.” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley! Why, my dear, you're growing ferocious.” Her uncle's tones were + laden with banter, but his countenance could not conceal the pleasure her + last remark had given him. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I have something at stake, have I not?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you really want me to smash him?” The Colonel's voice proclaimed his + incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “You got me into this fight by buying Cardigan bonds for me,” she replied + meaningly, “and I look to you to save the investment or as much of it as + possible; for certainly, if it should develop that the Cardigans are the + real promoters of the N.C.O., to permit them to go another half-million + dollars into debt in a forlorn hope of saving a company already top-heavy + with indebtedness wouldn't savor of common business sense. Would it?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel rose hastily, came around the table, and kissed her + paternally. “My dear,” he murmured, “you're such a comfort to me. Upon my + word, you are.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad you have explained the situation to me, Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + “I would have explained it long ago had I not cherished a sneaking + suspicion that—er—well, that despite everything, young + Cardigan might—er—influence you against your better judgment + and—er—mine.” + </p> + <p> + “You silly man!” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged. “One must figure every angle of a possible situation, my + dear, and I should hesitate to start something with the Cardigans, and + have you, because of foolish sentiment, call off my dogs.” + </p> + <p> + Shirley thrust out her adorable chin aggressively. “Sick 'em. Tige!” she + answered. “Shake 'em up, boy!” + </p> + <p> + “You bet I'll shake 'em up,” the Colonel declared joyously. He paused with + a morsel of food on his fork and waved the fork at her aggressively. “You + stimulate me into activity, Shirley. My mind has been singularly dull of + late; I have worried unnecessarily, but now that I know you are with me, I + am inspired. I'll tell you how we'll fix this new railroad, if it exhibits + signs of being dangerous.” Again he smote the table. “We'll sew 'em up + tighter than a new buttonhole.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell me how,” she pleaded eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll block them on their franchise to run over the city streets of + Sequoia.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “By making the mayor and the city council see things my way,” he answered + dryly. “Furthermore, in order to enter Sequoia, the N. C. O. will have to + cross the tracks of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's line on Water + Street—make a jump-crossing—and I'll enjoin them and hold them + up in the courts till the cows come home.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Seth, you're a wizard.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at least I'm no slouch at looking after my own interests—and + yours, Shirley. In the midst of peace we should be prepared for war. + You've met Mayor Poundstone and his lady, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I had tea at her house last week.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news. Suppose you invite her and Poundstone here for dinner some + night this week. Just a quiet little family dinner, Shirley, and after + dinner you can take Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, on some pretext or other, + while I sound Poundstone out on his attitude toward the N. C. O. They + haven't asked for a franchise yet; at least, the Sentinel hasn't printed a + word about it;—but when they do, of course the franchise will be + advertised for sale to the highest bidder. Naturally, I don't want to bid + against them; they might run the price up on me and leave me with a + franchise on my hands—something I do not want, because I have no use + for the blamed thing myself. I feel certain, however, I can find some less + expensive means of keeping them out of it—say by convincing + Poundstone and a majority of the city council that the N. C. O. is not + such a public asset as its promoters claim for it. Hence I think it wise + to sound the situation out in advance, don't you, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “I shall attend to the matter, Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes after dinner was over, Shirley joined her uncle in the + library and announced that His Honor, the Mayor, and Mrs. Poundstone, + would be delighted to dine with them on the following Thursday night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + To return to Bryce Cardigan: Having completed his preliminary plans to + build the N. C. O., Bryce had returned to Sequoia, prepared to sit quietly + on the side-lines and watch his peppery henchman Buck Ogilvy go into + action. The more Bryce considered that young man's fitness for the + position he occupied, the more satisfied did he become with his decision. + While he had not been in touch with Ogilvy for several years, he had known + him intimately at Princeton. + </p> + <p> + In his last year at college Ogilvy's father, a well-known railroad + magnate, had come a disastrous cropper in the stock market, thus throwing + Buck upon his own resources and cutting short his college career—which + was probably the very best thing that could happen to his father's son. + For a brief period—perhaps five minutes—Buck had staggered + under the blow; then his tremendous optimism had asserted itself, and + while he packed his trunk, he had planned for the future. As to how that + future had developed, the reader will have gleaned some slight idea from + the information imparted in his letter to Bryce Cardigan, already quoted. + In a word, Mr. Ogilvy had had his ups and downs. + </p> + <p> + Ogilvy's return to Sequoia following his three-weeks tour in search of + rights of way for the N. C. O. was heralded by a visit from him to Bryce + Cardigan at the latter's office. As he breasted the counter in the general + office, Moira McTavish left her desk and came over to see what the visitor + desired. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see Mr. Bryce Cardigan,” Buck began in crisp + businesslike accents. He was fumbling in his card-case and did not look up + until about to hand his card to Moira—when his mouth flew half open, + the while he stared at her with consummate frankness. The girl's glance + met his momentarily, then was lowered modestly; she took the card and + carried it to Bryce. + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m!” Bryce grunted. “That noisy fellow Ogilvy, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “His clothes are simply wonderful—and so is his voice. He's very + refined. But he's carroty red and has freckled hands, Mr. Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce rose and sauntered into the general office. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bryce Cardigan?” Buck queried politely, with an interrogative lift of + his blond eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “At your service, Mr. Ogilvy. Please come in.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much, sir.” He followed Bryce to the latter's private + office, closed the door carefully behind him, and stood with his broad + back against it. + </p> + <p> + “Buck, are you losing your mind?” Bryce demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Losing it? I should say not. I've just lost it.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you. If you were quite sane, you wouldn't run the risk of being + seen entering my office.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut-tut, old dear! None of that! Am I not the main-spring of the Northern + California Oregon Railroad and privileged to run the destinies of that + soulless corporation as I see fit?” He sat down, crossed his long legs, + and jerked a speckled thumb toward the outer office. “I was sane when I + came in here, but the eyes of the girl outside—oh, yow, them eyes! I + must be introduced to her. And you're scolding me for coming around here + in broad daylight. Why, you duffer, if I come at night, d'ye suppose I'd + have met her? Be sensible.” + </p> + <p> + “You like Moira's eyes, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I've never seen anything like them. Zounds, I'm afire. I have little + prickly sensations, like ants running over me. How can you be insensate + enough to descend to labour with an houri like that around? Oh, man! To + think of an angel like that WORKING—to think of a brute like you + making her work!” + </p> + <p> + “Love at first sight, eh, Buck?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what it is, but it's nice. Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “She's Moira McTavish, and you're not to make love to her. Understand? I + can't have you snooping around this office after to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ogilvy's eyes popped with interest. “Oh,” he breathed. “You have an + eye to the main chance yourself have you? Have you proposed to the lady as + yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll match you for her—or rather for the chance to propose + first.” Buck produced a dollar and spun it in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing, Buck. Spare yourself these agonizing suspicions. The fact + of the matter is that you give me a wonderful inspiration. I've always + been afraid Moira would fall in love with some ordinary fellow around + Sequoia—propinquity, you know—” + </p> + <p> + “You bet. Propinquity's the stuff. I'll stick around.” + </p> + <p> + “—and I we been on the lookout for a fine man to marry her off to. + She's too wonderful for you, Buck, but in time you might learn to live up + to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Duck! I'm liable to kiss you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too precipitate. Her father used to be our woods-boss. I fired + him for boozing.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't care two hoots if her dad was old Nick himself. I'm going to + marry her—if she'll have me. Ah, the glorious creature!” He waved + his long arms despairingly. “O Lord, send me a cure for freckles. Bryce, + you'll speak a kind word for me, won't you—sort of boom my stock, + eh? Be a good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Now come down to earth and render a report on your + stewardship.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try. To begin, I've secured rights of way, at a total cost of twelve + thousand, one hundred and three dollars and nine cents, from the city + limits of Sequoia to the southern boundary of your timber in Township + Nine. I've got my line surveyed, and so far as the building of the road is + concerned, I know exactly what I'm going to do, and how and when I'm going + to do it, once I get my material on the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “What steps have you taken toward securing your material?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can close a favourable contract for steel rails with the Colorado + Steel Products Company. Their schedule of deliveries is O. K. as far as + San Francisco, but it's up to you to provide water transportation from + there to Sequoia.” + </p> + <p> + “We can handle the rails on our steam schooners. Next?” + </p> + <p> + “I have an option of a rattling good second-hand locomotive down at the + Santa Fe shops, and the Hawkins & Barnes Construction Company have + offered me a steam shovel, half a dozen flat-cars, and a lot of fresnos + and scrapers at ruinous prices. This equipment is pretty well worn, and + they want to get rid of it before buying new stuff for their contract to + build the Arizona and Sonora Central. However, it is first-rate equipment + for us, because it will last until we're through with it; then we can + scrap it for junk. We can buy or rent teams from local citizens and get + half of our labour locally. San Francisco employment bureaus will readily + supply the remainder, and I have half a dozen fine boys on tap to boss the + steam shovel, pile-driver, bridge-building gang, track-layer and + construction gang. And as soon as you tell me how I'm to get my material + ashore and out on the job, I'll order it and get busy.” + </p> + <p> + “That's exactly where the shoe begins to pinch, Pennington's main-line + tracks enter the city along Water Street, with one spur into his log-dump + and another out on his mill-dock. From the main-line tracks we also have + built a spur through our drying-yard out to our log-dump and a switch-line + out on to our milldock. We can unload our locomotive, steam shovel, and + flat-cars on our own wharf, but unless Pennington gives us permission to + use his main-line tracks out to a point beyond the city limits—where + a Y will lead off to the point where our construction begins—we're + up a stump.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he refuses, Bryce. What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we'll simply have to enter the city down Front Street, paralleling + Pennington's tracks on Water Street, turning down B Street, make a + jump-crossing of Pennington's line on Water Street, and connecting with + the spur into our yard.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't have an elbow turn at Front and B streets?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't have to. We own a square block on that corner, and we'll build + across it, making a gradual turn.” + </p> + <p> + “See here, my son,” Buck said solemnly, “is this your first adventure in + railroad building?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so; otherwise you wouldn't talk so confidently of running your + line over city streets and making jump-crossings on your competitor's + road. If your competitor regards you as a menace to his pocketbook, he can + give you a nice little run for your money and delay you indefinitely.” + </p> + <p> + “I realize that, Buck. That's why I'm not appearing in this railroad deal + at all. If Pennington suspected I was back of it, he'd fight me before the + city council and move heaven and earth to keep me out of a franchise to + use the city streets and cross his line. Of course, since his main line + runs on city property, under a franchise granted by the city, the city has + a perfect right to grant me the privilege of making a jump-crossing of his + line—-” + </p> + <p> + “Will they do it? That's the problem. If they will not, you're licked, my + son, and I'm out of a job.” + </p> + <p> + “We can sue and condemn a right of way.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but if the city council puts up a plea that it is against the best + interests of the city to grant the franchise, you'll find that except in + most extraordinary cases, the courts regard it as against public policy to + give judgment against a municipality, the State or the Government of the + United States. At any rate, they'll hang you up in the courts till you die + of old age; and as I understand the matter, you have to have this line + running in less than a year, or go out of business.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce hung his head thoughtfully. “I've been too cocksure,” he muttered + presently. “I shouldn't have spent that twelve thousand for rights of way + until I had settled the matter of the franchise.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't buy any rights of way—yet,” Ogilvy hastened to assure + him. “I've only signed the land-owners up on an agreement to give or sell + me a right of way at the stipulated figures any time within one year from + date. The cost of the surveying gang and my salary and expenses are all + that you are out to date.” + </p> + <p> + “Buck, you're a wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I've merely been through all this before and have profited by + my experience. Now, then, to get back to our muttons. Will the city + council grant you a franchise to enter the city and jump Pennington's + tracks?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know, Buck. You'll have to ask them—sound them + out. The city council meets Saturday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll meet this evening—in the private diningroom of the Hotel + Sequoia, if I can arrange it,” Buck Ogilvy declared emphatically. “I'm + going to have them all up for dinner and talk the matter over. I'm not + exactly aged, Bryce, but I've handled about fifteen city councils and + county boards of supervisors, not to mention Mexican and Central American + governors and presidents, in my day, and I know the breed from cover to + cover. Following a preliminary conference, I'll let you know whether + you're going to get that franchise without difficulty or whether + somebody's itchy palm will have to be crossed with silver first. Honest + men never temporize. You know where they stand, but a grafter temporizes + and plays a waiting game, hoping to wear your patience down to the point + where you'll ask him bluntly to name his figure. By the way, what do you + know about your blighted old city council, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “Two of the five councilmen are for sale; two are honest men—and one + is an uncertain quantity. The mayor is a politician. I've known them all + since boyhood, and if I dared come out in the open, I think that even the + crooks have sentiment enough for what the Cardigans stand for in this + county to decline to hold me up.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not come out in the open and save trouble and expense?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not ready to have a lot of notes called on me,” Bryce replied dryly. + “Neither am I desirous of having the Laguna Grande Lumber Company start a + riot in the redwood lumber market by cutting prices to a point where I + would have to sell my lumber at a loss in order to get hold of a little + ready money. Neither do I desire to have trees felled across the right of + way of Pennington's road after his trainloads of logs have gone through + and before mine have started from the woods. I don't want my log-landings + jammed until I can't move, and I don't want Pennington's engineer to take + a curve in such a hurry that he'll whip my loaded logging-trucks off into + a canon and leave me hung up for lack of rolling-stock. I tell you, the + man has me under his thumb, and the only way I can escape is to slip out + when he isn't looking. He can do too many things to block the delivery of + my logs and then dub them acts of God, in order to avoid a judgment + against him on suit for non-performance of his hauling contract with this + company.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum-m-m! Slimy old beggar, isn't he? I dare say he wouldn't hesitate to + buy the city council to block you, would he?” + </p> + <p> + “I know he'll lie and steal. I dare say he'd corrupt a public official.” + </p> + <p> + Buck Ogilvy rose and stretched himself. “I've got my work cut out for me, + haven't I?” he declared with a yawn. “However, it'll be a fight worth + while, and that at least will make it interesting. Well?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce pressed the buzzer on his desk, and a moment later Moira entered. + “Permit me, Moira, to present Mr. Ogilvy. Mr. Ogilvy, Miss McTavish.” The + introduction having been acknowledged by both parties, Bryce continued: + “Mr. Ogilvy will have frequent need to interview me at this office, Moira, + but it is our joint desire that his visits here shall remain a profound + secret to everybody with the exception of ourselves. To that end he will + hereafter call at night, when this portion of the town is absolutely + deserted. You have an extra key to the office, Moira. I wish you would + give it to Mr. Ogilvy.” + </p> + <p> + The girl nodded. “Mr. Ogilvy will have to take pains to avoid our + watchman,” she suggested. + </p> + <p> + “That is a point well taken, Moira. Buck, when you call, make it a point + to arrive here promptly on the hour. The watchman will be down in the mill + then, punching the time-clock.” + </p> + <p> + Again Moira inclined her dark head and withdrew. Mr. Buck Ogilvy groaned. + “God speed the day when you can come out from under and I'll be permitted + to call during office hours,” he murmured. He picked up his hat and + withdrew, via the general office. Half an hour later, Bryce looked out and + saw him draped over the counter, engaged in animated conversation with + Moira McTavish. Before Ogilvy left, he had managed to impress Moira with a + sense of the disadvantage under which he laboured through being forced, + because of circumstances Mr. Cardigan would doubtless relate to her in due + course, to abandon all hope of seeing her at the office—at least for + some time to come. Then he spoke feelingly of the unmitigated horror of + being a stranger in a strange town, forced to sit around hotel lobbies + with drummers and other lost souls, and drew from Moira the assurance that + it wasn't more distressing than having to sit around a boardinghouse night + after night watching old women tat and tattle. + </p> + <p> + This was the opening Buck Ogilvy had sparred for. Fixing Moira with his + bright blue eyes, he grinned boldly and said: “Suppose, Miss McTavish, we + start a league for the dispersion of gloom. You be the president, and I'll + be the financial secretary.” + </p> + <p> + “How would the league operate?” Moira demanded cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it might begin by giving a dinner to all the members, followed by a + little motor-trip into the country next Saturday afternoon,” Buck + suggested. + </p> + <p> + Moira's Madonna glance appraised him steadily. “I haven't known you very + long, Mr. Ogilvy,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm easy to get acquainted with,” he retorted lightly. “Besides, + don't I come well recommended?” He pondered for a moment. Then: “I'll tell + you what, Miss McTavish. Suppose we put it up to Bryce Cardigan. If he + says it's all right we'll pull off the party. If he says it's all wrong, + I'll go out and drown myself—and fairer words than them has no man + spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll think it over,” said Moira. + </p> + <p> + “By all means. Never decide such an important matter in a hurry. Just tell + me your home telephone number, and I'll ring up at seven this evening for + your decision.” + </p> + <p> + Reluctantly Moira gave him the number. She was not at all prejudiced + against this carroty stranger—in fact, she had a vague suspicion + that he was a sure cure for the blues, an ailment which she suffered from + all too frequently; and, moreover, his voice, his respectful manner, his + alert eyes, and his wonderful clothing were all rather alluring. + Womanlike, she was flattered at being noticed—particularly by a man + like Ogilvy, whom it was plain to be seen was vastly superior to any male + even in Sequoia, with the sole exception of Bryce Cardigan. The flutter of + a great adventure was in Moira's heart, and the flush of a thousand roses + in her cheeks when, Buck Ogilvy having at length departed, she went into + Bryce's private office to get his opinion as to the propriety of accepting + the invitation. + </p> + <p> + Bryce listened to her gravely as with all the sweet innocence of her years + and unworldliness she laid the Ogilvy proposition before him. + </p> + <p> + “By all means, accept,” he counselled her. “Buck Ogilvy is one of the + finest gentlemen you'll ever meet. I'll stake my reputation on him. You'll + find him vastly amusing, Moira. He'd make Niobe forget her troubles, and + he DOES know how to order a dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think I ought to have a chaperon?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it isn't necessary, although it's good form in a small town like + Sequoia, where everybody knows everybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” Moira murmured thoughtfully. “I'll ask Miss Sumner to come + with us. Mr. Ogilvy won't mind the extra expense, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be delighted,” Bryce assured her maliciously. “Ask Miss Sumner, by + all means.” + </p> + <p> + When Moira had left him, Bryce sighed. “Gosh!” he murmured. “I wish I + could go, too.” + </p> + <p> + He was roused from his bitter introspections presently by the ringing of + the telephone. To his amazement Shirley Sumner was calling him! + </p> + <p> + “You're a wee bit surprised, aren't you, Mr. Cardigan?” she said + teasingly. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he answered honestly. “I had a notion I was quite persona non + grata with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you relieved to find you are not? You aren't, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I am relieved.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you're wondering why I have telephoned to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't had time. The suddenness of it all has left me more or less + dumb. Why did you ring up?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted some advice. Suppose you wanted very, very much to know what two + people were talking about, but found yourself in a position where you + couldn't eavesdrop. What would you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't eavesdrop,” he told her severely. “That isn't a nice thing to + do, and I didn't think you would contemplate anything that isn't nice.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't ordinarily. But I have every moral, ethical, and financial + right to be a party to that conversation, only—well—” + </p> + <p> + “With you present there would be no conversation—is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, Mr. Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is of the utmost importance that you should know what is said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you do not intend to use your knowledge of this conversation, when + gained, for an illegal or unethical purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not. On the contrary, if I am aware of what is being planned, I can + prevent others from doing something illegal and unethical.” + </p> + <p> + “In that event, Shirley, I should say you are quite justified in + eavesdropping.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can I do it? I can't hide in a closet and listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Buy a dictograph and have it hidden in the room where the conversation + takes place. It will record every word of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Where can I buy one?” + </p> + <p> + “In San Francisco.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you telephone to your San Francisco office and have them buy one for + me and ship it to you, together with directions for using. George Sea + Otter can bring it over to me when it arrives.” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley, this is most extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite realize that. May I depend upon you to oblige me in this matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. But why pick on me, of all persons, to perform such a mission + for you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can trust you to forget that you have performed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I think you may safely trust me. And I shall attend to the + matter immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, Mr. Cardigan. How is your dear old father? Moira told + me sometime ago that he was ill.” + </p> + <p> + “He's quite well again, thank you. By the way, Moira doesn't know that you + and I have ever met. Why don't you tell her?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't answer that question—now. Perhaps some day I may be in a + position to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “It's too bad the circumstances are such that we, who started out to be + such agreeable friends, see so little of each other, Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, it is. However, it's all your fault. I have told you once how you + can obviate that distressing situation. But you're so stubborn, Mr. + Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got to the point where I like crawling on my hands and knees,” + he flared back at her. + </p> + <p> + “Even for your sake, I decline to simulate friendship or tolerance for + your uncle; hence I must be content to let matters stand as they are + between us.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed lightly. “So you are still uncompromisingly belligerent—still + after Uncle Seth's scalp?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I think I'm going to get it. At any rate, he isn't going to get + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think you're rather unjust to make me suffer for the sins of my + relative, Bryce?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + She had called him by his first name. He thrilled. “I'm lost in a quagmire + of debts—I'm helpless now,” he murmured. “I'm not fighting for + myself alone, but for a thousand dependents—for a principle—for + an ancient sentiment that was my father's and is now mine. You do not + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand more than you give me credit for, and some day you'll + realize it. I understand just enough to make me feel sorry for you. I + understand what even my uncle doesn't suspect at present, and that is that + you're the directing genius of the Northern California Oregon Railroad and + hiding behind your friend Ogilvy. Now, listen to me, Bryce Cardigan: + You're never going to build that road. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + The suddenness of her attack amazed him to such an extent that he did not + take the trouble to contradict her. Instead he blurted out, angrily and + defiantly: “I'll build that road if it costs me my life—if it costs + me you. Understand! I'm in this fight to win.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not build that road,” she reiterated. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I shall not permit you to. I have some financial interest in the + Laguna Grande Lumber Company, and it is not to that financial interest + that you should build the N.C.O.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you find out I was behind Ogilvy?” + </p> + <p> + “Intuition. Then I accused you of it, and you admitted it.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you're going to tell your uncle now,” he retorted witheringly. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I am not. I greatly fear I was born with a touch of + sporting blood, Mr. Cardigan, so I'm going to let you two fight until + you're exhausted, and then I'm going to step in and decide the issue. You + can save money by surrendering now. I hold the whip hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer to fight. With your permission this bout will go to a knockout.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so certain I do not like you all the more for that decision. And + if it will comfort you the least bit, you have my word of honour that I + shall not reveal to my uncle the identity of the man behind the N. C. O. + I'm not a tattletale, you know, and moreover I have a great curiosity to + get to the end of the story. The fact is, both you and Uncle Seth annoy me + exceedingly. How lovely everything would have been if you two hadn't + started this feud and forced upon me the task of trying to be fair and + impartial to you both.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you remain fair and impartial?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can—even up to the point of deciding whether or not you + are going to build that road. Then I shall act independently of you both. + Forgive my slang, but—I'm going to hand you each a poke then.” + </p> + <p> + “Shirley,” he told her earnestly, “listen carefully to what I am about to + say: I love you. I've loved you from the day I first met you. I shall + always love you; and when I get around to it, I'm going to ask you to + marry me. At present, however, that is a right I do not possess. However, + the day I acquire the right I shall exercise it.” + </p> + <p> + “And when will that day be?” Very softly, in awesome tones! + </p> + <p> + “The day I drive the last spike in the N. C. O.” + </p> + <p> + Fell a silence. Then: “I'm glad, Bryce Cardigan, you're not a quitter. + Good-bye, good luck—and don't forget my errand.” She hung up and sat + at the telephone for a moment, dimpled chin in dimpled hand, her glance + wandering through the window and far away across the roofs of the town to + where the smoke-stack of Cardigan's mill cut the sky-line. “How I'd hate + you if I could handle you!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Following this exasperating but illuminating conversation with Shirley + Sumner over the telephone, Bryce Cardigan was a distressed and badly + worried man. However, Bryce was a communicant of a very simple faith—to + wit, that one is never whipped till one is counted out, and the first + shock of Shirley's discovery having passed, he wasted no time in vain + repinings but straightway set himself to scheme a way out of his dilemma. + </p> + <p> + For an hour he sat slouched in his chair, chin on breast, the while he + reviewed every angle of the situation. + </p> + <p> + He found it impossible, however, to dissociate the business from the + personal aspects of his relations with Shirley, and he recalled that she + had the very best of reasons for placing their relations on a business + basis rather than a sentimental one. He had played a part in their little + drama which he knew must have baffled and infuriated her. More, had she, + in those delightful few days of their early acquaintance, formed for him a + sentiment somewhat stronger than friendship (he did not flatter himself + that this was so), he could understand her attitude toward him as that of + the woman scorned. For the present, however, it was all a profound and + disturbing mystery, and after an hour of futile concentration there came + to Bryce the old childish impulse to go to his father with his troubles. + That sturdy old soul, freed from the hot passions of youth, its + impetuosity and its proneness to consider cause rather than effect, had + weathered too many storms in his day to permit the present one to benumb + his brain as it had his son's. + </p> + <p> + “He will be able to think without having his thoughts blotted out by a + woman's face,” Bryce soliloquized. “He's like one of his own big redwood + trees; his head is always above the storm.” + </p> + <p> + Straightway Bryce left the office and went home to the old house on the + knoll. John Cardigan was sitting on the veranda, and from a stand beside + him George Sea Otter entertained him with a phonograph selection—“The + Suwanee River,” sung by a male quartet. As the gate clicked, John raised + his head; then as Bryce's quick step spurned the cement walk up the little + old-fashioned garden, he rose and stood with one hand outstretched and + trembling a little. He could not see, but with the intuition of the blind, + he knew. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, son?” he demanded gently as Bryce came up the low steps. + “George, choke that contraption off.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce took his father's hand. “I'm in trouble, John Cardigan,” he said + simply, “and I'm not big enough to handle it alone.” + </p> + <p> + The leonine old man smiled, and his smile had all the sweetness of a + benediction. His boy was in trouble and had come to him. Good! Then he + would not fail him. “Sit down, son, and tell the old man all about it. + Begin at the beginning and let me have all the angles of the angle.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce obeyed, and for the first time John Cardigan learned of his son's + acquaintance with Shirley Sumner and the fact that she had been present in + Pennington's woods the day Bryce had gone there to settle the score with + Jules Rondeau. In the wonderful first flush of his love a sense of + embarrassment, following his discovery of the fact that his father and + Colonel Pennington were implacable enemies, had decided Bryce not to + mention the matter of the girl to John Cardigan until the ENTENTE CORDIALE + between Pennington and his father could be reestablished, for Bryce had, + with the optimism of his years, entertained for a few days a thought that + he could bring about this desirable condition of affairs. The discovery + that he could not, together with his renunciation of his love until he + should succeed in protecting his heritage and eliminating the despair that + had come upon his father in the latter's old age, had further operated to + render unnecessary any discussion of the girl with the old man. + </p> + <p> + With the patience and gentleness of a confessor John Cardigan heard the + story now, and though Bryce gave no hint in words that his affections were + involved in the fight for the Cardigan acres, yet did his father know It, + for he was a parent. And his great heart went out in sympathy for his boy. + </p> + <p> + “I understand, sonny, I understand. This young lady is only one additional + reason why you must win, for of course you understand she is not + indifferent to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know that she feels for me anything stronger than a vagrant + sympathy, Dad, for while she is eternally feminine, nevertheless she has a + masculine way of looking at many things. She is a good comrade with a + bully sense of sportsmanship, and unlike her skunk of an uncle, she fights + in the open. Under the circumstances, however, her first loyalty is to + him; in fact, she owes none to me. And I dare say he has given her some + extremely plausible reason why we should be eliminated; while I think she + is sorry that it must be done, nevertheless, in a mistaken impulse of + self-protection she is likely to let him do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, perhaps. One never knows why a woman does things, although it is + a safe bet that if they're with you at all, they're with you all the way. + Eliminate the girl, my boy. She's trying to play fair to you and her + relative. Let us concentrate on Pennington.” + </p> + <p> + “The entire situation hinges on that jump-crossing of his tracks on Water + Street.” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't know you plan to cross them, does he?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, lad, your job is to get your crossing in before he finds out, isn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it is an impossible task, partner. I'm not Aladdin, you know. I + have to have a franchise from the city council, and I have to have rails.” + </p> + <p> + “Both are procurable, my son. Induce the city council to grant you a + temporary franchise to-morrow, and buy your rails from Pennington. He has + a mile of track running up Laurel Creek, and Laurel Creek was logged out + three years ago. I believe that spur is useless to Pennington, and the + ninety-pound rails are rusting there.” + </p> + <p> + “But will he sell them to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you tell him why you want them.” + </p> + <p> + “But he hates me, old pal.” + </p> + <p> + “The Colonel never permits sentiment to interfere with business, my son. + He doesn't need the rails, and he does desire your money. Consider the + rail-problem settled.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you stand with the Mayor and the council?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not stand at all. I opposed Poundstone for the office; Dobbs, who + was appointed to fill a vacancy caused by the death of a regularly elected + councilman, was once a bookkeeper in our office, you will remember. I + discharged him for looting the petty-cash drawer. Andrews and Mullin are + professional politicians and not to be trusted. In fact, Poundstone, + Dobbs, Andrews, and Mullin are known as the Solid Four. Yates and + Thatcher, the remaining members of the city council, are the result of the + reform ticket last fall, but since they are in the minority, they are + helpless.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes it bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. The Cardigans are not known to be connected with the N. C. O. + Send your bright friend Ogilvy after that franchise. He's the only man who + can land it. Give him a free hand and tell him to deliver the goods by any + means short of bribery. I imagine he's had experience with city councils + and will know exactly how to proceed. I KNOW you can procure the rails and + have them at the intersection of B and Water streets Thursday night. If + Ogilvy can procure the temporary franchise and have it in his pocket by + six o'clock Thursday night, you should have that crossing in by sunup + Friday morning. Then let Pennington rave. He cannot procure an injunction + to restrain us from cutting his tracks, thus throwing the matter into the + courts and holding us up indefinitely, because by the time he wakes up, + the tracks will have been cut. The best he can do then will be to fight us + before the city council when we apply for our permanent franchise. Thank + God, however, the name of Cardigan carries weight in this county, and with + the pressure of public sympathy and opinion back of us, we may venture, my + boy, to break a lance with the Solid Four, should they stand with + Pennington.” + </p> + <p> + “Partner, it looks like a forlorn hope,” said Bryce. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're the boy to lead it. And it will cost but little to put in + the crossing and take a chance. Remember, Bryce, once we have that + crossing in, it stands like a spite-fence between Pennington and the law + which he knows so well how to pervert to suit his ignoble purposes.” He + turned earnestly to Bryce and waved a trembling admonitory finger. “Your + job is to keep out of court. Once Pennington gets the law on us, the issue + will not be settled in our favour for years; and in the meantime—you + perish. Run along now and hunt up Ogilvy. George, play that 'Suwannee + River' quartet again. It sort o' soothes me.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + It was with a considerably lighter heart that Bryce returned to the + mill-office, from which he lost no time in summoning Buck Ogilvy by + telephone. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks so much for the invitation,” Ogilvy murmured gratefully. “I'll be + down in a pig's whisper.” And he was. “Bryce, you look like the devil,” he + declared the moment he entered the latter's private office. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to, Buck. I've just raised the devil and spilled the beans on the + N. C. O.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom, when, and where?” + </p> + <p> + “To Pennington's niece, over the telephone about two hours ago.” + </p> + <p> + Buck Ogilvy smote his left palm with his right fist. “And you've waited + two hours to confess your crime? Zounds, man, this is bad.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. Curse me, Buck. I've probably talked you out of a good job.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, say not so, old settler. We may still have an out. How did you let + the cat out of the bag?” + </p> + <p> + “That remarkable girl called me up, and accused you of being a mere screen + for me and amazed me so I admitted it.” + </p> + <p> + Ogilvy dropped his red head in simulated agony and moaned. Presently he + raised it and said: “Well, it might have been worse. Think of what might + have happened had she called in person. She would have picked your pocket + for the corporate seal, the combination of the safe, and the list of + stockholders, and probably ended up by gagging you and binding you in your + own swivel-chair.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Buck. Comfort and not abuse is what I need now.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll conclude my remarks by stating that I regard you as a + lovable fat-head devoid of sufficient mental energy to pound the + proverbial sand into the proverbial rat-hole. Now, then, what do you want + me to do to save the day?” + </p> + <p> + “Deliver to me by six o'clock Thursday night a temporary franchise from + the city council, granting the N. C. O. the right to run a railroad from + our drying-yard across Water Street at its intersection with B Street and + out Front Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. By all means! Easiest thing I do! Sure you don't want me to + arrange to borrow a star or two to make a ta-ra-ra for the lady that's + made a monkey out of you? No? All right, old dear! I'm on my way to do my + damnedest, which angels can't do no more. Nevertheless, for your sins, you + shall do me a favour before my heart breaks after falling down on this + contract you've just given me.” + </p> + <p> + “Granted, Buck. Name it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm giving a nice little private, specially cooked dinner to Miss + McTavish to-night. We're going to pull it off in one of those private + screened corrals in that highly decorated Chink restauraw on Third Street. + Moira—that is, Miss McTavish—is bringing a chaperon, one Miss + Shirley Sumner. Your job is to be my chaperon and entertain Miss Sumner, + who from all accounts is most brilliant and fascinating.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing!” Bryce almost roared. “Why, she's the girl that bluffed + the secret of the N. C. O. out of me!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hate her for it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I hate myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll come. You promised in advance, and no excuses go now. The + news will be all over town by Friday morning; so why bother to keep up + appearances any longer. Meet me at the Canton at seven and check dull care + at the entrance.” + </p> + <p> + And before Bryce could protest, Ogilvy had thrown open the office door and + called the glad tidings to Moira, who was working in the next room; + whereupon Moira's wonderful eyes shone with that strange lambent flame. + She clasped her hands joyously. “Oh, how wonderful!” she exclaimed “I've + always wanted Miss Shirley to meet Mr. Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + Again Bryce was moved to protest, but Buck Ogilvy reached around the + half-opened door and kicked him in the shins. “Don't crab my game, you + miserable snarley-yow. Detract one speck from that girl's pleasure, and + you'll never see that temporary franchise,” he threatened. “I will not + work for a quitter—so, there!” And with his bright smile he set out + immediately upon the trail of the city council, leaving Bryce Cardigan a + prey to many conflicting emotions, the chief of which, for all that he + strove to suppress it, was riotous joy in the knowledge that while he had + fought against it, fate had decreed that he should bask once more in the + radiance of Shirley Sumner's adorable presence. Presently, for the first + time in many weeks, Moira heard him whistling “Turkey in the Straw.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Fortunately for the situation which had so suddenly confronted him, Bryce + Cardigan had Mr. Buck Ogilvy; and out of the experiences gained in other + railroad-building enterprises, the said Ogilvy, while startled, was not + stunned by the suddenness and immensity of the order so casually given him + by his youthful employer, for he had already devoted to the matter of that + crossing the better part of the preceding night. Also he had investigated, + indexed, and cross-indexed the city council with a view to ascertaining + how great or how little would be the effort he must devote to obtaining + from it the coveted franchise. + </p> + <p> + “Got to run a sandy on the Mayor,” Buck soliloquized as he walked rapidly + uptown. “And I'll have to be mighty slick about it, too, or I'll get my + fingers in the jam. If I get the Mayor on my side—if I get him to + the point where he thinks well of me and would like to oblige me without + prejudicing himself financially or politically—I can get that + temporary franchise. Now, how shall I proceed to sneak up on that oily old + cuss's blind side?” + </p> + <p> + Two blocks farther on, Mr. Ogilvy paused and snapped his fingers + vigorously. “Eureka!” he murmured. “I've got Poundstone by the tail on a + downhill haul. Is it a cinch? Well, I just guess I should tell a man!” + </p> + <p> + He hurried to the telephone building and put in a long-distance call for + the San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. When the + manager came on the line, Ogilvy dictated to him a message which he + instructed the manager to telegraph back to him at the Hotel Sequoia one + hour later; this mysterious detail attended to, he continued on to the + Mayor's office in the city hall. + </p> + <p> + Mayor Poundstone's bushy eyebrows arched with interest when his secretary + laid upon his desk the card of Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, vice-president and + general manager of the Northern California Oregon Railroad. “Ah-h-h!” he + breathed with an unpleasant resemblance to a bon vivant who sees before + him his favourite vintage. “I have been expecting Mr. Ogilvy to call for + quite a while. At last we shall see what we shall see. Show him in.” + </p> + <p> + The visitor was accordingly admitted to the great man's presence and + favoured with an official handshake of great heartiness. “I've been hoping + to have this pleasure for quite some time, Mr. Poundstone,” Buck announced + easily as he disposed of his hat and overcoat on an adjacent chair. “But + unfortunately I have had so much preliminary detail to attend to before + making an official call that at last I grew discouraged and concluded I'd + just drop in informally and get acquainted.” Buck's alert blue eyes opened + wide in sympathy with his genial mouth, to deluge Mayor Poundstone with a + smile that was friendly, guileless, confidential, and singularly + delightful. Mr. Ogilvy was a man possessed of tremendous personal + magnetism when he chose to exert it, and that smile was ever the opening + gun of his magnetic bombardment, for it was a smile that always had the + effect of making the observer desire to behold it again—of disarming + suspicion and establishing confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Glad you did—mighty glad,” the Mayor cried heartily. “We have all, + of course, heard of your great plans and are naturally anxious to hear + more of them, in the hope that we can do all that anybody reasonably and + legally can to promote your enterprise and incidentally our own, since we + are not insensible to the advantages which will accrue to this county when + it is connected by rail with the outside world.” + </p> + <p> + “That extremely broad view is most encouraging,” Buck chirped, and he + showered the Mayor with another smile. “Reciprocity is the watchword of + progress. I might state, however, that while you Humboldters are fully + alive to the benefits to be derived from a feeder to a transcontinental + road, my associates and myself are not insensible of the fact that the + success of our enterprise depends to a great extent upon the enthusiasm + with which the city of Sequoia shall cooperate with us; and since you are + the chief executive of the city, naturally I have come to you to explain + our plans fully.” + </p> + <p> + “I have read your articles of incorporation, Mr. Ogilvy,” Mayor Poundstone + boomed paternally. “You will recall that they were published in the + Sequoia SENTINEL. It strikes me—-” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know exactly what we purpose doing, and any further explanation + would be superfluous,” Buck interrupted amiably, glad to dispose of the + matter so promptly. Again he favoured the Mayor with his bright smile, and + the latter, now fully convinced that here was a young man of vast emprise + whom it behooved him to receive in a whole-hearted and public-spirited + manner, nodded vigorous approval. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that being the case, Mr. Ogilvy,” he continued, “what can we + Sequoians do to make you happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to begin with, Mr. Poundstone, you might accept my solemn assurances + that despite the skepticism which, for some unknown reason, appears to + shroud our enterprise in the minds of some people, we have incorporated a + railroad company for the purpose of building a railroad. We purpose + commencing grading operations in the very near future, and the only thing + that can possibly interfere with the project will be the declination of + the city council to grant us a franchise to run our line through the city + to tidewater.” + </p> + <p> + He handed his cigar-case to Mayor Poundstone and continued lightly: “And I + am glad to have your assurance that the city council will not drop a cold + chisel in the cogs of the wheels of progress.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Poundstone had given no such assurance, but for some reason he did not + feel equal to the task of contradicting this pleasant fellow. Ogilvy + continued: “At the proper time we shall apply for the franchise. It will + then be time enough to discuss it. In the meantime the N. C. O. plans a + public dedicatory ceremony at the first breaking of ground, and I would be + greatly honoured, Mr. Mayor, if you would consent to turn the first + shovelful of earth and deliver the address of welcome upon that occasion.” + </p> + <p> + The Mayor swelled like a Thanksgiving turkey. “The honour will be mine,” + he corrected his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much, sir. Well, that's another worry off my mind.” With the + tact of a prime minister Buck then proceeded deliberately to shift the + conversation to the weather and asked a number of questions anent the + annual rainfall. Then he turned to crops, finance, and national politics + and gradually veered around to an artistic word-picture of the vast + expansion of the redwood-lumber industry when the redwood-belt should be + connected by rail with the markets of the entire country. He spoke of the + magic effect the building of such a line would have upon the growth of + Sequoia. Sequoia, he felt convinced, was destined to become a city of at + least a hundred thousand inhabitants; he rhapsodized over the progressive + spirit of the community and with a wave of his hand studded the waters of + Humboldt Bay with the masts of the world's shipping. Suddenly he checked + himself, glanced at his watch, apologized for consuming so much of His + Honour's valuable time, expressed himself felicitated at knowing the + Mayor, gracefully expressed his appreciation for the encouragement given + his enterprise, and departed. When he had gone, Mayor Poundstone declared + to his secretary that without doubt Ogilvy was the livest, keenest fellow + that had struck Sequoia since the advent of old John Cardigan. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the Mayor's telephone-bell rang. Buck Ogilvy was on the + line. “I beg your pardon for bothering you with my affairs twice in the + same day, Mr. Mayor,” he announced deprecatingly, “but the fact is, a + condition has just arisen which necessitates the immediate employment of + an attorney. The job is not a very important one and almost any lawyer + would do, but in view of the fact that we must, sooner or later, employ an + attorney to look after our interests locally, it occurred to me that I + might as well make the selection of a permanent attorney now. I am a + stranger in this city Mr. Poundstone. Would it be imposing on your + consideration if I asked you to recommend such a person?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, not at all, not at all! Delighted to help you, Mr. Ogilvy. Let me + see, now. There are several attorneys in Sequoia, all men of excellent + ability and unimpeachable integrity, whom I can recommend with the utmost + pleasure. Cadman look up the relatives of a public official! Well! + Forward, men, follow me—to Henry's office.” + </p> + <p> + Henry Poundstone, Junior, proved to be the sole inhabitant of one rather + bare office in the Cardigan Block. Buck had fully resolved to give him a + retainer of a thousand dollars, or even more, if he asked for it, but + after one look at Henry he cut the appropriation to two hundred and fifty + dollars. Young Mr. Poundstone was blonde and frail, with large round + spectacles, rabbit teeth, and the swiftly receding chin of the terrapin. + Moreover, he was in such a flutter of anticipation over the arrival of his + client that Buck deduced two things—to wit, that the Mayor had + telephoned Henry he was apt to have a client, and that as a result of this + miracle, Henry was in no fit state to discuss the sordid subject of fees + and retainers. Ergo, Mr. Ogilvy decided to obviate such discussion now or + in the future. He handed Henry a check for two hundred and fifty dollars, + which he wrote out on the spot, and with his bright winning smile + remarked: “Now, Mr. Poundstone, we will proceed to business. That retainer + isn't a large one, I admit, but neither is the job I have for you to-day. + Later, if need of your services on a larger scale should develop, we shall + of course expect to make a new arrangement whereby you will receive the + customary retainer of all of our corporation attorneys I trust that is + quite satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “Eminently so,” gasped the young disciple of Blackstone. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then; let us proceed to business.” Buck removed from a small + leather bag a bale of legal-looking documents. “I have here,” he + announced, “agreements from landowners along the proposed right of way of + the N. C. O. to give to that company, on demand, within one year from + date, satisfactory deeds covering rights of way which are minutely + described in the said agreements. I wish these deeds prepared for signing + and recording at the earliest possible moment.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have them at this time to-morrow,” Henry promised. + </p> + <p> + The head of Henry Poundstone, Junior, was held high for the first time + since he had flung forth his modest shingle to the breezes of Sequoia six + months before, and there was an unaccustomed gleam of importance in his + pale eyes as he rushed into big father's office in the city hall. + </p> + <p> + “By jinks, Dad!” he exulted. “I've hooked a fish at last—and he's a + whopper.” + </p> + <p> + “Omit the cheers, my boy. Remember I sent that fish to you,” his father + answered with a bland and indulgent smile. “What are you doing for Ogilvy, + and how large a retainer did he give you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm making out deeds to his rights of way. Ordinarily it's about a + fifty-dollar job, but without waiting to discuss finances he handed me out + two hundred and fifty dollars. Why, Dad, that's more than you make in a + month from your job as Mayor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that isn't a bad retainer. It's an opening wedge. However, it would + be mere chicken-feed in San Francisco.” + </p> + <p> + “Read this,” Henry urged, and thrust a yellow telegraph-form under the + Mayor's nose. The latter adjusted his glasses and read: + </p> + <p> + Imperative building operations commence immediately. Local skepticism + injurious and delays dangerous. We must show good faith to our New York + friends. J. P. M. insists upon knowing promptly where we stand with + Sequoia city council. See them immediately and secure temporary franchise, + if possible, to enable us to cross Water Street at B Street and build out + Front Street. Your arrangement with Cardigan for use of his mill-dock and + spur for unloading material from steamer ratified by board but regarded as + hold-up. If your judgment indicates no hold-up on permanent franchise, + commence active operations immediately upon acquisition of permanent + franchise. Engage local labour as far as possible. Cannot impress upon you + too fully necessity for getting busy, as road must be completed in three + years if our plans are to bear fruit and time is all too short. Impress + this upon city council and wire answer to-morrow. + </p> + <h3> + HOCKLEY. + </h3> + <p> + This telegram, as the Mayor observed, was dated that day and addressed to + Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, Hotel Sequoia, Sequoia, Calif. Also, with a keen eye + to minor details, lie noted that it had been filed at San Francisco + SUBSEQUENT to Ogilvy's visit to him that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Ah-h-h!” breathed His Honour. “That accounts for his failure to bring the + matter up at our interview. Upon his return to the hotel he found this + telegram and got busy at once. By Jupiter, this looks like business. + Henry, how did you come into possession of this telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been mixed up in the documents Ogilvy left with me. I found + it on my desk when I was sorting out the papers, and in my capacity of + attorney for the N.C.O. I had no hesitancy in reading it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do declare! Wonder who Hockley is. Never heard of that fellow in + connection with the N.C.O.” + </p> + <p> + “Hockley doesn't matter,” young Henry declared triumphantly, “although I'd + bet a hat he's one of those heavy-weight Wall Street fellows and one of + J.P.M's vice-presidents, probably. J.P.M., of course, is the man behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil is J.P.M.?” + </p> + <p> + Henry smiled tolerantly upon his ignorant and guileless parent. “Well, how + would J. Pierpont Morgan do for a guess?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Hell's bells and panther-tracks!” Mayor Poundstone started as if + snake-bitten. “I should say you have hooked a big fish. Boy, you've landed + a whale!” And the Mayor whistled softly in his amazement and delight. “By + golly, to think of you getting in with that bunch! Tremendyous! + Per-fect-ly tree-mend-yous! Did Ogilvy say anything about future + business?” + </p> + <p> + “He did. Said if I proved satisfactory, he would probably take me on and + pay the customary retainer given all of their corporation attorneys.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, by golly, he'd better take you on! I had a notion that chap Ogilvy + was smart enough to know which side his bread is buttered on and who does + the buttering.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could guarantee Mr. Ogilvy that temporary franchise mentioned in his + telegram, it might help me to get in right with J.P.M, at the start,” his + hopeful suggested. “I guess it would be kind of poor to be taken on as one + of the regular staff of attorneys for a Morgan corporation, eh? Say, they + pay those chaps as high as fifty thousand dollars a year retainer!” + </p> + <p> + “Guarantee it!” his father shouted. “Guarantee it! Well, I should snicker! + We'll just show J. P. M. and his crowd that they made no mistake when they + picked you as their Sequoia legal representative. I'll call a special + meeting of that little old city council of mine and jam that temporary + franchise through while you'd be saying 'Jack Robinson!'” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what let's do,” Henry suggested. “I'll draw up the + temporary franchise to-night, and we'll put it through to-morrow at, say, + ten o'clock without saying a word to Mr. Ogilvy about it. Then when the + city clerk has signed and attested it and put the seal of the city on it, + I'll just casually take it over to Mr. Ogilvy. Of course he'll be + surprised and ask me how I came to get it, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And you LOOK surprised,” his father cautioned, “—sort of as if you + failed to comprehend what he's driving at. Make him repeat. Then you say: + 'Oh, that! Why, that's nothing, Mr. Ogilvy. I found the telegram in those + papers you left with me, read it, and concluded you'd left it there to + give me the dope so I could go ahead and get the franchise for you. Up + here, whenever anybody wants a franchise from the city, they always hire + an attorney to get it for them, so I didn't think anything about this but + just naturally went and got it for you. If it ain't right, why, say so and + I'll have it made right.'” Old Poundstone nudged his son in the short ribs + and winked drolly. “Let him get the idea you're a fly bird and on to your + job.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to yours truly,” said Henry. + </p> + <p> + His father carefully made a copy of the telegram. + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” he grunted. “Wants to cross Water Street at B and build out Front + Street. Well, I dare say nobody will kick over the traces at that. Nothing + but warehouses and lumber-drying yards along there, anyhow. Still, come to + think of it, Pennington will probably raise a howl about sparks from the + engines of the N. C. O. setting his lumber piles afire. And he won't + relish the idea of that crossing, because that means a watchman and + safety-gates, and he'll have to stand half the cost of that.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be dead against it,” Henry declared. “I know, because at the + Wednesday meeting of the Lumber Manufacturers' Association the subject of + the N. C. O. came up, and Pennington made a talk against it. He said the + N. C. O. ought to be discouraged, if it was a legitimate enterprise, which + he doubted, because the most feasible and natural route for a road would + be from Willits, Mendocino County, north to Sequoia. He said the N. C. O. + didn't tap the main body of the redwood-belt and that his own road could + be extended to act as a feeder to a line that would build in from the + south. I tell you he's dead set against it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we won't tell him anything about it, Henry. We'll just pull off this + special session of the council and forget to invite the reporters; after + the job has been put over, Pennington can come around and howl all he + wants. We're not letting a chance like this slip by us without grabbing a + handful of the tail-feathers, Henry. No, sir—not if we know it.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet!” said Henry earnestly. + </p> + <p> + And it was even so. The entire council was present with the exception of + Thatcher, who was home ill. His running mate Yates was heartily in favour + of doing all and sundry of those things which would aid and encourage the + building of the much-to-be-desired railroad and offered no objection to + the motion to grant a sixty-day temporary franchise. However, he always + played ball with the absent Thatcher and he was fairly well acquainted + with his other colleagues on the council; where they were concerned he was + as suspicious as a rattlesnake in August—in consequence of which he + considered it policy to play safe pending Thatcher's recovery. Rising in + his place, he pointed out to the board the fact that many prominent + citizens who yearned for such a road as the N. C. O. had warned him of the + danger of lending official aid and comfort to a passel of professional + promoters and fly-by-nights; that after all, the N. C. O. might merely be + the stalking-horse to a real-estate boom planned to unload the undesirable + timber holdings of the Trinidad Redwood Lumber Company, in which event it + might be well for the council to proceed with caution. It was Mr. Yates' + opinion that for the present a temporary franchise for thirty days only + should be given; if during that thirty days the N. C. O. exhibited + indubitable signs of activity, he would gladly vote for a thirty-day + extension to enable the matter of a permanent franchise to be taken up in + regular order. + </p> + <p> + This amendment to the original motion met with the unqualified approval of + the Mayor, as he was careful to announce for the benefit of the other + members of the Solid Four. The fact of the matter was, however, that he + was afraid to oppose Yates in such a simple matter through fear that Yates + might grow cantankerous and carry his troubles to the Sequoia Sentinel—a + base trick he had been known to do in the past. After explaining the + advisability of keeping secret for the present the fact that a thirty-day + franchise had been granted, His Honour, with the consent of the maker of + the original motion and the second thereof, submitted the amended motion + to a vote, which was carried unanimously. + </p> + <p> + At eleven-thirty Thursday morning, therefore, young Henry Poundstone, + having worked the greater part of the previous night preparing the deeds, + delivered both deeds and franchise to Buck Ogilvy at the latter's hotel. + It was with difficulty that the latter could conceal his tremendous + amazement when Henry casually handed him the franchise. True, he had + slipped that fake telegram among the contracts as bait for Henry and his + father, but in his wildest flights of fancy had not looked for them to + swallow hook, line, and sinker. His fondest hope, at the time he conceived + the brilliant idea, was that Henry would show the telegram to his father + and thus inculcate in the old gentleman a friendly feeling toward the N. + C. O. not unmixed with pleasurable anticipations of the day when Henry + Poundstone, Junior, should be one of the most highly prized members of the + legal staff of a public-service corporation. + </p> + <p> + When he could control his emotions, Mr. Ogilvy gazed approvingly upon + Henry Poundstone. “Mr. Poundstone,” he said solemnly, “I have met some + meteoric young attorneys in my day, but you're the first genuine comet I + have seen in the legal firmament. Do you mind telling me exactly how you + procured this franchise—and why you procured it without explicit + orders from me?” + </p> + <p> + Henry did his best to look puzzled. “Why,” he said, “you left that + telegram with me, and I concluded that you regarded it as self-explanatory + or else had forgotten to mention it. I knew you were busy, and I didn't + want to bother you with details, so I just went ahead and filled the order + for you. Anything wrong about that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. It's perfectly wonderful. But how did you put it over?” + </p> + <p> + Henry smirked. “My dad's the engineer,” he said bluntly. “If thirty days + ain't enough time, see me and I'll get you thirty days more. And in the + meantime nobody knows a thing about this little deal. What's more, they + won't know. I figured Colonel Pennington might try to block you at that + crossing so I—” + </p> + <p> + Buck Ogilvy extended his hand in benediction and let it drop lightly on + Henry Poundstone's thin shoulder. Henry quivered with anticipation under + that gentle accolade and swallowed his heart while the great Ogilvy made a + portentous announcement. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Poundstone,” he said earnestly, “I am not a man to forget clever + work. At the proper time I shall—” He smiled his radiant smile. “You + understand, of course, that I am speaking for and can make you no firm + promises. However—” He smiled again. “All I have to say is that + you'll do!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Henry Poundstone, Junior. “Thank you ever so much.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + An experience extending over a very active business career of thirty years + had convinced Colonel Seth Pennington of the futility of wracking his + brains in vain speculation over mysteries. In his day he had been + interested in some small public-service corporations, which is tantamount + to saying that he knew peanut politics and had learned that the very best + way to fight the devil is with fire. Frequently he had found it of great + interest and profit to him to know exactly how certain men spent their + time and his money, and since he was a very busy man himself, naturally he + had to delegate somebody else, to procure this information for him. When, + therefore, the Northern California Oregon Railroad commenced to encroach + on the Colonel's time-appropriation for sleep, he realized that there was + but one way in which to conserve his rest and that was by engaging to + fathom the mystery for him a specialist in the unravelling of mysteries. + In times gone by, the Colonel had found a certain national + detective-agency an extremely efficient aid to well-known commercial + agencies, and to these tried and true subordinates he turned now for + explicit and satisfying information anent the Northern California Outrage! + </p> + <p> + The information forthcoming from Dun's and Bradstreet's was vague and + unsatisfying. Neither of these two commercial agencies could ascertain + anything of interest regarding the finances of the N. C. O. For the + present the corporation had no office, its destinies in San Francisco + being guarded by a well-known attorney who had declined to make any + statement regarding the company but promised one at an early date. The + board of directors consisted of this attorney, his two assistants, his + stenographer, and Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy. The company had been incorporated + for five million dollars, divided into five million shares of par value of + one dollar each, and five shares had been subscribed! Both agencies + forwarded copies of the articles of incorporation, but since the Colonel + had already read this document in the Sequoia Sentinel, he was not further + interested. + </p> + <p> + “It looks fishy to me,” the Colonel commented to his manager, “and I'm + more than ever convinced it's a scheme of that Trinidad Redwood Timber + Company to start a timber-boom and unload. And that is something the + Laguna Grande Lumber Company does not view with favour, for the reason + that one of these bright days those Trinidad people will come to their + senses and sell cheap to us. A slight extension of our logging-road will + make that Trinidad timber accessible; hence we are the only logical + customers and should control the situation. However, to be sure is to be + satisfied. Telephone the San Francisco office to have the detective-agency + that handled the longshoremen's strike job for us send a couple of their + best operatives up on the next steamer, with instructions to report to me + on arrival.” + </p> + <p> + When the operatives reported, the Colonel's orders were brief and + explicit. “I want to know all about a man named Buchanan Ogilvy, who is up + north somewhere procuring rights of way for the Northern California Oregon + Railroad. Find him. Get up with him in the morning and put him to bed at + night. Report to me daily.” + </p> + <p> + Buck was readily located in the country north of Arcata, and one of the + operatives actually procured a job as chainman with his surveying gang, + while the other kept Ogilvy and his secretary under surveillance. Their + reports, however, yielded the Colonel nothing until the first day of + Buck's return to Sequoia, when the following written report caused the + Colonel to sit up and take notice. It was headed: “Report of Operative No. + 41,” and it read: + </p> + <p> + Ogilvy in his room until 12 o'clock noon. At 12:05 entered dining room, + leaving at 1 P. M. and proceeding direct to office of Cardigan Redwood + Lumber Company. Operative took post behind a lumber-pile at side of office + so as to command view of interior of office. From manner of greeting + accorded Ogilvy by Bryce Cardigan, operative is of opinion they had not + met before. Ogilvy remained in Cardigan's private office half an hour, + spent another half-hour conversing with young lady in general office. + Young lady a brunette. O. then returned to Hotel Sequoia, where he wrote + several letters in writing-room. At 3 p. M. called to telephone. At 3:02 + p. M. left hurriedly for Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company's office. Entered + private office without waiting to be announced. Emerged at 3:12, walking + slowly and in deep thought. At B and Cedar streets stopped suddenly, + snapped his fingers and started walking rapidly, in the manner of one who + has arrived at a decision. At 3:24 entered the telephone building and + placed a long-distance call. Operative standing at counter close by heard + him place call with the girl on duty. He asked for the Cardigan Redwood + Lumber Company in San Francisco. + </p> + <p> + Concluded his conversation at 3:32 and proceeded to the city hall, + entering the Mayor's office at 3:43 and emerging at 4:10. He then returned + to the Hotel Sequoia and sat in the lobby until handed a telegram at 4:40; + whereupon he entered the telephone-booth and talked to someone, emerging + at 4:43 to go to his room. He returned at 4:46 and hurried to the + law-office of Henry Poundstone, Junior, in the Cardigan Block. He was with + Poundstone until 4:59, when he returned leisurely to the Hotel Sequoia, + carrying a small leather grip. He also had this grip when he entered + Poundstone's office. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the hotel at 5:03 and went to his room. At 6:45 he entered a + public automobile in front of the hotel and was driven to No. 846 Elm + Street. The brunette young lady who works m the Cardigan Redwood Lumber + Company's office emerged presently and entered the car, which then + proceeded to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, where the brunette young lady + alighted and entered the house. She returned at 7 sharp, accompanied by a + young lady whom she introduced to O. All three were then driven to the + Canyon restaurant at 432 Third Street and escorted to a reserved table in + one of the screened-off semi-private rooms along the right side of the + dining room. At 7:15 Bryce Cardigan entered the restaurant and was + escorted by the waiter to the table occupied by O. and party. + </p> + <p> + At 9:30 entire party left restaurant and entered a Napier car driven by a + half-breed Indian whom the second young lady hailed as George. O. and the + brunette young lady were dropped at 846 Elm Street while Cardigan and the + other young lady proceeded directly to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard. After + aiding the lady to alight, Cardigan talked with her a few minutes at the + gate, then bade her good-night and after waiting until she had disappeared + inside the front door, returned to the automobile and was driven to his + home, while the chauffeur George ran the car into the Cardigan garage. + </p> + <p> + Upon returning to Hotel Sequoia, found O. in hotel bar. Saw him to bed at + 10 sharp. + </p> + <p> + Needless to relate, this report had a most amazing effect upon Colonel + Pennington, and when at length he could recover his mental equilibrium, he + set about quite calmly to analyze the report, word by word and sentence by + sentence, with the result that he promptly arrived at the following + conclusion: + </p> + <p> + (1) His niece Shirley Sumner was not to be trusted in so far as young + Bryce Cardigan was concerned. Despite her assumption of hostility toward + the fellow since that memorable day in Pennington's woods, the Colonel was + now fully convinced that she had made her peace with him and had been the + recipient of his secret attentions right along. The Colonel was on the + verge of calling his niece up to demand an explanation, but on second + thought decided to wait a few days and see what his gum-shoe men might + have to report further. + </p> + <p> + (2) The N. C. O. was still a mystery, but a mystery in which Bryce + Cardigan was interested. Moreover, he was anxious to aid the N. C. O. in + every way possible. However, the Colonel could understand this. Cardigan + would aid anything that might possibly tend to lift the Cardigan lumber + interests out from under the iron heel of Colonel Pennington and he was + just young enough and unsophisticated enough to be fooled by that Trinidad + Redwood Timber gang. + </p> + <p> + (3) The N. C. O. was going to make a mighty bluff, even to the extent of + applying for a franchise to run over the city streets of Sequoia. Hence + Ogilvy's visit to Mayor Poundstone—doubtless on the advice of Bryce + Cardigan. Hence, also, his visit to young Henry Poundstone, whom he had + doubtless engaged as his legal representative in order to ingratiate + himself with the young man's father. Coarse work! + </p> + <p> + (4) Ogilvy had carried a small leather bag to and from Henry Poundstone's + office. That bag was readily explained. It had contained a bribe in gold + coin and young Henry had been selected as the go-between. That meant that + Mayor Poundstone had agreed to deliver the franchise—for a + consideration; and like the smooth scoundrel he was, he wanted his bit in + gold coin, which could not be marked without the marks being discovered! + Ogilvy had called first on the Mayor to arrange the details; then he had + called on the Mayor's son to complete the transaction. + </p> + <p> + (5) If a franchise had been arranged for and the bribe already delivered, + that meant the prompt and unadvertised commencement of operations. Where + (the Colonel asked himself) would these operations begin? Why, close to + the waterfront, where materials could be landed from the steamer that + brought them to Sequoia. At whose mill-dock would those materials be + discharged? Why, Cardigan's dock, of course. Ogilvy had probably called + first on Cardigan to arrange that detail. Yes, the N. C. O. was going to + carry its monumental bluff to the point of building a mile of track + through town. ... No—no, they wouldn't spend that much money on a + bluff; they wouldn't bribe Poundstone unless the road was meant. And was + it a common carrier, after all? Had Cardigan in some mysterious manner + managed to borrow enough money to parallel the Laguna Grande Lumber + Company's logging-road, and was he disguising it as a common carrier? + </p> + <p> + The trail was growing hot; the Colonel mopped his brow and concentrated + further. If the N. C. O. was really going to start operations, in order to + move its material from the Cardigan dock to the scene of operations it + would have to cut his (the Colonel's) tracks somewhere on Water Street. + Damnation! That was it. They were trying to slip one over on him. They + were planning to get a jump-crossing in before he should awake to the + situation; they were planning, too, to have the city council slip through + the franchise when nobody was looking, and once the crossing should be in, + they could laugh at Colonel Pennington! + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrels!” he murmured. “I'm on to them! Cardigan is playing the + game with them. That's why he bought those rails from the old Laurel Creek + spur! Oh, the sly young fox—quoting that portion of our hauling + contract which stipulates that all spurs and extensions of my road, once + it enters Cardigan's lands, must be made at Cardigan's expense! And all to + fool me into thinking he wanted those rails for an extension of his + logging-system. Oh, what a blithering idiot I have been! However, it's not + too late yet. Poundstone is coming over to dinner Thursday night, and I'll + wring the swine dry before he leaves the house. And as for those rails + Cardigan managed to hornswoggle me out of—” + </p> + <p> + He seized the telephone and fairly shouted to his exchange operator to get + his woods-foreman Jules Rondeau on the line. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Rondeau?” he shouted when the big French Canadian responded. + “Pennington talking. What has young Cardigan done about those rails I sold + him from the abandoned spur up Laurel Creek?” + </p> + <p> + “He have two flat-cars upon ze spur now. Dose woods-gang of hees she tear + up dose rails from ze head of ze spur and load in ze flat-cars.” + </p> + <p> + “The ears haven't left the Laurel Creek spur, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she don't leave yet.” + </p> + <p> + “See to it, Rondeau, that they do not leave until I give the word. + Understand? Cardigan's woods-boss will call you up and ask you to send a + switch-engine tip to snake them out late this afternoon or to-morrow + afternoon. Tell him the switch-engine is in the shop for repairs or is + busy at other work—anything that will stall him off and delay + delivery.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose Bryce Cardigan, he comes around and say 'Why?'” Rondeau queried + cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Kill him,” the Colonel retorted coolly. “It strikes me you and the Black + Minorca are rather slow playing even with young Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + Rondeau grunted. “I theenk mebbe so you kill heem yourself, boss,” he + replied enigmatically, and hung up. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + The dictograph which Shirley had asked Bryce to obtain for her in San + Francisco arrived on the regular passenger-steamer on Thursday morning and + Bryce called her up to ask when she desired it sent over. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mr. Cardigan,” she greeted him cheerily. “How do you feel + this morning? Any the worse for having permitted yourself to be a human + being last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I feel pretty fine, Shirley. I think it did me a lot of good to + crawl out of my shell last night.” + </p> + <p> + “You feel encouraged to go on living, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And fighting?” + </p> + <p> + “By all means.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, something has occurred of late to give you new courage?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, many things. Didn't I give an exhibition of my courage in accepting + Ogilvy's invitation to dinner, knowing you were going to be there?” + </p> + <p> + She did not like that. “You carry your frankness to extremes, my friend,” + she retorted. “I'm sure I've always been much nicer to you than you + deserve.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless there wasn't any valid reason why I should tantalize myself + last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you come?” He had a suspicion that she was laughing silently + at him. + </p> + <p> + “Partly to please Ogilvy, who has fallen head over heels in love with + Moira; partly to please Moira, who wanted me to meet you, but mostly to + please myself, because, while I dreaded it, nevertheless I wanted to see + you again. I comforted myself with the thought that for the sake of + appearances we dared not quarrel in the presence of Moira and my friend + Ogilvy, and I dare say you felt the same way. At any rate, I have seldom + had more enjoyment when partaking of a meal with an enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Please do not say that,” she answered. “I am your opponent, but not your + enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “That's nice of you. By the way, Shirley, you may inform your uncle at + breakfast Friday morning about my connection with the N. C. O. In fact, I + think it would be far better for you if you made it a point to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because both Ogilvy and myself have a very strong suspicion that your + uncle has a detective or two on our trails. There was a strange man rather + prevalent around him all day yesterday and I noticed a fellow following my + car last night. He was on a bicycle and followed me home. I communicated + my suspicions to Ogilvy, and this morning he spent two hours trying to + shake the same man off his trail—and couldn't. So I judge your uncle + will learn to-day that you dined with Ogilvy, Moira, and me last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! That's terrible.” He could sense her distress. + </p> + <p> + “Ashamed of having been seen in my company, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't. Are you quite serious in this matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Seth will think it so—so strange.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll probably tell you about it. Better beat him to the issue by + 'fessing up, Shirley. Doubtless his suspicions are already aroused, and if + you inform him that you know I am the real builder of the N. C. O., he'll + think you're a smart woman and that you've been doing a little private + gum-shoe work of your own on behalf of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is exactly what I have been doing,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “I know. But then, I'm not afraid of you, Shirley—that is, any more. + And after Friday morning I'll not be afraid of your uncle. Do tell him at + breakfast. Then watch to see if it affects his appetite.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! I feel as if I were a conspirator.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you are one. Your dictograph has arrived. Shall I send George + Sea Otter over with it? And have you somebody to install it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother! Does it have to be installed?” + </p> + <p> + “It does. You place the contraption—hide it, rather—in the + room where the conspirators conspire; then you run wires from it into + another room where the detectives listen in on the receivers.” + </p> + <p> + “Could George Sea Otter install it?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he could. There is a printed card of instructions, and I dare say + George would find the job no more baffling than the ignition-system on the + Napier.” + </p> + <p> + “Will he tell anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you ask him not to.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not even a whisper to himself, Shirley.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. Please send him over. Thank you so much, Bryce Cardigan. + You're an awful good old sort, after all. Really, it hurts me to have to + oppose you. It would be so much nicer if we didn't have all those redwood + trees to protect, wouldn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us not argue the question, Shirley. I think I have my redwood trees + protected. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely finished telephoning his home to instruct George Sea Otter + to report with the express package to Shirley when Buck Ogilvy strolled + into the office and tossed a document on his desk. “There's your little + old temporary franchise, old thing,” he announced; and with many a hearty + laugh he related to Bryce the ingenious means by which he had obtained it. + “And now if you will phone up to your logging-camp and instruct the + woods-boss to lay off about fifty men to rest for the day, pending a hard + night's work, and arrange to send them down on the last log-train to-day, + I'll drop around after dinner and we'll fly to that jump-crossing. Here's + a list of the tools we'll need.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll telephone Colonel Pennington's manager and ask him to kick a + switch-engine in on the Laurel Creek spur and snake those flat-cars with + my rails aboard out to the junction with the main line,” Bryce replied. + And he called up the Laguna Grande Lumber Company—only to be + informed by no less a person than Colonel Pennington himself that it would + be impossible to send the switch-engine in until the following afternoon. + The Colonel was sorry, but the switch-engine was in the shop having the + brick in her fire-box renewed, while the mogul that hauled the log trams + would not have time to attend to the matter, since the flats would have to + be spotted on the sidetrack at Cardigan's log-landing in the woods, and + this could not be done until the last loaded log-train for the day had + been hauled out to make room. + </p> + <p> + “Why not switch back with the mogul after the logtrain has been hauled out + on the main line?” Bryce demanded pointedly. + </p> + <p> + Pennington, however, was not trapped. “My dear fellow,” he replied + patronizingly, “quite impossible, I assure you. That old trestle across + the creek, my boy—it hasn't been looked at for years. While I'd send + the light switch-engine over it and have no fears—” + </p> + <p> + “I happen to know, Colonel, that the big mogul kicked those flats in to + load the rails!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. And what happened? Why, that old trestle squeaked and shook + and gave every evidence of being about to buckle in the centre. My + engineer threatened to quit if I sent him in again.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I suppose I'll have to wait until the switch-engine comes out + of the shop,” Bryce replied resignedly, and hung up. He turned a troubled + face to Ogilvy. “Checkmated!” he announced. “Whipped to a frazzle. The + Colonel is lying, Buck, and I've caught him at it. As a matter of fact, + the mogul didn't kick those flats in at all. The switch-engine did—and + I know it. Now I'm going to send a man over to snoop around Pennington's + roundhouse and verify his report about the switch-engine being in the + shop.” + </p> + <p> + He did so. Half an hour later the messenger returned with the information + that not only was the switch-engine not in the shop but her fire-box had + been overhauled the week before and was reported to be in excellent + condition. + </p> + <p> + “That settles it,” Buck Ogilvy mourned. “He had gum-shoe men on my trail, + after all; they have reported, and the Colonel is as suspicious as a + rhino. He doesn't know anything, but he smells danger just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, Buck. So he is delaying the game until he can learn something + definite.” He drummed idly on his desk for several minutes. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Buck, can you run a locomotive?” + </p> + <p> + “With one hand, old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine business! Well, I guess we'll put in that crossing to-morrow night. + The switch-engine will be in the roundhouse at Pennington's mill to-morrow + night so we can't steal that; but we can steal the mogul. I'll just send + word up to my woods-boss not to have his train loaded when the mogul comes + up late to-morrow afternoon to haul it down to our log-landing. He will + explain to the engineer and fireman that our big bull donkey went out and + we couldn't get our logs down to the landing in time to get them loaded + that day. Of course, the engine-crew won't bother to run down to Sequoia + for the night—that is, they won't run the mogul down. They'll just + leave her at our log-landing all night and put up for the night at our + camp. However, if they should be forced, because of their private affairs, + to return to Sequoia, they'll borrow my trackwalker's velocipede. I have + one that is driven with a small gasolene engine—I use it in running + back and forth to the logging-camp in case I fail to connect with a + log-train.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know they will put up at your camp all night, Bryce?” + </p> + <p> + “My men will make them comfortable, and it means they can lie abed until + seven o'clock instead of having to roll out at five o'clock, which would + be the case if they spent the night at this end of the line. If they do + not stay at our logging-camp, the mogul will stay there, provided my + woods-foreman lends them my velocipede. The fireman would prefer that to + firing that big mogul all the way back to Sequoia.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Buck agreed, “I think he would.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a slight grade at our log-landing. I know that, because the air + leaked out of the brakes on a log-train I was on a short time ago, and the + train ran away with me. Now, the engine-crew will set the airbrakes on the + mogul and leave her with steam up to throb all night; they'll not blow her + down, for that would mean work firing her in the morning. Our task, Buck, + will be to throw off the airbrakes and let her glide silently out of our + log-landing. About a mile down the road we'll stop, get up steam, run down + to the junction with the main line, back in on the Laurel Creek spur, + couple on to those flat-cars and breeze merrily down to Sequoia with them. + They'll be loaded waiting for us; our men will be congregated in our + dry-yard just off Water Street near B, waiting for us to arrive with the + rails—and bingo—we go to it. After we drop the flats, we'll + run the engine back to the woods, leave it where we found it, return + a-flying on the velocipede, if it's there, or in my automobile, if it + isn't there. You can get back in ample time to superintend the cutting of + the crossing!” + </p> + <p> + “Spoken like a man!” quoth Buck Ogilvy. “You're the one man in this world + for whom I'd steal a locomotive. 'At-a boy!” + </p> + <p> + Had either of the conspirators known of Pennington's plans to entertain + Mayor Poundstone at dinner on Thursday night, it is probable they would + not have cheered until those flat-cars were out of the woods. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + Mayor Poundstone and his wife arrived at the Pennington home in Redwood + Boulevard at six forty-five Thursday evening. It was with a profound + feeling of relief that His Honour lifted the lady from their modest little + “flivver,” for once inside the Pennington house, he felt, he would be free + from a peculiarly devilish brand of persecution inaugurated by his wife + about three months previously. Mrs. Poundstone wanted a new automobile. + And she had entered upon a campaign of nagging and complaint; hoping to + wear Poundstone's resistance down to the point where he would be willing + to barter his hope of salvation in return for a guarantee of peace on + earth. + </p> + <p> + “I feel like a perfect fool, calling upon these people in this filthy + little rattletrap,” Mrs. Poundstone protested as they passed up the cement + walk toward the Pennington portal. + </p> + <p> + Mayor Poundstone paused. Had he been Medusa, the glance he bent upon his + spouse would have transformed her instantly into a not particularly + symmetrical statue of concrete. He had reached the breaking-point. + </p> + <p> + “In pity's name, woman,” he growled, “talk about something else. Give me + one night of peace. Let me enjoy my dinner and this visit.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it,” Mrs. P. retorted with asperity. She pointed to Shirley + Sumner's car parked under the porte-cochere. “If I had a sedan like that, + I could die happy. And it only cost thirty-two hundred and fifty dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “I paid six hundred and fifty for the rattletrap, and I couldn't afford + that,” he almost whimpered. “You were happy with it until I was elected + mayor.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget our social position, my dear,” she purred sweetly. + </p> + <p> + He could have struck her. “Hang your social position,” he gritted + savagely. “Shut up, will you? Social position in a sawmill town! Rats!” + </p> + <p> + “Sh—sh! Control yourself, Henry!” She plucked gently at his arm; + with her other hand she lifted the huge knocker on the front door. + </p> + <p> + “Dammit, you'll drive me crazy yet,” Poundstone gurgled, and subsided. + </p> + <p> + The Pennington butler, a very superior person, opened the door and swept + them with a faintly disapproving glance. It is possible that he found + Mayor Poundstone, who was adorned with a white string tie, a soft slouch + hat, a Prince Albert coat, and horseshoe cut vest, mildly amusing. + </p> + <p> + The Poundstones entered. At the entrance to the living room the butler + announced sonorously: “Mayor Poundstone and Mrs. Poundstone.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you aboard the ship,” Colonel Pennington boomed with his best + air of hearty expansiveness. “Well, well,” he continued, leading Mrs. + Poundstone to a divan in front of the fire, “this is certainly delightful. + My niece will be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Have a cigarette, + Mr. Poundstone.” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of the commonplace chatter incident to such occasions, + Shirley entered the room; and the Colonel, leaving her to entertain the + guests, went to a small sideboard in one corner and brought forth the + “materials,” as he jocularly termed them. James appeared like magic with a + tray, glasses, and tiny serviettes, and the Colonel's elixir was passed to + the company. + </p> + <p> + “To your beautiful eyes, Mrs. Poundstone,” was Pennington's debonair toast + as he fixed Mrs. P.'s green orbs with his own. “Poundstone, your very good + health, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Dee-licious,” murmured Mrs. Poundstone. “Perfectly dee-licious. And not a + bit strong!” + </p> + <p> + “Have another,” her hospitable host suggested, and he poured it, quite + oblivious of the frightened wink which the mayor telegraphed his wife. + </p> + <p> + “I will, if Miss Sumner will join me,” Mrs. P. acquiesced. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. I seldom drink a cocktail, and one is always my limit,” Shirley + replied smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” the Colonel retorted agreeably, “we'll make it a + three-cornered festival. Poundstone, smoke up.” + </p> + <p> + They “smoked up,” and Poundstone prayed to his rather nebulous gods that + Mrs. P. would not discuss automobiles during the dinner. + </p> + <p> + Alas! The Colonel's cocktails were not unduly fortified, but for all that, + the two which Mrs. Poundstone had assimilated contained just sufficient + “kick” to loosen the lady's tongue without thickening it. Consequently, + about the time the piece de resistance made its appearance, she threw + caution to the winds and adverted to the subject closest to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “I was telling Henry as we came up the walk how greatly I envied you that + beautiful sedan, Miss Sumner,” she gushed. “Isn't it a perfectly stunning + car?” + </p> + <p> + Poundstone made one futile attempt to head her off. “And I was telling + Mrs. Poundstone,” he struck in with a pathetic attempt to appear humorous + and condescending, “that a little jitney was our gait, and that she might + as well abandon her passionate yearning for a closed car. Angelina, my + dear, something tells me I'm going to enjoy this dinner a whole lot more + if you'll just make up your mind to be real nice and resign yourself to + the inevitable.” + </p> + <p> + “Never, my dear, never.” She shook a coy finger at him. “You dear old + tightie,” she cooed, “you don't realize what a closed car means to a + woman.” She turned to Shirley. “How an open car does blow one around, my + dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said Shirley innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Heard the McKinnon people had a man killed up in their woods yesterday, + Colonel,” Poundstone remarked, hoping against hope to divert the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The fellow's own fault,” Pennington replied. “He was one of those + employees who held to the opinion that every man is the captain of his own + soul and the sole proprietor of his own body—hence that it behooved + him to look after both, in view of the high cost of safety-appliances. He + was warned that the logging-cable was weak at that old splice and liable + to pull out of the becket—and sure enough it did. The free end of + the cable snapped back like a whip, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I hold to the opinion,” Mrs. Poundstone interrupted, “that if one wishes + for a thing hard enough and just keeps on wishing, one is bound to get + it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Mr. Poundstone impressively, “if you would only confine + yourself to wishing, I assure you your chances for success would be + infinitely brighter.” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking this rebuke; even two cocktails were powerless to + render Mrs. Poundstone oblivious to it. Shirley and her uncle saw the + Mayor's lady flush slightly; they caught the glint of murder in His + Honour's eye; and the keen intelligence of each warned them that closed + cars should be a closed topic of conversation with the Poundstones. With + the nicest tact in the world, Shirley adroitly changed the subject to some + tailored shirt-waists she had observed in the window of a local dry-goods + emporium that day, and Mrs. Poundstone subsided. + </p> + <p> + About nine o'clock, Shirley, in response to a meaning glance from her + relative, tactfully convoyed Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, leaving her uncle + alone with his prey. Instantly Pennington got down to business. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he queried, apropos of nothing, “what do you hear with reference + to the Northern-California-Gregon Railroad?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the usual amount of wind, Colonel. Nobody knows what to make of that + outfit.” + </p> + <p> + Pennington studied the end of his cigar a moment. “Well, I don't know what + to think of that project either,” he admitted presently, “But while it + looks like a fake, I have a suspicion that where there's so much smoke, + one is likely to discover a little fire. I've been waiting to see whether + or not they will apply for a franchise to enter the city, but they seem to + be taking their time about it.” + </p> + <p> + “They certainly are a deliberate crowd,” the Mayor murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Have they made any move to get a franchise?” Pennington asked bluntly. + “If they have, I suppose you would be the first man to hear about it. I + don't mean to be impertinent,” he added with a gracious smile, “but the + fact is I noticed that windbag Ogilvy entering your office in the city + hall the other afternoon, and I couldn't help wondering whether his visit + was social or official.” + </p> + <p> + “Social—so far as I could observe,” Poundstone replied truthfully, + wondering just how much Pennington knew, and rather apprehensive that he + might get caught in a lie before the evening was over. + </p> + <p> + “Preliminary to the official visit, I dare say.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel puffed thoughtfully for a while—for which the Mayor was + grateful, since it provided time in which to organize himself. Suddenly, + however, Pennington turned toward his guest and fixed the latter with a + serious glance. + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't anticipated discussing this matter with you, Poundstone, and you + must forgive me for it; but the fact is—I might as well be frank + with you—I am very greatly interested in the operation of this + proposed railroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Financially?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not in the financial way you think. If that railroad is built, + it will have a very distinct effect on my finances.” + </p> + <p> + “In just what way?” + </p> + <p> + “Disastrous.” + </p> + <p> + “I am amazed, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't if you had given the subject very close consideration. The + logical route for this railroad is from Willits north to Sequoia, not from + Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, Oregon. Such a road as the N.C.O. + contemplates will tap about one third of the redwood belt only, while a + line built in from the south will tap two thirds of it. The remaining + third can be tapped by an extension of my own logging-road; when my own + timber is logged out, I will want other business for my road, and if the + N.C.O. parallels it, I will be left with two streaks of rust on my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I perceive. So it will, so it will!” + </p> + <p> + “You agree with me, then, Poundstone, that the N.C.O. is not designed to + foster the best interests of the community. Of course you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hadn't given the subject very mature thought, Colonel, but in the + light of your observations it would appear that you are quite right.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am right. I take it, therefore, that when the N.C.O. applies + for its franchise to run through Sequoia, neither you nor your city + council will consider the proposition at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot, of course, speak for the city council—” Poundstone began, + but Pennington's cold, amused smile froze further utterance. + </p> + <p> + “Be frank with me, Poundstone. I am not a child. What I would like to know + is this: will you exert every effort to block that franchise in the firm + conviction that by so doing you will accomplish a laudable public + service?” + </p> + <p> + Poundstone squirmed. “I should not care, at this time, to go on record,” + he replied evasively. “When I have had time to look into the matter more + thoroughly—” + </p> + <p> + “Tut-tut, my dear man! Let us not straddle the fence. Business is a game, + and so is politics. Neither knows any sentiment. Suppose you should favour + this N.C.O. crowd in a mistaken idea that you were doing the right thing, + and that subsequently numberless fellow-citizens developed the idea that + you had not done your public duty? Would some of them not be likely to + invoke a recall election and retire you and your city council—in + disgrace?” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if they could defeat me, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no such doubt,” Pennington replied pointedly. + </p> + <p> + Poundstone looked up at him from under lowered lids. “Is that a threat?” + he demanded tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow! Threaten my guest!” Pennington laughed patronizingly. “I + am giving you advice, Poundstone—and rather good advice, it strikes + me. However, while we're on the subject, I have no hesitancy in telling + you that in the event of a disastrous decision on your part, I should not + feel justified in supporting you.” + </p> + <p> + He might, with equal frankness, have said: “I would smash you.” To his + guest his meaning was not obscure. Poundstone studied the pattern of the + rug, and Pennington, watching him sharply, saw that the man was + distressed. Then suddenly one of those brilliant inspirations, or flashes + of rare intuition, which had helped so materially to fashion Pennington + into a captain of industry, came to him. He resolved on a bold stroke. + </p> + <p> + “Let's not beat about the bush, Poundstone,” he said with the air of a + father patiently striving to induce his child to recant a lie, tell the + truth, and save himself from the parental wrath. “You've been doing + business with Ogilvy; I know it for a fact, and you might as well admit + it.” + </p> + <p> + Poundstone looked up, red and embarrassed. “If I had known—” he + began. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly! I realize you acted in perfect good faith. You're + like the majority of people in Sequoia. You're all so crazy for + rail-connection with the outside world that you jump at the first plan + that seems to promise you one. Now, I'm as eager as the others, but if we + are going to have a railroad, I, for one, desire the right kind of + railroad; and the N.C.O. isn't the right kind—that is, not for the + interests I represent. Have you promised Ogilvy a franchise?” + </p> + <p> + There was no dodging that question. A denial, under the present + circumstances, would be tantamount to an admission; Poundstone could not + guess just how much the Colonel really knew, and it would not do to lie to + him, since eventually the lie must be discovered. Caught between the horns + of a dilemma, Poundstone only knew that Ogilvy could never be to him such + a powerful enemy as Colonel Seth Pennington; so, after the fashion of his + kind, he chose the lesser of two evils. He resolved to “come clean.” + </p> + <p> + “The city council has already granted the N.C.O. a temporary franchise,” + he confessed. + </p> + <p> + Pennington sprang furiously to his feet. “Dammit.” he snarled, “why did + you do that without consulting me?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't know you were remotely interested.” Now that the ice was broken, + Poundstone felt relieved and was prepared to defend his act vigorously. + “And we did not commit ourselves irrevocably,” he continued. “The + temporary franchise will expire in twenty-eight days—and in that + short time the N.C.O. cannot even get started.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any understanding as to an extension of that temporary + franchise, in case the N.C.O. desires it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes—not in writing, however. I gave Ogilvy to understand that + if he was not ready in thirty days, an extension could readily be + arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “Any witnesses?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not such a fool, sir,” Poundstone declared with asperity. “I had a + notion—I might as well admit it—that you would have serious + objection to having your tracks cut by a jump-crossing at B and Water + streets.” And for no reason in life except to justify himself and + inculcate in Pennington an impression that the latter was dealing with a + crafty and far-seeing mayor, Poundstone smiled boldly and knowingly. “I + repeat,” he said, “that I did not put it in writing.” He leaned back + nonchalantly and blew smoke at the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “You oily rascal!” Pennington soliloquized. “You're a smarter man than I + thought. You're trying to play both ends against the middle.” He recalled + the report of his private detective and the incident of Ogilvy's visit to + young Henry Poundstone's office with a small leather bag; he was more than + ever convinced that this bag had contained the bribe, in gold coin, which + had been productive of that temporary franchise and the verbal + understanding for its possible extension. + </p> + <p> + “Ogilvy did business with you through your son Henry,” he challenged. + Poundstone started violently. “How much did Henry get out of it?” + Pennington continued brutally. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred and fifty dollars retainer, and not a cent more,” Poundstone + protested virtuously—and truthfully. + </p> + <p> + “You're not so good a business man as I gave you credit for being,” the + Colonel retorted mirthfully “Two hundred and fifty dollars! Oh, Lord! + Poundstone, you're funny. Upon my word, you're a scream.” And the Colonel + gave himself up to a sincerely hearty laugh. “You call it a retainer,” he + continued presently, “but a grand jury might call it something else. + However,” he went on after a slight pause, “you're not in politics for + your health; so let's get down to brass tacks. How much do you want to + deny the N.C.O. not only an extension of that temporary franchise but also + a permanent franchise when they apply for it?” + </p> + <p> + Poundstone rose with great dignity. “Colonel Pennington, sir,” he said, + “you insult me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down. You've been insulted that way before now. Shall we say one + thousand dollars per each for your three good councilmen and true, and for + yourself that sedan of my niece's? It's a good car. Last year's model, but + only run about four thousand miles and in tiptop condition. It's always + had the best of care, and I imagine it will please Mrs. P. immensely and + grant you surcease from sorrow. Of course, I will not give it to you. I'll + sell it to you—five hundred down upon the signing of the agreement, + and in lieu of the cash, I will take over that jitney Mrs. Poundstone + finds so distasteful. Then I will employ your son Henry as the attorney + for the Laguna Grande Lumber Company and give him a retainer of + twenty-five hundred dollars for one year. I will leave it to you to get + this twenty-five hundred dollars from Henry and pay my niece cash for the + car. Doesn't that strike you as a perfectly safe and sane proposition?” + </p> + <p> + Had a vista of paradise opened up before Mr. Poundstone, he could not have + been more thrilled. He had been absolutely honest in his plea to Mrs. + Poundstone that he could not afford a thirty-two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar + sedan, much as he longed to oblige her and gain a greatly to be desired + peace. And now the price was dangling before his eyes, so to speak. At any + rate it was parked in the porte-cochere not fifty feet distant! + </p> + <p> + For the space of a minute the Mayor weighed his son's future as a + corporation attorney against his own future as mayor of Sequoia—and + Henry lost. + </p> + <p> + “It might be arranged, Colonel,” he murmured in a low voice—the + voice of shame. + </p> + <p> + “It is already arranged,” the Colonel replied cheerfully. “Leave your jit + at the front gate and drive home in Shirley's car. I'll arrange matters + with her.” He laughed shortly. “It means, of course, that I'll have to + telegraph to San Francisco to-morrow and buy her a later model. Thank + goodness, she has a birthday to-morrow! Have a fresh cigar, Mayor.” + </p> + <p> + Riding home that night in Shirley Sumner's car Mrs. Poundstone leaned + suddenly toward her husband, threw a fat arm around his neck and kissed + him. “Oh, Henry, you darling!” she purred. “What did I tell you? If a + person only wishes hard enough—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go to the devil!” he roared angrily. “You've nagged me into it. Shut + up and take your arm away. Do you want me to wreck the car before we've + had it an hour?” + </p> + <p> + As for Colonel Pennington, he had little difficulty in explaining the deal + to Shirley, who was sleepy and not at all interested. The Poundstones had + bored her to extinction, and upon her uncle's assurance that she would + have a new car within a week, she thanked him and for the first time + retired without offering her cheek for his good-night kiss. Shortly + thereafter the Colonel sought his own virtuous couch and prepared to + surrender himself to the first good sleep in three weeks. He laid the + flattering unction to his soul that Bryce Cardigan had dealt him a poor + hand from a marked deck and he had played it exceedingly well. “Lucky I + blocked the young beggar from getting those rails out of the Laurel Creek + spur,” he mused, “or he'd have had his jump-crossing in overnight—and + then where the devil would I have been? Up Salt Creek without a paddle—and + all the courts in Christendom would avail me nothing.” + </p> + <p> + He was dozing off, when a sound smote upon his ears. Instantly he was wide + awake, listening intently, his head cocked on one side. The sound grew + louder; evidently it was approaching Sequoia—and with a bound the + Colonel sat up in bed, trembling in every limb. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, out of the deep, rumbling diapason he heard a sharp click—then + another and another. He counted them—six in all. + </p> + <p> + “A locomotive and two flat-cars!” he murmured. “And they just passed over + the switch leading from the main-line tracks out to my log-dump. That + means the train is going down Water Street to the switch into Cardigan's + yard. By George, they've outwitted me!” + </p> + <p> + With the agility of a boy he sprang into his clothes, raced downstairs, + and leaped into Mayor Poundstone's jitney, standing in the darkness at the + front gate. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + The success of Bryce Cardigan's plan for getting Ms rails down from Laurel + Creek depended entirely upon the whimsy which might seize the crew of the + big mogul that hauled the last load of logs out of Cardigan's redwoods on + Thursday afternoon. Should the engineer and fireman decide to leave the + locomotive at the logging-camp for the night, Bryce's task would be as + simple as turning a hose down a squirrel-hole. On the other hand, should + they run back to Sequoia with the engine, he and Ogilvy faced the + alternative of “borrowing” it from the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's + roundhouse; and that operation, in view of the fact that Pennington's + night watchman would be certain to hear the engine leaving, offered + difficulties. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the afternoon, after having sent his orders in writing to the + woods-boss, via George Sea Otter (for he dared not trust to the + telephone), be waited in his office for a telephone-call from the + logging-camp as to what action the engine-crew had taken. He could not + work; he could not think. He only knew that all depended upon the success + of his coup to-night. Finally, at a quarter of six, Curtis, his woods-boss + rang in. + </p> + <p> + “They're staying here all night, sir,” he reported. + </p> + <p> + “House them as far from the log-landing as possible, and organize a + poker-game to keep them busy in case they don't go to bed before eight + o'clock,” Bryce ordered. “In the meantime, send a man you can trust—Jim + Harding, who runs the big bull-donkey, will do—down to the + locomotive to keep steam up until I arrive.” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely hung up, when Buck Ogilvy came into the office. “Well?” he + queried casually. + </p> + <p> + “Safe-o, Buck!” replied Bryce. “How about your end of the contract?” + </p> + <p> + “Crowbars, picks, shovels, hack-saws to cut the rails, lanterns to work + by, and men to do the work will be cached in your lumber-yard by nine + o'clock, waiting for the rails to arrive.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce nodded his approval, “Then I suppose there's nothing to do but get a + bite of dinner and proceed to business.” + </p> + <p> + Buck insisted on keeping an engagement to dine with Moira, and Bryce + agreed to call for him at the Bon Gusto restaurant. Then Bryce went home + to dine with his father. Old Cardigan was happier than his son had seen + him since the return of the latter to Sequoia. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sonny, I've had a mighty pleasant afternoon,” he declared as Bryce + led him to the dinner-table. “I've been up to the Valley of the Giants.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce was amazed. “Why, how could you?” he demanded. “The old skid-road is + impassable, and after you leave the end of the skid-road, the trail in to + Mother's grave is so overgrown with buckthorn and wild lilac I doubt if a + rabbit could get through it comfortably.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” the old man replied. “Somebody has gone to work and + planked that old skid-road and put up a hand-railing on each side, while + the trail through the Giants has been grubbed out and smoothed over. All + that old logging-cable I abandoned in those choppings has been strung from + tree to tree alongside the path on both sides. I can go up there alone + now, once George sets me on the old skid-road; I can't get lost.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you discover this?” Bryce demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Moore, representing the new owner, called round this morning and + took me in tow. He said his client knew the property held for me a certain + sentimental value which wasn't transferred in the deed, and so the Judge + had been instructed to have the skid-road planked and the forest trail + grubbed out—for me. It appears that the Valley is going to be a + public park, after all, but for the present and while I live, it is my + private park.” + </p> + <p> + “This is perfectly amazing, partner.” + </p> + <p> + “It's mighty comforting,” his father admitted. “Guess the new owner must + be one of my old friends—perhaps somebody I did a favour for once—and + this is his way of repaying. Remember the old sugar-pine windfall we used + to sit on? Well, it's rotted through, and bears have clawed it into chips + in their search for grubs, but the new owner had a seat put in there for + me—just the kind of seat I like—a lumberjack's rocking-chair + made from an old vinegar-barrel. I sat in it, and the Judge left me, and I + did a right smart lot o' thinking. And while it didn't lead me anywhere, + still I—er—” + </p> + <p> + “You felt better, didn't you?” his son suggested. + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan nodded. “I'd like to know the name of the owner,” he said + presently. “I'd like mighty well to say thank you to him. It isn't usual + for people nowadays to have as much respect for sentiment in an old duffer + like me as the fellow has. He sort of makes me feel as if I hadn't sold at + all.” + </p> + <p> + Buck Ogilvy came out of the Bon Gusto restaurant with Moira, just as + Bryce, with George Sea Otter at the wheel of the Napier, drove up to the + curb. They left Moira at her boarding-house, and rolled noiselessly away. + </p> + <p> + At nine o'clock they arrived at Cardigan's log-landing and found Jim + Harding, the bull-donkey engineer, placidly smoking his pipe in the cab. + Bryce hailed him. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Jim?” + </p> + <p> + “You bet.” + </p> + <p> + “Run up to Jabe Curtis's shanty, and tell him we're here. Have him gather + his gang and bring two pairs of overalls and two jumpers—large size—with + him when he comes.” + </p> + <p> + Harding vanished into the darkness, and Buck Ogilvy climbed up into the + cab and glanced at the steam-gauge. “A hundred and forty,” he announced. + “Good enough!” + </p> + <p> + Presently the woods-boss, accompanied by thirty of his best men, came down + to the log-landing. At Bryce's order they clambered aboard the engine and + tender, hanging on the steps, on the roof of the cab, on the cowcatcher—anywhere + they could find a toe-hold. Harding cast aside the two old ties which the + careful engine-crew had placed across the tracks in front of the drivers + as additional precaution; Buck Ogilvy cut off the air, and the locomotive + and tender began to glide slowly down the almost imperceptible grade. With + a slight click it cleared the switch and slid out onto the Cardigan + lateral, swiftly gathering speed. A quarter of a mile down the line Buck + Ogilvy applied the brakes and eased her down to twenty miles per hour. + </p> + <p> + At the junction with the main line Buck backed briskly up into the Laguna + Grande woods, and coupled to the two loaded flat-cars. The woods-gang + scrambled aboard the flats, and the train pulled out for Sequoia. Forty + minutes later they rumbled down Water Street and slid to a grinding halt + at the intersection of B Street. + </p> + <p> + From the darkness of Cardigan's drying-yard, where they had been waiting, + twenty picked men of the mill-crew now emerged, bearing lanterns and + tools. Under Buck Ogilvy's direction the dirt promptly began to fly, while + the woods-crew unloaded the rails and piled them close to the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a voice, harsh and strident with passion, rose above the thud of + the picks and the clang of metal. + </p> + <p> + “Who's in charge here, and what in blazes do you mean by cutting my + tracks?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce turned in time to behold Colonel Seth Pennington leap from an + automobile and advance upon Buck Ogilvy. Ogilvy held a lantern up to the + Colonel's face and surveyed Pennington calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” he began with exasperating politeness, “—I presume you + are Colonel Pennington—my name is Buchanan P. Ogilvy, and I am in + charge of these operations. I am the vice-president and general manager of + the N.C.O., and I am engaged in the blithe task of making a jump-crossing + of your rails. I had hoped to accomplish this without your knowledge or + consent, but now that you are here, that hope, of course, has died + a-bornin'. Have a cigar.” And he thrust a perfecco under the Colonel's + nose. Pennington struck it to the ground, and on the instant, half a dozen + rough rascals emptied their shovels over him. He was deluged with dirt. + </p> + <p> + “Stand back, Colonel, stand back, if you please. You're in the way of the + shovellers,” Buck Ogilvy warned him soothingly. + </p> + <p> + Bryce Cardigan came over, and at sight of him Pennington choked with fury. + “You—you—” he sputtered, unable to say more. + </p> + <p> + “I'm the N.C.O.,” Bryce replied. “Nice little fiction that of yours about + the switch-engine being laid up in the shops and the Laurel Creek bridge + being unsafe for this big mogul.” He looked Pennington over with frank + admiration. “You're certainly on the job, Colonel. I'll say that much for + you. The man who plans to defeat you must jump far and fast, or his tail + will be trod on.” + </p> + <p> + “You've stolen my engine,” Pennington almost screamed. “I'll have the law + on you for grand larceny.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut-tut! You don't know who stole your engine. For all you know, your own + engine-crew may have run it down here.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll attend to you, sir,” Pennington replied, and he turned to enter + Mayor Poundstone's little flivver. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night, at least,” Bryce retorted gently. “Having gone this far, I + would be a poor general to permit you to escape now with the news of your + discovery. You'd be down here in an hour with a couple of hundred members + of your mill-crew and give us the rush. You will oblige me, Colonel + Pennington, by remaining exactly where you are until I give you permission + to depart.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I refuse—” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall manhandle you, truss you up like a fowl in the tonneau of + your car, and gag you.” + </p> + <p> + To Bryce's infinite surprise the Colonel smiled. “Oh, very well!” he + replied. “I guess you've got the bulge on me, young man. Do you mind if I + sit in the warm cab of my own engine? I came away in such a hurry I quite + forgot my overcoat.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I'll sit up there and keep you company.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour passed. An automobile came slowly up Water Street and paused + half a block away, evidently reconnoitering the situation. Instantly the + Colonel thrust his head out the cab window. + </p> + <p> + “Sexton!” he shouted. “Cardigan's cutting in a crossing. He's holding me + here against my will. Get the mill-crew together and phone for Rondeau and + his woods-crew. Send the switch-engine and a couple of flats up for them. + Phone Poundstone. Tell him to have the chief of police—” + </p> + <p> + Bryce Cardigan's great hand closed over the Colonel's neck, while down + Water Street a dark streak that was Buck Ogilvy sped toward the + automobile, intending to climb in and make Pennington's manager a prisoner + also. He was too late, however. Sexton swung his car and departed at full + speed down Water Street, leaving the disappointed Buck to return panting + to the scene of operations. + </p> + <p> + Bryce Cardigan released his hold on Pennington's neck. “You win, Colonel,” + he announced. “No good can come of holding you here any longer. Into your + car and on your way.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, young man,” the Colonel answered, and there was a metallic + ring in his voice. He looked at his watch in the glare of a torch. “Plenty + of time,” he murmured. “Curfew shall not ring to-night.” Quite + deliberately he climbed into the Mayor's late source of woe and breezed + away. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pennington did not at once return to his home, however. Instead, + he drove up to the business centre of the town. The streets were deserted, + but one saloon—the Sawdust Pile—was still open. + </p> + <p> + Pennington strode through the bar and into the back room, where a number + of poker-games were in progress. For a moment he stood, his cold, ophidian + glance circling the room until it came to rest on no less a personage than + the Black Minorca, an individual with whom the reader has already had some + slight acquaintance. It will be recalled that the Black Minorca led the + futile rush against Bryce Cardigan that day in Pennington's woods. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel approached the table where the Black Minorca sat thumbing the + edges of his cards, and touched the cholo on the shoulder. The Black + Minorca turned, and Pennington nodded to him to follow; whereupon the + latter cashed in his chips and joined his employer on the sidewalk. Here a + whispered conversation ensued, and at its conclusion the Black Minorca + nodded vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” he assured the Colonel. “I'll fix 'em good and plenty.” + </p> + <p> + Together Pennington and the Black Minorca entered the automobile and + proceeded swiftly to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's mill-office. From + a locker the Colonel produced a repeating rifle and three boxes of + cartridges, which he handed to the cholo, who departed without further ado + into the night. + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later, from the top of a lumber-pile in Cardigan's + drying-yard, Bryce Cardigan saw the flash of a rifle and felt a sudden + sting on his left forearm. He leaped around in front of the cowcatcher to + gain the shelter of the engine, and another bullet struck at his feet and + ricocheted off into the night. It was followed by a fusillade, the bullets + kicking up the freshly disturbed earth among the workers and sending them + scurrying to various points of safety. In an instant the crossing was + deserted, and work had been stopped, while from the top of the adjacent + lumber-pile the Black Minorca poured a stream of lead and filthy invective + at every point which he suspected of harbouring a Cardigan follower. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think he's hurt anybody,” Buck Ogilvy whispered as he crouched + with Bryce beside the engine, “but that's due to his marksmanship rather + than his intentions.” + </p> + <p> + “He tried hard enough to plug me,” Bryce declared, and showed the hole + through his sleeve. “They call him the Black Minorca, and he's a mongrel + greaser who'd kill his own mother for a fifty-dollar bill.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to plug him,” Buck murmured regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “What would be the use? This will be his last night in Humboldt County—” + </p> + <p> + A rifle shot rang out from the side of B Street; from the lumber-pile + across the street, Bryce and Ogilvy heard a suppressed grunt of pain, and + a crash as of a breaking board. Instantly out of the shadows George Sea + Otter came padding on velvet feet, rifle in hand—and then Bryce + understood. + </p> + <p> + “All right, boss,” said George simply as he joined Bryce and Ogilvy under + the lee of the locomotive. “Now we get busy again.” + </p> + <p> + “Safe-o, men,” Ogilvy called. “Back to the job.” And while Bryce, followed + by the careless George Sea Otter, went into the lumber-yard to succour the + enemy, Ogilvy set an example to the men by stepping into the open and + starting briskly to work with a shovel. + </p> + <p> + At the bottom of the pile of lumber the Black Minorca was discovered with + a severe flesh-wound in his right hip; also he was suffering from numerous + bruises and contusions. George Sea Otter possessed himself of the fallen + cholo's rifle, while Bryce picked the wretch up and carried him to his + automobile. + </p> + <p> + “Take the swine over to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's hospital and + tell them to patch him up,” he ordered George Sea Otter. “I'll keep both + rifles and the ammunition here for Jules Rondeau and his woods-gang. + They'll probably be dropping in on us about two a.m., if I know anything + about Colonel Pennington's way of doing things.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + Having dispatched the Black Minorca to hold up the work until the arrival + of reinforcements, Colonel Pennington fairly burned the streets en route + to his home. He realized that there would be no more sleep for him that + night, and he was desirous of getting into a heavy ulster before venturing + forth again into the night air. + </p> + <p> + The violent slam with which he closed the front door after him brought + Shirley, in dressing-gown and slippers, to the staircase. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Seth!” she called. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he replied from the hall below. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “There's the devil to pay,” he answered. “That fellow Cardigan is back of + the N.C.O., after all, and he and Ogilvy have a gang of fifty men down at + the intersection of Water and B streets, cutting in a jump-crossing of our + line.” + </p> + <p> + He dashed into the living room, and she heard him calling frantically into + the telephone. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” she murmured, and crept down the stairs, pausing behind the + heavy portieres at the entrance to the living room. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Poundstone?” she heard him saying rapidly into the transmitter. + “Pennington speaking. Young Bryce Cardigan is behind that N.C.O. outfit, + and it's a logging-road and not intended to build through to Grant's Pass + at all. Cardigan and Ogilvy are at Water and B streets this very instant + with a gang of fifty men cutting in a jump-crossing of my line, curse + them! They'll have it in by six o'clock to-morrow morning if something + isn't done—and once they get it in, the fat's in the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Telephone the chief of police and order him to take his entire force down + there, if necessary, and stop that work. To blazes with that temporary + franchise! You stop that work for two hours, and I'll do the rest. Tell + the chief of police not to recognize that temporary franchise. He can be + suspicious of it, can't he, and refuse to let the work go on until he + finds you? And you can be hard to find for two hours, can you not? Delay, + delay, man! That's all I want... Yes, yes, I understand. You get down + about daylight and roast the chief of police for interfering, but in the + meantime!... Thank you, Poundstone, thank you. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + He stood at the telephone, the receiver still held to his ear and his + right forefinger holding down the hook while the line cleared. When he + spoke again, Shirley knew he was calling his mill-office. He got a + response immediately, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. + </p> + <p> + “Sexton? Pennington speaking. I've sent over the Black Minorca with a + rifle and sixty rounds of ammunition... What? You can hear him shooting + already? Bully boy with a crockery eye! He'll clean that gang out and keep + them from working until the police arrive. You've telephoned Rondeau, have + you?... Good! He'll have his men waiting at the log-landing, and there'll + be no delay. As soon as you've seen the switch-engine started for the + woods, meet me down at Water and B streets. Sexton, we've got to block + them. It means a loss of millions to me if we fail!” + </p> + <p> + Shirley was standing in the doorway as he faced about from the telephone. + “Uncle Seth,” she said quietly, “use any honourable method of defeating + Bryce Cardigan, but call off the Black Minorca. I shall hold you + personally responsible for Bryce Cardigan's life, and if you fail me, I + shall never forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly, silly girl!” he soothed her. “Don't you know I would not stoop to + bush-whacking? There's some shooting going on, but its wild shooting, just + to frighten Cardigan and his men off the job.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't frighten him,” she cried passionately, “You know you can't. + He'll kill the Black Minorca, or the Black Minorca will kill him. Go + instantly and stop it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, all right!” he said rather humbly, and sprang down the front + steps into the waiting car. “I'll play the game fairly, Shirley, never + fear.” + </p> + <p> + She stood in the doorway and watched the red tail-light, like a malevolent + eye, disappear down the street. And presently as she stood there, down the + boulevard a huge gray car came slipping noiselessly—so noiselessly, + in fact, that Shirley recognized it by that very quality of silence. It + was Bryce Cardigan's Napier. + </p> + <p> + “George!” she called. “Come here.” + </p> + <p> + The car slid over to the gate and stopped at the sight of the slim white + figure running down the garden walk. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Cardigan hurt?” she demanded in an agony of suspense. + </p> + <p> + George Sea Otter grunted contemptuously. “Nobody hurt 'cept the Black + Minorca. I am taking him to your company hospital, miss. He tried to shoot + my boss, so I shoot him myself once through the leg. Now my boss says: + 'Take him to the Laguna Grande hospital, George.' Me, I would drop this + greaser in the bay if I was the boss.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed hysterically. “On your way back from the hospital stop and + pick me up, George,” she ordered. “This senseless feud has gone far + enough. I must stop it—at once.” + </p> + <p> + He touched his broad hat, and she returned to the house to dress. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Colonel Pennington had reached the crossing once more, + simultaneously with the arrival of Sam Perkins, the chief of police, + accompanied by two automobiles crammed with patrolmen. Perkins strutted up + to Bryce Cardigan and Buck Ogilvy. + </p> + <p> + “What's the meaning of all this row, Mr. Cardigan?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Something has slipped, Sam,” Bryce retorted pleasantly. “You've been + calling me Bryce for the past twenty years, and now you're mistering me! + The meaning of this row, you ask?” Bryce continued. “Well, I'm engaged in + making a jump-crossing of Colonel Pennington's tracks, under a temporary + franchise granted me by the city of Sequoia. Here's the franchise.” And he + thrust the document under the police chief's nose. + </p> + <p> + “This is the first I've heard about any franchise,” Sam Perkins replied + suspiciously. “Seems to me you been mighty secret about this job. How do I + know this ain't a forgery?” + </p> + <p> + “Call up the mayor and ask him,” Bryce suggested. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do that,” quoth Mr. Perkins ponderously. “And in the meantime, don't + do any more digging or rail-cutting.” He hurried away to his automobile, + leaving a lieutenant in charge of the squad. + </p> + <p> + “Also in the meantime, young man,” Colonel Pennington announced, “you will + pardon me if I take possession of my locomotive and flat-cars. I observe + you have finished unloading those rails.” + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself, Colonel,” Bryce replied with an assumption of heartiness + he was far from feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much, Cardigan.” With the greatest good nature in life, + Pennington climbed into the cab, reached for the bell-cord, and rang the + bell vigorously. Then he permitted himself a triumphant toot of the + whistle, after which he threw off the air and gently opened the throttle. + He was not a locomotive-engineer but he had ridden in the cab of his own + locomotive and felt quite confident of his ability in a pinch. + </p> + <p> + With a creak and a bump the train started, and the Colonel ran it slowly + up until the locomotive stood on the tracks exactly where Buck Ogilvy had + been cutting in his crossing; whereupon the Colonel locked the brakes, + opened his exhaust, and blew the boiler down. And when the last ounce of + steam had escaped, he descended and smilingly accosted Bryce Cardigan. + </p> + <p> + “That engine being my property,” he announced, “I'll take the short end of + any bet you care to make, young man, that it will sit on those tracks + until your temporary franchise expires. I'd give a good deal to see + anybody not in my employ attempt to get up steam in that boiler until I + give the word. Cut in your jump-crossing now, if you can, you whelp, and + be damned to you. I've got you blocked!” + </p> + <p> + “I rather imagine this nice gentleman has it on us, old dear,” chirped + Buck Ogilvy plaintively. “Well! We did our damndest, which angels can't do + no more. Let us gather up our tools and go home, my son, for something + tells me that if I hang around here I'll bust one of two things—this + sleek scoundrel's gray head or one of my bellicose veins! Hello! Whom have + we here?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce turned and found himself facing Shirley Sumner. Her tender lip was + quivering, and the tears shone in her eyes like stars. He stared at her in + silence. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” she murmured tremulously, “didn't I tell you I would not + permit you to build the N.C.O.?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head in rage and shame at his defeat. Buck Ogilvy took him by + the arm. “''Tis midnight's holy hour,'” he quoted, “'and silence now is + brooding like a gentle spirit o'er a still and pulseless world.' Bryce, + old chap, this is one of those occasions where silence is golden. Speak + not. I'll do it for you. Miss Sumner,” he continued, bowing graciously, + “and Colonel Pennington,” favouring that triumphant rascal with an equally + gracious bow, “we leave you in possession of the field—temporarily. + However, if anybody should drive up in a hack and lean out and ask you, + just tell him Buck Ogilvy has another trump tucked away in his kimono.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce turned to go, but with a sudden impulse Shirley laid her hand on his + arm—his left arm. “Bryce!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + He lifted her hand gently from his forearm, led her to the front of the + locomotive, and held her hand up to the headlight. Her fingers were + crimson with blood. + </p> + <p> + “Your uncle's killer did that, Shirley,” he said ironically. “It's only a + slight flesh-wound, but that is no fault of your allies. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + And he left her standing, pale of face and trembling, in the white glare + of the headlight. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + Shirley made no effort to detain Bryce Cardigan as he walked to his car + and climbed into it. Ogilvy remained merely long enough to give orders to + the foreman to gather up the tools, store them in the machine-shop of + Cardigan's mill, and dismiss his gang; then he, too, entered the + automobile, and at a word from Bryce, the car slid noiselessly away into + the darkness. The track-cutting crew departed a few minutes later, and + when Shirley found herself alone with her uncle, the tumult in her heart + gave way to the tears she could no longer repress. Pennington stood by, + watching her curiously, coldly. + </p> + <p> + Presently Shirley mastered her emotion and glanced toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear?” he queried nervously. + </p> + <p> + “I—I think I had better go home,” she said without spirit. + </p> + <p> + “I think so, too,” he answered. “Get into the Mayor's flivver, my dear, + and I'll drive you. And perhaps the least said about this affair the + better, Shirley. There are many things that you do not understand and + which cannot be elucidated by discussion.” + </p> + <p> + “I can understand an attempt at assassination, Uncle Seth.” + </p> + <p> + “That blackguard Minorca! I should have known better than to put him on + such a job. I told him to bluff and threaten; Cardigan, I knew, would + realize the grudge the Black Minorca has against him, and for that reason + I figured the greaser was the only man who could bluff him. While I gave + him orders to shoot, I told him distinctly not to hit anybody. Good Lord, + Shirley, surely you do not think I would wink at a murder!” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she answered passionately. “With Bryce Cardigan out of the way, + you would have a clear field before you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, my dear! Surely you do not realize what you are saying. You + are beside yourself, Shirley. Please—please do not wound me so—so + horribly. You do not—you cannot realize what a desperate fight I + have been putting up for both our sakes. I am surrounded by enemies—the + most implacable enemies. They force me to fight the devil with fire—and + here you are, giving them aid and comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to defeat Bryce Cardigan, if you can do it fairly.” + </p> + <p> + “At another time and in a calmer mood we will discuss that villain,” he + said authoritatively. “If we argue the matter now, we are liable to + misunderstandings; we may quarrel, and that is something neither of us can + afford. Get into the car, and we will go home. There is nothing more to be + done to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sophistry does not alter my opinion,” she replied firmly. “However, + as you say, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it.” + </p> + <p> + They drove home in silence. Shirley went at once to her room. For the + Colonel, however, the night's work had scarcely begun. The instant he + heard the door to his niece's room shut, he went to the telephone and + called up the Laguna Grande roundhouse. Sexton, his manager, answered. + </p> + <p> + “Have you sent the switch-engine to the woods for Rondeau and his men?” + </p> + <p> + “Just left.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now, then, Sexton, listen to me: As you know, this raid of + Cardigan's has developed so suddenly I am more or less taken by surprise + and have had no time to prepare the kind of counter-attack that will be + most effective. However, with the crossing blocked, I gain time in which + to organize—only there must be no weak point in my organization. In + order to insure that, I am proceeding to San Francisco to-night by motor, + via the coast road. I will arrive late to-morrow night, and early Saturday + morning I will appear in the United States District Court with our + attorneys and file a complaint and petition for an order temporarily + restraining the N.C.O. from cutting our tracks. + </p> + <p> + “I will have to make an affidavit to support the complaint, so I had + better be Johnny-on-the-spot to do it, rather than risk the delay of + making the affidavit tomorrow morning here and forwarding it by mail to + our attorneys. The judge will sign a restraining order, returnable in from + ten to thirty days—I'll try for thirty, because that will knock out + the N.C.O.'s temporary franchise—and after I have obtained the + restraining order, I will have the United States marshal telegraph it to + Ogilvy and Cardigan!” + </p> + <p> + “Bully!” cried Sexton heartily. “That will fix their clock.” + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime,” Pennington continued, “logs will be glutting our + landings. We need that locomotive for its legitimate purposes. Take all + that discarded machinery and the old boiler we removed from the mill last + fall, dump it on the tracks at the crossing, and get the locomotive back + on its run. Understand? The other side, having no means of removing these + heavy obstructions, will be blocked until I return; by that time the + matter will be in the District Court, Cardigan will be hung up until his + temporary franchise expires—and the city council will not renew it. + Get me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be back Sunday forenoon. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + He hung up, went to his chauffeur's quarters over the garage, and routed + the man out of bed. Then he returned quietly to his room, dressed and + packed a bag for his journey, left a brief note for Shirley notifying her + of his departure, and started on his two-hundred-and-fifty mile trip over + the mountains to the south. As his car sped through sleeping Sequoia and + gained the open country, the Colonel's heart thrilled pleasurably. He held + cards and spades, big and little casino, four aces and the joker; + therefore he knew he could sweep the board at his pleasure. And during his + absence Shirley would have opportunity to cool off, while he would find + time to formulate an argument to lull her suspicions upon his return. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + Quite oblivious of her uncle's departure for San Francisco, Shirley lay + awake throughout the remainder of the night, turning over and over in her + mind the various aspects of the Cardigan-Fennington imbroglio. Of one + thing she was quite certain; peace must be declared at all hazards. She + had been obsessed of a desire, rather unusual in her sex, to see a fight + worth while; she had planned to permit it to go to a knockout, to use + Bryce Cardigan's language, because she believed Bryce Cardigan would be + vanquished—and she had desired to see him smashed—but not + beyond repair, for her joy in the conflict was to lie in the task of + putting the pieces together afterward! She realized now, however, that she + had permitted matters to go too far. A revulsion of feeling toward her + uncle, induced by the memory of Bryce Cardigan's blood on her white + finger-tips, convinced the girl that, at all hazards to her financial + future, henceforth she and her uncle must tread separate paths. She had + found him out at last, and because in her nature there was some of his own + fixity of purpose, the resolution cost her no particular pang. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a relief, therefore, when the imperturbable James handed her + at breakfast the following note: + </p> + <p> + Shirley, Dear + </p> + <p> + After leaving you last night, I decided that in your present frame of mind + my absence for a few days might tend to a calmer and clearer perception, + on your part, of the necessary tactics which in a moment of desperation, I + saw fit, with regret, to pursue last night. And in the hope that you will + have attained your old attitude toward me before my return, I am leaving + in the motor for San Francisco. Your terrible accusation has grieved me to + such an extent that I do not feel equal to the task of confronting you + until, in a more judicial frame of mind, you can truly absolve me of the + charge of wishing to do away with young Cardigan. Your affectionate Uncle + Seth. + </p> + <p> + Shirley's lip curled. With a rarer, keener intuition than she had hitherto + manifested, she sensed the hypocrisy between the lines; she was not + deceived. + </p> + <p> + “He has gone to San Francisco for more ammunition,” she soliloquized. + “Very well, Unkie-dunk! While you're away, I shall manufacture a few bombs + myself.” + </p> + <p> + After breakfast she left the house and walked to the intersection of B + with Water Street. Jules Rondeau and his crew of lumberjacks were there, + and with two policemen guarded the crossing. + </p> + <p> + Rondeau glanced at Shirley, surprised, then lifted his hat. Shirley looked + from the woods bully to the locomotive and back to Rondeau. + </p> + <p> + “Rondeau,” she said, “Mr. Cardigan is a bad man to fight. You fought him + once. Are you going to do it again?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “By whose orders?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sexton, he tell me to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rondeau, some day I'll be boss of Laguna Grande and there'll be no + more fighting,” she replied, and passed on down B Street to the office of + the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. Moira McTavish looked up as she + entered. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he, dear?” Shirley asked. “I must see him.” + </p> + <p> + “In that office, Miss Shirley,” Moira replied, and pointed to the door. + Shirley stepped to the door, knocked, and then entered. Bryce Cardigan, + seated at his desk, looked up as she came in. His left arm was in a sling, + and he looked harassed and dejected. + </p> + <p> + “Don't get up, Bryce,” she said as he attempted to rise. “I know you're + quite exhausted. You look it.” She sat down. “I'm so sorry,” she said + softly. + </p> + <p> + His dull glance brightened. “It doesn't amount to that, Shirley.” And he + snapped his fingers. “It throbs a little and it's stiff and sore, so I + carry it in the sling. That helps a little. What did you want to see me + about?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to tell you,” said Shirley, “that—that last night's affair + was not of my making.” He smiled compassionately. “I—I couldn't bear + to have you think I'd break my word and tell him.” + </p> + <p> + “It never occurred to me that you had dealt me a hand from the bottom of + the deck, Shirley. Please don't worry about it. Your uncle has had two + private detectives watching Ogilvy and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she breathed, much relieved. A ghost of the old bantering smile + lighted her winsome features. “Well, then,” she challenged, “I suppose you + don't hate me.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I love you,” he answered. “However, since you must have + known this for some time past, I suppose it is superfluous to mention it. + Moreover, I haven't the right—yet.” + </p> + <p> + She had cast her eyes down modestly. She raised them now and looked at him + searchingly. “I suppose you'll acknowledge yourself whipped at last, + Bryce?” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Would it please you to have me surrender?” He was very serious. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it would, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm tired of fighting. I want peace. I'm—I'm afraid to let + this matter go any further. I'm truly afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I want peace, too,” he answered wearily. “I'd be glad to quit—with + honour. And I'll do it, too, if you can induce your uncle to give me the + kind of logging contract I want with his road.” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't do that, Bryce. He has you whipped—and he is not + merciful to the fallen. You'll have to—surrender unconditionally.” + Again she laid her little hand timidly on his wounded forearm. “Please + give up, Bryce—for my sake. If you persist, somebody will get + killed.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I'll have to,” he murmured sadly. “I dare say you're right, + though one should never admit defeat until he is counted out. I suppose,” + he continued bitterly, “your uncle is in high feather this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Bryce. He left in his motor for San Francisco about one + o'clock this morning.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Bryce Cardigan stared at her; then a slow, mocking little + smile crept around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes lighted with + mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Glorious news, my dear Shirley, perfectly glorious! So the old fox has + gone to San Francisco, eh? Left in a hurry and via the overland route! + Couldn't wait for the regular passenger-steamer to-morrow, eh? Great + jumping Jehoshaphat! He must have had important business to attend to.” + And Bryce commenced to chuckle. “Oh, the poor old Colonel,” he continued + presently, “the dear old pirate! What a horrible right swing he's running + into! And you want me to acknowledge defeat! My dear girl, in the language + of the classic, there is nothing doing. I shall put in my crossing Sunday + morning, and if you don't believe it, drop around and see me in action.” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't try,” protested Shirley. “Rondeau is there with his crew—and + he has orders to stop you. Besides, you can't expect help from the police. + Uncle Seth has made a deal with the Mayor,” Shirley pleaded frantically. + </p> + <p> + “That for the police and that venal Mayor Poundstone!” Bryce retorted, + with another snap of his fingers. “I'll rid the city of them at the fall + election.” + </p> + <p> + “I came prepared to suggest a compromise, Bryce,” she declared, but he + interrupted her with a wave of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You can't effect a compromise. You've been telling me I shall never build + the N.C.O. because you will not permit me to. You're powerless, I tell + you. I shall build it.” + </p> + <p> + “You shan't!” she fired back at him, and a spot of anger glowed in each + cheek. “You're the most stubborn and belligerent man I have ever known. + Sometimes I almost hate you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come around at ten to-morrow morning and watch me put in the crossing—watch + me give Rondeau and his gang the run.” He reached over suddenly, lifted + her hand, and kissed it. “How I love you, dear little antagonist!” he + murmured. + </p> + <p> + “If you loved me, you wouldn't oppose me,” she protested softly. “I tell + you again, Bryce, you make it very hard for me to be friendly with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to be friendly with you. You're driving me crazy, Shirley. + Please run along home, or wherever you're bound. I've tried to understand + your peculiar code, but you're too deep for me; so let me go my way to the + devil. George Sea Otter is outside asleep in the tonneau of the car. Tell + him to drive you wherever you're going. I suppose you're afoot to-day, for + I noticed the Mayor riding to his office in your sedan this morning.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to look outraged, but for the life of her she could not take + offense at his bluntness; neither did she resent a look which she detected + in his eyes, even though it told her he was laughing at her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” she replied with what dignity she could muster. “Have it + your own way. I've tried to warn you. Thank you for your offer of the car. + I shall be glad to use it. Uncle Seth sold my car to Mayor Poundstone last + night. Mrs. P. admired it so!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then it was that rascally Poundstone who told your uncle about the + temporary franchise, thus arousing his suspicions to such an extent that + when he heard his locomotive rumbling into town, he smelled a rat and + hurried down to the crossing?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. The Poundstones dined at our house last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty hard on you, I should say. But then I suppose you have to play the + game with Uncle Seth. Well, good morning, Shirley. Sorry to hurry you + away, but you must remember we're on a strictly business basis—yet; + and you mustn't waste my time.” + </p> + <p> + “You're horrid, Bryce Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “You're adorable. Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be sorry for this,” she warned him. “Good morning.” She passed out + into the general office, visited with Moira about five minutes, and drove + away in the Napier. Bryce watched her through the window. She knew he was + watching her, but nevertheless she could not forbear turning round to + verify her suspicions. When she did, he waved his sound arm at her, and + she flushed with vexation. + </p> + <p> + “God bless her!” he murmured. “She's been my ally all along, and I never + suspected it! I wonder what her game can be.” + </p> + <p> + He sat musing for a long time. “Yes,” he concluded presently, “old + Poundstone has double-crossed us—and Pennington made it worth his + while. And the Colonel sold the Mayor his niece's automobile. It's worth + twenty-five hundred dollars, at least, and since old Poundstone's finances + will not permit such an extravagance, I'm wondering how Pennington expects + him to pay for it. I smell a rat as big as a kangaroo. In this case two + and two don't make four. They make six! Guess I'll build a fire under old + Poundstone.” + </p> + <p> + He took down the telephone-receiver and called up the Mayor. “Bryce + Cardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone,” he greeted the chief executive of + Sequoia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hello, Bryce, my boy,” Poundstone boomed affably. “How's tricks?” + </p> + <p> + “So-so! I hear you've bought that sedan from Colonel Pennington's niece. + Wish I'd known it was for sale. I'd have outbid you. Want to make a profit + on your bargain?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not this morning, Bryce. I think we'll keep it. Mrs. P. has been + wanting a closed car for a long time, and when the Colonel offered me this + one at a bargain, I snapped it up. Couldn't afford a new one, you know, + but then this one's just as good as new.” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't care to get rid of it at a profit?” Bryce repeated. + </p> + <p> + “No, sirree!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're mistaken, Mr. Mayor. I think you do. I would suggest that you + take that car back to Pennington's garage and leave it there. That would + be the most profitable thing you could do.” + </p> + <p> + “Wha—what—what in blue blazes are you driving at?” the Mayor + sputtered. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't care to discuss it over the telephone. I take it, however, + that a hint to the wise is sufficient; and I warn you, Mayor, that if you + keep that car it will bring you bad luck. To-day is Friday, and Friday is + an unlucky day. I'd get rid of that sedan before noon if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long, fateful silence. Then in a singularly small, quavering + voice: “You think it best, Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. Return it to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, and no questions will be + asked. Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + When Shirley reached home at noon, she found her car parked in front of + the porte cochere; and a brief note, left with the butler, informed her + that after thinking the matter over, Mrs. Poundstone had decided the + Poundstone family could not afford such an extravagance, and accordingly + the car was returned with many thanks for the opportunity to purchase it + at such a ridiculously low figure. Shirley smiled, and put the car up in + the garage. When she returned to the house her maid Thelma informed her + that Mr. Bryce Cardigan had been calling her on the telephone. So she + called Bryce up at once. + </p> + <p> + “Has Poundstone returned your car?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. What makes you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I had a suspicion he might. You see, I called him up and suggested + it; somehow His Honour is peculiarly susceptible to suggestions from me, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce Cardigan,” she declared, “you're a sly rascal—that's what you + are. I shan't tell you another thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you had a stenographer at the dictograph when the Mayor and your + uncle cooked up their little deal,” he continued. “That was thoughtful of + you, Shirley. It was a bully club to have up your sleeve at the final + show-down, for with it you can make Unkie-dunk behave himself and force + that compromise you spoke of. Seriously, however, I don't want you to use + it, Shirley. We must avoid a scandal by all means; and praise be, I don't + need your club to beat your uncle's brains out. I'm taking HIS club away + from him to use for that purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I believe you're happy to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy? I should tell a man! If the streets of Sequoia were paved with + eggs, I could walk them all day without making an omelette.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be nice to feel so happy, after so many months of the blues.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it is, Shirley. You see until very recently I was very much + worried as to your attitude toward me. I couldn't believe you'd so far + forget yourself as to love me in spite of everything—so I never took + the trouble to ask you. And now I don't have to ask you. I know! And I'll + be around to see you after I get that crossing in!” + </p> + <p> + “You're perfectly horrid,” she blazed, and hung up without the formality + of saying good-bye. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + Shortly after Shirley's departure from his office, Bryce had a visit from + Buck Ogilvy. The latter wore a neatly pressed suit of Shepherd plaid, with + a white carnation in his lapel, and he was, apparently, the most + light-hearted young man in Humboldt County. He struck an attitude and + demanded: + </p> + <p> + “Boss, what do you think of my new suit?” + </p> + <p> + “You lunatic! Don't you know red blonds should never wear light shades? + You're dressed like a Negro minstrel.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I feel as happy as an end-man. And by the way, you're all chirked + up yourself. Who's been helping you to the elixir of life. When we parted + last night, you were forty fathoms deep in the slough of despond.” + </p> + <p> + “No less a divinity than Miss Shirley Sumner! She called this morning to + explain that last night's fiasco was none of her making, and quite + innocently she imparted the information that old Pennington lighted out + for San Francisco at one o'clock this morning. Wherefore I laugh. Te-he! + Ha-hah!” + </p> + <p> + “Three long, loud raucous cheers for Uncle. He's gone to rush a + restraining order through the United States District Court. Wonder why he + didn't wire his attorneys to attend to the matter for him.” + </p> + <p> + “He has the crossing blocked, and inasmuch as the Mayor feeds out of + Pennington's hand, the Colonel is quite confident that said crossing will + remain blocked, As for the restraining order—well, if one wants a + thing well done, one should do it oneself.” + </p> + <p> + “All that doesn't explain your cheerful attitude, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it does. I've told you about old Duncan McTavish, Moira's father, + haven't I?” Ogilvy nodded, and Bryce continued: “When I fired the old + scoundrel for boozing, it almost broke his heart; he had to leave + Humboldt, where everybody knew him, so he wandered down into Mendocino + County and got a job sticking lumber in the drying-yard of the Willits + Lumber Company. He's been there two months now, and I am informed by his + employer that old Mac hasn't taken a drink in all that time. And what's + more, he isn't going to take one again.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I make it my business to find out. Mac was the finest woods-boss + this county ever knew; hence you do not assume that I would lose the old + scoundrel without making a fight for him, do you? Why, Buck, he's been on + the Cardigan pay-roll thirty years, and I only fired him in order to + reform him. Well, last week I sent one of Mac's old friends down to + Willits purposely to call on him and invite him out 'for a time'; but Mac + wouldn't drink with him. No, sir, he couldn't be tempted. On the contrary, + he told the tempter that I had promised to give him back his job if he + remained on the water wagon for one year; he was resolved to win back his + job and his self-respect.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what your plan is,” Ogilvy interrupted. “You're going to ask + Duncan McTavish to waylay Pennington on the road at some point where it + runs through the timber, kidnap him, and hold him until we have had time + to clear the crossing and cut Pennington's tracks. + </p> + <p> + “We will do nothing of the sort,” Buck continued seriously. “Listen, now, + to Father's words of wisdom. This railroad-game is an old one to me; I've + fought at crossings before now, and whether successful or defeated, I have + always learned something in battle. Didn't you hear me tell that girl and + her villainous avuncular relative last night that I had another ace up my + kimono?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That was not brag, old dear. I had the ace, and this morning I played it—wherefore + in my heart there is that peace that passeth understanding—particularly + since I have just had a telegram informing me that my ace took the odd + trick.” + </p> + <p> + He opened a drawer in Bryce's desk and reached for the cigars he knew were + there. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all a bad cigar for ten cents. However—you will recall that + from the very instant we decided to cut in that jump-crossing, we + commenced to plan against interference by Pennington; in consequence we + kept, or tried to keep, our decision a secret. However, there existed at + all times the possibility that Pennington might discover our benevolent + intentions and block us with his only weapon—a restraining order + issued by the judge of the United States District Court. + </p> + <p> + “Now, one of the most delightful things I know about a court is that it is + open to all men seeking justice—or injustice disguised as justice. + Also there is a wise old saw to the effect that battles are won by the + fellow who gets there first with the most men. The situation from the + start was absurdly simple. If Pennington got to the District Court first, + we were lost!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you got there first?” exclaimed Bryce. + </p> + <p> + “I did—by the very simple method of preparing to get there first in + case anything slipped. Something did slip—last night! However, I was + ready; so all I had to do was press the button, for as Omar Khayyam + remarked: 'What shall it avail a man if he buyeth a padlock for his stable + after his favourite stallion hath been lifted?' Several days ago, my boy, + I wrote a long letter to our attorney in San Francisco explaining every + detail of our predicament; the instant I received that temporary franchise + from the city council, I mailed a certified copy of it to our attorney + also. Then, in anticipation of our discovery by Pennington, I instructed + the attorney to prepare the complaint and petition for a restraining order + against Seth Pennington et al. and stand by to rush the judge with it the + instant he heard from me! + </p> + <p> + “Well, about the time old Pennington started for San Francisco this + morning, I had our attorney out of bed and on the long-distance telephone; + at nine o'clock this morning he appeared in the United States District + Court; at nine-fifteen the judge signed a restraining order forbidding our + enemies to interfere with us in the exercise of a right legally granted us + by the city of Sequoia, and at nine-thirty a deputy United States marshal + started in an automobile for Sequoia, via the overland route. He will + arrive late to-morrow night, and on Sunday we will get that locomotive out + of our way and install our crossing.” + </p> + <p> + “And Pennington—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the poor Pennington! Mon pauvre Seth!” Buck sighed comically. “He + will be just twenty-four hours late.” + </p> + <p> + “You old he-fox!” Bryce murmured. “You wicked, wicked man!” + </p> + <p> + Buck Ogilvy lifted his lapel and sniffed luxuriously at his white + carnation, the while a thin little smile played around the corners of his + humorous mouth. “Ah,” he murmured presently, “life's pretty sweet, isn't + it!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + Events followed each other with refreshing rapidity. While the crew of the + big locomotive on the crossing busied themselves getting up steam, Sexton + and Jules Rondeau toiled at the loading of the discarded boiler and heavy + castings aboard two flat-cars. By utilizing the steel derrick on the + company's wrecking-car, this task was completed by noon, and after + luncheon the mogul backed up the main line past the switch into the Laguna + Grande yards; whereupon the switch-engine kicked the two flat-cars and the + wrecking-car out of the yard and down to the crossing, where the + obstructions were promptly unloaded. The police watched the operation with + alert interest but forebore to interfere in this high-handed closing of a + public thoroughfare. + </p> + <p> + To Sexton's annoyance and secret apprehension, Bryce Cardigan and Buck + Ogilvy promptly appeared on the scene, both very cheerful and lavish with + expert advice as to the best method of expediting the job in hand. To + Bryce's surprise Jules Rondeau appeared to take secret enjoyment of this + good-natured chaffing of the Laguna Grande manager. Occasionally he eyed + Bryce curiously but without animus, and presently he flashed the latter a + lightning wink, as if to say: “What a fool Sexton is to oppose you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rondeau,” Bryce hailed the woods-boss cheerfully, “I see you have + quite recovered from that working over I gave you some time ago. No hard + feelings, I trust. I shouldn't care to have that job to do over again. + You're a tough one.” + </p> + <p> + “By gar, she don' pay for have hard feelings wiz you, M'sieur,” Rondeau + answered bluntly. “We have one fine fight, but”—he shrugged—“I + don' want some more.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by gar, an' she don' pay for cut other people's trees, M'sieur,” + Bryce mimicked him. “I shouldn't wonder if I took the value of that tree + out of your hide.” + </p> + <p> + “I t'enk so, M'sieur.” He approached Bryce and lowered his voice. “For one + month I am no good all ze tam. We don' fight some more, M'sieur. And I + have feel ashame' for dose Black Minorca feller. Always wiz him eet is ze + knife or ze club—and now eet is ze rifle. COCHON! W'en I fight, I + fight wiz what le bon Dieu give me.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to have a certain code, after all,” Bryce laughed. “I am + inclined to like you for it. You're sporty in your way, you tremendous + scoundrel!” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbeso,” Rondeau suggested hopefully, “M'sieur likes me for woods-boss?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter with Pennington? Is he tired of you?” + </p> + <p> + The colour mounted slowly to the woods bully's swarthy cheek. + “Mademoiselle Sumnair, he's tell me pretty soon he's goin' be boss of + Laguna Grande an' stop all thees fight. An' w'en Mademoiselle, he is in + the saddle, good-bye Jules Rondeau. Thees country—I like him. I feel + sad, M'sieur, to leave dose beeg trees.” He paused, looking rather + wistfully at Bryce. “I am fine woods-boss for somebody,” he suggested + hopefully. + </p> + <p> + “You think Miss Sumner dislikes you then, Rondeau?” + </p> + <p> + “I don' theenk. I know.” He sighed; his huge body seemed to droop. “I am + out of zee good luck now,” he murmured bitterly. “Everybody, she hate + Jules Rondeau. Colonel—she hate because I don' keel M'sieur + Cardigan; Mademoiselle, he hate because I try to keel M'sieur Cardigan; + M'sieur Sexton, she hate because I tell her thees mornin' she is one fool + for fight M'sieur Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + Again he sighed. “Dose beeg trees! In Quebec we have none. In zee woods, + M'sieur, I feel—here!” And he laid his great calloused, hairy hand + over his heart. “W'en I cut your beeg trees, M'sieur, I feel like hell.” + </p> + <p> + “That infernal gorilla of a man is a poet,” Buck Ogilvy declared. “I'd + think twice before I let him get out of the country, Bryce.” + </p> + <p> + “'Whose salt he eats, his song he sings,'” quoth Bryce. “I forgive you, + Rondeau, and when I need a woods-boss like you, I'll send for you.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + At eleven o'clock Saturday night the deputy United States marshal arrived + in Sequoia. Upon the advice of Buck Ogilvy, however, he made no attempt at + service that night, notwithstanding the fact that Jules Rondeau and his + bullies still guarded the crossing. At eight o'clock Sunday morning, + however, Bryce Cardigan drove him down to the crossing. Buck Ogilvy was + already there with his men, superintending the erection of a huge derrick + close to the heap of obstructions placed on the crossing. Sexton was + watching him uneasily, and flushed as Ogilvy pointed him out to the + marshal. + </p> + <p> + “There's your meat, Marshal,” he announced. The marshal approached and + extended toward Sexton a copy of the restraining order. The latter struck + it aside and refused to accept it—whereupon the deputy marshal + tapped him on the shoulder with it. “Tag! You're out of the game, my + friend,” he said pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + As the document fluttered to Sexton's feet, the latter turned to Jules + Rondeau. “I can no longer take charge here, Rondeau,” he explained. “I am + forbidden to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “Jules Rondeau can do ze job,” the woods-boss replied easily. “Ze law, she + have not restrain' me. I guess mebbeso you don' take dose theengs away, + eh, M'sieur Cardigan. Myself, I lak see.” + </p> + <p> + The deputy marshal handed Rondeau a paper, at the same time showing his + badge. “You're out, too, my friend,” he laughed. “Don't be foolish and try + to buck the law. If you do, I shall have to place a nice little pair of + handcuffs on you and throw you in jail—and if you resist arrest, I + shall have to shoot you. I have one of these little restraining orders for + every able-bodied man in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's employ—thanks + to Mr. Ogilvy's foresight; so it is useless to try to beat this game on a + technicality.” + </p> + <p> + Sexton, who still lingered, made a gesture of surrender. “Dismiss your + crew, Rondeau,” he ordered. “We're whipped to a frazzle.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of pleasure, not unmixed with triumph, lighted the dark eyes of + the French-Canadian. “I tol' M'sieur Sexton she cannot fight M'sieur + Cardigan and win,” he said simply, “Now mebbe he believe that Jules + Rondeau know somet'ing.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up,” Sexton roared petulantly. Rondeau shrugged contemptuously, + turned, and with a sweep of his great arm indicated to his men that they + were to go; then, without a backward glance to see that they followed, the + woods-boss strode away in the direction of the Laguna Grande mill. Arrived + at the mill-office, he entered, took down the telephone, and called up + Shirley Sumner. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said, “Jules Rondeau speaks to you. I have for you zee + good news. Bryce Cardigan, she puts in the crossing to-day. One man of the + law she comes from San Francisco with papers, and M'sieur Sexton say to + me: 'Rondeau, we are whip'. Deesmess your men.' So I have deesmess doze + men, and now I deesmess myself. Mebbeso bimeby I go to work for M'sieur + Cardigan. For Mademoiselle I have no weesh to make trouble to fire me. I + queet. I will not fight dose dirty fight some more. Au revoir, + mademoiselle. I go.” + </p> + <p> + And without further ado he hung up. + </p> + <p> + “What's this, what's this?” Sexton demanded. “You re going to quit? + Nonsense, Rondeau, nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “I will have my time, M'sieur,” said Jules Rondeau. “I go to work for a + man. Mebbeso I am not woods-boss for heem, but—I work.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to wait until the Colonel returns, Rondeau.” + </p> + <p> + “I will have my time,” said Jules Rondeau patiently. + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll wait till pay-day for it, Rondeau. You know our rules. Any + man who quits without notice waits until the regular pay-day for his + money.” + </p> + <p> + Jules advanced until he towered directly over the manager. “I tol' M'sieur + I would have my time,” he repeated once more. “Is M'sieur deaf in zee + ears?” He raised his right hand, much as a bear raises its paw; his blunt + fingers worked a little and there was a smoldering fire in his dark eyes. + </p> + <p> + Without further protest Sexton opened the safe, counted out the wages due, + and took Rondeau's receipt. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, M'sieur,” the woods-boss growled as he swept the coin into his + pocket. “Now I work for M'sieur Cardigan; so, M'sieur, I will have zee + switchengine weeth two flat-cars and zee wrecking-car. Doze dam trash on + zee crossing—M'sieur Cardigan does not like, and by gar, I take heem + away. You onderstand, M'sieur? I am Jules Rondeau, and I work for M'sieur + Cardigan. La la, M'sieur!” The great hand closed over Sexton's collar. + “Not zee pistol—no, not for Jules Rondeau.” + </p> + <p> + Quite as easily as a woman dresses a baby, he gagged Sexton with Sexton's + own handkerchief, laid him gently on the floor and departed, locking the + door behind him and taking the key. At the corner of the building, where + the telephone-line entered the office, he paused, jerked once at the wire, + and passed on, leaving the broken ends on the ground. + </p> + <p> + In the round-house he found the switch-engine crew on duty, waiting for + steam in the boiler. The withdrawal of both locomotives, brief as had been + their absence, had caused a glut of logs at the Laguna Grande landings, + and Sexton was catching up with the traffic by sending the switch-engine + crew out for one train-load, even though it was Sunday. The crew had been + used to receiving orders from Rondeau, and moreover they were not aware of + his recent action; hence at his command they ran the switch-engine out of + the roundhouse, coupled up the two flat-cars and the wrecking-car, and + backed down to the crossing. Upon arrival, Jules Rondeau leaned out of the + cab window and hailed Bryce. “M'sieur,” he said, “do not bozzer to make + zee derrick. I have here zee wrecking-car—all you need; pretty soon + we lift him off zee crossing, I tell you, eh, M'sieur Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + Bryce stepped over to the switch-engine and looked up at his late enemy. + “By whose orders is this train here?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Mine,” Rondeau answered. “M'sieur Sexton I have tie like one leetle pig + and lock her in her office. I work now for M'sieur.” + </p> + <p> + And he did. He waited not for a confirmation from his new master but + proceeded to direct operations like the born driver and leader of men that + he was. With his late employer's gear he fastened to the old castings and + the boiler, lifted them with the derrick on the wrecking-car, and swung + them up and around onto the flat-cars. By the middle of the afternoon the + crossing was once more clear. Then the Cardigan crew fell upon it while + Jules Rondeau ran the train back to the Laguna Grande yards, dismissed his + crew, returned to the mill-office, and released the manager. + </p> + <p> + “You'll pay through the nose for this, you scoundrel,” Sexton whimpered. + “I'll fix you, you traitor.” + </p> + <p> + “You feex nothing, M'sieur Sexton,” Rondeau replied imperturbably. “Who is + witness Jules Rondeau tie you up? Somebody see you, no? I guess you don' + feex me. Sacre! I guess you don' try.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII + </h2> + <p> + Colonel Pennington's discovery at San Francisco that Bryce Cardigan had + stolen his thunder and turned the bolt upon him, was the hardest blow Seth + Pennington could remember having received throughout thirty-odd years of + give and take. He was too old and experienced a campaigner, however, to + permit a futile rage to cloud his reason; he prided himself upon being a + foeman worthy of any man's steel. + </p> + <p> + On Tuesday he returned to Sequoia. Sexton related to him in detail the + events which had transpired since his departure, but elicited nothing more + than a noncommittal grunt. + </p> + <p> + “There is one more matter, sir, which will doubtless be of interest to + you,” Sexton continued apologetically. “Miss Sumner called me on the + telephone yesterday and instructed me formally to notify the board of + directors of the Laguna Grande Company of a special meeting of the board, + to be held here at two o'clock this afternoon. In view of the + impossibility of communicating with you while you were en route, I + conformed to her wishes. Our by-laws, as you know, stipulate that no + meeting of the board shall be called without formal written notice to each + director mailed twenty-four hours previously.” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you mean, Sexton, by conforming to her wishes? Miss + Sumner is not a director of this company.” Pennington's voice was harsh + and trembled with apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Sumner controls forty per cent. of the Laguna Grande stock, sir. I + took that into consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” Pennington all but screamed. “You took into consideration your + job as secretary and general manager. Damnation!” + </p> + <p> + He rose and commenced pacing up and down his office. Suddenly he paused. + Sexton still stood beside his desk, watching him respectfully. “You fool!” + he snarled. “Get out of here and leave me alone.” + </p> + <p> + Sexton departed promptly, glancing at his watch as he did so. It lacked + five minutes of two. He passed Shirley Sumner in the general office. + </p> + <p> + “Shirley,” Pennington began in a hoarse voice as she entered his office, + “what is the meaning of this directors' meeting you have requested?” + </p> + <p> + “Be seated, Uncle Seth,” the girl answered quietly. “If you will only be + quiet and reasonable, perhaps we can dispense with this directors' meeting + which appears to frighten you so.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down promptly, a look of relief on his face. + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely know how to begin, Uncle Seth,” Shirley commenced sadly. “It + hurts me terribly to be forced to hurt you, but there doesn't appear to be + any other way out of it. I cannot trust you to manage my financial affairs + in the future—this for a number of reasons, the principal one being—” + </p> + <p> + “Young Cardigan,” he interrupted in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” she answered, “although I did think until very recently + that it was those sixteen townships of red cedar—that crown grant in + British Columbia in which you induced me to invest four hundred thousand + dollars. You will remember that you purchased that timber for me from the + Caribou Timber Company, Limited. You said it was an unparalleled + investment. Quite recently I learned—no matter how—that you + were the principal owner of the Caribou Timber Company, Limited! Smart as + you are, somebody swindled you with that red cedar. It was a wonderful + stand of timber—so read the cruiser's report—but fifty per + cent. of it, despite its green and flourishing appearance, is + hollow-butted! And the remaining fifty per cent. of sound timber cannot be + logged unless the rotten timber is logged also and gotten out of the way + also. And I am informed that logging it spells bankruptcy.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed upon him steadily, but without malice; his face crimsoned and + then paled; presently his glance sought the carpet. While he struggled to + formulate a verbal defense against her accusation Shirley continued: + </p> + <p> + “You had erected a huge sawmill and built and equipped a logging-road + before you discovered you had been swindled. So, in order to save as much + as possible from the wreck, you decided to unload your white elephant on + somebody else. I was the readiest victim. You were the executor of my + father's estate—you were my guardian and financial adviser, and so + you found it very, very easy to swindle me!” + </p> + <p> + “I had my back to the wall,” he quavered. “I was desperate—and it + wasn't at all the bad investment you have been told it is. You had the + money—more money than you knew what to do with—and with the + proceeds of the sale of those cedar lands, I knew I could make an + investment in California redwood and more than retrieve my fortunes—make + big money for both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have borrowed the money from me. You know I have never + hesitated to join in your enterprises.” + </p> + <p> + “This was too big a deal for you, Shirley. I had vision. I could see + incalculable riches in this redwood empire, but it was a tremendous gamble + and required twenty millions to swing it at the very start. I dreamed of + the control of California redwood; and if you will stand by me, Shirley, I + shall yet make my dream come true—and half of it shall be yours. It + has always been my intention to buy back from you secretly and at a nice + profit to you that Caribou red cedar, and with the acquisition of the + Cardigan properties I would have been in position to do so. Why, that + Cardigan tract in the San Hedrin which we will buy in within a year for + half a million is worth five millions at least. And by that time, I feel + certain—in fact, I know—the Northern Pacific will commence + building in from the south, from Willits.” + </p> + <p> + She silenced him with a disdainful gesture. “You shall not smash the + Cardigans,” she declared firmly. + </p> + <p> + “I shall—” he began, but he paused abruptly, as if he had suddenly + remembered that tact and not pugnacity was the requirement for the + handling of this ticklish situation. + </p> + <p> + “You are devoid of mercy, of a sense of sportsmanship. Now, then, Uncle + Seth, listen to me: You have twenty-four hours in which to make up your + mind whether to accept my ultimatum or refuse it. If you refuse, I shall + prosecute you for fraud and a betrayal of trust as my father's executor on + that red-cedar timber deal.” + </p> + <p> + He brightened a trifle. “I'm afraid that would be a long, hard row to hoe, + my dear, and of course, I shall have to defend myself.” + </p> + <p> + “In addition,” the girl went on quietly, “the county grand jury shall be + furnished with a stenographic report of your conversation of Thursday + night with Mayor Poundstone. That will not be a long, hard row to hoe, + Uncle Seth, for in addition to the stenographer, I have another very + reliable witness, Judge Moore. Your casual disposal of my sedan as a bribe + to the Mayor will be hard to explain and rather amusing, in view of the + fact that Bryce Cardigan managed to frighten Mr. Poundstone into returning + the sedan while you were away. And if that is not sufficient for my + purposes, I have the sworn confession of the Black Minorca that you gave + him five hundred dollars to kill Bryce Cardigan. Your woods-boss, Rondeau, + will also swear that you approached him with a proposition to do away with + Bryce Cardigan. I think, therefore, that you will readily see how + impossible a situation you have managed to create and will not disagree + with me when I suggest that it would be better for you to leave this + county.” + </p> + <p> + His face had gone gray and haggard. “I can't,” he murmured, “I can't leave + this great business now. Your own interests in the company render such a + course unthinkable. Without my hand at the helms, things will go to + smash.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll risk that. I want to get rid of that worthless red-cedar timber; so + I think you had better buy it back from me at the same figure at which, + you sold it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't the money and I can't borrow it. I—I—-” + </p> + <p> + “I will have the equivalent in stock of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company. + You will call on Judge Moore to complete the transaction and leave with + him your resignation as president of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel raised his glance and bent it upon her in cold appraisal. She + met it with firmness, and the thought came to him: “She is a Pennington!” + And hope died out in his heart. He began pleading in maudlin fashion for + mercy, for compromise. But the girl was obdurate. + </p> + <p> + “I am showing you more mercy than you deserve—you to whom mercy was + ever a sign of weakness, of vacillation. There is a gulf between us, Uncle + Seth—a gulf which for a long time I have dimly sensed and which, + because of my recent discoveries, has widened until it can no longer be + bridged.” + </p> + <p> + He wrung his hands in desperation and suddenly slid to his knees before + her; with hypocritical endearments he strove to take her hand, but she + drew away from him. “Don't touch me,” she cried sharply and with a + breaking note in her voice. “You planned to kill Bryce Cardigan! And for + that—and that alone—I shall never forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + She fled from the office, leaving him cringing and grovelling on the + floor. “There will be no directors' meeting, Mr. Sexton,” she informed the + manager as she passed through the general office. “It is postponed.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <p> + That trying interview with her uncle had wrenched Shirley's soul to a + degree that left her faint and weak. She at once set out on a long drive, + in the hope that before she turned homeward again she might regain + something of her customary composure. + </p> + <p> + Presently the asphaltum-paved street gave way to a dirt road and + terminated abruptly at the boundaries of a field that sloped gently upward—a + field studded with huge black redwood stumps showing dismally through + coronets of young redwoods that grew riotously around the base of the + departed parent trees. From the fringe of the thicket thus formed, the + terminus of an old skid-road showed and a signboard, freshly painted, + pointed the way to the Valley of the Giants. + </p> + <p> + Shirley had not intended to come here, but now that she had arrived, it + occurred to her that it was here she wanted to come. Parking her car by + the side of the road, she alighted and proceeded up the old skid, now + newly planked and with the encroaching forestration cut away so that the + daylight might enter from above. On over the gentle divide she went and + down toward the amphitheatre where the primeval giants grew. And as she + approached it, the sound that is silence in the redwoods—the + thunderous diapason of the centuries—wove its spell upon her; + quickly, imperceptibly there faded from her mind the memory of that + grovelling Thing she had left behind in the mill-office, and in its place + there came a subtle peace, a feeling of awe, of wonder—such a + feeling, indeed, as must come to one in the realization that man is + distant but God is near. + </p> + <p> + A cluster of wild orchids pendent from the great fungus-covered roots of a + giant challenged her attention. She gathered them. Farther on, in a spot + where a shaft of sunlight fell, she plucked an armful of golden California + poppies and flaming rhododendron, and with her delicate burden she came at + length to the giant-guarded clearing where the halo of sunlight fell upon + the grave of Bryce Cardigan's mother. There were red roses on it—a + couple of dozen, at least, and these she rearranged in order to make room + for her own offering. + </p> + <p> + “Poor dear!” she murmured audibly. “God didn't spare you for much + happiness, did He?” + </p> + <p> + A voice, deep, resonant, kindly, spoke a few feet away. “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + Shirley, startled, turned swiftly. Seated across the little amphitheatre + in a lumberjack's easy-chair fashioned from an old barrel, John Cardigan + sat, his sightless gaze bent upon her. “Who is it?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Shirley Sumner,” she answered. “You do not know me, Mr. Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied he, “I do not. That is a name I have heard, however. You are + Seth Pennington's niece. Is someone with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite alone, Mr. Cardigan.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you come here alone?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “I—I wanted to think.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you wanted to think clearly, my dear. Ah, yes, this is the place + for thoughts.” He was silent a moment. Then: “You were thinking aloud, + Miss Shirley Sumner. I heard you. You said: 'Poor dear, God didn't spare + you for much happiness, did He?' And I think you rearranged my roses. + Didn't I have them on her grave?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Cardigan. I was merely making room for some wild flowers I had + gathered.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed. Then you knew—about her being here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Some ten years ago, when I was a very little girl, I met your + son Bryce. He gave me a ride on his Indian pony, and we came here. So I + remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I declare! Ten years ago, eh? You've met, eh? You've met Bryce + since his return to Sequoia, I believe. He's quite a fellow now.” + </p> + <p> + “He is indeed.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan nodded sagely. “So that's why you thought aloud,” he + remarked impersonally. “Bryce told you about her. You are right, Miss + Shirley Sumner. God didn't give her much time for happiness—just + three years; but oh, such wonderful years! Such wonderful years! + </p> + <p> + “It was mighty fine of you to bring flowers,” he announced presently. “I + appreciate that. I wish I could see you. You must be a dear, nice, + thoughtful girl. Won't you sit down and talk to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I should be glad to,” she answered, and seated herself on the brown + carpet of redwood twigs close to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “So you came up here to do a little clear thinking,” he continued in his + deliberate, amiable tones. “Do you come here often?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the third time in ten years,” she answered. “I feel that I have + no business to intrude here. This is your shrine, and strangers should not + profane it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I should have resented the presence of any other person, Miss + Sumner. I resented you—until you spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you said that, Mr. Cardigan. It sets me at ease.” + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't been up here for nearly two years until recently. You see I—I + don't own the Valley of the Giants any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed. To whom have you sold it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, Miss Sumner. I had to sell; there was no other way out of + the jam Bryce and I were in; so I sacrificed my sentiment for my boy. + However, the new owner has been wonderfully kind and thoughtful. She + reorganized that old skid-road so even an old blind duffer like me can + find his way in and out without getting lost—and she had this + easy-chair made for me. I have told Judge Moore, who represents the + unknown owner, to extend my thanks to his client. But words are so empty, + Shirley Sumner. If that new owner could only understand how truly grateful + I am—how profoundly her courtesy touches me—” + </p> + <p> + “HER courtesy?” Shirley echoed. “Did a woman buy the Giants?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled down at her. “Why, certainly. Who but a woman—and a dear, + kind, thoughtful woman—would have thought to have this chair made + and brought up here for me?” + </p> + <p> + Fell a long silence between them; then John Cardigan's trembling hand went + groping out toward the girl's. “Why, how stupid of me not to have guessed + it immediately!” he said. “You are the new owner. My dear child, if the + silent prayers of a very unhappy old man will bring God's blessing on you—there, + there, girl! I didn't intend to make you weep. What a tender heart it is, + to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + She took his great toil-worn hand, and her hot tears fell on it, for his + gentleness, his benignancy, had touched her deeply. “Oh, you must not tell + anybody! You mustn't,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He put his hand on her shoulder as she knelt before him. “Good land of + love, girl, what made you do it? Why should a girl like you give a hundred + thousand dollars for my Valley of the Giants? Were you”—hesitatingly—“your + uncle's agent?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I bought it myself—with my own money. My uncle doesn't know I + am the new owner. You see, he wanted it—for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes. I suspected as much a long time ago. Your uncle is the modern + type of business man. Not very much of an idealist, I'm afraid. But tell + me why you decided to thwart the plans of your relative.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it hurt you terribly to sell your Giants; they were dear to you + for sentimental reasons. I understood, also, why you were forced to sell; + so I—well, I decided the Giants would be safer in my possession than + in my uncle's. In all probability he would have logged this valley for the + sake of the clear seventy-two-inch boards he could get from these trees.” + </p> + <p> + “That does not explain satisfactorily, to me, why you took sides with a + stranger against your own kin,” John Cardigan persisted. “There must be a + deeper and more potent reason, Miss Shirley Sumner.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Shirley made answer, glad that he could not see the flush of + confusion and embarrassment that crimsoned her cheek, “when I came to + Sequoia last May, your son and I met, quite accidentally. The stage to + Sequoia had already gone, and he was gracious enough to invite me to make + the journey in his car. Then we recalled having met as children, and + presently I gathered from his conversation that he and his John-partner, + as he called you, were very dear to each other. I was witness to your + meeting that night—I saw him take you in his big arms and hold you + tight because you'd—gone blind while he was away having a good time. + And you hadn't told him! I thought that was brave of you; and later, when + Bryce and Moira McTavish told me about you—how kind you were, how + you felt your responsibility toward your employees and the community—well, + I just couldn't help a leaning toward John-partner and John-partner's boy, + because the boy was so fine and true to his father's ideals.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he's a man. He is indeed,” old John Cardigan murmured proudly. “I + dare say you'll never get to know him intimately, but if you should—” + </p> + <p> + “I know him intimately,” she corrected him. “He saved my life the day the + log-train ran away. And that was another reason. I owed him a debt, and so + did my uncle; but Uncle wouldn't pay his share, and I had to pay for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful,” murmured John Cardigan, “wonderful! But still you haven't + told me why you paid a hundred thousand dollars for the Giants when you + could have bought them for fifty thousand. You had a woman's reason, I + dare say, and women always reason from the heart, never the head. However, + if you do not care to tell me, I shall not insist. Perhaps I have + appeared, unduly inquisitive.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather not tell you,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + A gentle, prescient smile fringed his old mouth; he wagged his leonine + head as if to say: “Why should I ask, when I know?” Fell again a restful + silence. Then: + </p> + <p> + “Am I allowed one guess, Miss Shirley Sumner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you would never guess the reason.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a very wise old man. When one sits in the dark, one sees much that + was hidden from him in the full glare of the light. My son is proud, + manly, independent, and the soul of honour. He needed a hundred thousand + dollars; you knew it. Probably your uncle informed you. You wanted to loan + him some money, but—you couldn't. You feared to offend him by + proffering it; had you proffered it, he would have declined it. So you + bought my Valley of the Giants at a preposterous price and kept your + action a secret.” And he patted her hand gently, as if to silence any + denial, while far down the skid-road a voice—a half-trained baritone—floated + faintly to them through the forest. Somebody was singing—or rather + chanting—a singularly tuneless refrain, wild and barbaric. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” Shirley cried. + </p> + <p> + “That is my son, coming to fetch his old daddy home,” replied John + Cardigan. “That thing he's howling is an Indian war-song or paean of + triumph—something his nurse taught him when he wore pinafores. If + you'll excuse me, Miss Shirley Sumner, I'll leave you now. I generally + contrive to meet him on the trail.” + </p> + <p> + He bade her good-bye and started down the trail, his stick tapping against + the old logging-cable stretched from tree to tree beside the trail and + marking it. + </p> + <p> + Shirley was tremendously relieved. She did not wish to meet Bryce Cardigan + to-day, and she was distinctly grateful to John Cardigan for his nice + consideration in sparing her an interview. She seated herself in the + lumberjack's easy-chair so lately vacated, and chin in hand gave herself + up to meditation on this extraordinary old man and his extraordinary son. + </p> + <p> + A couple of hundred yards down the trail Bryce met his father. “Hello, + John Cardigan!” he called. “What do you mean by skallyhooting through + these woods without a pilot? Eh? Explain your reckless conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “You great overgrown duffer,” his father retorted affectionately, “I + thought you'd never come.” He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, + but failed to find it and searched through another pocket and still + another. “By gravy, son,” he remarked presently, “I do believe I left my + silk handkerchief—the one Moira gave me for my last birthday—up + yonder. I wouldn't lose that handkerchief for a farm. Skip along and find + it for me, son. I'll wait for you here. Don't hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be back in a pig's whisper,” his son replied, and started briskly up + the trail, while his father leaned against a madrone tree and smiled his + prescient little smile. + </p> + <p> + Bryce's brisk step on the thick carpet of withered brown twigs aroused + Shirley from her reverie. When she looked up, he was standing in the + centre of the little amphitheatre gazing at her. + </p> + <p> + “You—you!” she stammered, and rose as if to flee from him. + </p> + <p> + “The governor sent me back to look for his handkerchief, Shirley,” he + explained. “He didn't tell me you were here. Guess he didn't hear you.” He + advanced smilingly toward her. “I'm tremendously glad to see you to-day, + Shirley,” he said, and paused beside her. “Fate has been singularly kind + to me. Indeed, I've been pondering all day as to just how I was to arrange + a private and confidential little chat with you, without calling upon you + at your uncle's house.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel like chatting to-day,” she answered a little drearily—and + then he noted her wet lashes. Instantly he was on one knee beside her; + with the amazing confidence that had always distinguished him in her eyes, + his big left arm went around her, and when her hands went to her face, he + drew them gently away. + </p> + <p> + “I've waited too long, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Thank God, I can tell + you at last all the things that have been accumulating in my heart. I love + you, Shirley. I've loved you from that first day we met at the station, + and all these months of strife and repression have merely served to make + me love you the more. Perhaps you have been all the dearer to me because + you seemed so hopelessly unattainable.” + </p> + <p> + He drew her head down on his breast; his great hand patted her hot cheek; + his honest brown eyes gazed earnestly, wistfully into hers. “I love you,” + he whispered. “All that I have—all that I am—all that I hope + to be—I offer to you, Shirley Sumner; and in the shrine of my heart + I shall hold you sacred while life shall last. You are not indifferent to + me, dear. I know you're not; but tell me—answer me—” + </p> + <p> + Her violet eyes were uplifted to his, and in them he read the answer to + his cry. “Ah, may I?” he murmured, and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, impulsive, gentle big sweetheart,” she whispered—and + then her arms went around his neck, and the fullness of her happiness + found vent in tears he did not seek to have her repress. In the safe haven + of his arms she rested; and there, quite without effort or distress, she + managed to convey to him something more than an inkling of the thoughts + that were wont to come to her whenever they met. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my love!” he cried happily, “I hadn't dared dream of such happiness + until to-day. You were so unattainable—the obstacles between us were + so many and so great—” + </p> + <p> + “Why to-day, Bryce?” she interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + He took her adorable little nose in his great thumb and forefinger and + tweaked it gently. “The light began to dawn yesterday, my dear little + enemy, following an interesting half-hour which I put in with His Honour + the Mayor. Acting upon suspicion only, I told Poundstone I was prepared to + send him to the rock-pile if he didn't behave himself in the matter of my + permanent franchise for the N.C.O.—and the oily old invertebrate + wept and promised me anything if I wouldn't disgrace him. So I promised I + wouldn't do anything until the franchise matter should be definitely + settled—after which I returned to my office, to find awaiting me + there no less a person than the right-of-way man for the Northwestern + Pacific. He was a perfectly delightful young fellow, and he had a + proposition to unfold. It seems the Northwestern Pacific has decided to + build up from Willits, and all that powwow and publicity of Buck Ogilvy's + about the N.C.O. was in all probability the very thing that spurred them + to action. They figured the C.M. & St.P. was back of the N.C.O.—that + it was to be the first link of a chain of coast roads to be connected + ultimately with the terminus of the C.M. & St.P. on Gray's Harbour, + Washington, and if the N.C.O. should be built, it meant that a rival road + would get the edge on them in the matter of every stick of Humboldt and + Del Norte redwood—and they'd be left holding the sack.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did they think that, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “That amazing rascal Buck Ogilvy used to be a C. M. me that the money had + been deposited in escrow there awaiting formal deed. That money puts the + Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company in the clear—no receivership for us + now, my dear one. And I'm going right ahead with the building of the + N.C.O.—while our holdings down on the San Hedrin double in value, + for the reason that within three years they will be accessible and can be + logged over the rails of the Northwestern Pacific!” + </p> + <p> + “Bryce,” Shirley declared, “haven't I always told you I'd never permit you + to build the N.C.O.?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he replied, “but surely you're going to withdraw your + objections now.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not. You must choose between the N.C.O. and me.” And she met his + surprised gaze unflinchingly. + </p> + <p> + “Shirley! You don't mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do mean it. I have always meant it. I love you, dear, but for all that, + you must not build that road.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up and towered above her sternly. “I must build it, Shirley. I've + contracted to do it, and I must keep faith with Gregory of the Trinidad + Timber Company. He's putting up the money, and I'm to do the work and + operate the line. I can't go back on him now.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for my sake?” she pleaded. He shook his head. “I must go on,” he + reiterated. + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize what that resolution means to us?” The girl's tones were + grave, her glance graver. + </p> + <p> + “I realize what it means to me!” + </p> + <p> + She came closer to him. Suddenly the blaze in her violet eyes gave way to + one of mirth. “Oh, you dear big booby!” she cried. “I was just testing + you.” And she clung to him, laughing. “You always beat me down—you + always win. Bryce, dear, I'm the Laguna Grande Lumber Company—at + least, I will be to-morrow, and I repeat for the last time that you shall + NOT build the N.C.O.—because I'm going to—oh, dear, I shall + die laughing at you—because I'm going to merge with the Cardigan + Redwood Lumber Company, and then my railroad shall be your railroad, and + we'll extend it and haul Gregory's logs to tidewater for him also. And—silly, + didn't I tell you you'd never build the N.C.O.?” + </p> + <p> + “God bless my mildewed soul!” he murmured, and drew her to him. + </p> + <p> + In the gathering dusk they walked down the trail. Beside the madrone tree + John Cardigan waited patiently. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he queried when they joined him, “did you find my handkerchief for + me, son?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't find your handkerchief, John Cardigan,” Bryce answered, “but I + did find what I suspect you sent me back for—and that is a perfectly + wonderful daughter-in-law for you.” + </p> + <p> + John Cardigan smiled and held out his arms for her. “This,” he said, “is + the happiest day that I have known since my boy was born.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX + </h2> + <p> + Colonel Seth Pennington was thoroughly crushed. Look which way he would, + the bedevilled old rascal could find no loophole for escape. + </p> + <p> + “You win, Cardigan,” he muttered desperately as he sat in his office after + Shirley had left him. “You've had more than a shade in every round thus + far, and at the finish you've landed a clean knockout. If I had to fight + any man but you—” + </p> + <p> + He sighed resignedly and pressed the push-button on his desk. Sexton + entered. “Sexton,” he said bluntly and with a slight quiver in his voice, + “my niece and I have had a disagreement. We have quarrelled over young + Cardigan. She's going to marry him. Now, our affairs are somewhat + involved, and in order to straighten them out, we spun a coin to see + whether she should sell her stock in Laguna Grande to me or whether I + should sell mine to her—and I lost. The book-valuation of the stock + at the close of last year's business, plus ten per cent. will determine + the selling price, and I shall resign as president. You will, in all + probability, be retained to manage the company until it is merged with the + Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company—when, I imagine, you will be given + ample notice to seek a new job elsewhere. Call Miss Sumner's attorney, + Judge Moore, on the telephone and ask him to come to the office at nine + o'clock to-morrow, when the papers can be drawn up and signed. That is + all.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel did not return to his home in Redwood Boulevard that night. He + had no appetite for dinner and sat brooding in his office until very late; + then he went to the Hotel Sequoia and engaged a room. He did not possess + sufficient courage to face his niece again. + </p> + <p> + At four o'clock the next day the Colonel, his baggage, his automobile, his + chauffeur, and the solemn butler James, boarded the passenger steamer for + San Francisco, and at four-thirty sailed out of Humboldt Bay over the + thundering bar and on into the south. The Colonel was still a rich man, + but his dream of a redwood empire had faded, and once more he was taking + up the search for cheap timber. Whether he ever found it or not is a + matter that does not concern us. + </p> + <p> + At a moment when young Henry Poundstone's dream of legal opulence was + fading, when Mayor Poundstone's hopes for domestic peace had been + shattered beyond repair, the while his cheap political aspirations had + been equally devastated because of a certain damnable document in the + possession of Bryce Cardigan, many events of importance were transpiring. + On the veranda of his old-fashioned home, John Cardigan sat tapping the + floor with his stick and dreaming dreams which, for the first time in many + years, were rose-tinted. Beside him Shirley sat, her glance bent musingly + out across the roofs of Sequoia and on to the bay shore, where the smoke + and exhaust-steam floated up from two sawmills—her own and Bryce + Cardigan's. To her came at regularly spaced intervals the faint whining of + the saws and the rumble of log-trains crawling out on the log-dumps; high + over the piles of bright, freshly sawed lumber she caught from time to + time the flash of white spray as the great logs tossed from the trucks, + hurtled down the skids, and crashed into the Bay. At the docks of both + mills vessels were loading, their tall spars cutting the skyline above and + beyond the smokestacks; far down the Bay a steam schooner, loaded until + her main-deck was almost flush with the water, was putting out to sea, and + Shirley heard the faint echo of her siren as she whistled her intention to + pass to starboard of a wind-jammer inward bound in tow of a Cardigan tug. + </p> + <p> + “It's wonderful,” she said presently, apropos of nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” he replied in his deep, melodious voice, “I've been sitting here, + my dear, listening to your thoughts. You know something, now, of the tie + that binds my boy to Sequoia. This”—he waved his arm abroad in the + darkness—“this is the true essence of life—to create, to + develop the gifts that God has given us—to work and know the + blessing of weariness—to have dreams and see them come true. That is + life, and I have lived. And now I am ready to rest.” He smiled wistfully. + “'The king is dead. Long live the king.' I wonder if you, raised as you + have been, can face life in Sequoia resolutely with my son. It is a dull, + drab sawmill town, where life unfolds gradually without thrill—where + the years stretch ahead of one with only trees, among simple folk. The + life may be hard on you, Shirley; one has to acquire a taste for it, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “I have known the lilt of battle, John-partner,” she answered; “hence I + think I can enjoy the sweets of victory. I am content.” + </p> + <p> + “And what a run you did give that boy Bryce!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed softly. “I wanted him to fight; I had a great curiosity to see + the stuff that was in him,” she explained. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL + </h2> + <p> + Next day Bryce Cardigan, riding the top log on the end truck of a long + train just in from Cardigan's woods in Township Nine, dropped from the end + of the log as the train crawled through the mill-yard on its way to the + log-dump. He hailed Buck Ogilvy, where the latter stood in the door of the + office. + </p> + <p> + “Big doings up on Little Laurel Creek this morning, Buck.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell!” Mr. Ogilvy murmured morosely. + </p> + <p> + “It was great,” Bryce continued. “Old Duncan McTavish returned. I knew he + would. His year on the mourner's-bench expired yesterday, and he came back + to claim his old job of woods-boss.” + </p> + <p> + “He's one year too late,” Ogilvy declared. “I wouldn't let that big + Canadian Jules Rondeau quit for a farm. Some woods-boss, that—and + his first job with this company was the dirtiest you could hand him—smearing + grease on the skid-road at a dollar and a half a day and found. He's made + too good to lose out now. I don't care what his private morals may be. He + CAN get out the logs, hang his rascally hide, and I'm for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you haven't anything to say about it, Buck,” Bryce replied + dryly. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't, eh? Well, any time you deny me the privilege of hiring and + firing, you're going to be out the service of a rattling good general + manager, my son. Yes, sir! If you hold me responsible for results, I must + select the tools I want to work with.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” Bryce laughed. “Have it your own way. Only if you can + drive Duncan McTavish out of Cardigan's woods, I'd like to see you do it. + Possession is nine points of the law, Buck—and Old Duncan is in + possession.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean—in possession?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that at ten o'clock this morning Duncan McTavish appeared at our + log-landing. The whisky-fat was all gone from him, and he appeared forty + years old instead of the sixty he is. With a whoop he came jumping over + the logs, straight for Jules Rondeau. The big Canuck saw him coming and + knew what his visit portended—so he wasn't taken unawares. It was a + case of fight for his job—and Rondeau fought.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil you say!” + </p> + <p> + “I do—and there was the devil to pay. It was a rough and tumble and + no grips barred—just the kind of fight Rondeau likes. Nevertheless + old Duncan floored him. While he's been away somebody taught him the + hammer-lock and the crotch-hold and a few more fancy ones, and he got to + work on Rondeau in a hurry. In fact, he had to, for if the tussle had gone + over five minutes, Rondeau's youth would have decided the issue.” + </p> + <p> + “And Rondeau was whipped?” + </p> + <p> + “To a whisper. Mac floored him, climbed him, and choked him until he beat + the ground with his free hand in token of surrender; whereupon old Duncan + let him up, and Rondeau went to his shanty and packed his turkey. The last + I saw of him he was headed over the hill to Camp Two on Laguna Grande. + He'll probably chase that assistant woods-boss I hired after the + consolidation, out of Shirley's woods and help himself to the fellow's + job. I don't care if he does. What interests me is the fact that the old + Cardigan woods-boss is back on the job in Cardigan's woods, and I'm mighty + glad of it. The old horsethief has had his lesson and will remain sober + hereafter. I think he's cured.” + </p> + <p> + “The infamous old outlaw!” + </p> + <p> + “Mac knows the San Hedrin as I know my own pocket. He'll be a tower of + strength when we open up that tract after the railroad builds in. By the + way, has my dad been down this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Moira read the mail to him and then took him up to the Valley of the + Giants. He said he wanted to do a little quiet figuring on that new steam + schooner you're thinking of building. He thinks she ought to be bigger—big + enough to carry two million feet.” + </p> + <p> + Bryce glanced at his watch. “It's half after eleven,” he said. “Guess I'll + run up to the Giants and bring him home to luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped into the Napier standing outside the office and drove away. + Buck Ogilvy waited until Bryce was out of sight; then with sudden + determination he entered the office. + </p> + <p> + “Moira,” he said abruptly, approaching the desk where she worked, “your + dad is back, and what's more, Bryce Cardigan has let him have his old job + as woods-boss. And I'm here to announce that you're not going back to the + woods to keep house for him. Understand? Now, look here, Moira. I've + shilly-shallied around you for months, protesting my love, and I haven't + gotten anywhere. To-day I'm going to ask you for the last time. Will you + marry me? I need you worse than that rascal of a father of yours does, and + I tell you I'll not have you go back to the woods to take care of him. + Come, now, Moira. Do give me a definite answer.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I don't love you well enough to marry you, Mr. Ogilvy,” Moira + pleaded. “I'm truly fond of you, but—” + </p> + <p> + “The last boat's gone,” cried Mr. Ogilvy desperately. “I'm answered. Well, + I'll not stick around here much longer, Moira. I realize I must be a + nuisance, but I can't help being a nuisance when you're near me. So I'll + quit my good job here and go back to my old game of railroading.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you wouldn't quit a ten-thousand-dollar job,” Moira cried, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “I'd quit a million-dollar job. I'm desperate enough to go over to the + mill and pick a fight with the big bandsaw. I'm going away where I can't + see you. Your eyes are driving me crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't want you to go, Mr. Ogilvy.” + </p> + <p> + “Call me Buck,” he commanded sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want you to go, Buck,” she repeated meekly. “I shall feel guilty, + driving you out of a fine position.” + </p> + <p> + “Then marry me and I'll stay.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose I don't love you the way you deserve—” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose! Suppose!” Buck Ogilvy cried. “You're no longer certain of + yourself. How dare you deny your love for me? Eh? Moira, I'll risk it.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes turned to him timidly, and for the first time he saw in their + smoky depths a lambent flame. “I don't know,” she quavered, “and it's a + big responsibility in case—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the devil take the case!” he cried rapturously, and took her hands in + his. “Do I improve with age, dear Moira?” he asked with boyish eagerness; + then, before she could answer, he swept on, a tornado of love and + pleading. And presently Moira was in his arms, he was kissing her, and she + was crying softly because—well, she admired Mr. Buck Ogilvy; more, + she respected him and was genuinely fond of him. She wondered, and as she + wondered, a quiet joy thrilled her in the knowledge that it did not seem + at all impossible for her to grow, in time, absurdly fond of this + wholesome red rascal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Buck, dear,” she whispered, “I don't know, I'm sure, but perhaps I've + loved you a little bit for a long time.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“I'm perfectly wild over you. You're the most wonderful woman I ever +heard of. Old rosy-cheeks!” And he pinched them just to see the colour +come and go. + + John Cardigan was seated in his lumberjack's easy-chair as his son +approached. His hat lay on the litter of brown twigs beside him; his +chin was sunk on his breast, and his head was held a little to one side +in a listening attitude; a vagrant little breeze rustled gently a lock +of his fine, long white hair. Bryce stooped over the old man and shook +him gently by the shoulder. +</pre> + <p> + “Wake up, partner,” he called cheerfully. But John Cardigan did not wake, + and again his son shook him. Still receiving no response, Bryce lifted the + leonine old head and gazed into his father's face. “John Cardigan!” he + cried sharply. “Wake up, old pal.” + </p> + <p> + The old eyes opened, and John Cardigan smiled up at his boy. “Good son,” + he whispered, “good son!” He closed his sightless eyes again as if the + mere effort of holding them open wearied him. “I've been sitting here—waiting,” + he went on in the same gentle whisper. “No, not waiting for you, boy—waiting—” + </p> + <p> + His head fell over on his son's shoulder; his hand went groping for + Bryce's. “Listen,” he continued. “Can't you hear it—the Silence? + I'll wait for you here, my son. Mother and I will wait together now—in + this spot she fancied. I'm tired—I want rest. Look after old Mac and + Moira—and Bill Dandy, who lost his leg at Camp Seven last fall—and + Tom Ellington's children—and—all the others, son. You know, + Bryce. They're your responsibilities. Sorry I can't wait to see the San + Hedrin opened up, but—I've lived my life and loved my love. Ah, yes, + I've been happy—so happy just doing things—and—dreaming + here among my Giants—and—” + </p> + <p> + He sighed gently. “Good son,” he whispered again; his big body relaxed, + and the great heart of the Argonaut was still. Bryce held him until the + realization came to him that his father was no more—that like a + watch, the winding of which has been neglected, he had gradually slowed up + and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, old John-partner!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You've escaped into the light at last. We'll go home together now, but + we'll come back again.” + </p> + <p> + And with his father's body in his strong arms he departed from the little + amphitheatre, walking lightly with his heavy burden down the old skid-road + to the waiting automobile. And two days later John Cardigan returned to + rest forever—with his lost mate among the Giants, himself at last an + infinitesimal portion of that tremendous silence that is the diapason of + the ages. + </p> + <p> + When the funeral was over, Shirley and Bryce lingered until they found + themselves alone beside the freshly turned earth. Through a rift in the + great branches two hundred feet above, a patch of cerulean sky showed + faintly; the sunlight fell like a broad golden shaft over the + blossom-laden grave, and from the brown trunk of an adjacent tree a gray + squirrel, a descendant, perhaps, of the gray squirrel that had been wont + to rob Bryce's pockets of pine-nuts twenty years before, chirped at them + inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “He was a giant among men,” said Bryce presently. “What a fitting place + for him to lie!” He passed his arm around his wife's shoulders and drew + her to him. “You made it possible, sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed up at him in adoration. And presently they left the Valley of + the Giants to face the world together, strong in their faith to live their + lives and love their loves, to dream their dreams and perchance when life + should be done with and the hour of rest at hand, to surrender, sustained + and comforted by the knowledge that those dreams had come true. + </p> + <h3> + THE END + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Valley of the Giants, by Peter B. 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Kyne + + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5735] +This file was first posted on August 18, 2002 +Last Updated: July 4, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + +By Peter B. Kyne + +Author of Cappy Ricks, The Long Chance, Etc. + +Illustrated by Dean Cornwell + + + + +TO MY WIFE + + + + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + + + +CHAPTER I + + +In the summer of 1850 a topsail schooner slipped into the cove under +Trinidad Head and dropped anchor at the edge of the kelp-fields. Fifteen +minutes later her small-boat deposited on the beach a man armed with +long squirrel-rifle and an axe, and carrying food and clothing in a +brown canvas pack. From the beach he watched the boat return and saw the +schooner weigh anchor and stand out to sea before the northwest trades. +When she had disappeared from his ken, he swung his pack to his broad +and powerful back and strode resolutely into the timber at the mouth of +a little river. + +The man was John Cardigan; in that lonely, hostile land he was the first +pioneer. This is the tale of Cardigan and Cardigan's son, for in his +chosen land the pioneer leader in the gigantic task of hewing a path for +civilization was to know the bliss of woman's love and of parenthood, +and the sorrow that comes of the loss of a perfect mate; he was to know +the tremendous joy of accomplishment and worldly success after infinite +labour; and in the sunset of life he was to know the dull despair of +failure and ruin. Because of these things there is a tale to be told, +the tale of Cardigan's son, who, when his sire fell in the fray, took up +the fight to save his heritage--a tale of life with its love and hate, +its battle, victory, defeat, labour, joy, and sorrow, a tale of that +unconquerable spirit of youth which spurred Bryce Cardigan to lead a +forlorn hope for the sake not of wealth but of an ideal. Hark, then, to +this tale of Cardigan's redwoods: + +Along the coast of California, through the secret valleys and over the +tumbled foothills of the Coast Range, extends a belt of timber of an +average width of thirty miles. In approaching it from the Oregon line +the first tree looms suddenly against the horizon--an outpost, as it +were, of the host of giants whose column stretches south nearly four +hundred miles to where the last of the rear-guard maintains eternal +sentry go on the crest of the mountains overlooking Monterey Bay. Far +in the interior of the State, beyond the fertile San Joaquin Valley, the +allies of this vast army hold a small sector on the west slope of the +Sierras. + +These are the redwood forests of California, the only trees of their +kind in the world and indigenous only to these two areas within the +State. The coast timber is known botanically as sequoia sempervirens, +that in the interior as sequoia gigantea. As the name indicates, the +latter is the larger species of the two, although the fibre of the +timber is coarser and the wood softer and consequently less valuable +commercially than the sequoia sempervirens--which in Santa Cruz, San +Mateo, Marin, and Sonoma counties has been almost wholly logged off, +because of its accessibility. In northern Mendocino, Humboldt, and Del +Norte counties, however, sixty years of logging seems scarcely to have +left a scar upon this vast body of timber. Notwithstanding sixty years +of attrition, there remain in this section of the redwood belt thousands +upon thousands of acres of virgin timber that had already attained +a vigorous growth when Christ was crucified. In their vast, sombre +recesses, with the sunlight filtering through their branches two hundred +and fifty feet above, one hears no sound save the tremendous diapason +of the silence of the ages; here, more forcibly than elsewhere in the +universe, is one reminded of the littleness of man and the glory of his +creator. + +In sizes ranging from five to twenty feet in diameter, the brown trunks +rise perpendicularly to a height of from ninety to a hundred and fifty +feet before putting forth a single limb, which frequently is more +massive than the growth which men call a tree in the forests of +Michigan. Scattered between the giants, like subjects around their king, +one finds noble fir, spruce, or pines, with some Valparaiso live oak, +black oak, pepper-wood, madrone, yew, and cedar. + +In May and June, when the twisted and cowering madrone trees are putting +forth their clusters of creamy buds, when the white blossoms of +the dogwoods line the banks of little streams, when the azaleas and +rhododendrons, lovely and delicate as orchids, blaze a bed of glory, and +the modest little oxalis has thrust itself up through the brown carpet +of pine-needles and redwood-twigs, these wonderful forests cast upon one +a potent spell. To have seen them once thus in gala dress is to yearn +thereafter to see them again and still again and grieve always in the +knowledge of their inevitable death at the hands of the woodsman. + +John Cardigan settled in Humboldt County, where the sequoia sempervirens +attains the pinnacle of its glory, and with the lust for conquest hot in +his blood, he filed upon a quarter-section of the timber almost on the +shore of Humboldt Bay--land upon which a city subsequently was to be +built. With his double-bitted axe and crosscut saw John Cardigan brought +the first of the redwood giants crashing to the earth above which it had +towered for twenty centuries, and in the form of split posts, railroad +ties, pickets, and shakes, the fallen giant was hauled to tidewater in +ox-drawn wagons and shipped to San Francisco in the little two-masted +coasting schooners of the period. Here, by the abominable magic of +barter and trade, the dismembered tree was transmuted into dollars and +cents and returned to Humboldt County to assist John Cardigan in his +task of hewing an empire out of a wilderness. + +At a period in the history of California when the treasures of the +centuries were to be had for the asking or the taking, John Cardigan +chose that which others elected to cast away. For him the fertile wheat +and fruit-lands of California's smiling valleys, the dull placer gold in +her foot-hill streams, and the free grass, knee deep, on her cattle +and sheep-ranges held no lure; for he had been first among the Humboldt +redwoods and had come under the spell of the vastness and antiquity, the +majesty and promise of these epics of a planet. He was a big man with a +great heart and the soul of a dreamer, and in such a land as this it was +fitting he should take his stand. + +In that wasteful day a timber-claim was not looked upon as valuable. The +price of a quarter-section was a pittance in cash and a brief residence +in a cabin constructed on the claim as evidence of good faith to a +government none too exacting in the restrictions with which it hedged +about its careless dissipation of the heritage of posterity. Hence, +because redwood timber-claims were easy to acquire, many men acquired +them; but when the lure of greener pastures gripped these men and +the necessity for ready money oppressed, they were wont to sell their +holdings for a few hundred dollars. Gradually it became the fashion +in Humboldt to "unload" redwood timber-claims on thrifty, far-seeing, +visionary John Cardigan who appeared to be always in the market for any +claim worth while. + +Cardigan was a shrewd judge of stumpage; with the calm certitude of +a prophet he looked over township after township and cunningly +checkerboarded it with his holdings. Notwithstanding the fact that +hillside timber is the best, John Cardigan in those days preferred to +buy valley timber, for he was looking forward to the day when the timber +on the watersheds should become available. He knew that when such timber +should be cut it would have to be hauled out through the valleys where +his untouched holdings formed an impenetrable barrier to the exit! +Before long the owners of timber on the watersheds would come to realize +this and sell to John Cardigan at a reasonable price. + +Time passed. John Cardigan no longer swung an axe or dragged a cross-cut +saw through a fallen redwood. He was an employer of labour now, well +known in San Francisco as a manufacturer of split-redwood products, the +purchasers sending their own schooners for the cargo. And presently John +Cardigan mortgaged all of his timber holdings with a San Francisco bank, +made a heap of his winnings, and like a true adventurer staked his all +on a new venture--the first sawmill in Humboldt County. The timbers for +it were hewed out by hand; the boards and planking were whipsawed. + +It was a tiny mill, judged by present-day standards, for in a +fourteen-hour working day John Cardigan and his men could not cut more +than twenty thousand feet of lumber. Nevertheless, when Cardigan looked +at his mill, his great heart would swell with pride. Built on tidewater +and at the mouth of a large slough in the waters of which he stored the +logs his woods-crew cut and peeled for the bull-whackers to haul with +ox-teams down a mile-long skid-road, vessels could come to Cardigan's +mill dock to load and lie safely in twenty feet of water at low tide. +Also this dock was sufficiently far up the bay to be sheltered from the +heavy seas that rolled in from Humboldt Bar, while the level land +that stretched inland to the timber-line constituted the only logical +townsite on the bay. + +"Here," said John Cardigan to himself exultingly when a long-drawn wail +told him his circular saw was biting into the first redwood log to be +milled since the world began, "I shall build a city and call it Sequoia. +By to-morrow I shall have cut sufficient timber to make a start. First +I shall build for my employees better homes than the rude shacks and +tent-houses they now occupy; then I shall build myself a fine residence +with six rooms, and the room that faces on the bay shall be the parlour. +When I can afford it, I shall build a larger mill, employ more men, and +build more houses. I shall encourage tradesmen to set up in business in +Sequoia, and to my city I shall present a church and a schoolhouse. We +shall have a volunteer fire department, and if God is good, I shall, at +a later date, get out some long-length fir-timber and build a schooner +to freight my lumber to market. And she shall have three masts instead +of two, and carry half a million feet of lumber instead of two hundred +thousand. First, however, I must build a steam tugboat to tow my +schooner in and out over Humboldt Bar. And after that--ah, well! That is +sufficient for the present." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Thus did John Cardigan dream, and as he dreamed he worked. The city of +Sequoia was born with the Argonaut's six-room mansion of rough redwood +boards and a dozen three-room cabins with lean-to kitchens; and the +tradespeople came when John Cardigan, with something of the largeness of +his own redwood trees, gave them ground and lumber in order to encourage +the building of their enterprises. Also the dream of the schoolhouse +and the church came true, as did the steam tugboat and the schooner with +three masts. The mill was enlarged until it could cut forty thousand +feet on a twelve-hour shift, and a planer and machines for making rustic +siding and tongued-and-grooved flooring and ceiling were installed. More +ox-teams appeared upon the skid-road, which was longer now; the cry of +"Timber-r-r!" and the thunderous roar of a falling redwood grew fainter +and fainter as the forest receded from the bay shore, and at last the +whine of the saws silenced these sounds forever in Sequoia. + +At forty John Cardigan was younger than most men at thirty, albeit he +worked fourteen hours a day, slept eight, and consumed the remaining two +at his meals. But through all those fruitful years of toil he had still +found time to dream, and the spell of the redwoods had lost none of its +potency. He was still checker-boarding the forested townships with his +adverse holdings--the key-positions to the timber in back of beyond +which some day should come to his hand. Also he had competition now: +other sawmills dotted the bay shore; other three-masted schooners +carried Humboldt redwood to the world beyond the bar, over which they +were escorted by other and more powerful steam-tugs. This competition +John Cardigan welcomed and enjoyed, however, for he had been first in +Humboldt, and the townsite and a mile of tidelands fronting on deep +water were his; hence each incoming adventurer merely helped his dream +of a city to come true. + +At forty-two Cardigan was the first mayor of Sequoia. At forty-four he +was standing on his dock one day, watching his tug kick into her berth +the first square-rigged ship that had ever come to Humboldt Bay to load +a cargo of clear redwood for foreign delivery. She was a big Bath-built +clipper, and her master a lusty down-Easter, a widower with one daughter +who had come with him around the Horn. John Cardigan saw this girl come +up on the quarter-deck and stand by with a heaving-line in her hand; +calmly she fixed her glance upon him, and as the ship was shunted in +closer to the dock, she made the cast to Cardigan. He caught the light +heaving-line, hauled in the heavy Manila stern-line to which it was +attached, and slipped the loop of the mooring-cable over the dolphin at +the end of the dock. + +"Some men wanted aft here to take up the slack of the stern-line on the +windlass, sir," he shouted to the skipper, who was walking around on top +of the house. "That girl can't haul her in alone." + +"Can't. I'm short-handed," the skipper replied. "Jump aboard and help +her." + +Cardigan made a long leap from the dock to the ship's rail, balanced +there lightly a moment, and sprang to the deck. He passed the bight of +the stern-line in a triple loop around the drum of the windlass, and +without awaiting his instructions, the girl grasped the slack of the +line and prepared to walk away with it as the rope paid in on the +windlass. Cardigan inserted a belaying-pin in the windlass, paused +and looked at the girl. "Raise a chantey," he suggested. Instantly she +lifted a sweet contralto in that rollicking old ballad of the sea--"Blow +the Men Down." + + For tinkers and tailors and lawyers and all, + Way! Aye! Blow the men down! + They ship for real sailors aboard the Black Ball, + Give me some time to blow the men down. + +Round the windlass Cardigan walked, steadily and easily, and the girl's +eyes widened in wonder as he did the work of three powerful men. When +the ship had been warped in and the slack of the line made fast on the +bitts, she said: + +"Please run for'd and help my father with the bow-lines. You're worth +three foremast hands. Indeed, I didn't expect to see a sailor on this +dock." + +"I had to come around the Horn to get here, Miss," he explained, "and +when a man hasn't money to pay for his passage, he needs must work it." + +"I'm the second mate," she explained. "We had a succession of gales from +the Falklands to the Evangelistas, and there the mate got her in irons +and she took three big ones over the taffrail and cost us eight men. +Working short-handed, we couldn't get any canvas on her to speak +of--long voyage, you know, and the rest of the crew got scurvy." + +"You're a brave girl," he told her. + +"And you're a first-class A. B.," she replied. "If you're looking for a +berth, my father will be glad to ship you." + +"Sorry, but I can't go," he called as he turned toward the companion +ladder. "I'm Cardigan, and I own this sawmill and must stay here and +look after it." + +There was a light, exultant feeling in his middle-aged heart as he +scampered along the deck. The girl had wonderful dark auburn hair and +brown eyes, with a milk-white skin that sun and wind had sought in vain +to blemish. And for all her girlhood she was a woman--bred from a race +(his own people) to whom danger and despair merely furnished a tonic +for their courage. What a mate for a man! And she had looked at him +pridefully. + +They were married before the ship was loaded, and on a knoll of the +logged-over lands back of the town and commanding a view of the bay, +with the dark-forested hills in back and the little second-growth +redwoods flourishing in the front yard, he built her the finest home in +Sequoia. He had reserved this building-site in a vague hope that some +day he might utilize it for this very purpose, and here he spent with +her three wonderfully happy years. Here his son Bryce was born, and +here, two days later, the new-made mother made the supreme sacrifice of +maternity. + +For half a day following the destruction of his Eden John Cardigan sat +dumbly beside his wife, his great, hard hand caressing the auburn head +whose every thought for three years had been his happiness and comfort. +Then the doctor came to him and mentioned the matter of funeral +arrangements. + +Cardigan looked up at him blankly. "Funeral arrangements?" he murmured. +"Funeral arrangements?" He passed his gnarled hand over his leonine +head. "Ah, yes, I suppose so. I shall attend to it." + +He rose and left the house, walking with bowed head out of Sequoia, up +the abandoned and decaying skid-road through the second-growth redwoods +to the dark green blur that marked the old timber. It was May, and +Nature was renewing herself, for spring comes late in Humboldt County. +From an alder thicket a pompous cock grouse boomed intermittently; the +valley quail, in pairs, were busy about their household affairs; from a +clump of manzanita a buck watched John Cardigan curiously. On past the +landing where the big bull donkey-engine stood (for with the march of +progress, the logging donkey-engine had replaced the ox-teams, while the +logs were hauled out of the woods to the landing by means of a mile-long +steel cable, and there loaded on the flat-cars of a logging railroad +to be hauled to the mill and dumped in the log-boom) he went, up the +skid-road recently swamped from the landing to the down timber where +the crosscut men and barkpeelers were at work, on into the green timber +where the woods-boss and his men were chopping. + +"Come with me, McTavish," he said to his woods-boss. They passed through +a narrow gap between two low hills and emerged in a long narrow valley +where the redwood grew thickly and where the smallest tree was not +less than fifteen feet in diameter and two hundred and fifty feet tall. +McTavish followed at the master's heels as they penetrated this grove, +making their way with difficulty through the underbrush until they came +at length to a little amphitheatre, a clearing perhaps a hundred feet +in diameter, oval-shaped and surrounded by a wall of redwoods of such +dimensions that even McTavish, who was no stranger to these natural +marvels, was struck with wonder. The ground in this little amphitheatre +was covered to a depth of a foot with brown, withered little redwood +twigs to which the dead leaves still clung, while up through this +aromatic covering delicate maidenhair ferns and oxalis had thrust +themselves. Between the huge brown boles of the redwoods woodwardia grew +riotously, while through the great branches of these sentinels of the +ages the sunlight filtered. Against the prevailing twilight of the +surrounding forest it descended like a halo, and where it struck the +ground John Cardigan paused. + +"McTavish," he said, "she died this morning." + +"I'm sore distressed for you, sir," the woods-boss answered. "We'd a +whisper in the camp yesterday that the lass was like to be in a bad +way." + +Cardigan scuffed with his foot a clear space in the brown litter. "Take +two men from the section-gang, McTavish," he ordered, "and have them dig +her grave here; then swamp a trail through the underbrush and out to the +donkey-landing, so we can carry her in. The funeral will be private." + +McTavish nodded. "Any further orders, sir?" + +"Yes. When you come to that little gap in the hills, cease your logging +and bear off yonder." He waved his hand. "I'm not going to cut the +timber in this valley. You see, McTavish, what it is. The trees +here--ah, man, I haven't the heart to destroy God's most wonderful +handiwork. Besides, she loved this spot, McTavish, and she called the +valley her Valley of the Giants. I--I gave it to her for a wedding +present because she had a bit of a dream that some day the town I +started would grow up to yonder gap, and when that time came and we +could afford it, 'twas in her mind to give her Valley of the Giants to +Sequoia for a city park, all hidden away here and unsuspected. + +"She loved it, McTavish. It pleased her to come here with me; she'd make +up a lunch of her own cooking and I would catch trout in the stream by +the dogwoods yonder and fry the fish for her. Sometimes I'd barbecue a +venison steak and--well, 'twas our playhouse, McTavish, and I who am no +longer young--I who never played until I met her--I--I'm a bit foolish, +I fear, but I found rest and comfort here, McTavish, even before I +met her, and I'm thinking I'll have to come here often for the same. +She--she was a very superior woman, McTavish--very superior. Ah, man, +the soul of her! I cannot bear that her body should rest in Sequoia +cemetery, along with the rag tag and bobtail o' the town. She was like +this sunbeam, McTavish. She--she--" + +"Aye," murmured McTavish huskily. "I ken. Ye wouldna gie her a common +or a public spot in which to wait for ye. An' ye'll be shuttin' down +the mill an' loggin'-camps an' layin' off the hands in her honour for a +bit?" + +"Until after the funeral, McTavish. And tell your men they'll be paid +for the lost time. That will be all, lad." + +When McTavish was gone, John Cardigan sat down on a small sugar-pine +windfall, his head held slightly to one side while he listened to that +which in the redwoods is not sound but rather the absence of it. And as +he listened, he absorbed a subtle comfort from those huge brown trees, +so emblematic of immortality; in the thought he grew closer to his +Maker, and presently found that peace which he sought. Love such as +theirs could never die... The tears came at last. + +At sundown he walked home bearing an armful of rhododendrons and dogwood +blossoms, which he arranged in the room where she lay. Then he sought +the nurse who had attended her. + +"I'd like to hold my son," he said gently. "May I?" + +She brought him the baby and placed it in his great arms that trembled +so; he sat down and gazed long and earnestly at this flesh of his flesh +and blood of his blood. "You'll have her hair and skin and eyes," he +murmured. "My son, my son, I shall love you so, for now I must love for +two. Sorrow I shall keep from you, please God, and happiness and worldly +comfort shall I leave you when I go to her." He nuzzled his grizzled +cheek against the baby's face. "Just you and my trees," he whispered, +"just you and my trees to help me hang on to a plucky finish." + +For love and paternity had come to him late in life, and so had his +first great sorrow; wherefore, since he was not accustomed to these +heritages of all flesh, he would have to adjust himself to the change. +But his son and his trees--ah, yes, they would help. And he would gather +more redwoods now! + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A young half-breed Digger woman, who had suffered the loss of the latest +of her numerous progeny two days prior to Mrs. Cardigan's death, was +installed in the house on the knoll as nurse to John Cardigan's son whom +he called Bryce, the family name of his mother's people. A Mrs. +Tully, widow of Cardigan's first engineer in the mill, was engaged as +housekeeper and cook; and with his domestic establishment reorganized +along these simple lines, John Cardigan turned with added eagerness to +his business affairs, hoping between them and his boy to salvage as +much as possible from what seemed to him, in the first pangs of his +loneliness and desolation, the wreckage of his life. + +While Bryce was in swaddling clothes, he was known only to those females +of Sequoia to whom his half-breed foster mother proudly exhibited him +when taking him abroad for an airing in his perambulator. With his +advent into rompers, however, and the assumption of his American +prerogative of free speech, his father developed the habit of bringing +the child down to the mill office, to which he added a playroom that +connected with his private office. Hence, prior to his second birthday, +Bryce divined that his father was closer to him than motherly Mrs. Tully +or the half-breed girl, albeit the housekeeper sang to him the lullabys +that mothers know while the Digger girl, improvising blank verse paeans +of praise and prophecy, crooned them to her charge in the unmusical +monotone of her tribal tongue. His father, on the contrary, wasted no +time in singing, but would toss him to the ceiling or set him astride +his foot and swing him until he screamed in ecstasy. Moreover, his +father took him on wonderful journeys which no other member of the +household had even suggested. Together they were wont to ride to and +from the woods in the cab of the logging locomotive, and once they both +got on the log carriage in the mill with Dan Keyes, the head sawyer, and +had a jolly ride up to the saw and back again, up and back again until +the log had been completely sawed; and because he had refrained from +crying aloud when the greedy saw bit into the log with a shrill whine, +Dan Keyes had given him a nickel to put in his tin bank. + +Of all their adventures together, however, those which occurred on their +frequent excursions up to the Valley of the Giants impressed themselves +imperishably upon Bryce's memory. How well he remembered their first +trip, when, seated astride his father's shoulders with his sturdy little +legs around Cardigan's neck and his chubby little hands clasping the +old man's ears, they had gone up the abandoned skid-road and into +the semi-darkness of the forest, terminating suddenly in a shower of +sunshine that fell in an open space where a boy could roll and play +and never get dirty. Also there were several dozen gray squirrels there +waiting to climb on his shoulder and search his pockets for pine-nuts, a +supply of which his father always furnished. + +Bryce always looked forward with eagerness to those frequent trips with +his father "to the place where Mother dear went to heaven." From his +perch on his father's shoulders he could look vast distances into the +underbrush and catch glimpses of the wild life therein; when the last +nut had been distributed to the squirrels in the clearing, he would +follow a flash of blue that was a jay high up among the evergreen +branches, or a flash of red that was a woodpecker hammering a home in +the bark of a sugar-pine. Eventually, however, the spell of the forest +would creep over the child; intuitively he would become one with the +all-pervading silence, climb into his father's arms as the latter sat +dreaming on the old sugar-pine windfall, and presently drop off to +sleep. + +When Bryce was six years old, his father sent him to the public school +in Sequoia with the children of his loggers and mill-hands, thus laying +the foundation for a democratic education all too infrequent with the +sons of men rated as millionaires. At night old Cardigan (for so men had +now commenced to designate him!) would hear his boy's lessons, taking +the while an immeasurable delight in watching the lad's mind develop. As +a pupil Bryce was not meteoric; he had his father's patient, unexcitable +nature; and, like the old man, he possessed the glorious gift of +imagination. Never mediocre, he was never especially brilliant, but +was seemingly content to maintain a steady, dependable average in all +things. He had his mother's dark auburn hair, brown eyes, and fair white +skin, and quite early in life he gave promise of being as large and +powerful a man as his father. + +Bryce's boyhood was much the same as that of other lads in Sequoia, +save that in the matter of toys and, later guns, fishing-rods, dogs, and +ponies he was a source of envy to his fellows. After his tenth year his +father placed him on the mill pay-roll, and on payday he was wont to +line up with the mill-crew to receive his modest stipend of ten dollars +for carrying in kindling to the cook in the mill kitchen each day after +school. + +This otherwise needless arrangement was old Cardigan's way of teaching +his boy financial responsibility. All that he possessed he had worked +for, and he wanted his son to grow up with the business to realize that +he was a part of it with definite duties connected with it developing +upon him--duties which he must never shirk if he was to retain the rich +redwood heritage his father had been so eagerly storing up for him. + +When Bryce Cardigan was about fourteen years old there occurred an +important event in his life. In a commendable effort to increase his +income he had laid out a small vegetable garden in the rear of his +father's house, and here on a Saturday morning, while down on his knees +weeding carrots, he chanced to look up and discovered a young lady +gazing at him through the picket fence. She was a few years his junior, +and a stranger in Sequoia. Ensued the following conversation: "Hello, +little boy." + +"Hello yourself! I ain't a little boy." + +She ignored the correction. "What are you doing?" + +"Weedin' carrots. Can't you see?" + +"What for?" + +Bryce, highly incensed at having been designated a little boy by this +superior damsel, saw his opportunity to silence her. "Cat's fur for +kitten breeches," he retorted--without any evidence of originality, we +must confess. Whereat she stung him to the heart with a sweet smile and +promptly sang for him this ancient ballad of childhood: + + "What are little boys made of? + What are little boys made of? + Snakes and snails, + And puppy dog's tails, + And that's what little boys are made of." + +Bryce knew the second verse and shrivelled inwardly in anticipation +of being informed that little girls are made of sugar and spice and +everything nice. Realizing that he had begun something which might not +terminate with credit to himself, he hung his head and for the space of +several minutes gave all his attention to his crop. And presently the +visitor spoke again. + +"I like your hair, little boy. It's a pretty red." + +That settled the issue between them. To be hailed as little boy was bad +enough, but to be reminded of his crowning misfortune was adding +insult to injury. He rose and cautiously approached the fence with +the intention of pinching the impudent stranger, suddenly and +surreptitiously, and sending her away weeping. As his hand crept between +the palings on its wicked mission, the little miss looked at him in +friendly fashion and queried: + +"What's your name?" + +Bryce's hand hesitated. "Bryce Cardigan," he answered gruffly. + +"I'm Shirley Sumner," she ventured, "Let's be friends." + +"When did you come to live in Sequoia?" he demanded. + +"I don't live here. I'm just visiting here with my aunt and uncle. We're +staying at the hotel, and there's nobody to play with. My uncle's name +is Pennington. So's my aunt's. He's out here buying timber, and we live +in Michigan. Do you know the capital of Michigan?" + +"Of course I do," he answered. "The capital of Michigan is Chicago." + +"Oh, you big stupid! It isn't. It's Detroit." + +"'Tain't neither. It's Chicago." + +"I live there--so I guess I ought to know. So there!" + +Bryce was vanquished, and an acute sense of his imperfections in matters +geographical inclined him to end the argument. "Well, maybe you're +right," he admitted grudgingly. "Anyhow, what difference does it make?" + +She did not answer. Evidently she was desirous of avoiding an argument +if possible. Her gaze wandered past Bryce to where his Indian pony stood +with her head out the window of her box-stall contemplating her master. + +"Oh, what a dear little horse!" Shirley Sumner exclaimed. "Whose is he?" + +"'Tain't a he. It's a she. And she belongs to me." + +"Do you ride her?" + +"Not very often now. I'm getting too heavy for her, so Dad's bought me a +horse that weighs nine hundred pounds. Midget only weighs five hundred." +He considered her a moment while she gazed in awe upon this man with two +horses. "Can you ride a pony?" he asked, for no reason that he was aware +of. + +She sighed, shaking her head resignedly. "We haven't any room to keep a +pony at our house in Detroit," she explained, and added hopefully: "But +I'd love to ride on Midget. I suppose I could learn to ride if somebody +taught me how." + +He looked at her again. At that period of his existence he was inclined +to regard girls as a necessary evil. For some immutable reason they +existed, and perforce must be borne with, and it was his hope that he +would get through life and see as little as possible of the exasperating +sex. Nevertheless, as Bryce surveyed this winsome miss through the +palings, he was sensible of a sneaking desire to find favour in her +eyes--also equally sensible of the fact that the path to that desirable +end lay between himself and Midget. He swelled with the importance of +one who knows he controls a delicate situation. "Well, I suppose if you +want a ride I'll have to give it to you," he grumbled, "although I'm +mighty busy this morning." + +"Oh, I think you're so nice," she declared. + +A thrill shot through him that was akin to pain; with difficulty did he +restrain an impulse to dash wildly into the stable and saddle Midget +in furious haste. Instead he walked to the barn slowly and with extreme +dignity. When he reappeared, he was leading Midget, a little silverpoint +runt of a Klamath Indian pony, and Moses, a sturdy pinto cayuse from the +cattle ranges over in Trinity County. "I'll have to ride with you," he +announced. "Can't let a tenderfoot like you go out alone on Midget." + +All aflutter with delightful anticipation, the young lady climbed up +on the gate and scrambled into the saddle when Bryce swung the pony +broadside to the gate. Then he adjusted the stirrups to fit her, passed +a hair rope from Midget's little hackamore to the pommel of Moses' +saddle, mounted the pinto, and proceeded with his first adventure as a +riding-master. Two hours of his valuable time did he give that morning +before the call of duty brought him back to the house and his neglected +crop of carrots. When he suggested tactfully, however, that it was +now necessary that his guest and Midget separate, a difficulty arose. +Shirley Sumner refused point blank to leave the premises. She liked +Bryce for his hair and because he had been so kind to her; she was a +stranger in Sequoia, and now that she had found an agreeable companion, +it was far from her intention to desert him. + +So Miss Sumner stayed and helped Bryce weed his carrots, and since as +a voluntary labourer she was at least worth her board, at noon Bryce +brought her in to Mrs. Tully with a request for luncheon. When he +went to the mill to carry in the kindling for the cook, the young lady +returned rather sorrowfully to the Hotel Sequoia, with a fervent promise +to see him the next day. She did, and Bryce took her for a long ride +up into the Valley of the Giants and showed her his mother's grave. The +gray squirrels were there, and Bryce gave Shirley a bag of pine-nuts +to feed them. Then they put some flowers on the grave, and when they +returned to town and Bryce was unsaddling the ponies, Shirley drew +Midget's nose down to her and kissed it. Then she commenced to weep +rather violently. + +"What are you crying about?" Bryce demanded. Girls were so hard to +understand. + +"I'm go-going h-h-h-home to-morrow," she howled. + +He was stricken with dismay and bade her desist from her vain +repinings. But her heart was broken, and somehow--Bryce appeared to +act automatically--he had his arm around her. "Don't cry, Shirley," he +pleaded. "It breaks my heart to see you cry. Do you want Midget? I'll +give her to you." + +Between sobs Shirley confessed that the prospect of parting with him and +not Midget was provocative of her woe. This staggered Bryce and pleased +him immensely. And at parting she kissed him good-bye, reiterating her +opinion that he was the nicest, kindest boy she had ever met or hoped to +meet. + +When Shirley and her uncle and aunt boarded the steamer for San +Francisco, Bryce stood disconsolate on the dock and waved to Shirley +until he could no longer discern her on the deck. Then he went home, +crawled up into the haymow and wept, for he had something in his heart +and it hurt. He thought of his elfin companion very frequently for a +week, and he lost his appetite, very much to Mrs. Tully's concern. Then +the steelhead trout began to run in Eel River, and the sweetest event +that can occur in any boy's existence--the sudden awakening to +the wonder and beauty of life so poignantly realized in his first +love-affair--was lost sight of by Bryce. In a month he had forgotten the +incident; in six months he had forgotten Shirley Sumner. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The succeeding years of Bryce Cardigan's life, until he completed +his high-school studies and went East to Princeton, were those of the +ordinary youth in a small and somewhat primitive country town. He made +frequent trips to San Francisco with his father, taking passage on the +steamer that made bi-weekly trips between Sequoia and the metropolis--as +The Sequoia Sentinel always referred to San Francisco. He was an expert +fisherman, and the best shot with rifle or shot-gun in the county; he +delighted in sports and, greatly to the secret delight of his father +showed a profound interest in the latter's business. + +Throughout the happy years of Bryce's boyhood his father continued to +enlarge and improve his sawmill, to build more schooners, and to acquire +more redwood timber. Lands, the purchase of which by Cardigan a decade +before had caused his neighbours to impugn his judgment, now developed +strategical importance. As a result those lands necessary to consolidate +his own holdings came to him at his own price, while his adverse +holdings that blocked the logging operations of his competitors went +from him--also at his own price. In fact, all well-laid plans matured +satisfactorily with the exception of one, and since it has a very +definite bearing on the story, the necessity for explaining it is +paramount. + +Contiguous to Cardigan's logging operations to the east and north of +Sequoia, and comparatively close in, lay a block of two thousand acres +of splendid timber, the natural, feasible, and inexpensive outlet for +which, when it should be logged, was the Valley of the Giants. For +thirty years John Cardigan had played a waiting game with the owner of +that timber, for the latter was as fully obsessed with the belief that +he was going to sell it to John Cardigan at a dollar and a half per +thousand feet stumpage as Cardigan was certain he was going to buy it +for a dollar a thousand--when he should be ready to do so and not one +second sooner. He calculated, as did the owner of the timber, that the +time to do business would be a year or two before the last of Cardigan's +timber in that section should be gone. + +Eventually the time for acquiring more timber arrived. John Cardigan, +meeting his neighbour on the street, accosted him thus: + +"Look here, Bill: isn't it time we got together on that timber of yours? +You know you've been holding it to block me and force me to buy at your +figure." + +"That's why I bought it," the other admitted smilingly. "Then, before I +realized my position, you checkmated me with that quarter-section in the +valley, and we've been deadlocked ever since." + +"I'll give you a dollar a thousand stumpage for your timber, Bill." + +"I want a dollar and a half." + +"A dollar is my absolute limit." + +"Then I'll keep my timber." + +"And I'll keep my money. When I finish logging in my present holdings, +I'm going to pull out of that country and log twenty miles south +of Sequoia. I have ten thousand acres in the San Hedrin watershed. +Remember, Bill, the man who buys your timber will have to log it through +my land--and I'm not going to log that quarter-section in the valley. +Hence there will be no outlet for your timber in back." + +"Not going to log it? Why, what are you going to do with it?" + +"I'm just going to let it stay there until I die. When my will is filed +for probate, your curiosity will be satisfied--but not until then." + +The other laughed. "John," he declared, "you just haven't got the +courage to pull out when your timber adjoining mine is gone, and +move twenty miles south to the San Hedrin watershed. That will be too +expensive a move, and you'll only be biting off your nose to spite your +face. Come through with a dollar and a half, John." + +"I never bluff, Bill. Remember, if I pull out for the San Hedrin, I'll +not abandon my logging-camps there to come back and log your timber. +One expensive move is enough for me. Better take a dollar, Bill. It's a +good, fair price, as the market on redwood timber is now, and you'll be +making an even hundred per cent, on your investment. Remember, Bill, if +I don't buy your timber, you'll never log it yourself and neither will +anybody else. You'll be stuck with it for the next forty years--and +taxes aren't getting any lower. Besides, there's a good deal of pine and +fir in there, and you know what a forest fire will do to that." + +"I'll hang on a little longer, I think." + +"I think so, too," John Cardigan replied. And that night, as was his +wont, even though he realized that it was not possible for Bryce to gain +a profound understanding of the business problems to which he was heir, +John Cardigan discussed the Squaw Creek timber with his son, relating to +him the details of his conversation with the owner. + +"I suppose he thinks you're bluffing," Bryce commented. + +"I'm not, Bryce. I never bluff--that is, I never permit a bluff of mine +to be called, and don't you ever do it, either. Remember that, boy. Any +time you deliver a verdict, be sure you're in such a position you won't +have to reverse yourself. I'm going to finish logging in that district +this fall, so if I'm to keep the mill running, I'll have to establish my +camps on the San Hedrin watershed right away." + +Bryce pondered. "But isn't it cheaper to give him his price on Squaw +Creek timber than go logging in the San Hedrin and have to build twenty +miles of logging railroad to get your logs to the mill?" + +"It would be, son, if I HAD to build the railroad. Fortunately, I do +not. I'll just shoot the logs down the hillside to the San Hedrin River +and drive them down the stream to a log-boom on tidewater." + +"But there isn't enough water in the San Hedrin to float a redwood log, +Dad. I've fished there, and I know." + +"Quite true--in the summer and fall. But when the winter freshets come +on and the snow begins to melt in the spring up in the Yola Bolas, where +the San Hedrin has its source, we'll have plenty of water for driving +the river. Once we get the logs down to tide-water, we'll raft them and +tow them up to the mill. So you see, Bryce, we won't be bothered with +the expense of maintaining a logging railroad, as at present." + +Bryce looked at his father admiringly. "I guess Dan Keyes is right, +Dad," he said. "Dan says you're crazy--like a fox. Now I know why you've +been picking up claims in the San Hedrin watershed." + +"No, you don't, Bryce. I've never told you, but I'll tell you now the +real reason. Humboldt County has no rail connection with the outside +world, so we are forced to ship our lumber by water. But some day a +railroad will be built in from the south--from San Francisco; and when +it comes, the only route for it to travel is through our timber in the +San Hedrin Valley. I've accumulated that ten thousand acres for you, +my son, for the railroad will never be built in my day. It may come in +yours, but I have grown weary waiting for it, and now that my hand is +forced, I'm going to start logging there. It doesn't matter, son. You +will still be logging there fifty years from now. And when the railroad +people come to you for a right of way, my boy, give it to them. Don't +charge them a cent. It has always been my policy to encourage the +development of this county, and I want you to be a forward-looking, +public-spirited citizen. That's why I'm sending you East to college. +You've been born and raised in this town, and you must see more of the +world. You mustn't be narrow or provincial, because I'm saving up for +you, my son, a great many responsibilities, and I want to educate you to +meet them bravely and sensibly." + +He paused, regarding the boy gravely and tenderly. "Bryce, lad," he said +presently, "do you ever wonder why I work so hard and barely manage to +spare the time to go camping with you in vacation time?" + +"Why don't you take it easy, Dad? You do work awfully hard, and I have +wondered about it." + +"I have to work hard, my son, because I started something a long time +ago, when work was fun. And now I can't let go. I employ too many people +who are dependent on me for their bread and butter. When they plan a +marriage or the building of a home or the purchase of a cottage organ, +they have to figure me in on the proposition. I didn't have a name for +the part I played in these people's lives until the other night when I +was helping you with your algebra. I'm the unknown quantity." + +"Oh, no," Bryce protested. "You're the known quantity." + +Cardigan smiled. "Well, maybe I am," he admitted. "I've always tried to +be. And if I have succeeded, then you're the unknown quantity, Bryce, +because some day you'll have to take my place; they will have to depend +upon you when I am gone. Listen to me, son. You're only a boy, and you +can't understand everything I tell you now, but I want you to remember +what I tell you, and some day understanding will come to you. You +mustn't fail the people who work for you--who are dependent upon your +strength and brains and enterprises to furnish them with an opportunity +for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When you are the boss +of Cardigan's mill, you must keep the wheels turning; you must never +shut down the mill or the logging-camps in dull times just to avoid a +loss you can stand better than your employees." + +His hard, trembling old hand closed over the boy's. "I want you to be a +brave and honourable man," he concluded. + +True to his word, when John Cardigan finished his logging in his old, +original holdings adjacent to Sequoia and Bill Henderson's Squaw Creek +timber, he quietly moved south with his Squaw Creek woods-gang and +joined the crew already getting out logs in the San Hedrin watershed. +Not until then did Bill Henderson realize that John Cardigan had called +his bluff--whereat he cursed himself for a fool and a poor judge of +human nature. He had tried a hold-up game and had failed; a dollar a +thousand feet stumpage was a fair price; for years he had needed the +money; and now, when it was too late, he realized his error. Luck was +with Henderson, however; for shortly thereafter there came again to +Sequoia one Colonel Seth Pennington, a millionaire white-pine operator +from Michigan. The Colonel's Michigan lands had been logged off, and +since he had had one taste of cheap timber, having seen fifty-cent +stumpage go to five dollars, the Colonel, like Oliver Twist, desired +some more of the same. On his previous visit to Sequoia he had seen +his chance awaiting him in the gradually decreasing market for redwood +lumber and the corresponding increase of melancholia in the redwood +operators; hence he had returned to Michigan, closed out his business +interests there, and returned to Sequoia on the alert for an investment +in redwood timber. From a chair-warmer on the porch of the Hotel +Sequoia, the Colonel had heard the tale of how stiff-necked old +John Cardigan had called the bluff of equally stiff-necked old Bill +Henderson; so for the next few weeks the Colonel, under pretense of +going hunting or fishing on Squaw Creek, managed to make a fairly +accurate cursory cruise of the Henderson timber--following which he +purchased it from the delighted Bill for a dollar and a quarter per +thousand feet stumpage and paid for it with a certified check. With his +check in his hand, Henderson queried: + +"Colonel, how do you purpose logging that timber?" + +The Colonel smiled. "Oh, I don't intend to log it. When I log timber, +it has to be more accessible. I'm just going to hold on and outgame your +former prospect, John Cardigan. He needs that timber; he has to have +it--and one of these days he'll pay me two dollars for it." + +Bill Henderson raised an admonitory finger and shook it under the +Colonel's nose. "Hear me, stranger," he warned. "When you know John +Cardigan as well as I do, you'll change your tune. He doesn't bluff." + +"He doesn't?" The Colonel laughed derisively. "Why, that move of his +over to the San Hedrin was the most monumental bluff ever pulled off in +this country." + +"All right, sir. You wait and see." + +"I've seen already. I know." + +"How do you know?" + +"Well, for one thing, Henderson, I noticed Cardigan has carefully housed +his rolling-stock--and he hasn't scrapped his five miles of logging +railroad and three miles of spurs." + +Old Bill Henderson chewed his quid of tobacco reflectively and spat at +a crack in the sidewalk. "No," he replied, "I'll admit he ain't started +scrappin' it yet, but I happen to know he's sold the rollin'-stock an' +rails to the Freshwater Lumber Company, so I reckon they'll be scrappin' +that railroad for him before long." + +The Colonel was visibly moved. "If your information is authentic," he +said slowly, "I suppose I'll have to build a mill on tidewater and log +the timber." + +"'Twon't pay you to do that at the present price of redwood lumber." + +"I'm in no hurry. I can wait for better times." + +"Well, when better times arrive, you'll find that John Cardigan owns the +only water-front property on this side of the bay where the water's deep +enough to let a ship lie at low tide and load in safety." + +"There is deep water across the bay and plenty of water-front property +for sale. I'll find a mill-site there and tow my logs across." + +"But you've got to dump 'em in the water on this side. Everything north +of Cardigan's mill is tide-flat; he owns all the deep-water frontage +for a mile south of Sequoia, and after that come more tide-flats. If +you dump your logs on these tide-flats, they'll bog down in the mud, and +there isn't water enough at high tide to float 'em off or let a tug go +in an' snake 'em off." + +"You're a discouraging sort of person," the Colonel declared irritably. +"I suppose you'll tell me now that I can't log my timber without +permission from Cardigan." + +Old Bill spat at another crack; his faded blue eyes twinkled +mischievously. "No, that's where you've got the bulge on John, Colonel. +You can build a logging railroad from the southern fringe of your timber +north and up a ten per cent. grade on the far side of the Squaw Creek +watershed, then west three miles around a spur of low hills, and then +south eleven miles through the level country along the bay shore. If you +want to reduce your Squaw Creek grade to say two per cent., figure on +ten additional miles of railroad and a couple extra locomotives. You +understand, of course, Colonel, that no Locomotive can haul a long +trainload of redwood logs up a long, crooked, two per cent. grade. You +have to have an extry in back to push." + +"Nonsense! I'll build my road from Squaw Creek gulch south through that +valley where those whopping big trees grow. That's the natural outlet +for the timber. See here:" [graphic] + +Colonel Pennington took from his pocket the rough sketch-map of the +region which we have reproduced herewith and pointed to the spot +numbered "11." + +"But that valley ain't logged yet," explained Henderson. + +"Don't worry. Cardigan will sell that valley to me--also a right of +way down his old railroad grade and through his logged-over lands to +tidewater." + +"Bet you a chaw o' tobacco he won't. Those big trees in that valley +ain't goin' to be cut for no railroad right o' way. That valley's John +Cardigan's private park; his wife's buried up there. Why, Colonel, +that's the biggest grove of the biggest sequoia sempervirens in the +world, an' many's the time I've heard John say he'd almost as lief cut +off his right hand as fell one o' his giants, as he calls 'em. I tell +you, Colonel, John Cardigan's mighty peculiar about them big trees. Any +time he can get a day off he goes up an' looks 'em over." + +"But, my very dear sir," the Colonel protested, "if the man will not +listen to reason, the courts will make him. I can condemn a right of +way, you know." + +"We-ll," said old Bill, wagging his head sagely, "mebbe you can, an' +then again mebbe you can't. It took me a long time to figger out just +where I stood, but mebbe you're quicker at figgers than I am. Anyhow, +Colonel, good luck to you, whichever way the cat jumps." + +This illuminating conversation had one effect on Colonel Seth +Pennington. It decided him to make haste slowly; so without taking +the trouble to make the acquaintance of John Cardigan, he returned to +Detroit, there to await the next move in this gigantic game of chess. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +No man is infallible, and in planning his logging operations in the San +Hedrin watershed, John Cardigan presently made the discovery that he had +erred in judgment. That season, from May to November, his woods-crew put +thirty million feet of logs into the San Hedrin River, while the +mill sawed on a reserve supply of logs taken from the last of the old +choppings adjacent to Squaw Creek. That year, however, the rainfall in +the San Hedrin country was fifty per cent. less than normal, and by the +first of May of the following year Cardigan's woods-crew had succeeded +in driving slightly less than half of the cut of the preceding year to +the boom on tidewater at the mouth of the river. + +"Unless the Lord'll gi' us a lot more water in the river," the +woods-boss McTavish complained, "I dinna see how I'm to keep the mill +runnin'." He was taking John Cardigan up the riverbank and explaining +the situation. "The heavy butt-logs hae sunk to the bottom," he +continued. "Wie a normal head o' water, the lads'll move them, but +wi' the wee drappie we have the noo--" He threw up his hamlike hands +despairingly. + +Three days later a cloud-burst filled the river to the brim; it came +at night and swept the river clean of Cardigan's clear logs, An army +of Juggernauts, they swept down on the boiling torrent to tidewater, +reaching the bay shortly after the tide had commenced to ebb. + +Now, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and a log-boom is +a chaplet of a small logs, linked end to end by means of short chains; +hence when the vanguard of logs on the lip of that flood reached the +log-boom, the impetus of the charge was too great to be resisted. +Straight through the weakest link in this boom the huge saw-logs crashed +and out over Humboldt Bar to the broad Pacific. With the ebb tide some +of them came back, while others, caught in cross-currents, bobbed about +the Bay all night and finally beached at widely scattered points. Out +of the fifteen million feet of logs less than three million feet were +salvaged, and this task in itself was an expensive operation. + +John Cardigan received the news calmly. "Thank God we don't have a +cloud-burst more than once in ten years," he remarked to his manager. +"However, that is often enough, considering the high cost of this one. +Those logs were worth eight dollars a thousand feet, board measure, +in the millpond, and I suppose we've lost a hundred thousand dollars' +worth." + +He turned from the manager and walked away through the drying yard, up +the main street of Sequoia, and on into the second-growth timber at the +edge of the town. Presently he emerged on the old, decaying skid-road +and continued on through his logged-over lands, across the little divide +and down into the quarter-section of green timber he had told McTavish +not to cut. Once in the Valley of the Giants, he followed a well-worn +foot-path to the little amphitheatre, and where the sunlight filtered +through like a halo and fell on a plain little white marble monument, he +paused and sat down on the now almost decayed sugar-pine windfall. + +"I've come for a little comfort, sweetheart," he murmured to her who +slept beneath the stone. Then he leaned back against a redwood tree, +removed his hat, and closed his eyes, holding his great gray head the +while a little to one side in a listening attitude. Long he sat there, +a great, time-bitten devotee at the shrine of his comfort; and presently +the harried look left his strong, kind face and was replaced by a little +prescient smile--the sort of smile worn by one who through bitter years +has sought something very, very precious and has at length discovered +it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was on the day that John Cardigan received the telegram from Bryce +saying that, following four years at Princeton and two years of +travel abroad, he was returning to Sequoia to take over his redwood +heritage--that he discovered that a stranger and not the flesh of his +flesh and the blood of his blood was to reap the reward of his fifty +years of endeavour. Small wonder, then, that he laid his leonine head +upon his desk and wept, silently, as the aged and helpless weep. + +For a long time he sat there lethargic with misery. Eventually he roused +himself, reached for the desk telephone, and pressed a button on the +office exchange-station. His manager, one Thomas Sinclair, answered. +"Thomas," he said calmly, "you know, of course, that Bryce is coming +home. Tell George to take the big car and go over to Red Bluff for him." + +"I'll attend to it, Mr Cardigan. Anything else?" + +"Yes, but I'll wait until Bryce gets home." + +George Sea Otter, son of Bryce Cardigan's old half-breed nurse, was +a person in whose nature struggled the white man's predilection for +advertisement and civic pride and the red man's instinct for +adornment. For three years he had been old man Cardigan's chauffeur and +man-of-all-work about the latter's old-fashioned home, and in the former +capacity he drove John Cardigan's single evidence of extravagance--a +Napier car, which was very justly regarded by George Sea Otter as the +king of automobiles, since it was the only imported car in the county. +Upon receipt of orders, therefore, from Sinclair, to drive the Napier +over to Red Bluff and meet his future boss and one-time playfellow, +George Sea Otter arrayed himself in a pair of new black corduroy +trousers, yellow button shoes, a blue woollen shirt with a large scarlet +silk handkerchief tied around the neck, a pair of beaded buckskin gloves +with fringe dependent from the gauntlet, and a broad white beaver hat +with a rattlesnake-skin band. Across the windshield of the Napier he +fastened an orange-coloured pennant bearing in bright green letters the +legend: MY CITY--SEQUOIA. As a safety-first precaution against man and +beast en route, he buckled a gun-scabbard to the spare tires on the +running-board and slipped a rifle into the scabbard within quick and +easy reach of his hand; and arrayed thus, George descended upon Red +Bluff at the helm of the king of automobiles. + +When the overland train coasted into Red Bluff and slid to a grinding +halt, Bryce Cardigan saw that the Highest Living Authority had descended +from the train also. He had elected to designate her thus in the absence +of any information anent her Christian and family names, and for the +further reason that quite obviously she was a very superior person. He +had a vague suspicion that she was the kind of girl in whose presence +a man always feels that he must appear on parade--one of those alert, +highly intelligent young women so extremely apt to reduce an ordinarily +intelligent young man to a state of gibbering idiocy or stupid +immobility. + +Bryce had travelled in the same car with the Highest Living Authority +from Chicago and had made up his mind by observation that with a little +encouragement she could be induced to mount a soap-box and make a speech +about Women's Rights; that when her native State should be granted +equal suffrage she would run for office or manage somebody's political +campaign; that she could drive an automobile and had probably been +arrested for speeding; that she could go around any golf links in the +country in ninety and had read Maeterlinck and enjoyed it. + +Bryce could see that she was the little daughter of some large rich man. +The sparsity of jewellery and the rich simplicity of her attire proved +that, and moreover she was accompanied by a French maid to whom she +spoke French in a manner which testified that before acquiring the +French maid she had been in the custody of a French nurse. She possessed +poise. For the rest, she had wonderful jet-black hair, violet eyes, and +milk-white skin, a correct nose but a somewhat generous mouth, Bryce +guessed she was twenty or twenty-one years old and that she had a temper +susceptible of being aroused. On the whole, she was rather wonderful +but not dazzling--at least, not to Bryce Cardigan. He told himself she +merely interested him as a type--whatever he meant by that. + +The fact that this remarkable young woman had also left the train at Red +Bluff further interested him, for he knew Red Bluff and while giving due +credit to the many lovely damsels of that ambitious little city, Bryce +had a suspicion that no former Red Bluff girl would dare to invade the +old home town with a French maid. He noted, as further evidence of the +correctness of his assumption, that the youthful baggage-smasher at the +station failed to recognize her and was evidently dazzled when, followed +by the maid struggling with two suit-cases, she approached him and in +pure though alien English (the Italian A predominated) inquired the name +and location of the best hotel and the hour and point of departure of +the automobile stage for San Hedrin. The youth had answered her first +question and was about to answer the second when George Sea Otter, in +all his barbaric splendour, came pussy-footing around the corner of the +station in old man Cardigan's regal touring-car. + +The Highest Living Authority, following the gaze of the baggage-smasher, +turned and beheld George Sea Otter. Beyond a doubt he was of the West +westward. She had heard that California stage-drivers were picturesque +fellows, and in all probability the displacing of the old Concord coach +of the movie-thriller in favour of the motor-stage had not disturbed the +idiosyncrasies of the drivers in their choice of raiment. She noted +the rifle-stock projecting from the scabbard, and a vision of a stage +hold-up flashed across her mind. Ah, yes, of course--the express +messenger's weapon, no doubt! And further to clinch her instant +assumption that here was the Sequoia motor-stage, there was the pennant +adorning the wind-shield! + +Dismissing the baggage-smasher with a gracious smile, the Highest +Living Authority approached George Sea Otter, noting, the while, further +evidence that this car was a public conveyance, for the young man who +had been her fellow-passenger was heading toward the automobile also. +She heard him say: + +"Hello, George, you radiant red rascal! I'm mighty glad to see you, boy. +Shake!" + +They shook, George Sea Otter's dark eyes and white teeth flashing +pleasurably. Bryce tossed his bag into the tonneau; the half-breed +opened the front door; and the young master had his foot on the +running-board and was about to enter the car when a soft voice spoke at +his elbow: + +"Driver, this is the stage for Sequoia, is it not?" + +George Sea Otter could scarcely credit his auditory nerves. "This car?" +he demanded bluntly, "this--the Sequoia stage! Take a look, lady. This +here's a Napier imported English automobile. It's a private car and +belongs to my boss here." + +"I'm so sorry I slandered your car," she replied demurely. "I observed +the pennant on the wind-shield, and I thought--" + +Bryce Cardigan turned and lifted his hat. + +"Quite naturally, you thought it was the Sequoia stage," he said to +her. He turned a smoldering glance upon George Sea Otter. "George," he +declared ominously, but with a sly wink that drew the sting from his +words, "if you're anxious to hold down your job the next time a lady +speaks to you and asks you a simple question, you answer yes or no and +refrain from sarcastic remarks. Don't let your enthusiasm for this car +run away with you." He faced the girl again. "Was it your intention to +go out to Sequoia on the next trip of the stage?" + +She nodded. + +"That means you will have to wait here three days until the stage +returns from Sequoia," Bryce replied. + +"I realized, of course, that we would arrive here too late to connect +with the stage if it maintained the customary schedule for its +departure," she explained, "but it didn't occur to me that the +stage-driver wouldn't wait until our train arrived. I had an idea his +schedule was rather elastic." + +"Stage-drivers have no imagination, to speak of," Bryce assured her. To +himself he remarked: "She's used to having people wait on her." + +A shade of annoyance passed over the classic features of the Highest +Living Authority. "Oh, dear," she complained, "how fearfully awkward! +Now I shall have to take the next train to San Francisco and book +passage on the steamer to Sequoia--and Marcelle is such a poor sailor. +Oh, dear!" + +Bryce had an inspiration and hastened to reveal it. + +"We are about to start for Sequoia now, although the lateness of our +start will compel us to put up tonight at the rest-house on the south +fork of Trinity River and continue the journey in the morning. However, +this rest-house is eminently respectable and the food and accommodations +are extraordinarily good for mountains; so, if an invitation to occupy +the tonneau of my car will not be construed as an impertinence, coming +as it does from a total stranger, you are at liberty to regard this +car as to all intents and purposes the public conveyance which so +scandalously declined to wait for you this morning." + +She looked at him searchingly for a brief instant: then with a +peculiarly winning smile and a graceful inclination of her head she +thanked him and accepted his hospitality--thus: + +"Why, certainly not! You are very kind, and I shall be eternally +grateful." + +"Thank you for that vote of confidence. It makes me feel that I have +your permission to introduce myself. My name is Bryce Cardigan, and I +live in Sequoia when I'm at home." + +"Of Cardigan's Redwoods?" she questioned. He nodded. "I've heard of you, +I think," she continued. "I am Shirley Sumner." + +"You do not live in Sequoia." + +"No, but I'm going to hereafter. I was there about ten years ago." + +He grinned and thrust out a great hand which she surveyed gravely for a +minute before inserting hers in it. "I wonder," he said, "if it is to be +my duty to give you a ride every time you come to Sequoia? The last time +you were there you wheedled me into giving you a ride on my pony, an +animal known as Midget. Do you, by any chance, recall that incident?" + +She looked up at him wonderingly. "Why--why you're the boy with the +beautiful auburn hair," she declared. He lifted his hat and revealed his +thick thatch in all its glory. "I'm not so sensitive about it now," he +explained. "When we first met, reference to my hair was apt to rile +me." He shook her little hand with cordial good-nature. "What a pity it +wasn't possible for us to renew acquaintance on the train, Miss Sumner!" + +"Better late than never, Mr. Cardigan, considering the predicament in +which you found me. What became of Midget?" + +"Midget, I regret to state, made a little pig of herself one day and +died of acute indigestion. She ate half a sack of carrots, and knowing +full well that she was eating forbidden fruit, she bolted them, and for +her failure to Fletcherize--but speaking of Fletcherizing, did you dine +aboard the train?" + +She nodded. "So did I, Miss Sumner; hence I take it that you are quite +ready to start." + +"Quite, Mr. Cardigan." + +"Then we'll drift. George, suppose you pile Miss Sumner's hand-baggage +in the tonneau and then pile in there yourself and keep Marcelle +company. I'll drive; and you can sit up in front with me, Miss Sumner, +snug behind the wind-shield where you'll not be blown about." + +"I'm sure this is going to be a far pleasanter journey than the stage +could possibly have afforded," she said graciously as Bryce slipped in +beside her and took the wheel. + +"You are very kind to share the pleasure with me, Miss Sumner." He went +through his gears, and the car glided away on its journey. "By the way," +he said suddenly as he turned west toward the distant blue mountains +of Trinity County, "how did you happen to connect me with Cardigan's +redwoods?" + +"I've heard my uncle, Colonel Seth Pennington, speak of them." + +"Colonel Seth Pennington means nothing in my young life. I never heard +of him before; so I dare say he's a newcomer in our country. I've been +away six years," he added in explanation. + +"We're from Michigan. Uncle was formerly in the lumber business there, +but he's logged out now." + +"I see. So he came West, I suppose, and bought a lot of redwood timber +cheap from some old croaker who never could see any future to the +redwood lumber industry. Personally, I don't think he could have made +a better investment. I hope I shall have the pleasure of making his +acquaintance when I deliver you to him. Perhaps you may be a neighbour +of mine. Hope so." + +At this juncture George Sea Otter, who had been an interested listener +to the conversation, essayed a grunt from the rear seat. Instantly, to +Shirley Sumner's vast surprise, her host grunted also; whereupon George +Sea Otter broke into a series of grunts and guttural exclamations which +evidently appeared quite intelligible to her host, for he slowed down +to five miles an hour and cocked one ear to the rear; apparently he +was profoundly interested in whatever information his henchman had to +impart. When George Sea Otter finished his harangue, Bryce nodded and +once more gave his attention to tossing the miles behind him. + +"What language was that?" Shirley Sumner inquired, consumed with +curiosity. + +"Digger Indian," he replied. "George's mother was my nurse, and he and I +grew up together. So I can't very well help speaking the language of the +tribe." + +They chattered volubly on many subjects for the first twenty miles; then +the road narrowed and commenced to climb steadily, and thereafter Bryce +gave all of his attention to the car, for a deviation of a foot from the +wheel-rut on the outside of the road would have sent them hurtling over +the grade into the deep-timbered canons below. Their course led through +a rugged wilderness, widely diversified and transcendently beautiful, +and the girl was rather glad of the opportunity to enjoy it in silence. +Also by reason of the fact that Bryce's gaze never wavered from the +road immediately in front of the car, she had a chance to appraise +him critically while pretending to look past him to the tumbled, +snow-covered ranges to their right. + +She saw a big, supple, powerful man of twenty-five or six, with the +bearing and general demeanour of one many years his elder. His rich, +dark auburn hair was wavy, and a curling lock of it had escaped from the +band of his cap at the temple; his eyes were brown to match his hair and +were the striking feature of a strong, rugged countenance, for they were +spaced at that eminently proper interval which proclaims an honest man. +His nose was high, of medium thickness and just a trifle long--the +nose of a thinker. His ears were large, with full lobes--the ears of a +generous man. The mouth, full-lipped but firm, the heavy jaw and square +chin, the great hands (most amazingly free from freckles) denoted the +man who would not avoid a fight worth while. Indeed, while the girl was +looking covertly at him, she saw his jaw set and a sudden, fierce light +leap up in his eyes, which at first sight had seemed to her rather +quizzical. Subconsciously he lifted one hand from the wheel and clenched +it; he wagged his head a very little bit; consequently she knew his +thoughts were far away, and for some reason, not quite clear to her, she +would have preferred that they weren't. As a usual thing, young men +did not go wool-gathering in her presence; so she sought to divert his +thoughts to present company. + +"What a perfectly glorious country!" she exclaimed. "Can't we stop for +just a minute to appreciate it?" + +"Yes," he replied abstractedly as he descended from the car and sat at +her feet while she drank in the beauty of the scene, "it's a he country; +I love it, and I'm glad to get back to it." + +Upon their arrival at the rest-house, however, Bryce cheered up, and +during dinner was very attentive and mildly amusing, although Shirley's +keen wits assured her that this was merely a clever pose and sustained +with difficulty. She was confirmed in this assumption when, after +sitting with him a little on the porch after dinner, she complained of +being weary and bade him good-night. She had scarcely left him when he +called: + +"George!" + +The half-breed slid out of the darkness and sat down beside him. A +moment later, through the open window of her room just above the porch +where Bryce and George Sea Otter sat, Shirley heard the former say: + +"George, when did you first notice that my father's sight was beginning +to fail?" + +"About two years ago, Bryce." + +"What made you notice it?" + +"He began to walk with his hands held out in front of him, and sometimes +he lifted his feet too high." + +"Can he see at all now, George?" + +"Oh, yes, a little bit--enough to make his way to the office and back." + +"Poor old governor! George, until you told me this afternoon, I hadn't +heard a word about it. If I had, I never would have taken that two-year +jaunt around the world." + +George Sea Otter grunted. "That's what your father said, too. So he +wouldn't tell you, and he ordered everybody else to keep quiet about it. +Myself--well, I didn't want you to go home and not know it until you met +him." + +"That was mighty kind and considerate of you, George. And you say this +man Colonel Pennington and my father have been having trouble?" + +"Yes--" Here George Sea Otter gracefully unburdened himself of a fervent +curse directed at Shirley's avuncular relative; whereupon that young +lady promptly left the window and heard no more. + +They were on the road again by eight o'clock next morning, and just as +Cardigan's mill was blowing the six o'clock whistle, Bryce stopped the +car at the head of the street leading down to the water-front. "I'll let +you drive now, George," he informed the silent Sea Otter. He turned to +Shirley Sumner. "I'm going to leave you now," he said. "Thank you for +riding over from Red Bluff with me. My father never leaves the office +until the whistle blows, and so I'm going to hurry down to that little +building you see at the end of the street and surprise him." + +He stepped out on the running-board, stood there a moment, and extended +his hand. Shirley had commenced a due and formal expression of her +gratitude for having been delivered safely in Sequoia, when George Sea +Otter spoke: + +"Here comes John Cardigan," he said. + +"Drive Miss Sumner around to Colonel Pennington's house," Bryce ordered, +and even while he held Shirley's hand, he turned to catch the first +glimpse of his father. Shirley followed his glance and saw a tall, +powerfully built old man coming down the street with his hands thrust +a little in front of him, as if for protection from some invisible +assailant. + +"Oh, my poor old father!" she heard Bryce Cardigan murmur. "My dear old +pal! And I've let him grope in the dark for two years!" + +He released her hand and leaped from the car. "Dad!" he called. "It is +I--Bryce. I've come home to you at last." + +The slightly bent figure of John Cardigan straightened with a jerk; he +held out his arms, trembling with eagerness, and as the car continued on +to the Pennington house Shirley looked back and saw Bryce folded in his +father's embrace. She did not, however, hear the heart-cry with which +the beaten old man welcomed his boy. + +"Sonny, sonny--oh, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. Bryce, I'm +whipped--I've lost your heritage. Oh, son! I'm old--I can't fight +any more. I'm blind--I can't see my enemies. I've lost your redwood +trees--even your mother's Valley of the Giants." + +And he commenced to weep for the third time in fifty years. And when the +aged and helpless weep, nothing is more terrible. Bryce Cardigan said +no word, but held his father close to his great heart and laid his cheek +gently against the old man's, tenderly as a woman might. And presently, +from that silent communion of spirit, each drew strength and comfort. As +the shadows fell in John Cardigan's town, they went home to the house on +the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Shirley Sumner's eyes were still moist when George Sea Otter, in +obedience to the instructions of his youthful master, set her, the +French maid, and their hand-baggage down on the sidewalk in front of +Colonel Seth Pennington's house. The half-breed hesitated a moment, +undecided whether he would carry the hand-baggage up to the door or +leave that task for a Pennington retainer; then he noted the tear-stains +on the cheeks of his fair passenger. Instantly he took up the +hand-baggage, kicked open the iron gate, and preceded Shirley up the +cement walk to the door. + +"Just wait a moment, if you please, George," Shirley said as he set +the baggage down and started back for the car. He turned and beheld her +extracting a five-dollar bill from her purse. "For you, George," she +continued. "Thank you so much." + +In all his life George Sea Otter had never had such an experience--he, +happily, having been raised in a country where, with the exception of +waiters, only a pronounced vagrant expects or accepts a gratuity from a +woman. He took the bill and fingered it curiously; then his white blood +asserted itself and he handed the bill back to Shirley. + +"Thank you," he said respectfully. "If you are a man--all right. But +from a lady--no. I am like my boss. I work for you for nothing." + +Shirley did not understand his refusal, but her instinctive tact warned +her not to insist. She returned the bill to her purse, thanked him +again, and turned quickly to hide the slight flush of annoyance. George +Sea Otter noted it. + +"Lady," he said with great dignity, "at first I did not want to carry +your baggage. I did not want to walk on this land." And with a sweeping +gesture he indicated the Pennington grounds. "Then you cry a little +because my boss is feeling bad about his old man. So I like you better. +The old man--well, he has been like father to me and my mother--and we +are Indians. My brothers, too--they work for him. So if you like my boss +and his old man, George Sea Otter would go to hell for you pretty damn' +quick. You bet you my life!" + +"You're a very good boy, George," she replied, with difficulty +repressing a smile at his blunt but earnest avowal. "I am glad the +Cardigans have such an honest, loyal servant." + +George Sea Otter's dark face lighted with a quick smile. "Now you pay +me," he replied and returned to the car. + +The door opened, and a Swedish maid stood in the entrance regarding +her stolidly. "I'm Miss Sumner," Shirley informed her. "This is my maid +Marcelle. Help her in with the hand-baggage." She stepped into the hall +and called: "Ooh-hooh! Nunky-dunk!" + +"Ship ahoy!" An answering call came to her from the dining room, across +the entrance-hall, and an instant later Colonel Seth Pennington stood +in the doorway, "Bless my whiskers! Is that you, my dear?" he cried, and +advanced to greet her. "Why, how did you get here, Shirley? I thought +you'd missed the stage." + +She presented her cheek for his kiss. "So I did, Uncle, but a nice +red-haired young man named Bryce Cardigan found me in distress at +Red Bluff, picked me up in his car, and brought me here." She sniffed +adorably. "I'm so hungry," she declared, "and here I am, just in time +for dinner. Is my name in the pot?" + +"It isn't, Shirley, but it soon will be. How perfectly bully to have you +with me again, my dear! And what a charming young lady you've grown to +be since I saw you last! You're--why, you've been crying! By Jove, I had +no idea you'd be so glad to see me again." + +She could not forego a sly little smile at his egoism. + +"You're looking perfectly splendid, Uncle Seth," she parried. + +"And I'm feeling perfectly splendid. This is a wonderful country, +Shirley, and everything is going nicely with me here. By the way, who +did you say picked you up in his car?" + +"Bryce Cardigan. Do you know him?" + +"No, we haven't met. Son of old John Cardigan, I dare say. I've heard of +him. He's been away from Sequoia for quite a while, I believe." + +"Yes; he was abroad for two years after he was graduated from +Princeton." + +"Hum-m-m! Well, it's about time he came home to take care of that +stiff-necked old father of his." He stepped to the bell and pressed +it, and the butler answered. "Set a place at dinner for Miss Shirley, +James," he ordered. "Thelma will show you your rooms, Shirley. I was +just about to sit down to dinner. I'll wait for you." + +While Shirley was in the living room Colonel Pennington's features wore +an expression almost pontifical, but when she had gone, the atmosphere +of paternalism and affection which he radiated faded instantly. The +Colonel's face was in repose now--cold, calculating, vaguely repellent. +He scowled slightly. + +"Now, isn't that the devil's luck?" he soliloquized. "Young Cardigan is +probably the only man in Sequoia--dashed awkward if they should +become interested in each other--at this time. Everybody in town, from +lumberjacks to bankers, has told me what a fine fellow Bryce Cardigan +is. They say he's good-looking; certainly he is educated and has +acquired some worldly polish--just the kind of young fellow Shirley will +find interesting and welcome company in a town like this. Many things +can happen in a year--and it will be a year before I can smash the +Cardigans. Damn it!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Along the well-remembered streets of Sequoia Bryce Cardigan and his +father walked arm in arm, their progress continuously interrupted by +well-meaning but impulsive Sequoians who insisted upon halting the pair +to shake hands with Bryce and bid him welcome home. In the presence of +those third parties the old man quickly conquered the agitation he had +felt at this long-deferred meeting with his son, and when presently they +left the business section of the town and turned into a less-frequented +street, his emotion assumed the character of a quiet joy, evidenced in +a more erect bearing and a firmer tread, as if he strove, despite his +seventy-six years, not to appear incongruous as he walked beside his +splendid son. + +"I wish I could see you more clearly," he said presently. His voice as +well as his words expressed profound regret, but there was no hint of +despair or heartbreak now. + +Bryce, who up to this moment had refrained from discussing his father's +misfortunes, drew the old man a little closer to his side. + +"What's wrong with your eyes, pal?" he queried. He did not often address +his parent, after the fashion of most sons, as "Father," "Dad" or "Pop." +They were closer to each other than that, and a rare sense of perfect +comradeship found expression, on Bryce's part, in such salutations as +"pal," "partner" and, infrequently, "old sport." When arguing with his +father, protesting with him or affectionately scolding him, Bryce, with +mock seriousness, sometimes called the old man John Cardigan. + +"Cataracts, son," his father answered. "Merely the penalty of old age." + +"But can't something be done about it?" demanded Bryce. "Can't they be +cured somehow or other?" + +"Certainly they can. But I shall have to wait until they are completely +matured and I have become completely blind; then a specialist will +perform an operation on my eyes, and in all probability my sight will +be restored for a few years. However, I haven't given the matter a great +deal of consideration. At my age one doesn't find very much difficulty +in making the best of everything. And I am about ready to quit now. I'd +like to, in fact; I'm tired." + +"Oh, but you can't quit until you've seen your redwoods again," Bryce +reminded him. "I suppose it's been a long time since you've visited the +Valley of the Giants; your long exile from the wood-goblins has made you +a trifle gloomy, I'm afraid." + +John Cardigan nodded. "I haven't seen them in a year and a half, Bryce. +Last time I was up, I slipped between the logs on the old skid-road and +like to broke my old fool neck. But even that wasn't warning enough for +me. I cracked right on into the timber and got lost." + +"Lost? Poor old partner! And what did you do about it?" + +"The sensible thing, my boy. I just sat down under a tree and waited for +George Sea Otter to trail me and bring me home." + +"And did he find you? Or did you have to spend the night in the woods?" + +John Cardigan smiled humorously. "I did not. Along about sunset George +found me. Seems he'd been following me all the time, and when I sat down +he waited to make certain whether I was lost or just taking a rest where +I could be quiet and think." + +"I've been leaving to an Indian the fulfillment of my duty," Bryce +murmured bitterly. + +"No, no, son. You have never been deficient in that," the old man +protested. + +"Why didn't you have the old skid-road planked with refuse lumber so you +wouldn't fall through? And you might have had the woods-boss swamp a +new trail into the timber and fence it on both sides, in order that you +might feel your way along." + +"Yes, quite true," admitted the old man. "But then, I don't spend money +quite as freely as I used to, Bryce. I consider carefully now before I +part with a dollar." + +"Pal, it wasn't fair of you to make me stay away so long. If I had only +known--if I had remotely suspected--" + +"You'd have spoiled everything--of course. Don't scold me, son. You're +all I have now, and I couldn't bear to send for you until you'd had +your fling." His trembling old hand crept over and closed upon his boy's +hand, so firm but free from signs of toil. "It was my pleasure, Bryce," +he continued, "and you wouldn't deny me my choice of sport, would you? +Remember, lad, I never had a boyhood; I never had a college education, +and the only real travel I have ever had was when I worked my way +around Cape Horn as a foremast hand, and all I saw then was water and +hardships; all I've seen since is my little world here in Sequoia and in +San Francisco." + +"You've sacrificed enough--too much--for me, Dad." + +"It pleased me to give you all the advantages I wanted and couldn't +afford until I was too old and too busy to consider them. Besides, it +was your mother's wish. We made plans for you before you were born, and +I promised her--ah, well, why be a cry-baby? I knew I could manage until +you were ready to settle down to business. And you HAVE enjoyed your +little run, haven't you?" he concluded wistfully. + +"I have, Dad." Bryce's great hand closed over the back of his +father's neck; he shook the old man with mock ferocity. "Stubborn old +lumberjack!" he chided. + +John Cardigan shook with an inward chuckle, for the loving abuse his +boy had formed a habit of heaping on him never failed to thrill +him. Instinctively Bryce had realized that to-night obvious sympathy +copiously expressed was not the medicine for his father's bruised +spirit; hence he elected to regard the latter's blindness as a mere +temporary annoyance, something to be considered lightly, if at all; and +it was typical of him now that the subject had been discussed briefly, +to resolve never to refer to it again. He released his hold on the old +man's neck and tapped the latter's gray head lightly, while with his +tongue he made hollow-sounding noises against the roof of his mouth. + +"Ha! I thought so," he declared. "After your fifty-odd years in the +lumber business your head has become packed with sawdust--" + +"Be serious and talk to me, Bryce." + +"I ought to send you to bed without your supper. Talk to you? You bet +I'll talk to you, John Cardigan; and I'll tell you things, too, you +scandalous bunko-steerer. To-morrow morning I'm going to put a pair +of overalls on you, arm you with a tin can and a swab, and set you to +greasing the skidways. Partner, you've deceived me." + +"Oh, nonsense. If I had whimpered, that would only have spoiled +everything." + +"Nevertheless, you were forced to cable me to hurry home." + +"I summoned you the instant I realized I was going to need you." + +"No, you didn't, John Cardigan. You summoned me because, for the first +time in your life, you were panicky and let yourself get out of hand." + +His father nodded slowly. "And you aren't over it yet," Bryee continued, +his voice no longer bantering but lowered affectionately. "What's the +trouble, Dad? Trot out your old panic and let me inspect it. Trouble +must be very real when it gets my father on the run." + +"It is, Bryce, very real indeed. As I remarked before, I've lost your +heritage for you." He sighed. "I waited till you would be able to come +home and settle down to business; now you're home, and there isn't any +business to settle down to." + +Bryce chuckled, for he was indeed far from being worried over business +matters, his consideration now being entirely for his father's peace +of mind. "All right," he retorted, "Father has lost his money and we'll +have to let the servants go and give up the old home. That part of it is +settled; and weak, anemic, tenderly nurtured little Bryce Cardigan must +put his turkey on his back and go into the woods looking for a job +as lumberjack ... Busted, eh? Did I or did I not hear the six o'clock +whistle blow at the mill? Bet you a dollar I did." + +"Oh, I have title to everything--yet." + +"How I do have to dig for good news! Then it appears we still have a +business; indeed, we may always have a business, for the very fact +that it is going but not quite gone implies a doubt as to its ultimate +departure, and perhaps we may yet scheme a way to retain it." + +"Oh, my boy, when I think of my years of toil and scheming, of the big +dreams I dreamed--" + +"Belay all! If we can save enough out of the wreck to insure you your +customary home comforts, I shan't cry, partner. I have a profession +to fall back on. Yes, sirree. I own a sheep-skin, and it says I'm an +electrical and civil engineer." + +"What!" + +"I said it. An electrical and civil engineer. Slipped one over on you +at college, John Cardigan, when all the time you thought I was having a +good time. Thought I'd come home and surprise you." + +"Bu-bu-but--" + +"It drives me wild to have a man sputter at me. I'm an electrical and +civil engineer, I tell you, and my two years of travel have been spent +studying the installation and construction of big plants abroad." He +commenced to chuckle softly. "I've known for years that our sawmill +was a debilitated old coffee-grinder and would have to be rebuilt, so I +wanted to know how to rebuild it. And I've known for years that some day +I might have to build a logging railroad--" + +"My dear boy! And you've got your degree?" + +"Partner, I have a string of letters after my name like the tail of a +comet." + +"You comfort me," the old man answered simply. "I have reproached myself +with the thought that I reared you with the sole thought of making +a lumberman out of you--and when I saw your lumber business slipping +through my fingers--" + +"You were sorry I didn't have a profession to fall back on, eh? Or were +you fearful lest you had raised the usual rich man's son? If the latter, +you did not compliment me, pal. I've never forgotten how hard you +always strove to impress me with a sense of the exact weight of my +responsibility as your successor." + +"How big are you now?" his father queried suddenly. + +"Well, sir," Bryce answered, for his father's pleasure putting aside his +normal modesty, "I'm six feet two inches tall, and I weigh two hundred +pounds in the pink of condition. I have a forty-eight-inch chest, +with five and a half inches chest-expansion, and a reach as long as a +gorilla's. My underpinning is good, too; I'm not one of these fellows +with spidery legs and a barrel-chest. I can do a hundred yards in ten +seconds; I'm no slouch of a swimmer; and at Princeton they say I made +football history. And in spite of it all, I haven't an athletic heart." + +"That is very encouraging, my boy--very. Ever do any boxing?" + +"Quite a little. I'm fairly up in the manly art of self-defence." + +"That's good. And I suppose you did some wrestling at your college +gymnasium, did you not?" + +"Naturally. I went in for everything my big carcass could stand." + +The old man wagged his head approvingly, and they had reached the +gate of the Cardigan home before he spoke again. "There's a big buck +woods-boss up in Pennington's camp," he remarked irrelevantly. "He's a +French Canadian imported from northern Michigan by Colonel Pennington. +I dare say he's the only man in this country who measures up to you +physically. He can fight with his fists and wrestle right cleverly, I'm +told. His name is Jules Rondeau, and he's top dog among the lumberjacks. +They say he's the strongest man in the county." He unlatched the gate. +"Folks used to say that about me once," he continued wistfully. "Ah, if +I could have my eyes to see you meet Jules Rondeau!" + +The front portal of the quaint old Cardigan residence opened, and a +silver-haired lady came out on the porch and hailed Bryce. She was Mrs. +Tully, John Cardigan's old housekeeper, and almost a mother to Bryce. +"Oh, here's my boy!" she cried, and a moment later found herself +encircled by Bryce's arms and saluted with a hearty kiss. + +As he stepped into the familiar entrance-hall, Bryce paused, raised his +head and sniffed suspiciously, like a bird-dog. Mrs. Tully, arms akimbo, +watched him pleasurably. "I smell something," he declared, and advanced +a step down the hall for another sniff; then, in exact imitation of +a foxhound, he gave tongue and started for the kitchen. Mrs. Tully, +waddling after, found him "pointing" two hot blackberry pies which +had but a few minutes previous been taken from the oven. He was baying +lugubriously. + +"They're wild blackberries, too," Mrs. Tully announced pridefully. "I +remembered how fond you used to be of wild-blackberry pie--so I phoned +up to the logging-camp and had the woods-boss send a man out to pick +them." + +"I'm still a pie-hound, Mrs. Tully, and you're still the same dear, +thoughtful soul. I'm so glad now that I had sense enough to think of you +before I turned my footsteps toward the setting sun." He patted her gray +head. "Mrs. T.," he declared, "I've brought you a nice big collar of +Irish lace--bought it in Belfast, b'gosh. It comes down around your neck +and buckles right here with an old ivory cameo I picked up in Burma and +which formerly was the property of a Hindu queen." + +Mrs. Tully simpered with pleasure and protested that her boy was too +kind. "You haven't changed a single speck," she concluded proudly. + +"Has the pie?" + +"I should say not." + +"How many did you make?" + +"Two." + +"May I have one all for myself, Mrs. Tully?" + +"Indeed you may, my dear." + +"Thank you, but I do not want it for myself. Mrs. Tully, will you please +wrap one of those wonderful pies in a napkin and the instant George Sea +Otter comes in with the car, tell him to take the pie over to Colonel +Pennington's house and deliver it to Miss Sumner? There's a girl who +doubtless thinks she has tasted pie in her day, and I want to prove to +her that she hasn't." He selected a card from his card-case, sat down, +and wrote: + +Dear Miss Sumner: + +Here is a priceless hot wild-blackberry pie, especially manufactured in +my honour. It is so good I wanted you to have some. In all your life you +have never tasted anything like it. + +Sincerely, BRYCE CARDIGAN. + +He handed the card to Mrs. Tully and repaired to his old room to remove +the stains of travel before joining his father at dinner. + +Some twenty minutes later his unusual votive offering was delivered +by George Sea Otter to Colonel Pennington's Swedish maid, who promptly +brought it in to the Colonel and Shirley Sumner, who were even then at +dinner in the Colonel's fine burl-redwood-panelled dining room. Miss +Sumner's amazement was so profound that for fully a minute she was mute, +contenting herself with scrutinizing alternately the pie and the card +that accompanied it. Presently she handed the card to her uncle, who +affixed his pince-nez and read the epistle with deliberation. + +"Isn't this young Cardigan a truly remarkable young man, Shirley?" +he declared. "Why, I have never heard of anything like his astounding +action. If he had sent you over an armful of American Beauty roses +from his father's old-fashioned garden, I could understand it, but an +infernal blackberry pie! Good heavens!" + +"I told you he was different," she replied. To the Colonel's amazement +she did not appear at all amused. + +Colonel Pennington poked a fork through the delicate brown crust. "I +wonder if it is really as good as he says it is, Shirley." + +"Of course. If it wasn't, he wouldn't have sent it." + +"How do you know?" + +"By intuition," she replied. And she cut into the pie and helped the +Colonel to a quadrant of it. + +"That was a genuine hayseed faux-pas," announced the Colonel a few +moments later as Shirley was pouring coffee from a samovar-shaped +percolator in the library. "The idea of anybody who has enjoyed the +advantages that fellow has, sending a hot blackberry pie to a girl he +has just met!" + +"Yes, the idea!" she echoed. "I find it rather charming." + +"You mean amusing." + +"I said 'charming.' Bryce Cardigan is a man with the heart and soul of a +boy, and I think it was mighty sweet of him to share his pie with me. If +he had sent roses, I should have suspected him of trying to 'rush' +me, but the fact that he sent a blackberry pie proves that he's just a +natural, simple, sane, original citizen--just the kind of person a girl +can have for a dear friend without incurring the risk of having to marry +him." + +"I repeat that this is most extraordinary." + +"Only because it is an unusual thing for a young man to do, although, +after all, why shouldn't he send me a blackberry pie if he thought a +blackberry pie would please me more than an armful of roses? Besides, he +may send the roses to-morrow." + +"Most extraordinary!" the Colonel reiterated. + +"What should one expect from such an extraordinary creature? He's an +extraordinary fine-looking young man, with an extraordinary scowl and an +extraordinary crinkly smile that is friendly and generous and free from +masculine guile. Why, I think he's just the kind of man who WOULD send a +girl a blackberry pie." + +The Colonel noticed a calm little smile fringing her generous mouth. +He wished he could tell, by intuition, what she was thinking about--and +what effect a hot wild-blackberry pie was ultimately to have upon the +value of his minority holding in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Not until dinner was finished and father and son had repaired to the +library for their coffee and cigars did Bryce Cardigan advert to the +subject of his father's business affairs. + +"Well, John Cardigan," he declared comfortably, "to-day is Friday. +I'll spend Saturday and Sunday in sinful sloth and the renewal of old +acquaintance, and on Monday I'll sit in at your desk and give you a +long-deferred vacation. How about that programme, pard?" + +"Our affairs are in such shape that they could not possibly be hurt +or bettered, no matter who takes charge of them now," Cardigan replied +bitterly. "We're about through. I waited too long and trusted too far; +and now--well, in a year we'll be out of business." + +"Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything right to the +end. George Sea Otter informed me that you've been having trouble with +this Johnny-come-lately, Colonel Pennington. Is he the man who has us +where the hair is short?" + +The old man nodded. + +"The Squaw Creek timber deal, eh?" Bryce suggested. + +Again the old man nodded. "You wrote me all about that," Bryce +continued. "You had him blocked whichever way he turned--so effectually +blocked, in fact, that the only pleasure he has derived from his +investment since is the knowledge that he owns two thousand acres of +timber with the exclusive right to pay taxes on it, walk in it, look +at it and admire it--in fact, do everything except log it, mill it, and +realize on his investment. It must make him feel like a bally jackass." + +"On the other hand," his father reminded him, "no matter what the +Colonel's feeling on that score may be, misery loves company, and not +until I had pulled out of the Squaw Creek country and started logging in +the San Hedrin watershed, did I realize that I had been considerable of +a jackass myself." + +"Yes," Bryce admitted, "there can be no doubt but that you cut off your +nose to spite your face." + +There was silence between them for several minutes. Bryce's thoughts +harked back to that first season of logging in the San Hedrin, when the +cloud-burst had caught the river filled with Cardigan logs and whirled +them down to the bay, to crash through the log-boom at tidewater and +continue out to the open sea. In his mind's eye he could still see the +red-ink figures on the profit-and-loss statement Sinclair, his father's +manager, had presented at the end of that year. + +The old man appeared to divine the trend of his son's thoughts. "Yes, +Bryce, that was a disastrous year," he declared. "The mere loss of the +logs was a severe blow, but in addition I had to pay out quite a little +money to settle with my customers. I was loaded up with low-priced +orders that year, although I didn't expect to make any money. The orders +were merely taken to keep the men employed. You understand, Bryce! I had +a good crew, the finest in the country; and if I had shut down, my men +would have scattered and--well, you know how hard it is to get that kind +of a crew together again. Besides, I had never failed my boys before, +and I couldn't bear the thought of failing them then. Half the mills in +the country were shut down at the time, and there was a lot of distress +among the unemployed. I couldn't do it, Bryce." + +Bryce nodded. "And when you lost the logs, you couldn't fill those +low-priced orders. Then the market commenced to jump and advanced three +dollars in three months--" + +"Exactly, my son. And my customers began to crowd me to fill those +old orders. Praise be, my regular customers knew I wasn't the kind of +lumberman who tries to crawl out of filling low-priced orders after the +market has gone up. Nevertheless I couldn't expect them to suffer with +me; my failure to perform my contracts, while unavoidable, nevertheless +would have caused them a severe loss, and when they were forced to buy +elsewhere, I paid them the difference between the price they paid my +competitors and the price at which they originally placed their orders +with me. And the delay in delivery caused them further loss." + +"How much?" + +"Nearly a hundred thousand--to settle for losses to my local customers +alone. Among my orders I had three million feet of clear lumber for +shipment to the United Kingdom, and these foreign customers, thinking +I was trying to crawfish on my contracts, sued me and got judgment +for actual and exemplary damages for my failure to perform, while the +demurrage on the ships they sent to freight the lumber sent me hustling +to the bank to borrow money." + +He smoked meditatively for a minute. "I've always been land-poor," he +explained apologetically. "Never kept much of a reserve working-capital +for emergencies, you know. Whenever I had idle money, I put it into +timber in the San Hedrin watershed, because I realized that some day the +railroad would build in from the south, tap that timber, and double its +value. I've not as yet found reason to doubt the wisdom of my course; +but"--he sighed--"the railroad is a long time coming!" + +John Cardigan here spoke of a most important factor in the situation. +The crying need of the country was a feeder to some transcontinental +railroad. By reason of natural barriers, Humboldt County was not easily +accessible to the outside world except from the sea, and even this +avenue of ingress and egress would be closed for days at a stretch +when the harbour bar was on a rampage. With the exception of a strip of +level, fertile land, perhaps five miles wide and thirty miles long and +contiguous to the seacoast, the heavily timbered mountains to the north, +east, and south rendered the building of a railroad that would connect +Humboldt County with the outside world a profoundly difficult and +expensive task. The Northwestern Pacific, indeed, had been slowly +building from San Francisco Bay up through Marin and Sonoma counties +to Willits in Mendocino County. But there it had stuck to await that +indefinite day when its finances and the courage of its board of +directors should prove equal to the colossal task of continuing the road +two hundred miles through the mountains to Sequoia on Humboldt Bay. +For twenty years the Humboldt pioneers had lived in hope of this; but +eventually they had died in despair or were in process of doing so. + +"Don't worry, Dad. It will come," Bryce assured his father. "It's bound +to." + +"Yes, but not in my day. And when it comes, a stranger may own your San +Hedrin timber and reap the reward of my lifetime of labour." + +Again a silence fell between them, broken presently by the old man. +"That was a mistake--logging in the San Hedrin," he observed. "I had +my lesson that first year, but I didn't heed it. If I had abandoned my +camps there, pocketed my pride, paid Colonel Pennington two dollars for +his Squaw Creek timber, and rebuilt my old logging-road, I would have +been safe to-day. But I was stubborn; I'd played the game so long, you +know--I didn't want to let that man Pennington outgame me. So I tackled +the San Hedrin again. We put thirty million feet of logs into the river +that year, and when the freshet came, McTavish managed to make a fairly +successful drive. But he was all winter on the job, and when spring +came and the men went into the woods again, they had to leave nearly a +million feet of heavy butt logs permanently stranded in the slack water +along the banks, while perhaps another million feet of lighter logs had +been lifted out of the channel by the overflow and left high and dry +when the water receded. There they were, Bryce, scattered up and down +the river, far from the cables and logging-donkeys, the only power we +could use to get those monsters back into the river again, and I was +forced to decide whether they should be abandoned or split during the +summer into railroad ties, posts, pickets, and shakes--commodities for +which there was very little call at the time and in which, even +when sold, there could be no profit after deducting the cost of the +twenty-mile wagon haul to Sequoia, and the water freight from Sequoia to +market. So I abandoned them." + +"I remember that phase of it, partner." + +"To log it the third year only meant that more of those heavy logs would +jam and spell more loss. Besides, there was always danger of another +cloud-burst which would put me out of business completely, and I +couldn't afford the risk." + +"That was the time you should have offered Colonel Pennington a handsome +profit on his Squaw Creek timber, pal." + +"If my hindsight was as good as my foresight, and I had my eyesight, I +wouldn't be in this dilemma at all," the old man retorted briskly. "It's +hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and besides, I was obsessed with +the need of protecting your heritage from attack in any direction." + +John Cardigan straightened up in his chair and laid the tip of his right +index finger in the centre of the palm of his left hand. "Here was the +situation, Bryce: The centre of my palm represents Sequoia; the end of +my fingers represents the San Hedrin timber twenty miles south. Now, if +the railroad built in from the south, you would win. But if it built in +from Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the north from the base of my hand, the +terminus of the line would be Sequoia, twenty miles from your timber in +the San Hedrin watershed!" + +Bryce nodded. "In which event," he replied, "we, would be in much the +same position with our San Hedrin timber as Colonel Pennington is with +his Squaw Creek timber. We would have the comforting knowledge that we +owned it and paid taxes on it but couldn't do a dad-burned thing with +it!" + +"Right you are! The thing to do, then, as I viewed the situation, Bryce, +was to acquire a body of timber NORTH of Sequoia and be prepared for +either eventuality. And this I did." + +Silence again descended upon them; and Bryce, gazing into the open +fireplace, recalled an event in that period of his father's activities: +Old Bill Henderson had come up to their house to dinner one night, and +quite suddenly, in the midst of his soup, the old fox had glared across +at his host and bellowed: + +"John, I hear you've bought six thousand acres up in Township Nine." + +John Cardigan had merely nodded, and Henderson had continued: + +"Going to log it or hold it for investment?" + +"It was a good buy," Cardigan had replied enigmatically; "so I thought +I'd better take it at the price. I suppose Bryce will log it some day." + +"Then I wish Bryce wasn't such a boy, John. See here, now, neighbour. +I'll 'fess up. I took that money Pennington gave me for my Squaw Creek +timber and put it back into redwood in Township Nine, slam-bang up +against your holdings there. John, I'd build a mill on tidewater if +you'd sell me a site, and I'd log my timber if--" + +"I'll sell you a mill-site, Bill, and I won't stab you to the heart, +either. Consider that settled." + +"That's bully, John; but still, you only dispose of part of my troubles. +There's twelve miles of logging-road to build to get my logs to the +mill, and I haven't enough ready money to make the grade. Better throw +in with me, John, and we'll build the road and operate it for our joint +interest." + +"I'll not throw in with you, Bill, at my time of life, I don't want to +have the worry of building, maintaining, and operating twelve miles of +private railroad. But I'll loan you, without security--" + +"You'll have to take an unsecured note, John. Everything I've got is +hocked." + +"--the money you need to build and equip the road," finished Cardigan. +"In return you are to shoulder all the grief and worry of the road and +give me a ten-year contract at a dollar and a half per thousand feet, +to haul my logs down to tidewater with your own. My minimum haul will be +twenty-five million feet annually, and my maximum fifty million--" + +"Sold!" cried Henderson. And it was even so. + +Bryce came out of his reverie. "And now?" he queried of his father. + +"I mortgaged the San Hedrin timber in the south to buy the timber in the +north, my son; then after I commenced logging in my new holdings, came +several long, lean years of famine. I stuck it out, hoping for a change +for the better; I couldn't bear to close down my mill and logging-camps, +for the reason that I could stand the loss far more readily than the men +who worked for me and depended upon me. But the market dragged in the +doldrums, and Bill Henderson died, and his boys got discouraged, and--" + +A sudden flash of inspiration illumined Bryce Cardigan's brain. "And +they sold out to Colonel Pennington," he cried. + +"Exactly. The Colonel took over my contract with Henderson's company, +along with the other assets, and it was incumbent upon him, as assignee, +to fulfill the contract. For the past two years the market for redwood +has been most gratifying, and if I could only have gotten a maximum +supply of logs over Pennington's road, I'd have worked out of the hole, +but--" + +"He manages to hold you to a minimum annual haul of twenty-five million +feet, eh?" + +John Cardigan nodded. "He claims he's short of rolling-stock--that +wrecks and fires have embarrassed the road. He can always find excuses +for failing to spot in logging-trucks for Cardigan's logs. Bill +Henderson never played the game that way. He gave me what I wanted and +never held me to the minimum haulage when I was prepared to give him the +maximum." + +"What does Colonel Pennington want, pard?" + +"He wants," said John Cardigan slowly, "my Valley of the Giants and +a right of way through my land from the valley to a log-dump on deep +water." + +"And you refused him?" + +"Naturally. You know my ideas on that big timber." His old head sank low +on his breast. "Folks call them Cardigan's Redwoods now," he murmured. +"Cardigan's Redwoods--and Pennington would cut them! Oh, Bryce, the man +hasn't a soul!" + +"But I fail to see what the loss of Cardigan's Redwoods has to do with +the impending ruin of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company," his son +reminded him. "We have all the timber we want." + +"My ten-year contract has but one more year to run, and recently I tried +to get Pennington to renew it. He was very nice and sociable, but--he +named me a freight-rate, for a renewal of the contract for five years, +of three dollars per thousand feet. That rate is prohibitive and puts us +out of business." + +"Not necessarily," Bryce returned evenly. "How about the State railroad +commission? Hasn't it got something to say about rates?" + +"Yes--on common carriers. But Pennington's load is a private +logging-road; my contract will expire next year, and it is not incumbent +upon Pennington to renew it. And one can't operate a sawmill without +logs, you know." + +"Then," said Bryce calmly, "we'll shut the mill down when the +log-hauling contract expires, hold our timber as an investment, and live +the simple life until we can sell it or a transcontinental road builds +into Humboldt County and enables us to start up the mill again." + +John Cardigan shook his head. "I'm mortgaged to the last penny," he +confessed, "and Pennington has been buying Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company first-mortgage bonds until he is in control of the issue. He'll +buy in the San Hedrin timber at the foreclosure sale, and in order to +get it back and save something for you out of the wreckage, I'll have +to make an unprofitable trade with him. I'll have to give him my timber +adjoining his north of Sequoia, together with my Valley of the Giants, +in return for the San Hedrin timber, to which he'll have a sheriff's +deed. But the mill, all my old employees, with their numerous +dependents--gone, with you left land-poor and without a dollar to pay +your taxes. Smashed--like that!" And he drove his fist into the palm of +his hand. + +"Perhaps--but not without a fight," Bryce answered, although he knew +their plight was well-nigh hopeless. "I'll give that man Pennington a +run for his money, or I'll know the reason." + +The telephone on the table beside him tinkled, and he took down the +receiver and said "Hello!" + +"Mercy!" came the clear, sweet voice of Shirley Sumner over the wire. +"Do you feel as savage as all that, Mr. Cardigan?" + +For the second time in his life the thrill that was akin to pain came +to Bryce Cardigan. He laughed. "If I had known you were calling, Miss +Sumner," he said, "I shouldn't have growled so." + +"Well, you're forgiven--for several reasons, but principally for sending +me that delicious blackberry pie. Of course, it discoloured my teeth +temporarily, but I don't care. The pie was worth it, and you were +awfully dear to think of sending it. Thank you so much." + +"Glad you liked it, Miss Sumner. I dare to hope that I may have the +privilege of seeing you soon again." + +"Of course. One good pie deserves another. Some evening next week, when +that dear old daddy of yours can spare his boy, you might be interested +to see our burl-redwood-panelled dining room Uncle Seth is so proud of. +I'm too recent an arrival to know the hour at which Uncle Seth dines, +but I'll let you know later and name a definite date. Would Thursday +night be convenient?" + +"Perfectly. Thank you a thousand times." + +She bade him good-night. As he turned from the telephone, his father +looked up. "What are you going to do to-morrow, lad?" he queried. + +"I have to do some thinking to-morrow," Bryce answered. "So I'm going up +into Cardigan's Redwoods to do it. Up there a fellow can get set, as it +were, to put over a thought with a punch in it." + +"The dogwoods and rhododendron are blooming now," the old man murmured +wistfully. Bryce knew what he was thinking of. "I'll attend to the +flowers for Mother," he assured Cardigan, and he added fiercely: +"And I'll attend to the battle for Father. We may lose, but that man +Pennington will know he's been in a fight before we fin---" + +He broke off abruptly, for he had just remembered that he was to dine at +the Pennington house the following Thursday--and he was not the sort of +man who smilingly breaks bread with his enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +For many years there had been installed in Cardigan's mill a clock set +to United States observatory time and corrected hourly by the telegraph +company. It was the only clock of its kind in Sequoia; hence folk set +their watches by it, or rather by the whistle on Cardigan's mill. With +a due appreciation of the important function of this clock toward his +fellow-citizens, old Zeb Curry, the chief engineer and a stickler for +being on time, was most meticulous in his whistle-blowing. With a sage +and prophetic eye fixed upon the face of the clock, and a particularly +greasy hand grasping the whistle-cord, Zeb would wait until the clock +registered exactly six-fifty-nine and a half--whereupon the seven +o'clock whistle would commence blowing, to cease instantly upon the +stroke of the hour. It was old Zeb's pride and boast that with a single +exception, during the sixteen years the clock had been in service, no +man could say that Zeb had been more than a second late or early with +his whistle-blowing. That exception occurred when Bryce Cardigan, +invading the engine room while Zeb was at luncheon, looped the +whistle-cord until the end dangled seven feet above ground. As a +consequence Zeb, who was a short, fat little man, was forced to leap +at it several times before success crowned his efforts and the whistle +blew. Thereafter for the remainder of the day his reason tottered on its +throne, due to the fact that Bryce induced every mill employee to call +upon the engineer and remind him that he must be growing old, since he +was no longer dependable! + +On the morning following Bryce Cardigan's return to Sequoia, Zeb Curry, +as per custom, started his engine at six-fifty-eight. That gave the huge +bandsaws two minutes in which to attain their proper speed and afforded +Dan Kenyon, the head sawyer, ample time to run his steam log-carriage +out to the end of the track; for Daniel, too, was a reliable man in the +matter of starting his daily uproar on time. + +At precisely six fifty-nine and a half, therefore, the engineer's hand +closed over the handle of the whistle-cord, and Dan Kenyon, standing +on the steam-carriage with his hand on the lever, took a thirty-second +squint through a rather grimy window that gave upon the drying-yard and +the mill-office at the head of it. + +The whistle ceased blowing, but still Dan Kenyon stood at his post, +oblivious of the hungry saws. Ten seconds passed; then Zeb Curry, +immeasurably scandalized at Daniel's tardiness, tooted the whistle +sharply twice; whereupon Dan woke up, threw over the lever, and walked +his log up to the saw. + +For the next five hours Zeb Curry had no opportunity to discuss the +matter with the head sawyer. After blowing the twelve o'clock whistle, +however, he hurried over to the dining-hall, where the mill hands +already lined the benches, shovelling food into their mouths as only a +lumberman or a miner can. Dan Kenyon sat at the head of the table in +the place of honour sacred to the head sawyer, and when his mouth would +permit of some activity other than mastication, Zeb Curry caught his +eye. + +"Hey, you, Dan Kenyon," he shouted across the table, "what happened +to you this mornin'? It was sixteen seconds between the tail end o' my +whistle an' the front end o' your whinin'. First thing you know, you'll +be gettin' so slack an' careless-like some other man'll be ridin' that +log-carriage o' yourn." + +"I was struck dumb," Dan Kenyon replied. "I just stood there like one +o' these here graven images. Last night on my way home from work I heerd +the young feller was back--he got in just as we was knockin' off for the +day; an' this mornin' just as you cut loose, Zeb, I'll be danged if he +didn't show up in front o' the office door, fumblin' for the keyhole. +Yes, sirree! That boy gets in at six o'clock last night an' turns to on +his paw's job when the whistle blows this mornin' at seven." + +"You mean young Bryce Cardigan?" Zeb queried incredulously. + +"I shore do." + +"'Tain't possible," Zeb declared. "You seen a new bookkeeper, mebbe, but +you didn't see Bryce. He aint no such hog for labour as his daddy before +him, I'm tellin' you. Not that there's a lazy bone in his body, for +there ain't, but because that there boy's got too much sense to come +bollin' down to work at seven o'clock the very first mornin' he's back +from Yurrup." + +"I'm layin' you ten to one I seen him," Dan replied defiantly, "an' +what's more, I'll bet a good cigar--a ten-center straight--the boy don't +leave till six o'clock to-night." + +"You're on," answered the chief engineer. "Them's lumberjack hours, man. +From seven till six means work--an' only fools an' hosses keeps them +hours." + +The head sawyer leaned across the table and pounded with the handle of +his knife until he had the attention of all present. "I'm a-goin' to +tell you young fellers somethin'," he announced. "Ever since the old +boss got so he couldn't look after his business with his own eyes, +things has been goin' to blazes round this sawmill, but they ain't +a-goin' no more. How do I know? Well, I'll tell you. All this forenoon I +kept my eye on the office door--I can see it through a mill winder; an' +I'm tellin' you the old boss didn't show up till ten o'clock, which the +old man ain't never been a ten o'clock business man at no time. Don't +that prove the boy's took his place?" + +Confused murmurs of affirmation and negation ran up and down the long +table. Dan tapped with his knife again. "You hear me," he warned. +"Thirty year I've been ridin' John Cardigan's log-carriages; thirty +year I've been gettin' everythin' out of a log it's possible to git out, +which is more'n you fellers at the trimmers can git out of a board after +I've sawed it off the cant. There's a lot o' you young fellers that've +been takin' John Cardigan's money under false pretenses, so if I was you +I'd keep both eyes on my job hereafter. For a year I've been claimin' +that good No. 2 stock has been chucked into the slab-fire as refuge +lumber." (Dan meant refuse lumber.) "But it won't be done no more. The +raftsman tells me he seen Bryce down at the end o' the conveyin' belt +givin' that refuge the once-over--so step easy." + +"What does young Cardigan know about runnin' a sawmill?" a planer-man +demanded bluntly. "They tell me he's been away to college an' travellin' +the past six years." + +"Wa-ll," drawled the head sawyer, "you git to talkin' with him some day +an' see how much he knows about runnin' a sawmill. What he knows will +surprise you. Yes, indeed, you'll find he knows considerable. He's +picked up loose shingles around the yard an' bundled 'em in vacation +times, an' I want to see the shingle-weaver that can teach him some +tricks. Also, I've had him come up on the steam carriage more'n once an' +saw up logs, while at times I've seen him put in a week or two on the +sortin' table. In a pinch, with a lot o' vessels loadin' here at the +dock an' the skippers raisin' Cain because they wasn't gettin' their +cargo fast enough, I've seen him work nights an' Sundays tallyin' with +the best o' them. Believe me that boy can grade lumber." + +"An' I'll tell you somethin' else," Zeb Curry cut in. "If the new boss +ever tells you to do a thing his way, you do it an' don't argue none as +to whether he knows more about it than you do or not." + +"A whole lot o' dagos an' bohunks that's come into the woods since the +blue-noses an' canucks an' wild Irish went out had better keep your eyes +open," Dan Kenyon warned sagely. "There ain't none o' you any better'n +you ought to be, an' things have been pretty durned slack around +Cardigan's mill since the old man went blind, but--you watch out. +There's a change due. Bryce Cardigan is his father's son. He'll do +things." + +"Which he's big enough to throw a bear uphill by the tail," Zeb Curry +added, "an' you fellers all know how much tail a bear has." + +"Every mornin' for thirty years, 'ceptin' when we was shut down for +repairs," Dan continued, "I've looked through that winder, when John +Cardigan wasn't away from Sequoia, to watch him git to his office on +time. He's there when the whistle blows, clear up to the time his eyes +go back on him, an' then he arrives late once or twice on account o' +havin' to go careful. This mornin', for the first time in fifty year, +he stays in bed; but--his son has the key in the office door when the +whistle blows, an'--" + +Dan Kenyon paused abruptly; the hum of conversation ceased, and silence +fell upon the room as Bryce Cardigan strolled in the door, nodded to the +men, and slid in on the bench to a seat beside the head sawyer. + +"Hello, Dan--hello, Zeb," he said and shook hands with each. "I'm mighty +glad to see you both again. Hello, everybody. I'm the new boss, so I +suppose I'd better introduce myself--there are so many new faces here. +I'm Bryce Cardigan." + +"Yes," Zeb Curry volunteered, "an' he's like his daddy. He ain't ashamed +to work with his men, an' he ain't ashamed to eat with his men, nuther. +Glad you're back with us again, boy--mighty glad. Dan, here, he's +gittin' slacker'n an old squaw with his work an' needs somebody to jerk +him up, while the rest o' these here--" + +"I noticed that about Dan," Bryce interrupted craftily. "He's slowing +up, Zeb. He must have been fifteen seconds late this morning--or +perhaps," he added "you were fifteen seconds earlier than the clock." + +Dan grinned, and Bryce went on seriously: "I'm afraid you're getting too +old to ride the log-carriage, Dan. You've been at it a long time; so, +with the utmost good will in the world toward you, you're fired. I might +as well tell you now. You know me, Dan. I always did dislike beating +about the bush." + +"Fired!" Dan Kenyon's eyes popped with amazement and horror. +"Fired--after thirty years!" he croaked. + +"Fired!" There was unmistakable finality in Bryce's tones. "You're hired +again, however, at a higher salary, as mill-superintendent. You can get +away with that job, can't you, Dan? In fact," he added without waiting +for the overjoyed Dan to answer him, "you've got to get away with it, +because I discharged the mill-superintendent I found on the job when I +got down here this morning. He's been letting too many profits go into +the slab-fire. In fact, the entire plant has gone to glory. Fire-hose +old and rotten--couldn't stand a hundred-pound pressure; fire-buckets +and water-barrels empty, axes not in their proper places, +fire-extinguishers filled with stale chemical--why, the smallest kind +of a fire here would get beyond our control with that man on the job. +Besides, he's changed the grading-rules. I found the men putting clear +boards with hard-grained streaks in them in with the No. 1 clear. The +customer may not kick at a small percentage of No. 2 in his No. 1 but +it's only fair to give it to him at two dollars a thousand less." + +"Well," purred Zeb Curry, "they don't grade lumber as strict nowadays as +they used to before you went away. Colonel Pennington says we're a lot +o' back numbers out this way an' too generous with our grades. +First thing he did was to call a meetin' of all the Humboldt lumber +manufacturers an' organize 'em into an association. Then he had the +gradin'-rules changed. The retailers hollered for a while, but bimeby +they got used to it." + +"Did my father join that association?" Bryce demanded quickly. + +"Yes. He told Pennington he wasn't goin' to be no obstructionist in the +trade, but he did kick like a bay steer on them new gradin'-rules an' +refused to conform to 'em. Said he was too old an' had been too long in +business to start gougin' his customers at his time o' life. So he got +out o' the association." + +"Bully for John Cardigan!" Bryce declared. "I suppose we could make a +little more money by cheapening our grade, but the quality of our +lumber is so well known that it sells itself and saves us the expense of +maintaining a corps of salesmen." + +"From what I hear tell o' the Colonel," Dan observed sagely, "the least +he ever wants is a hundred and fifty per cent. the best of it." + +"Yes," old Zeb observed gravely, "an' so fur as I can see, he ain't none +too perticular how he gets it." He helped himself to a toothpick, and +followed by the head sawyer, abruptly left the room--after the fashion +of sawmill men and woodsmen, who eat as much as they can as quickly as +they can and eventually die of old age rather than indigestion. Bryce +ate his noonday meal in more leisurely fashion and at its conclusion +stepped into the kitchen. + +"Where do you live, cook?" he demanded of that functionary; and upon +being informed, he retired to the office and called up the Sequoia +meat-market. + +"Bryce Cardigan speaking," he informed the butcher. "Do you ever buy any +pigs from our mill cook?" + +"Not any more," the butcher answered. "He stung me once with a dozen +fine shoats. They looked great, but after I had slaughtered them and had +them dressed, they turned out to be swill-fed hogs--swill and alfalfa." + +"Thank you." Bryce hung up. "I knew that cook was wasteful," he +declared, turning to his father's old manager, one Thomas Sinclair. +"He wastes food in order to take the swill home to his hogs--and nobody +watches him. Things have certainly gone to the devil," he continued. + +"No fault of mine," Sinclair protested. "I've never paid any attention +to matters outside the office. Your father looked after everything +else." + +Bryce looked at Sinclair. The latter was a thin, spare, nervous man +in the late fifties, and though generally credited with being John +Cardigan's manager, Bryce knew that Sinclair was in reality little more +than a glorified bookkeeper--and a very excellent bookkeeper indeed. +Bryce realized that in the colossal task that confronted him he could +expect no real help from Sinclair. + +"Yes," he replied, "my father looked after everything else--while he +could." + +"Oh, you'll soon get the business straightened out and running smoothly +again," Sinclair declared confidently. + +"Well, I'm glad I started on the job to-day, rather than next Monday, as +I planned to do last night." + +He stepped to the window and looked out. At the mill-dock a big steam +schooner and a wind-jammer lay; in the lee of the piles of lumber, +sailors and long-shoremen, tallymen and timekeeper lounged, enjoying the +brief period of the noon hour still theirs before the driving mates +of the lumber-vessels should turn them to on the job once more. To his +right and left stretched the drying yard, gangway on gangway formed by +the serried rows of lumber-piles, the hoop-horses placidly feeding from +their nosebags while the strong-armed fellows who piled the lumber sat +about in little groups conversing with the mill-hands. + +As Bryce looked, a puff of white steam appeared over the roof of the +old sawmill, and the one o'clock whistle blew. Instantly that scene of +indolence and ease turned to one of activity. The mill-hands lounging in +the gangways scurried for their stations in the mill; men climbed to the +tops of the lumber-piles, while other men passed boards and scantlings +up to them; the donkey-engines aboard the vessels rattled; the +cargo-gaffs of the steam schooner swung outward, and a moment later two +great sling-loads of newly sawed lumber rose in the air, swung inward, +and descended to the steamer's decks. + +All about Bryce were scenes of activity, of human endeavour; and to +him in that moment came the thought: "My father brought all this to +pass--and now the task of continuing it is mine! All those men who earn +a living in Cardigan's mill and on Cardigan's dock--those sailors who +sail the ships that carry Cardigan's lumber into the distant marts of +men--are dependent upon me; and my father used to tell me not to fail +them. Must my father have wrought all this in vain? And must I stand by +and see all this go to satisfy the overwhelming ambition of a stranger?" +His big hands clenched. "No!" he growled savagely. + +"If I stick around this office a minute longer, I'll go crazy," Bryce +snarled then. "Give me your last five annual statements, Mr. Sinclair, +please." + +The old servitor brought forth the documents in question. Bryce stuffed +them into his pocket and left the office. Three quarters of an hour +later he entered the little amphitheatre in the Valley of the Giants and +paused with an expression of dismay. One of the giants had fallen +and lay stretched across the little clearing. In its descent it had +demolished the little white stone over his mother's grave and had driven +the fragments of the stone deep into the earth. + +The tremendous brown butt quite ruined the appearance of the +amphitheatre by reason of the fact that it constituted a barrier some +fifteen feet high and of equal thickness athwart the centre of the +clearing, with fully three quarters of the length of the tree lost to +sight where the fallen monarch had wedged between its more fortunate +fellows. The fact that the tree was down, however, was secondary to the +fact that neither wind nor lightning had brought it low, but rather the +impious hand of man; for the great jagged stump showed all too plainly +the marks of cross-cut saw and axe; a pile of chips four feet deep +littered the ground. + +For fully a minute Bryce stood dumbly gazing upon the sacrilege before +his rage and horror found vent in words. "An enemy has done this thing," +he cried aloud to the wood-goblins. "And over her grave!" + +Presently, smothering his emotion, he walked the length of the dead +giant, and where the top tapered off to a size that would permit of his +stepping across it, he retraced his steps on the other side of the tree +until he had reached a point some fifty feet from the butt--when the +vandal's reason for felling the monster became apparent. + +It was a burl tree. At the point where Bryce paused a malignant growth +had developed on the trunk of the tree, for all the world like a +tremendous wart. This was the burl, so prized for table-tops and +panelling because of the fact that the twisted, wavy, helter-skelter +grain lends to the wood an extraordinary beauty when polished. Bryee +noted that the work of removing this excrescence had been accomplished +very neatly. With a cross-cut saw the growth, perhaps ten feet in +diameter, had been neatly sliced off much as a housewife cuts slice +after slice from a loaf of bread. He guessed that these slices, +practically circular in shape, had been rolled out of the woods to some +conveyance waiting to receive them. + +What Bryce could not understand, however, was the stupid brutality of +the raiders in felling the tree merely for that section of burl. By +permitting the tree to stand and merely building a staging up to the +burl, the latter could have been removed without vital injury to the +tree--whereas by destroying the tree the wretches had evidenced all too +clearly to Bryce a wanton desire to add insult to injury. + +Bryce inspected the scars on the stump carefully. They were +weather-stained to such an extent that to his experienced eye it was +evident the outrage had been committed more than a year previously; +and the winter rains, not to mention the spring growth of grasses and +underbrush, had effectually destroyed all trace of the trail taken by +the vandals with their booty. + +"Poor old Dad!" he murmured. "I'm glad now he has been unable to get up +here and see this. It would have broken his heart. I'll have this tree +made into fence-posts and the stump dynamited and removed this summer. +After he is operated on and gets back his sight, he will come up +here--and he must never know. Perhaps he will have forgotten how many +trees stood in this circle. And I'll fill in the hole left by the stump +and plant some manzanita there to hide the--" + +He paused. Peeping out from under a chip among the litter at his feet +was the moldy corner of a white envelope. In an instant Bryce had it in +his hand. The envelope was dirty and weather-beaten, but to a certain +extent the redwood chips under which it had lain hidden had served to +protect it, and the writing on the face was still legible. The envelope +was empty and addressed to Jules Rondeau, care of the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company, Sequoia, California. + +Bryce read and reread that address. "Rondeau!" he muttered. "Jules +Rondeau! I've heard that name before--ah, yes! Dad spoke of him last +night. He's Pennington's woods-boss--" + +He paused. An enemy had done this thing--and in all the world John +Cardigan had but one enemy--Colonel Seth Pennington. Had Pennington sent +his woods-boss to do this dirty work out of sheer spite? Hardly. The +section of burl was gone, and this argued that the question of spite had +been purely a matter of secondary consideration. + +Evidently, Bryce reasoned, someone had desired that burl redwood +greatly, and that someone had not been Jules Rondeau, since a woods-boss +would not be likely to spend five minutes of his leisure time in +consideration of the beauties of a burl table-top or panel. Hence, if +Rondeau had superintended the task of felling the tree, it must have +been at the behest of a superior; and since a woods-boss acknowledges no +superior save the creator of the pay-roll, the recipient of that stolen +burl must have been Colonel Pennington. + +Suddenly he thrilled. If Jules Rondeau had stolen that burl to present +it to Colonel Pennington, his employer, then the finished article must +be in Pennington's home! And Bryce had been invited to that home for +dinner the following Thursday by the Colonel's niece. + +"I'll go, after all," he told himself. "I'll go--and I'll see what I +shall see." + +He was too wrought up now to sit calmly down in the peace and quietude +of the giants, and digest the annual reports Sinclair had given him. He +hastened back to the mill-office and sought Sinclair. + +"At what hour does the logging-train leave the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company's yard for our log-landing in Township Nine?" he demanded. + +"Eight a.m. and one p.m. daily, Bryce." + +"Have you any maps of the holdings of Pennington and ourselves in that +district?" + +"Yes." + +"Let me have them, please. I know the topography of that district +perfectly, but I am not familiar with the holdings in and around ours." + +Sinclair gave him the maps, and Bryce retired to his father's private +office and gave himself up to a study of them. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +When Shirley Sumner descended to the breakfast room on the morning +following her arrival in Sequoia, the first glance at her uncle's +stately countenance informed her that during the night something had +occurred to irritate Colonel Seth Pennington and startle him out of +his customary bland composure. He greeted her politely but coldly, and +without even the perfunctory formality of inquiring how she had passed +the night, he came directly to the issue, + +"Shirley," he began, "did I hear you calling young Cardigan on the +telephone after dinner last night or did my ears deceive me?" + +"Your ears are all right, Uncle Seth. I called Mr. Cardigan up to thank +him for the pie he sent over, and incidentally to invite him over here +to dinner on Thursday night." + +"I thought I heard you asking somebody to dinner, and as you don't know +a soul in Sequoia except young Cardigan, naturally I opined that he was +to be the object of our hospitality." + +The Colonel coughed slightly. From the manner in which he approached the +task of buttering his hot cakes Shirley knew he had something more +to say and was merely formulating a polite set of phrases in which to +express himself. She resolved to help him along. + +"I dare say it's quite all right to have invited him; isn't it, Uncle +Seth?" + +"Certainly, certainly, my dear. Quite all right, but er--ah, slightly +inconvenient." + +"Oh, I'm so sorry. If I had known--Perhaps some other night--" + +"I am expecting other company Thursday night--unfortunately, Brayton, +the president of the Bank of Sequoia, is coming up to dine and discuss +some business affairs with me afterward; so if you don't mind, my dear, +suppose you call young Cardigan up and ask him to defer his visit until +some later date." + +"Certainly, Uncle. There is no particular reason why I should have +Mr. Cardigan on Thursday if his presence would mean the slightest +interference with your plans. What perfectly marvellous roses! How did +you succeed in growing them, Uncle Seth?" + +He smiled sourly. "I didn't raise them," he replied. "That half-breed +Indian that drives John Cardigan's car brought them around about an hour +ago, along with a card. There it is, beside your plate." + +She blushed ever so slightly. "I suppose Bryce Cardigan is vindicating +himself," she murmured as she withdrew the card from the envelope. As +she had surmised, it was Bryce Cardigan's. Colonel Pennington was the +proprietor of a similar surmise. + +"Fast work, Shirley," he murmured banteringly. "I wonder what he'll send +you for luncheon. Some dill pickles, probably." + +She pretended to be very busy with the roses, and not to have heard +him. Her uncle's sneer was not lost on her, however; she resented it but +chose to ignore it for the present; and when at length she had finished +arranging the flowers, she changed the conversation adroitly by +questioning her relative anent the opportunities for shopping in +Sequoia. The Colonel, who could assimilate a hint quicker than most +ordinary mortals, saw that he had annoyed her, and he promptly hastened +to make amends by permitting himself to be led readily into this new +conversational channel. As soon as he could do so, however, he excused +himself on the plea of urgent business at the office, and left the room. + +Shirley, left alone at the breakfast-table, picked idly at the preserved +figs the owlish butler set before her. Vaguely she wondered at her +uncle's apparent hostility to the Cardigans; she was as vaguely troubled +in the knowledge that until she should succeed in eradicating this +hostility, it must inevitably act as a bar to the further progress of +her friendship with Bryce Cardigan. And she told herself she did not +want to lose that friendship. She wasn't the least bit in love with him +albeit she realized he was rather lovable. The delight which she had +experienced in his society lay in the fact that he was absolutely +different from any other man she had met. His simplicity, his utter lack +of "swank," his directness, his good nature, and dry sense of humour +made him shine luminously in comparison with the worldly, rather +artificial young men she had previously met--young men who said and did +only those things which time, tradition, and hallowed memory assured +them were done by the right sort of people. Shirley had a suspicion that +Bryce Cardigan could--and would--swear like a pirate should his temper +be aroused and the circumstances appear to warrant letting off steam. +Also she liked him because he was imaginative--because he saw and sensed +and properly understood without a diagram or a blueprint. And lastly, +he was a good, devoted son and was susceptible of development into +a congenial and wholly acceptable comrade to a young lady absolutely +lacking in other means of amusement. + +She finished her breakfast in thoughtful silence; then she went to the +telephone and called up Bryce at his home. Mrs. Tully, all aflutter with +curiosity, was quite insistent that Shirley should leave her name and +telephone number, but failing to carry her point, consented to inform +the latter that Mr. Bryce was at the office. She gave Shirley the +telephone number. + +When the girl called the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, Bryce +answered. He recognized her voice instantly and called her name before +she had opportunity to announce her identity. + +"Thank you so much for the beautiful roses, Mr. Cardigan," she began. + +"I'm glad you liked them. Nobody picks flowers out of our garden, you +know. I used to, but I'll be too busy hereafter to bother with the +garden." + +"Very well. Then I am not to expect any more roses?" + +"I'm a stupid clodhopper. Of course you may. By the way, Miss Sumner, +does your uncle own a car?" + +"I believe he does--a little old rattletrap which he drives himself." + +"Then I'll send George over with the Napier this afternoon. You might +care to take a spin out into the surrounding country. By the way, +Miss Sumner, you are to consider George and that car as your personal +property. I fear you're going to find Sequoia a dull place; so whenever +you wish to go for a ride, just call me up, and I'll have George report +to you." + +"But think of all the expensive gasoline and tires!" + +"Oh, but you mustn't look at things from that angle after you cross the +Rocky Mountains on your way west. Moreover, mine is the only real car +in the country, and I know you like it. What are you going to do this +afternoon?" + +"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead." + +"For some real sport I would suggest that you motor up to Laguna Grande. +That's Spanish for Big Lagoon, you know. Take a rod with you. There are +some land-locked salmon in the lagoon--that is, there used to be; and if +you hook one you'll get a thrill." + +"But I haven't any rod." + +"I'll send you over a good one." + +"But I have nobody to teach me how to use it," she hinted daringly. + +"I appreciate that compliment," he flashed back at her, "but +unfortunately my holidays are over for a long, long time. I took my +father's place in the business this morning." + +"So soon?" + +"Yes. Things have been happening while I was away. However, speaking of +fishing, George Sea Otter will prove an invaluable instructor. He is a +good boy and you may trust him implicitly. On Thursday evening you can +tell me what success you had with the salmon." + +"Oh, that reminds me, Mr. Cardigan. You can't come Thursday evening, +after all." And she explained the reason. + +"By Jove," he replied, "I'm mighty glad you tipped me off about that. +I couldn't possibly remain at ease in the presence of a +banker-particularly one who will not lend me money." + +"Suppose you come Wednesday night instead." + +"We'll call that a bet. Thank you." + +She chuckled at his frank good humour. "Thank YOU, Mr Cardigan, for all +your kindness and thoughtfulness; and if you WILL persist in being nice +to me, you might send George Sea Otter and the car at one-thirty. I'll +be glad to avail myself of both until I can get a car of my own sent up +from San Francisco. Till Wednesday night, then. Good-bye." + +As Bryce Cardigan hung up, he heaved a slight sigh, and a parody on a +quatrain from "Lalla Rookh" ran through his mind: + +I never loved a dear gazelle, To glad me with its limpid eye, But when I +learned to love it well, The gol-darned thing was sure to die! + +It was difficult to get out of the habit of playing; he found himself +the possessor of a very great desire to close down the desk, call +on Shirley Sumner, and spend the remainder of the day basking in the +sunlight of her presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The days passed swiftly, as they have a habit of passing after one has +discovered one's allotted task in life and has proceeded to perform +it. Following his discovery of the outrage committed on his father's +sanctuary, Bryce wasted considerable valuable time and effort in a +futile endeavour to gather some further hint of the identity of the +vandals; but despairing at last, he dismissed the matter from his mind, +resolving only that on Thursday he would go up into Pennington's woods +and interview the redoubtable Jules Rondeau. Bryce's natural inclination +was to wait upon M. Rondeau immediately, if not sooner, but the +recollection of his dinner engagement at the Pennington home warned him +to proceed cautiously; for while harbouring no apprehensions as to the +outcome of a possible clash with Rondeau, Bryce was not so optimistic as +to believe he would escape unscathed from an encounter. Experience had +impressed upon him the fact that in a rough-and-tumble battle nobody is +quite so thoroughly at home as a lumberjack; once in a clinch with +such a man, even a champion gladiator of the prize ring may well feel +apprehensive of the outcome. + +Wednesday evening at five o'clock Mr. Sinclair, the manager, came +into Bryce's office with a handful of folded papers. "I have here," he +announced in his clerky voice with a touch of solemnity to it, "a trial +balance. I have not had time to make an exact inventory; but in order +to give you some idea of the condition of your father's affairs, I have +used approximate figures and prepared a profit-and-loss account." + +Bryce reached for the papers. + +"You will note the amount charged off to profit and loss under the head +of 'Pensions,'" Sinclair continued. "It amounts approximately to two +thousand dollars a month, and this sum represents payments to crippled +employees and the dependent families of men killed in the employ of the +Company." + +"In addition to these payments, your father owns thirty-two thirty-acre +farms which he has cleared from his logged-over lands. These little +farms are equipped with bungalows and outbuildings built by your father +and represent a considerable investment. As you know, these farms are +wonderfully rich, and are planted in apples and berries. Other lands +contiguous to them sell readily at two hundred dollars an acre, and so +you will see that your father has approximately two hundred thousand +dollars tied up in these little farms." + +"But he has given a life-lease at nothing a year for each farm to former +employees who have been smashed beyond the possibility of doing the hard +work of the mill and woods," Bryce reminded the manager. "Hence you must +not figure those farms among our assets." + +"Why not?" Sinclair replied evenly. "Formal leases have never been +executed, and the tenants occupy the property at your father's +pleasure." + +"I think that will be about as far as the discussion on that point need +proceed," Bryce replied smilingly. "My father's word has always been +considered sufficient in this country; his verbal promise to pay has +always been collateral enough for those who know him." + +"But my dear boy," Sinclair protested, "while that sort of philanthropy +is very delightful when one can afford the luxury, it is scarcely +practical when one is teetering on the verge of financial ruin. After +all, Bryce, self-preservation is the first law of human nature, and +the sale of those farms would go a long way toward helping the Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company out of the hole it is in at present." + +"And we're really teetering on the edge of financial ruin, eh?" Bryce +queried calmly. + +"That is expressing your condition mildly. The semi-annual payment of +interest on the bonded indebtedness falls due on July first--and we're +going to default on it, sure as death and taxes. Colonel Pennington +holds a majority of our bonds, and that means prompt suit for +foreclosure." + +"Well, then, Sinclair," Bryce retorted, carefully pigeon-holing the +documents the manager had handed him, "I'll tell you what we'll do. For +fifty years my father has played the game in this community like a sport +and a gentleman, and I'll be damned if his son will dog it now, at the +finish. I gather from your remarks that we could find ready sale for +those thirty-two little farms?" + +"I am continually receiving offers for them." + +"Then they were not included in the list of properties covered by our +bonded indebtedness?" + +"No, your father refused to include them. He said he would take a chance +on the financial future of himself and his boy, but not on his helpless +dependents." + +"Good old John Cardigan! Well, Sinclair, I'll not take a chance on them +either; so to-morrow morning you will instruct our attorney to draw +up formal life-leases on those farms, and to make certain they are +absolutely unassailable. Colonel Pennington may have the lands sold to +satisfy a deficiency judgment against us, but while those life-leases +from the former owner are in force, my father's proteges cannot be +dispossessed. After they are dead, of course, Pennington may take the +farms--and be damned to him." + +Sinclair stared in frank amazement at his youthful superior. "You are +throwing away two hundred thousand dollars," he said distinctly. + +"I haven't thrown it away--yet. You forget, Sinclair, that we're going +to fight first--and fight like fiends; then if we lose--well, the +tail goes with the hide, By the way, Sinclair, are any of those farms +untenanted at the present time?" + +"Yes. Old Bill Tarpey, who lost his three boys in a forest fire over +on the San Hedrin, passed out last week. The Tarpey boys died in the +Cardigan employ, and so your father gave Bill the use of a farm out near +Freshwater." + +"Well, you'd better be his successor, Sinclair. You're no longer a young +man, and you've been thirty years in this office. Play safe, Sinclair, +and include yourself in one of those life-leases." + +"My dear boy--" + +"Nonsense! United we stand, divided we fall, Sinclair; and let there be +no moaning of the bar when a Cardigan puts out to sea." + +Smiling, he rose from his desk, patted the bewildered Sinclair on the +latter's grizzled head, and then reached for his hat. "I'm dining out +to-night, Sinclair, and I wouldn't be a kill-joy at the feast, for a +ripe peach. Your confounded figures might make me gloomy; so we'll just +reserve discussion of them till to-morrow morning. Be a sport, Sinclair, +and for once in your life beat the six o'clock whistle. In other words, +I suggest that you go home and rest for once." + +He left Sinclair staring at him rather stupidly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Colonel Pennington's imported British butler showed Bryce into the +Pennington living room at six-thirty, announcing him with due ceremony. +Shirley rose from the piano where she had been idly fingering the keys +and greeted him with every appearance of pleasure--following which, she +turned to present her visitor to Colonel Pennington, who was standing in +his favourite position with his back to the fireplace. + +"Uncle Seth, this is Mr. Cardigan, who was so very nice to me the day I +landed in Red Bluff." + +The Colonel bowed. "I have to thank you, sir, for your courtesy to my +niece." He had assumed an air of reserve, of distinct aloofness, despite +his studied politeness. Bryce stepped forward with extended hand, which +the Colonel grasped in a manner vaguely suggestive of that clammy-palmed +creation of Charles Dickens--Uriah Heep. Bryce was tempted to squeeze +the lax fingers until the Colonel should bellow with pain; but resisting +the ungenerous impulse, he replied instead: + +"Your niece, Colonel, is one of those fortunate beings the world will +always clamour to serve." + +"Quite true, Mr. Cardigan. When she was quite a little girl I came under +her spell myself." + +"So did I, Colonel. Miss Sumner has doubtless told you of our first +meeting some twelve years ago?" + +"Quite so. May I offer you a cocktail, Mr. Cardigan?" + +"Thank you, certainly. Dad and I have been pinning one on about this +time every night since my return." + +"Shirley belongs to the Band of Hope," the Colonel explained. "She's +ready at any time to break a lance with the Demon Rum. Back in Michigan, +where we used to live, she saw too many woodsmen around after the spring +drive. So we'll have to drink her share, Mr. Cardigan. Pray be seated." + +Bryce seated himself. "Well, we lumbermen are a low lot and naturally +fond of dissipation," he agreed. "I fear Miss Sumner's Prohibition +tendencies will be still further strengthened after she has seen the +mad-train." + +"What is that?" Shirley queried. + +"The mad-train runs over your uncle's logging railroad up into Township +Nine, where his timber and ours is located. It is the only train +operated on Sunday, and it leaves Sequoia at five p.m. to carry +the Pennington and Cardigan crews back to the woods after their +Saturday-night celebration in town. As a usual thing, all hands, with +the exception of the brakeman, engineers, and fireman, are singing, +weeping or fighting drunk." + +"But why do you provide transportation for them to come to town Saturday +nights?" Shirley protested. + +"They ride in on the last trainload of logs, and if we didn't let them +do it, they'd ask for their time. It's the way of the gentle lumberjack. +And of course, once they get in, we have to round them up on Sunday +afternoon and get them back on the job. Hence the mad-train." + +"Do they fight, Mr. Cardigan?" + +"Frequently. I might say usually. It's quite an inspiring sight to see a +couple of lumberjacks going to it on a flat-car travelling thirty miles +an hour." + +"But aren't they liable to fall off and get killed?" + +"No. You see, they're used to fighting that way. Moreover, the engineer +looks back, and if he sees any signs of Donnybrook Fair, he slows down." + +"How horrible!" + +"Yes, indeed. The right of way is lined with empty whiskey bottles." + +Colonel Pennington spoke up. "We don't have any fighting on the +mad-train any more," he said blandly. + +"Indeed! How do you prevent it?" Bryce asked. + +"My woods-boss, Jules Rondeau, makes them keep the peace," Pennington +replied with a small smile. "If there's any fighting to be done, he does +it." + +"You mean among his own crew, of course," Bryce suggested. + +"No, he's in charge of the mad-train, and whether a fight starts among +your men or ours, he takes a hand. He's had them all behaving mildly for +quite a while, because he can whip any man in the country, and everybody +realizes it. I don't know what I'd do without Rondeau. He certainly +makes those bohunks of mine step lively." + +"Oh-h-h! Do you employ bohunks, Colonel?" + +"Certainly. They cost less; they are far less independent than most +men and more readily handled. And you don't have to pamper +them--particularly in the matter of food. Why, Mr Cardigan, with all due +respect to your father, the way he feeds his men is simply ridiculous! +Cake and pie and doughnuts at the same meal!" The Colonel snorted +virtuously. + +"Well, Dad started in to feed his men the same food he fed himself, and +I suppose the habits one forms in youth are not readily changed in old +age, Colonel." + +"But that makes it hard for other manufacturers," the Colonel protested. +"I feed my men good plain food and plenty of it--quite better food than +they were used to before they came to this country; but I cannot seem to +satisfy them. I am continuously being reminded, when I do a thing thus +and so, that John Cardigan does it otherwise. Your respected parent +is the basis for comparison in this country, Cardigan, and I find +it devilish inconvenient." He laughed indulgently and passed his +cigarette-case to Bryce. + +"Uncle Seth always grows restless when some other man is the leader," +Shirley volunteered with a mischievous glance at Pennington. "He was the +Great Pooh-Bah of the lumber-trade back in Michigan, but out here he has +to play second fiddle. Don't you, Nunky-dunk?" + +"I'm afraid I do, my dear," the Colonel admitted with his best air of +hearty expansiveness. "I'm afraid I do. However, Mr. Cardigan, now that +you have--at least, I have been so informed--taken over your father's +business, I am hoping we will be enabled to get together on many little +details and work them out on a common basis to our mutual advantage. We +lumbermen should stand together and not make it hard for each other. For +instance, your scale of wages is totally disproportionate to the present +high cost of manufacture and the mediocre market; yet just because you +pay it, you set a precedent which we are all forced to follow. However," +he concluded, "let's not talk shop. I imagine we have enough of that +during the day. Besides, here are the cocktails." + +With the disposal of the cocktails, the conversation drifted into a +discussion of Shirley's adventures with a salmon in Big Lagoon. +The Colonel discoursed learnedly on the superior sport of +muskellunge-fishing, which prompted Bryce to enter into a description +of going after swordfish among the islands of the Santa Barbara channel. +"Trout-fishing when the fish gets into white water is good sport; +salmon-fishing is fine, and the steel-head in Eel River are hard to +beat; muskellunge are a delight, and tarpon are not so bad if you're +looking for thrills; but for genuine inspiration give me a sixteen-foot +swordfish that will leap out of the water from three to six feet, and do +it three or four hundred times--all on a line and rod so light one dares +not state the exact weight if he values his reputation for veracity. +Once I was fishing at San--" + +The butler appeared in the doorway and bowed to Shirley, at the time +announcing that dinner was served. The girl rose and gave her arm to +Bryce; with her other arm linked through her uncle's she turned toward +the dining room. + +Just inside the entrance Bryce paused. The soft glow of the candles in +the old-fashioned silver candlesticks upon the table was reflected +in the polished walls of the room-walls formed of panels of the most +exquisitely patterned redwood burl Bryce Cardigan had ever seen. Also +the panels were unusually large. + +Shirley Sumner's alert glance followed Bryce's as it swept around +the room. "This dining room is Uncle Seth's particular delight, Mr. +Cardigan," she explained. + +"It is very beautiful, Miss Sumner. And your uncle has worked wonders +in the matter of having it polished. Those panels are positively the +largest and most beautiful specimens of redwood burl ever turned out in +this country. The grain is not merely wavy; it is not merely curly; it +is actually so contrary that you have here, Colonel Pennington, a room +absolutely unique, in that it is formed of bird's-eye burl. Mark the +deep shadows in it. And how it does reflect those candles!" + +"It is beautiful," the Colonel declared. "And I must confess to a +pardonable pride in it, although the task of keeping these walls from +being marred by the furniture knocking against them requires the utmost +care." + +Bryce turned and his brown eyes blazed into the Colonel's. "Where DID +you succeed in finding such a marvellous tree?" he queried pointedly. +"I know of but one tree in Humboldt County that could have produced such +beautiful burl." + +For about a second Colonel Pennington met Bryce's glance unwaveringly; +then he read something in his guest's eyes, and his glance shifted, +while over his benign countenance a flush spread quickly. Bryce noted +it, and his quickly roused suspicions were as quickly kindled into +certainty. "Where did you find that tree?" he repeated innocently. + +"Rondeau, my woods-boss, knew I was on the lookout for something +special--something nobody else could get; so he kept his eyes open." + +"Indeed!" There was just a trace of irony in Bryce's tones as he +drew Shirley's chair and held it for her. "As you say, Colonel, it is +difficult to keep such soft wood from being marred by contact with +the furniture. And you are fortunate to have such a woods-boss in your +employ. Such loyal fellows are usually too good to be true, and quite +frequently they put their blankets on their backs and get out of the +country when you least expect it. I dare say it would be a shock to you +if Rondeau did that." + +There was no mistaking the veiled threat behind that apparently +innocent observation, and the Colonel, being a man of more than ordinary +astuteness, realized that at last he must place his cards on the table. +His glance, as he rested it on Bryce now, was baleful, ophidian. "Yes," +he said, "I would be rather disappointed. However, I pay Rondeau rather +more than it is customary to pay woods-bosses; so I imagine he'll +stay--unless, of course, somebody takes a notion to run him out of +the county. And when that happens, I want to be on hand to view the +spectacle." + +Bryce sprinkled a modicum of salt in his soup. "I'm going up into +Township Nine to-morrow afternoon," he remarked casually. "I think I +shall go over to your camp and pay the incomparable Jules a brief visit. +Really, I have heard so much about that woods-boss of yours, Colonel, +that I ache to take him apart and see what makes him go." + +Again the Colonel assimilated the hint, but preferred to dissemble. +"Oh, you can't steal him from me, Cardigan," he laughed. "I warn you in +advance--so spare yourself the effort." + +"I'll try anything once," Bryce retorted with equal good nature. +"However, I don't want to steal him from you. I want to ascertain from +him where he procured this burl. There may be more of the same in the +neighbourhood where he got this." + +"He wouldn't tell you." + +"He might. I'm a persuasive little cuss when I choose to exert myself." + +"Rondeau is not communicative. He requires lots of persuading." + +"What delicious soup!" Bryce murmured blandly. "Miss Sumner, may I have +a cracker?" + +The dinner passed pleasantly; the challenge and defiance between guest +and host had been so skillfully and gracefully exchanged that Shirley +hadn't the slightest suspicion that these two well-groomed men had, +under her very nose, as it were, agreed to be enemies and then, for the +time being, turned their attention to other and more trifling matters. +Coffee was served in the living room, and through the fragrant smoke +of Pennington's fifty-cent perfectos a sprightly three-cornered +conversation continued for an hour. Then the Colonel, secretly enraged +at the calm, mocking, contemplative glances which Bryce ever and anon +bestowed upon him, and unable longer to convince himself that he was too +apprehensive--that this cool young man knew nothing and would do nothing +even if he knew something--rose, pleaded the necessity for looking over +some papers, and bade Bryce good-night. Foolishly he proffered Bryce a +limp hand; and a demon of deviltry taking possession of the latter, this +time he squeezed with a simple, hearty earnestness, the while he said: + +"Colonel Pennington, I hope I do not have to assure you that my visit +here this evening has not only been delightful but--er--instructive. +Good-night, sir, and pleasant dreams." + +With difficulty the Colonel suppressed a groan. However, he was not +the sort of man who suffers in silence; for a minute later the butler, +leaning over the banisters as his master climbed the stairs to his +library, heard the latter curse with an eloquence that was singularly +appealing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Colonel Seth Pennington looked up sourly as a clerk entered his private +office. "Well?" he demanded brusquely. When addressing his employees, +the Colonel seldom bothered to assume his pontifical manner. + +"Mr. Bryce Cardigan is waiting to see you, sir." + +"Very well. Show him in." + +Bryce entered. "Good morning, Colonel," he said pleasantly and brazenly +thrust out his hand. + +"Not for me, my boy," the Colonel assured him. "I had enough of that +last night. We'll just consider the hand-shaking all attended to, if +you please. Have a chair; sit down and tell me what I can do to make you +happy." + +"I'm delighted to find you in such a generous frame of mind, Colonel. +You can make me genuinely happy by renewing, for ten years on the same +terms as the original contract, your arrangement to freight the logs of +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company from the woods to tidewater." + +Colonel Pennington cleared his throat with a propitiatory "Ahem-m-m!" +Then he removed his gold spectacles and carefully wiped them with a silk +handkerchief, as carefully replaced them upon his aristocratic nose, and +then gazed curiously at Bryce. + +"Upon my soul!" he breathed. + +"I realized, of course, that this is reopening an issue which you have +been pleased to regard as having been settled in the last letter my +father had from you, and wherein you named terms that were absolutely +prohibitive." + +"My dear young friend! My very dear young friend! I must protest at +being asked to discuss this matter. Your father and I have been over it +in detail; we failed to agree, and that settles it. As a matter of fact, +I am not in position to handle your logs with my limited rolling-stock, +and that old hauling contract which I took over when I bought the mills, +timber-lands, and logging railroad from the late Mr. Henderson and +incorporated into the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, has been an +embarrassment I have longed to rid myself of. Under those circumstances +you could scarcely expect me to saddle myself with it again, at your +mere request and solely to oblige you." + +"I did not expect you to agree to my request. I am not quite that +optimistic," Bryce replied evenly. + +"Then why did you ask me?" + +"I thought that possibly, if I reopened negotiations, you might have a +reasonable counter-proposition to suggest." + +"I haven't thought of any." + +"I suppose if I agreed to sell you that quarter-section of timber in +the little valley over yonder" (he pointed to the east) "and the natural +outlet for your Squaw Creek timber, you'd quickly think of one," Bryce +suggested pointedly. + +"No, I am not in the market for that Valley of the Giants, as your +idealistic father prefers to call it. Once I would have purchased it for +double its value, but at present I am not interested." + +"Nevertheless it would be an advantage for you to possess it." + +"My dear boy, the possession of that big timber is an advantage I expect +to enjoy before I acquire many more gray hairs. But I do not expect to +pay for it." + +"Do you expect me to offer it to you as a bonus for renewing our hauling +contract?" + +The Colonel snapped his fingers. "By George," he declared, "that's a +bright idea, and a few months ago I would have been inclined to consider +it very seriously. But now--" + +"You figure you've got us winging, eh?" Bryce was smiling pleasantly. + +"I am making no admissions," Pennington responded enigmatically "--nor +any hauling contracts for my neighbour's logs," he added. + +"You may change your mind." + +"Never." + +"I suppose I'll have to abandon logging in Township Nine and go back to +the San Hedrin," Bryce sighed resignedly. + +"If you do, you'll go broke. You can't afford it. You're on the verge of +insolvency this minute." + +"I suppose, since you decline to haul our logs, after the expiration +of our present contract, and in view of the fact that we are not +financially able to build our own logging railroad, that the wisest +course my father and I could pursue would be to sell our timber in +Township Nine to you. It adjoins your holdings in the same township" + +"I had a notion the situation would begin to dawn upon you." The Colonel +was smiling now; his handsome face was gradually assuming the expression +pontifical. "I'll give you a dollar a thousand feet stumpage for it." + +"On whose cruise?" + +"Oh, my own cruisers will estimate it." + +"I'm afraid I can't accept that offer. We paid a dollar and a half for +it, you know, and if we sold it to you at a dollar, the sale would not +bring us sufficient money to take up our bonded indebtedness; we'd only +have the San Hedrin timber and the Valley of the Giants left, and since +we cannot log either of these at present, naturally we'd be out of +business." + +"That's the way I figured it, my boy." + +"Well--we're not going out of business." + +"Pardon me for disagreeing with you. I think you are." + +"Not much! We can't afford it." + +The Colonel smiled benignantly. "My dear boy, my very dear young friend, +listen to me. Your paternal ancestor is the only human being who has +ever succeeded in making a perfect monkey of me. When I wanted to +purchase from him a right of way through his absurd Valley of the +Giants, in order that I might log my Squaw Creek timber, he refused +me. And to add insult to injury, he spouted a lot of rot about his big +trees, how much they meant to him, and the utter artistic horror of +running a logging-train through the grove--particularly since he planned +to bequeath it to Sequoia as a public park. He expects the city to grow +up to it during the next twenty years. + +"My boy, that was the first bad break your father made. His second break +was his refusal to sell me a mill-site. He was the first man in this +county, and he had been shrewd enough to hog all the water-front real +estate and hold onto it. I remember he called himself a progressive +citizen, and when I asked him why he was so assiduously blocking the +wheels of progress, he replied that the railroad would build in from +the south some day, but that when it did, its builders would have to be +assured of terminal facilities on Humboldt Bay. 'By holding intact the +spot where rail and water are bound to meet,' he told me, 'I insure the +terminal on tidewater which the railroad must have before consenting to +build. But if I sell it to Tom, Dick, and Harry, they will be certain to +gouge the railroad when the latter tries to buy it from them. They may +scare the railroad away.'" + +"Naturally!" Bryce replied. "The average human being is a hog, and +merciless when he has the upper hand. He figures that a bird in the hand +is worth two in the bush. My father, on the contrary, has always planned +for the future. He didn't want that railroad blocked by land-speculators +and its building delayed. The country needed rail connection with the +outside world, and moreover his San Hedrin timber isn't worth a hoot +until that feeder to a transcontinental road shall be built to tap it." + +"But he sold Bill Henderson the mill-site on tidewater that he refused +to sell me, and later I had to pay Henderson's heirs a whooping price +for it. And I haven't half the land I need." + +"But he needed Henderson then. They had a deal on together. You must +remember, Colonel, that while Bill Henderson held that Squaw Creek +timber he later sold you, my father would never sell him a mill-site. +Can't you see the sporting point of view involved? My father and Bill +Henderson were good-natured rivals; for thirty years they had tried +to outgame each other on that Squaw Creek timber. Henderson thought he +could force my father to buy at a certain price, and my father thought +he could force Henderson to sell at a lesser price; they were perfectly +frank about it with each other and held no grudges. Of course, after +you bought Henderson out, you foolishly took over his job of trying to +outgame my father. That's why you bought Henderson out, isn't it? You +had a vision of my father's paying you a nice profit on your investment, +but he fooled you, and now you're peeved and won't play." + +Bryce hitched his chair farther toward the Colonel. "Why shouldn't my +dad be nice to Bill Henderson after the feud ended?" he continued. "They +could play the game together then, and they did. Colonel, why can't you +be as sporty as Henderson and my father? They fought each other, but +they fought fairly and in the open, and they never lost the respect and +liking each had for the other." + +"I will not renew your logging contract. That is final, young man. No +man can ride me with spurs and get away with it." + +"Oh, I knew that yesterday." + +"Then why have you called on me to-day, taking up my time on a dead +issue?" + +"I wanted to give you one final chance to repent. I know your plan. +You have it in your power to smash the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, +acquire it at fifty per cent. of its value, and merge its assets with +your Laguna Grande Lumber Company. You are an ambitious man. You want +to be the greatest redwood manufacturer in California, and in order +to achieve your ambitions, you are willing to ruin a competitor: you +decline to play the game like a thoroughbred." + +"I play the game of business according to the rules of the game; I do +nothing illegal, sir." + +"And nothing generous or chivalrous. Colonel, you know your plea of a +shortage of rolling-stock is that the contract for hauling our logs has +been very profitable and will be more profitable in the future if you +will accept a fifty-cent-per-thousand increase on the freight-rate and +renew the contract for ten years." + +"Nothing doing, young man. Remember, you are not in a position to ask +favours." + +"Then I suppose we'll have to go down fighting?" + +"I do not anticipate much of a fight." + +"You'll get as much as I can give you." + +"I'm not at all apprehensive." + +"And I'll begin by running your woods-boss out of the country." + +"Ah-h!" + +"You know why, of course--those burl panels in your dining room. Rondeau +felled a tree in our Valley of the Giants to get that burl for you, +Colonel Pennington." + +Pennington flushed. "I defy you to prove that," he almost shouted. + +"Very well. I'll make Rondeau confess; perhaps he'll even tell me +who sent him after the burl. Upon my word, I think you inspired that +dastardly raid. At any rate, I know Rondeau is guilty, and you, as his +employer and the beneficiary of his crime, must accept the odium." + +The Colonel's face went white. "I do not admit anything except that +you appear to have lost your head, young man. However, for the sake of +argument: granting that Rondeau felled that tree, he did it under the +apprehension that your Valley of the Giants is a part of my Squaw Creek +timber adjoining." + +"I do not believe that. There was malice in the act--brutality even; for +my mother's grave identified the land as ours, and Rondeau felled the +tree on her tombstone." + +"If that is so, and Rondeau felled that tree--I do not believe he did--I +am sincerely sorry, Cardigan, Name your price and I will pay you for the +tree. I do not desire any trouble to develop over this affair." + +"You can't pay for that tree," Bryce burst forth. "No pitiful human +being can pay in dollars and cents for the wanton destruction of God's +handiwork. You wanted that burl and when my father was blind and could +no longer make his Sunday pilgrimage up to that grove, your woods-boss +went up and stole that which you knew you could not buy." + +"That will be about all from you, young man. Get out of my office. And +by the way, forget that you have met my niece." + +"It's your office--so I'll get out. As for your second command"--he +snapped his fingers in Pennington's face--"fooey!" + +When Bryce had gone, the Colonel hurriedly called his logging-camp on +the telephone and asked for Jules Rondeau, only to be informed, by the +timekeeper who answered the telephone, that Rondeau was up in the green +timber with the choppers and could not be gotten to the telephone in +less than two hours. + +"Do not send for him, then," Pennington commanded. "I'm coming up on +the eleven-fifteen train and will talk to him when he comes in for his +lunch." + +At eleven o'clock, and just as the Colonel was leaving to board the +eleven-fifteen logging-train bound empty for the woods, Shirley Sumner +made her appearance in his office. + +"Uncle Seth," she complained, "I'm lonesome. The bookkeeper tells me +you're going up to the logging-camp. May I go with you?" + +"By all means. Usually I ride in the cab with the engineer and fireman; +but if you're coming, I'll have them hook on the caboose. Step lively, +my dear, or they'll be holding the train for us and upsetting our +schedule." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +By virtue of their logging-contract with Pennington, the Cardigans +and their employees were transported free over Pennington's logging +railroad; hence, when Bryce Cardigan resolved to wait upon Jules Rondeau +in the matter of that murdered Giant, it was characteristic of him to +choose the shortest and most direct route to his quarry, and as the +long string of empty logging-trucks came crawling off the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company's log-dump, he swung over the side, quite ignorant of the +fact that Shirley and her precious relative were riding in the little +caboose in the rear. + +At twelve-ten the train slid in on the log landing of the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company's main camp, and Bryce dropped off and approached the +engineer of the little donkey-engine used for loading the logs. + +"Where's Rondeau?" he asked. + +The engineer pointed to a huge, swarthy man approaching across the +clearing in which the camp was situated. "That's him," he replied. And +without further ado, Bryce strode to meet his man. + +"Are you Jules Rondeau?" he demanded as he came up to the woods-boss. +The latter nodded. "I'm Bryce Cardigan," his interrogator announced, +"and I'm here to thrash you for chopping that big redwood tree over in +that little valley where my mother is buried." + +"Oh!" Rondeau smiled. "Wiz pleasure, M'sieur." And without a moment's +hesitation he rushed. Bryce backed away from him warily, and they +circled. + +"When I get through with you, Rondeau," Bryce said distinctly, "it'll +take a good man to lead you to your meals. This country isn't big enough +for both of us, and since you came here last, you've got to go first." + +Bryce stepped in, feinted for Rondeau's jaw with his right, and when +the woods-boss quickly covered, ripped a sizzling left into the latter's +midriff. Rondeau grunted and dropped his guard, with the result that +Bryce's great fists played a devil's tattoo on his countenance before he +could crouch and cover. + +"This is a tough one," thought Bryce. His blows had not, apparently, had +the slightest effect on the woods-boss. Crouched low and with his arms +wrapped around his head, Rondeau still came on unfalteringly, and Bryce +was forced to give way before him; to save his hands, he avoided the +risk of battering Rondeau's hard head and sinewy arms. + +Already word that the woods-boss was battling with a stranger had been +shouted into the camp dining room, and the entire crew of that camp, +abandoning their half-finished meal, came pouring forth to view the +contest. Out of the tail of his eye Bryce saw them coming, but he was +not apprehensive, for he knew the code of the woodsman: "Let every man +roll his own hoop." It would be a fight to a finish, for no man would +interfere; striking, kicking, gouging, biting, or choking would not be +looked upon as unsportsmanlike; and as Bryce backed cautiously away from +the huge, lithe, active, and powerful man before him, he realized +that Jules Rondeau was, as his father had stated, "top dog among the +lumberjacks." + +Rondeau, it was apparent, had no stomach for Bryce's style of combat. He +wanted a rough-and-tumble fight and kept rushing, hoping to clinch; if +he could but get his great hands on Bryce, he would wrestle him down, +climb him, and finish the fight in jig-time. But a rough-and-tumble was +exactly what Bryce was striving to avoid; hence when Rondeau rushed, +Bryce side-stepped and peppered the woodsman's ribs. But the woods-crew, +which by now was ringed around them, began to voice disapproval of this +style of battle. + +"Clinch with him, dancing-master," a voice roared. + +"Tie into him, Rondeau," another shouted. + +"It's a fair match," cried another, "and the red one picked on the main +push. He was looking for a fight, an' he ought to get it; but these +fancy fights don't suit me. Flop him, stranger, flop him." + +"Rondeau can't catch him," a fourth man jeered. "He's a foot-racer, not +a fighter." + +Suddenly two powerful hands were placed between Bryce's shoulders, +effectually halting his backward progress; then he was propelled +violently forward until he collided with Rondeau. With a bellow of +triumph, the woods-boss's gorilla-like arms were around Bryce, swinging +him until he faced the man who had forced him into that terrible grip. +This was no less a personage than Colonel Seth Pennington, and it was +obvious he had taken charge of what he considered the obsequies. + +"Stand back, you men, and give them room," he shouted. "Rondeau will +take care of him now. Stand back, I say. I'll discharge the man that +interferes." + +With a heave and a grunt Rondeau lifted his antagonist, and the +pair went crashing to the earth together, Bryce underneath. And then +something happened. With a howl of pain, Rondeau rolled over on his back +and lay clasping his left wrist in his right hand, while Bryce scrambled +to his feet. + +"The good old wrist-lock does the trick," he announced; and stooping, he +grasped the woods-boss by the collar with his left hand, lifted him, and +struck him a terrible blow in the face with his right. But for the arm +that upheld him, Rondeau would have fallen. To have him fall, however, +was not part of Bryce's plan. Jerking the fellow toward him, he passed +his arm around Rondeau's neck, holding the latter's head as in a vise +with the crook of his elbow. And then the battering started. When it +was finished, Bryce let his man go, and Rondeau, bloody, sobbing, and +semi-conscious, sprawled on the ground. + +Bryce bent over him. "Now, damn you," he roared, "who felled that tree +in Cardigan's Redwoods?" + +"I did, M'sieur. Enough--I confess!" The words were a whisper. + +"Did Colonel Pennington suggest it to you?" + +"He want ze burl. By gar, I do not want to fell zat tree--" + +"That's all I want to know." Stooping, Bryce seized Rondeau by the nape +of the neck and the slack of his overalls, lifted him shoulder-high and +threw him, as one throws a sack of meal, full at Colonel Pennington. + +"You threw me at him. Now I throw him at you. You damned, thieving, +greedy, hypocritical scoundrel, if it weren't for your years and your +gray hair, I'd kill you." + +The helpless hulk of the woods-boss descended upon the Colonel's +expansive chest and sent him crashing earthward. Then Bryce, war-mad, +turned to face the ring of Laguna Grande employees about him. + +"Next!" he roared. "Singly, in pairs, or the whole damned pack!" + +"Mr. Cardigan!" + +He turned. Colonel Pennington's breath had been knocked out of his +body by the impact of his semi-conscious woods-boss, and he lay inert, +gasping like a hooked fish. Beside him Shirley Sumner was kneeling, her +hands clasping her uncle's, but with her violet eyes blazing fiercely on +Bryce Cardigan. + +"How dare you?" she cried. "You coward! To hurt my uncle!" + +He gazed at her a moment, fiercely, defiantly, his chest rising and +falling from his recent exertions, his knotted fists gory with the blood +of his enemy. Then the light of battle died, and he hung his head. "I'm +sorry," he murmured, "not for his sake, but yours. I didn't know you +were here. I forgot--myself." + +"I'll never speak to you again so long as I live," she burst out +passionately. + +He advanced a step and stood gazing down upon her. Her angry glance +met his unflinchingly; and presently for him the light went out of the +world. + +"Very well," he murmured. "Good-bye." And with bowed head he turned and +made off through the green timber toward his own logging-camp five miles +distant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +With the descent upon his breast of the limp body of his big +woods-bully, Colonel Pennington had been struck to earth as effectively +as if a fair-sized tree had fallen on him. Indeed, with such force did +his proud head collide with terra firma that had it not been for the +soft cushion of ferns and tiny redwood twigs, his neck must have been +broken by the shock. To complete his withdrawal from active service, the +last whiff of breath had been driven from his lungs; and for the space +of a minute, during which Jules Rondeau lay heavily across his midriff, +the Colonel was quite unable to get it back. Pale, gasping, and jarred +from soul to suspenders, he was merely aware that something unexpected +and disconcerting had occurred. + +While the Colonel fought for his breath, his woodsmen remained in +the offing, paralyzed into inactivity by reason of the swiftness and +thoroughness of Bryce Cardigan's work; then Shirley motioned to them to +remove the wreckage, and they hastened to obey. + +Freed from the weight on the geometric centre of his being, Colonel +Pennington stretched his legs, rolled his head from side to side, and +snorted violently several times like a buck. After the sixth snort he +felt so much better that a clear understanding of the exact nature of +the catastrophe came to him; he struggled and sat up, looking around a +little wildly. + +"Where--did--Cardigan--go?" he gasped. + +One of his men pointed to the timber into which the enemy had just +disappeared. + +"Surround him--take him," Pennington ordered. "I'll give--a month's +pay--to each of--the six men that bring--that scoundrel to me. Get +him--quickly! Understand?" + +Not a man moved. Pennington shook with fury. "Get him," he croaked. +"There are enough of you to do--the job. Close in on him--everybody. +I'll give a month's pay to--everybody." + +A man of that indiscriminate mixture of Spaniard and Indian known in +California as cholo swept the circle of men with an alert and knowing +glance. His name was Flavio Artelan, but his straight black hair, dark +russet complexion, beady eyes, and hawk nose gave him such a resemblance +to a fowl that he was known among his fellows as the Black Minorca, +regardless of the fact that this sobriquet was scarcely fair to a +very excellent breed of chicken. "That offer's good enough for me," he +remarked in businesslike tones. "Come on--everybody. A month's pay for +five minutes' work. I wouldn't tackle the job with six men, but there +are twenty of us here." + +"Hurry," the Colonel urged them. + +Shirley Sumner's flashing glance rested upon the Black Minorca. "Don't +you dare!" she cried. "Twenty to one! For shame!" + +"For a month's pay," he replied impudently, and grinned evilly. "And I'm +takin' orders from my boss." He started on a dog-trot for the timber, +and a dozen men trailed after him. + +Shirley turned helplessly on her uncle, seized his arm and shook it +frantically. "Call them back! Call them back!" she pleaded. + +Her uncle got uncertainly to his feet. "Not on your life!" he growled, +and in his cold gray eyes there danced the lights of a thousand devils. +"I told you the fellow was a ruffian. Now, perhaps, you'll believe me. +We'll hold him until Rondeau revives, and then--" + +Shirley guessed the rest, and she realized that it was useless to +plead--that she was only wasting time. "Bryce! Bryce!" she called. "Run! +They're after you. Twenty of them! Run, run--for my sake!" + +His voice answered her from the timber: "Run? From those cattle? Not +from man or devil." A silence. Then: "So you've changed your mind, have +you? You've spoken to me again!" There was triumph, exultation in his +voice. "The timber's too thick, Shirley. I couldn't get away anyhow--so +I'm coming back." + +She saw him burst through a thicket of alder saplings into the clearing, +saw half a dozen of her uncle's men close in around him like wolves +around a sick steer; and at the shock of their contact, she moaned and +hid her face in her trembling hands. + +Half man and half tiger that he was, the Black Minorca, as +self-appointed leader, reached Bryce first. The cholo was a squat, +powerful little man, with more bounce to him than a rubber ball; leading +his men by a dozen yards, he hesitated not an instant but dodged under +the blow Bryce lashed out at him and came up inside the latter's guard, +feeling for Bryce's throat. Instead he met Bryce's knee in his abdomen, +and forthwith he folded up like an accordion. + +The next instant Bryce had stooped, caught him by the slack of the +trousers and the scruff of the neck and thrown him, as he had thrown +Rondeau, into the midst of the men advancing to his aid. Three of them +went down backward; and Bryce, charging over them, stretched two more +with well-placed blows from left and right, and continued on across +the clearing, running at top speed, for he realized that for all +the desperation of his fight and the losses already inflicted on his +assailants, the odds against him were insurmountable. + +Seeing him running away, the Laguna Grande woods-men took heart and +hope and pursued him. Straight for the loading donkey at the log-landing +Bryce ran. Beside the donkey stood a neat tier of firewood; in the +chopping block, where the donkey-fireman had driven it prior to +abandoning his post to view the contest between Bryce and Jules Rondeau, +was a double-bitted axe. Bryce jerked it loose, swung it, whirled on his +pursuers, and rushed them. Like turkeys scattering before the raid of a +coyote they fled in divers directions and from a safe distance turned to +gaze apprehensively upon this demon they had been ordered to bring in. + +Bryce lowered the axe, removed his hat, and mopped his moist brow. +From the centre of the clearing men were crawling or staggering to +safety--with the exception of the Black Minorca, who lay moaning softly. +Colonel Pennington, seeing his fondest hopes expire, lost his head +completely. + +"Get off my property, you savage," he shrilled. + +"Don't be a nut, Colonel," Bryce returned soothingly. "I'll get +off--when I get good and ready, and not a second sooner. In fact, I was +trying to get off as rapidly as I could when you sent your men to bring +me back. Prithee why, old thing? Didst crave more conversation with me, +or didst want thy camp cleaned out?" + +He started toward Pennington, who backed hastily away. Shirley stood +her ground, bending upon Bryce, as he approached her, a cold and +disapproving glance. "I'll get you yet," the Colonel declared from the +shelter of an old stump behind which he had taken refuge. + +"Barking dogs never bite, Colonel. And that reminds me: I've heard +enough from you. One more cheep out of you, my friend, and I'll go up to +my own logging-camp, return here with a crew of bluenoses and wild Irish +and run your wops, bohunks, and cholos out of the county. I don't fancy +the class of labour you're importing into this county, anyhow." + +The Colonel, evidently deciding that discretion was the better part of +valour, promptly subsided, although Bryce could see that he was mumbling +threats to himself, though not in an audible voice. + +The demon Cardigan halted beside Shirley and stood gazing down at her. +He was smiling at her whimsically. She met his glance for a few seconds; +then her lids were lowered and she bit her lip with vexation. + +"Shirley," he said. + +"You are presumptuous," she quavered. + +"You set me an example in presumption," he retorted good humouredly. +"Did you not call ME by MY first name a minute ago?" He glanced toward +Colonel Pennington and observed the latter with his neck craned across +his protecting stump. He was all ears. Bryce pointed sternly across the +clearing, and the Colonel promptly abandoned his refuge and retreated +hastily in the direction indicated. + +The heir to Cardigan's Redwoods bent over the girl. "You spoke to +me--after your promise not to, Shirley," he said gently. "You will +always speak to me." + +She commenced to cry softly. "I loathe you," she sobbed. + +"For you I have the utmost respect and admiration," he replied. + +"No, you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't hurt my uncle--the only human +being in all this world who is dear to me." + +"Gosh!" he murmured plaintively. "I'm jealous of that man. However, I'm +sorry I hurt him. He is no longer young, while I--well, I forgot the +chivalry my daddy taught me. I give you my word I came here to fight +fairly--" + +"He merely tried to stop you from fighting." + +"No, he didn't, Shirley. He interfered and fouled me. Still, despite +that, if I had known you were a spectator I think I should have +controlled myself and refrained from pulling off my vengeance in your +presence. I shall never cease to regret that I subjected you to such a +distressing spectacle. I do hope, however, that you will believe me when +I tell you I am not a bully, although when there is a fight worth while, +I never dodge it. And this time I fought for the honour of the House of +Cardigan." + +"If you want me to believe that, you will beg my uncle's pardon." + +"I can't do that. He is my enemy and I shall hate him forever; I +shall fight him and his way of doing business until he reforms or I am +exhausted." + +She looked up at him, showing a face in which resentment, outrage, and +wistfulness were mirrored. + +"You realize, of course, what your insistence on that plan means, Mr. +Cardigan?" + +"Call me Bryce," he pleaded. "You're going to call me that some day +anyhow, so why not start now?" + +"You are altogether insufferable, sir. Please go away and never presume +to address me again. You are quite impossible." + +He shook his head. "I do not give up that readily, Shirley. I didn't +know how dear--what your friendship meant to me, until you sent me away; +I didn't think there was any hope until you warned me those dogs were +hunting me--and called me Bryce." He held out his hand. "'God gave us +our relations,'" he quoted, "'but thank God, we can choose our friends.' +And I'll be a good friend to you, Shirley Sumner, until I have earned +the right to be something more. Won't you shake hands with me? Remember, +this fight to-day is only the first skirmish in a war to the finish--and +I am leading a forlorn hope. If I lose--well, this will be good-bye." + +"I hate you," she answered drearily. "All our fine +friendship--smashed--and you growing stupidly sentimental. I didn't +think it of you. Please go away. You are distressing me." + +He smiled at her tenderly, forgivingly, wistfully, but she did not see +it. "Then it is really good-by," he murmured with mock dolorousness. + +She nodded her bowed head. "Yes," she whispered. "After all, I have +some pride, you know. You mustn't presume to be the butterfly preaching +contentment to the toad in the dust." + +"As you will it, Shirley." He turned away. "I'll send your axe back +with the first trainload of logs from my camp, Colonel," he called to +Pennington. + +Once more he strode away into the timber. Shirley watched him pass out +of her life, and gloried in what she conceived to be his agony, for she +had both temper and spirit, and Bryce Cardigan calmly, blunderingly, +rather stupidly (she thought) had presumed flagrantly on brief +acquaintance. Her uncle was right. He was not of their kind of people, +and it was well she had discovered this before permitting herself +to develop a livelier feeling of friendship for him. It was true he +possessed certain manly virtues, but his crudities by far outweighed +these. + +The Colonel's voice broke in upon her bitter reflections. "That fellow +Cardigan is a hard nut to crack--I'll say that for him." He had crossed +the clearing to her side and was addressing her with his customary air +of expansiveness. "I think, my dear, you had better go back into the +caboose, away from the prying eyes of these rough fellows. I'm sorry +you came, Shirley. I'll never forgive myself for bringing you. If I had +thought--but how could I know that scoundrel was coming here to raise a +disturbance? And only last night he was at our house for dinner!" + +"That's just what makes it so terrible, Uncle Seth," she quavered. + +"It IS hard to believe that a man of young Cardigan's evident +intelligence and advantages could be such a boor, Shirley. However, I, +for one, am not surprised. You will recall that I warned you he might +be his father's son. The best course to pursue now is to forget that you +have ever met the fellow." + +"I wonder what could have occurred to make such a madman of him?" the +girl queried wonderingly. "He acted more like a demon than a human +being." + +"Just like his old father," the Colonel purred benevolently. "When +he can't get what he wants, he sulks. I'll tell you what got on his +confounded nerves. I've been freighting logs for the senior Cardigan +over my railroad; the contract for hauling them was a heritage from old +Bill Henderson, from whom I bought the mill and timber-lands; and of +course as his assignee it was incumbent upon me to fulfill Henderson's +contract with Cardigan, even though the freight-rate was ruinous. + +"Well, this morning young Cardigan came to my office, reminded me that +the contract would expire by limitation next year and asked me to renew +it, and at the same freight-rate. I offered to renew the contract but +at a higher freight-rate, and explained to him that I could not possibly +continue to haul his logs at a loss. Well, right away he flew into a +rage and called me a robber; whereupon I informed him that since he +thought me a robber, perhaps we had better not attempt to have any +business dealings with each other--that I really didn't want his +contract at any price, having scarcely sufficient rolling-stock to +handle my own logs. That made him calm down, but in a little while he +lost his head again and grew snarly and abusive--to such an extent, +indeed, that finally I was forced to ask him to leave my office." + +"Nevertheless, Uncle Seth, I cannot understand why he should make such a +furious attack upon your employee." + +The Colonel laughed with a fair imitation of sincerity and tolerant +amusement. "My dear, that is no mystery to me. There are men who, +finding it impossible or inadvisable to make a physical attack upon +their enemy, find ample satisfaction in poisoning his favourite dog, +burning his house, or beating up one of his faithful employees. Cardigan +picked on Rondeau for the reason that a few days ago he tried to hire +Rondeau away from me--offered him twenty-five dollars a month more than +I was paying him, by George! Of course when Rondeau came to me with +Cardigan's proposition, I promptly met Cardigan's bid and retained +Rondeau; consequently Cardigan hates us both and took the earliest +opportunity to vent his spite on us." + +The Colonel sighed and brushed the dirt and leaves from his tweeds. +"Thunder," he continued philosophically, "it's all in the game, so +why worry over it? And why continue to discuss an unpleasant topic, my +dear?" + +A groan from the Black Minorca challenged her attention. "I think that +man is badly hurt, Uncle," she suggested. + +"Serves him right," he returned coldly. "He tackled that cyclone full +twenty feet in advance of the others; if they'd all closed in together, +they would have pulled him down. I'll have that cholo and Rondeau sent +down with the next trainload of logs to the company hospital. They're a +poor lot and deserve manhandling--" + +They paused, facing toward the timber, from which came a voice, +powerful, sweetly resonant, raised in song. Shirley knew that +half-trained baritone, for she had heard it the night before when Bryce +Cardigan, faking his own accompaniment at the piano, had sung for her a +number of carefully expurgated lumberjack ballads, the lunatic humour of +which had delighted her exceedingly. She marvelled now at his choice of +minstrelsy, for the melody was hauntingly plaintive--the words Eugene +Field's poem of childhood, "Little Boy Blue." + + "The little toy dog is covered with dust, + But sturdy and stanch he stands; + And the little toy soldier is red with rust, + And his musket molds in his hands. + Time was when the little toy dog was new, + And the soldier was passing fair; + And that was the time when our little boy blue, + Kissed them and put them there." + +"Light-hearted devil, isn't he?" the Colonel commented approvingly. "And +his voice isn't half bad. Just singing to be defiant, I suppose." + +Shirley did not answer. But a few minutes previously she had seen the +singer a raging fury, brandishing an axe and driving men before him. She +could not understand. And presently the song grew faint among the timber +and died away entirely. + +Her uncle took her gently by the arm and steered her toward the caboose. +"Well, what do you think of your company now?" he demanded gayly. + +"I think," she answered soberly, "that you have gained an enemy worth +while and that it behooves you not to underestimate him." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Through the green timber Bryce Cardigan strode, and there was a lilt +in his heart now. Already he had forgotten the desperate situation from +which he had just escaped; he thought only of Shirley Sumner's face, +tear-stained with terror; and because he knew that at least some of +those tears had been inspired by the gravest apprehensions as to his +physical well-being, because in his ears there still resounded her +frantic warning, he realized that however stern her decree of banishment +had been, she was nevertheless not indifferent to him. And it was this +knowledge that had thrilled him into song and which when his song was +done had brought to his firm mouth a mobility that presaged his old +whimsical smile--to his brown eyes a beaming light of confidence and +pride. + +The climax had been reached--and passed; and the result had been far +from the disaster he had painted in his mind's eye ever since the +knowledge had come to him that he was doomed to battle to a knockout +with Colonel Pennington, and that one of the earliest fruits of +hostilities would doubtless be the loss of Shirley Sumner's prized +friendship. Well, he had lost her friendship, but a still small voice +whispered to him that the loss was not irreparable--whereat he swung his +axe as a bandmaster swings his baton; he was glad that he had started +the war and was now free to fight it out unhampered. + +Up hill and down dale he went. Because of the tremendous trees he could +not see the sun; yet with the instinct of the woodsman, an instinct +as infallible as that of a homing pigeon, he was not puzzled as to +direction. Within two hours his long, tireless stride brought him out +into a clearing in the valley where his own logging-camp stood. He went +directly to the log-landing, where in a listless and half-hearted manner +the loading crew were piling logs on Pennington's logging-trucks. + +Bryce looked at his watch. It was two o'clock; at two-fifteen +Pennington's locomotive would appear, to back in and couple to the long +line of trucks. And the train was only half loaded. + +"Where's McTavish?" Bryce demanded of the donkey-driver. + +The man mouthed his quid, spat copiously, wiped his mouth with the +back of his hand, and pointed. "Up at his shanty," he made answer, and +grinned at Bryce knowingly. + +Up through the camp's single short street, flanked on each side with +the woodsmen's shanties, Bryce went. Dogs barked at him, for he was a +stranger in his own camp; children, playing in the dust, gazed upon him +owlishly. At the most pretentious shanty on the street Bryce turned in. +He had never seen it before, but he knew it to be the woods-boss's home, +for unlike its neighbours the house was painted with the coarse red +paint that is used on box-cars, while a fence, made of fancy pointed +pickets painted white, inclosed a tiny garden in front of the house. As +Bryce came through the gate, a young girl rose from where she knelt in a +bed of freshly transplanted pansies. + +Bryce lifted his hat. "Is Mr. McTavish at home?" he asked. + +She nodded. "He cannot see anybody," she hastened to add. "He's sick." + +"I think he'll see me. And I wonder if you're Moira McTavish." + +"Yes, I'm Moira." + +"I'm Bryce Cardigan." + +A look of fright crept into the girl's eyes. "Are you--Bryce Cardigan?" +she faltered, and looked at him more closely. "Yes, you're Mr. Bryce. +You've changed--but then it's been six years since we saw you last, Mr. +Bryce." + +He came toward her with outstretched hand. "And you were a little girl +when I saw you last. Now--you're a woman." She grasped his hand with the +frank heartiness of a man. "I'm mighty glad to meet you again, Moira. I +just guessed who you were, for of course I should never have recognized +you. When I saw you last, you wore your hair in a braid down your back." + +"I'm twenty years old," she informed him. + +"Stand right where you are until I have looked at you," he commanded, +and backed off a few feet, the better to contemplate her. + +He saw a girl slightly above medium height, tanned, robust, simply +gowned in a gingham dress. Her hands were soiled from her recent labours +in the pansy-bed, and her shoes were heavy and coarse; yet neither hands +nor feet were large or ungraceful. Her head was well formed; her hair, +jet black and of unusual lustre and abundance, was parted in the middle +and held in an old-fashioned coil at the nape of a neck the beauty +of which was revealed by the low cut of her simple frock. Moira was a +decided brunette, with that wonderful quality of skin to be seen only +among brunettes who have roses in their cheeks; her brow was broad and +spiritual; in her eyes, large, black, and listrous, there was a brooding +tenderness not untouched with sorrow--some such expression, indeed, as +da Vinci put in the eyes of his Mona Lisa. Her nose was patrician, her +face oval; her lips, full and red, were slightly parted in the adorable +Cupid's bow which is the inevitable heritage of a short upper lip; her +teeth were white as Parian marble; and her full breast was rising and +falling swiftly, as if she laboured under suppressed excitement. + +So delightful a picture did Moira McTavish make that Bryce forgot all +his troubles in her sweet presence. "By the gods, Moira," he declared +earnestly, "you're a peach! When I saw you last, you were awkward and +leggy, like a colt. I'm sure you weren't a bit good-looking. And now +you're the most ravishing young lady in seventeen counties. By jingo, +Moira, you're a stunner and no mistake. Are you married?" + +She shook her head, blushing pleasurably at his unpolished but sincere +compliments. + +"What? Not married. Why, what the deuce can be the matter with the +eligible young fellows hereabouts?" + +"There aren't any eligible young fellows hereabouts, Mr. Bryce. And I've +lived in these woods all my life." + +"That's why you haven't been discovered." + +"And I don't intend to marry a lumberjack and continue to live in +these woods," she went on earnestly, as if she found pleasure in this +opportunity to announce her rebellion. Despite her defiance, however, +there was a note of sad resignation in her voice. + +"You don't know a thing about it, Moira. Some bright day your Prince +Charming will come by, riding the log-train, and after that it will +always be autumn in the woods for you. Everything will just naturally +turn to crimson and gold." + +"How do you know, Mr Bryce?" + +He laughed. "I read about it in a book." + +"I prefer spring in the woods, I think. It seems--It's so foolish of me, +I know; I ought to be contented, but it's hard to be contented when it +is always winter in one's heart. That frieze of timber on the skyline +limits my world, Mr Bryce. Hills and timber, timber and hills, and the +thunder of falling redwoods. And when the trees have been logged off so +we can see the world, we move back into green timber again." She sighed. + +"Are you lonely, Moira?" + +She nodded. + +"Poor Moira!" he murmured absently. + +The thought that he so readily understood touched her; a glint of tears +was in her sad eyes. He saw them and placed his arm fraternally +around her shoulders. "Tut-tut, Moira! Don't cry," he soothed her. "I +understand perfectly, and of course we'll have to do something about +it. You're too fine for this." With a sweep of his hand he indicated the +camp. He had led her to the low stoop in front of the shanty. "Sit down +on the steps, Moira, and we'll talk it over. I really called to see your +father, but I guess I don't want to see him after all--if he's sick." + +She looked at him bravely. "I didn't know you at first, Mr. Bryce. I +fibbed. Father isn't sick. He's drunk." + +"I thought so when I saw the loading-crew taking it easy at the +log-landing. I'm terribly sorry." + +"I loathe it--and I cannot leave it," she burst out vehemently. "I'm +chained to my degradation. I dream dreams, and they'll never come true. +I--I--oh Mr. Bryce, Mr. Bryce, I'm so unhappy." + +"So am I," he retorted. "We all get our dose of it, you know, and just +at present I'm having an extra helping, it seems. You're cursed with too +much imagination, Moira. I'm sorry about your father. He's been with us +a long time, and my father has borne a lot from him for old sake's sake; +he told me the other night that he has discharged Mac fourteen times +during the past ten years, but to date he hasn't been able to make it +stick. For all his sixty years, Moira, your confounded parent can still +manhandle any man on the pay-roll, and as fast as Dad put in a new +woods-boss old Mac drove him off the job. He simply declines to +be fired, and Dad's worn out and too tired to bother about his old +woods-boss any more. He's been waiting until I should get back." + +"I know," said Moira wearily. "Nobody wants to be Cardigan's woods-boss +and have to fight my father to hold his job. I realize what a nuisance +he has become." + +Bryce chuckled. "I asked Father why he didn't stand pat and let Mac work +for nothing; having discharged him, my father was under no obligation +to give him his salary just because he insisted on being woods-boss. Dad +might have starved your father out of these woods, but the trouble +was that old Mac would always come and promise reform and end up by +borrowing a couple of hundred dollars, and then Dad had to hire him +again to get it back! Of course the matter simmers down to this: Dad is +so fond of your father that he just hasn't got the moral courage to work +him over--and now that job is up to me. Moira, I'm not going to +beat about the bush with you. They tell me your father is a hopeless +inebriate." + +"I'm afraid he is, Mr. Bryce." + +"How long has he been drinking to excess?" + +"About ten years, I think. Of course, he would always take a few drinks +with the men around pay-day, but after Mother died, he began taking +his drinks between pay-days. Then he took to going down to Sequoia on +Saturday nights and coming back on the mad-train, the maddest of the +lot. I suppose he was lonely, too. He didn't get real bad, however, till +about two years ago." + +"Just about the time my father's eyes began to fail him and he ceased +coming up into the woods to jack Mac up? So he let the brakes go and +started to coast, and now he's reached the bottom! I couldn't get him +on the telephone to-day or yesterday. I suppose he was down in Arcata, +liquoring up." + +She nodded miserably. + +"Well, we have to get logs to the mill, and we can't get them with +old John Barleycorn for a woods-boss, Moira. So we're going to change +woods-bosses, and the new woods-boss will not be driven off the job, +because I'm going to stay up here a couple of weeks and break him in +myself. By the way, is Mac ugly in his cups?" + +"Thank God, no," she answered fervently. "Drunk or sober, he has never +said an unkind word to me." + +"But how do you manage to get money to clothe yourself? Sinclair tells +me Mac needs every cent of his two hundred and fifty dollars a month to +enjoy himself." + +"I used to steal from him," the girl admitted. "Then I grew ashamed of +that, and for the past six months I've been earning my own living. Mr. +Sinclair was very kind. He gave me a job waiting on table in the camp +dining room. You see, I had to have something here. I couldn't leave my +father. He had to have somebody to take care of him. Don't you see, Mr. +Bryce?" + +"Sinclair is a fuzzy old fool," Bryce declared with emphasis. "The idea +of our woods-boss's daughter slinging hash to lumberjacks. Poor Moira!" + +He took one of her hands in his, noting the callous spots on the plump +palm, the thick finger-joints that hinted so of toil, the nails that had +never been manicured save by Moira herself. "Do you remember when I was +a boy, Moira, how I used to come up to the logging-camps to hunt and +fish? I always lived with the McTavishes then. And in September, when +the huckleberries were ripe, we used to go out and pick them together. +Poor Moira! Why, we're old pals, and I'll be shot if I'm going to see +you suffer." + +She glanced at him shyly, with beaming eyes. "You haven't changed a bit, +Mr. Bryce. Not one little bit!" + +"Let's talk about you, Moira. You went to school in Sequoia, didn't +you?" + +"Yes, I was graduated from the high school there. I used to ride the +log-trains into town and back again." + +"Good news! Listen, Moira. I'm going to fire your father, as I've said, +because he's working for old J.B. now, not the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company. I really ought to pension him after his long years in the +Cardigan service, but I'll be hanged if we can afford pensions +any more--particularly to keep a man in booze; so the best our old +woods-boss gets from me is this shanty, or another like it when we move +to new cuttings, and a perpetual meal-ticket for our camp dining room +while the Cardigans remain in business. I'd finance him for a trip to +some State institution where they sometimes reclaim such wreckage, if I +didn't think he's too old a dog to be taught new tricks." + +"Perhaps," she suggested sadly, "you had better talk the matter over +with him." + +"No, I'd rather not. I'm fond of your father, Moira. He was a man when +I saw him last--such a man as these woods will never see again--and +I don't want to see him again until he's cold sober. I'll write him a +letter. As for you, Moira, you're fired, too. I'll not have you waiting +on table in my logging-camp--not by a jugful! You're to come down to +Sequoia and go to work in our office. We can use you on the books, +helping Sinclair, and relieve him of the task of billing, checking +tallies, and looking after the pay-roll. I'll pay you a hundred dollars +a month, Moira. Can you get along on that?" + +Her hard hand closed over his tightly, but she did not speak. + +"All right, Moira. It's a go, then. Hills and timber--timber and +hills--and I'm going to set you free. Perhaps in Sequoia you'll find +your Prince Charming. There, there, girl, don't cry. We Cardigans had +twenty-five years of faithful service from Donald McTavish before he +commenced slipping; after all, we owe him something, I think." + +She drew his hand suddenly to her lips and kissed it; her hot tears of +joy fell on it, but her heart was too full for mere words. + +"Fiddle-de-dee, Moira! Buck up," he protested, hugely pleased, but +embarrassed withal. "The way you take this, one would think you had +expected me to go back on an old pal and had been pleasantly surprised +when I didn't. Cheer up, Moira! Cherries are ripe, or at any rate they +soon will be; and if you'll just cease shedding the scalding and listen +to me, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll advance you two months' salary +for--well, you'll need a lot of clothes and things in Sequoia that you +don't need here. And I'm glad I've managed to settle the McTavish hash +without kicking up a row and hurting your feelings. Poor old Mac! I'm +sorry I can't bear with him, but we simply have to have the logs, you +know." + +He rose, stooped, and pinched her ear; for had he not known her since +childhood, and had they not gathered huckleberries together in the +long ago? She was sister to him--just another one of his problems--and +nothing more. "Report on the job as soon as possible, Moira," he called +to her from the gate. Then the gate banged behind him, and with a smile +and a debonair wave of his hand, he was striding down the little camp +street where the dogs and the children played in the dust. + +After a while Moira walked to the gate and leaning upon it, looked down +the street toward the log-landing where Bryce was ragging the laggard +crew into some thing like their old-time speed. Presently the locomotive +backed in and coupled to the log tram, and when she saw Bryce leap +aboard and seat himself on a top log in such a position that he could +not fail to see her at the gate, she waved to him. He threw her a +careless kiss, and the train pulled out. + +Presently, when Moira lifted her Madonna glance to the frieze of timber +on the skyline, there was a new glory in her eyes; and lo, it was autumn +in the woods, for over that hill Prince Charming had come to her, and +life was all crimson and gold! + +When the train loaded with Cardigan logs crawled in on the main track +and stopped at the log-landing in Pennington's camp, the locomotive +uncoupled and backed in on the siding for the purpose of kicking the +caboose, in which Shirley and Colonel Pennington had ridden to the +woods, out onto the main line again--where, owing to a slight downhill +grade, the caboose, controlled by the brakeman, could coast gently +forward and be hooked on to the end of the log-train for the return +journey to Sequoia. + +Throughout the afternoon Shirley, following the battle royal between +Bryce and the Pennington retainers, had sat dismally in the caboose. She +was prey to many conflicting emotions; but having had what her sex +term "a good cry," she had to a great extent recovered her customary +poise--and was busily speculating on the rapidity with which she could +leave Sequoia and forget she had ever met Bryce Cardigan--when the +log-train rumbled into the landing and the last of the long string of +trucks came to a stop directly opposite the caboose. + +Shirley happened to be looking through the grimy caboose window at +that moment. On the top log of the load the object of her unhappy +speculations was seated, apparently quite oblivious of the fact that he +was back once more in the haunt of his enemies, although knowledge that +the double-bitted axe he had so unceremoniously borrowed of Colonel +Pennington was driven deep into the log beside him, with the haft +convenient to his hand, probably had much to do with Bryce's air of +detached indifference. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his +chin in his cupped hands, and a pipe thrust aggressively out the corner +of his mouth, the while he stared moodily at his feet. + +Shirley suspected she knew what he was thinking of; he was less than +six feet from her, and a morbid fascination moved her to remain at the +window and watch the play of emotions over his strong, stern face. +She told herself that should he move, should he show the slightest +disposition to raise his head and bring his eyes on a level with hers, +she would dodge away from the window in time to escape his scrutiny. + +She reckoned without the engine. With a smart bump it struck the caboose +and shunted it briskly up the siding; at the sound of the impact Bryce +raised his troubled glance just in time to see Shirley's body, yielding +to the shock, sway into full view at the window. + +With difficulty he suppressed a grin. "I'll bet my immortal soul she +was peeking at me," he soliloquized. "Confound the luck! Another meeting +this afternoon would be embarrassing." Tactfully he resumed his study of +his feet, not even looking up when the caboose, after gaining the main +track, slid gently down the slight grade and was coupled to the rear +logging-truck. Out of the tail of his eye he caught a glimpse of Colonel +Pennington passing alongside the log-train and entering the caboose; he +heard the engineer shout to the brakeman--who had ridden down from the +head of the train to unlock the siding switch and couple the caboose--to +hurry up, lock the switch, and get back aboard the engine. + +"Can't get this danged key to turn in the lock," the brakeman shouted +presently. "Lock's rusty, and something's gone bust inside." + +Minutes passed. Bryce's assumed abstraction became real, for he had many +matters to occupy his busy brain, and it was impossible for him to sit +idle without adverting to some of them. Presently he was subconsciously +aware that the train was moving gently forward; almost immediately, it +seemed to him, the long string of trucks had gathered their customary +speed; and then suddenly it dawned upon Bryce that the train had started +off without a single jerk--and that it was gathering headway rapidly. + +He looked ahead--and his hair grew creepy at the roots. There was no +locomotive attached to the train! It was running away down a two per +cent. grade, and because of the tremendous weight of the train, it was +gathering momentum at a fearful rate. + +The reason for the runaway dawned on Bryce instantly. The road, being +privately owned, was, like most logging-roads, neglected as to roadbed +and rolling-stock; also it was undermanned, and the brake-man, who also +acted as switchman, had failed to set the hand-brakes on the leading +truck after the engineer had locked the air-brakes. As a result, during +the five or six minutes required to "spot in" the caboose, and an extra +minute or two lost while the brakeman struggled with the recalcitrant +lock on the switch, the air had leaked away through the worn valves +and rubber tubing, and the brakes had been released--so that the train, +without warning, had quietly and almost noiselessly slid out of the +log-landing and started on its mad career. Before the engineer could +beat it to the other switch with the locomotive, run out on the main +track, let the runaway gradually catch up with him and hold +it--no matter how or what happened to him or his engine--the first +logging-truck had cleared the switch and blocked pursuit. There was +nothing to do now save watch the wild runaway and pray, for of all the +mad runaways in a mad world, a loaded logging-train is by far the worst. + +For an instant after realizing his predicament, Bryce Cardigan was +tempted to jump and take his chance on a few broken bones, before the +train could reach a greater speed than twenty miles an hour. His impulse +was to run forward and set the handbrake on the leading truck, but a +glance showed him that even with the train standing still he could not +hope to leap from truck to truck and land on the round, freshly peeled +surface of the logs without slipping for he had no calks in his boots. +And to slip now meant swift and horrible death. + +"Too late!" he muttered. "Even if I could get to the head of the train, +I couldn't stop her with the hand-brake; should I succeed in locking the +wheels, the brute would be doing fifty miles an hour by that time--the +front truck would slide and skid, leave the tracks and pile up with me +at the bottom of a mess of wrecked rolling-stock and redwood logs." + +Then he remembered. In the wildly rolling caboose Shirley Sumner rode +with her uncle, while less than two miles ahead, the track swung in a +sharp curve high up along the hillside above Mad River. Bryce knew the +leading truck would never take that curve at high speed, even if the +ancient rolling-stock should hold together until the curve was reached, +but would shoot off at a tangent into the canyon, carrying trucks, logs, +and caboose with it, rolling over and over down the hillside to the +river. + +"The caboose must be cut out of this runaway," Bryce soliloquized, +"and it must be cut out in a devil of a hurry. Here goes nothing in +particular, and may God be good to my dear old man." + +He jerked his axe out of the log, drove it deep into the top log toward +the end, and by using the haft to cling to, crawled toward the rear +of the load and looked down at the caboose coupling. The top log was +a sixteen-foot butt; the two bottom logs were eighteen footers. With a +silent prayer of thanks to Providence, Bryce slid down to the landing +thus formed. He was still five feet above the coupling, however; but +by leaning over the swaying, bumping edge and swinging the axe with one +hand, he managed to cut through the rubber hose on the air connection. +"The blamed thing might hold and drag the caboose along after I've +pulled out the coupling-pin," he reflected. "And I can't afford to take +chances now." + +Nevertheless he took them. Axe in hand, he leaped down to the narrow +ledge formed by the bumper in front of the cabooses--driving his face +into the front of the caboose; and he only grasped the steel rod leading +from the brake-chains to the wheel on the roof in time to avoid falling +half stunned between the front of the caboose and the rear of the +logging-truck. The caboose had once been a box-car; hence there was +no railed front platform to which Bryce might have leaped in safety. +Clinging perilously on the bumper, he reached with his foot, got his toe +under the lever on the side, jerked it upward, and threw the pin out +of the coupling; then with his free hand he swung the axe and drove the +great steel jaws of the coupling apart. + +The caboose was cut out! But already the deadly curve was in sight; in +two minutes the first truck would reach it; and the caboose, though cut +loose, had to be stopped, else with the headway it had gathered, it, +too, would follow the logging-trucks to glory. + +For a moment Bryce clung to the brake-rod, weak and dizzy from the +effects of the blow when, leaping down from the loaded truck to the +caboose bumper, his face had smashed into the front of the caboose. His +chin was bruised, skinned, and bloody; his nose had been broken, and +twin rivulets of blood ran from his nostrils. He wiped it away, swung +his axe, drove the blade deep into the bumper and left it there with the +haft quivering; turning, he climbed swiftly up the narrow iron ladder +beside the brake-rod until he reached the roof; then, still standing +on the ladder, he reached the brake-wheel and drew it promptly but +gradually around until the wheel-blocks began to bite, when he exerted +his tremendous strength to the utmost and with his knees braced doggedly +against the front of the caboose, held the wheel. + +The brake screamed, but the speed of the caboose was not appreciably +slackened. "It's had too good a start!" Bryce moaned. "The momentum is +more than I can overcome. Oh, Shirley, my love! God help you!" + +He cast a sudden despairing look over his shoulder downward at the +coupling. He was winning, after all, for a space of six feet now yawned +between the end of the logging-truck and the bumper of the caboose. If +he could but hold that tremendous strain on the wheel for a quarter of +a mile, he might get the demon caboose under control! Again he dug his +knees into the front of the car and twisted on the wheel until it seemed +that his muscles must crack. + +After what seemed an eon of waiting, he ventured another look ahead. The +rear logging-truck was a hundred yards in front of him now, and from the +wheels of the caboose an odour of something burning drifted up to him. +"I've got your wheels locked!" he half sobbed. "I'll hold you yet, you +brute. Slide! That's it! Slide, and flatten your infernal wheels. Hah! +You're quitting--quitting. I'll have you in control before we reach the +curve. Burn, curse you, burn!" + +With a shriek of metal scraping metal, the head of the Juggernaut ahead +took the curve, clung there an instant, and was catapulted out into +space. Logs weighing twenty tons were flung about like kindling; one +instant, Bryce could see them in the air; the next they had disappeared +down the hillside. A deafening crash, a splash, a cloud of dust-- + +With a protesting squeal, the caboose came to the point where the +logging-train had left the right of way, carrying rails and ties with +it. The wheels on the side nearest the bank slid into the dirt first and +plowed deep into the soil; the caboose came to an abrupt stop, trembled +and rattled, overtopped its centre of gravity, and fell over against the +cut-bank, wearily, like a drunken hag. + +Bryce, still clinging to the brake, was fully braced for the shock and +was not flung off. Calmly he descended the ladder, recovered the axe +from the bumper, climbed back to the roof, tiptoed off the roof to the +top of the bank and sat calmly down under a manzanita bush to await +results, for he was quite confident that none of the occupants of the +confounded caboose had been treated to anything worse than a wild ride +and a rare fright, and he was curious to see how Shirley Sumner would +behave in an emergency. + +Colonel Pennington was first to emerge at the rear of the caboose. He +leaped lightly down the steps, ran to the front of the car, looked down +the track, and swore feelingly. Then he darted back to the rear of the +caboose. + +"All clear and snug as a bug under a chip, my dear," he called to +Shirley. "Thank God, the caboose became uncoupled--guess that fool +brakeman forgot to drop the pin; it was the last car, and when it jumped +the track and plowed into the dirt, it just naturally quit and toppled +over against the bank. Come out, my dear." + +Shirley came out, dry-eyed, but white and trembling. The Colonel placed +his arm around her, and she hid her face on his shoulder and shuddered. +"There, there!" he soothed her affectionately. "It's all over, my dear. +All's well that ends well." + +"The train," she cried in a choking voice. "Where is it?" + +"In little pieces--down in Mad River." He laughed happily. "And the logs +weren't even mine! As for the trucks, they were a lot of ratty antiques +and only fit to haul Cardigan's logs. About a hundred yards of roadbed +ruined--that's the extent of my loss, for I'd charged off the trucks to +profit and loss two years ago." + +"Bryce Cardigan," she sobbed. "I saw him--he was riding a top log on the +train. He--ah, God help him!" + +The Colonel shook her with sudden ferocity. "Young Cardigan," he cried +sharply. "Riding the logs? Are you certain?" + +She nodded, and her shoulders shook piteously. + +"Then Bryce Cardigan is gone!" Pennington's pronouncement was solemn, +deadly with its flat finality. "No man could have rolled down into +Mad River with a trainload of logs and survived. The devil himself +couldn't." He heaved a great sigh, and added: "Well, that clears the +atmosphere considerably, although for all his faults, I regret, for his +father's sake, that this dreadful affair has happened. Well, it can't be +helped, Shirley. Don't cry, my dear. I know it's terrible, but--there, +there my love. Do brace up. Poor devil! For all his damnable treatment +of me, I wouldn't have had this happen for a million dollars." + +Shirley burst into wild weeping. Bryce's heart leaped, for he understood +the reason for her grief. She had sent him away in anger, and he had +gone to his death; ergo it would be long before Shirley would forgive +herself. Bryce had not intended presenting himself before her in his +battered and bloody condition, but the sight of her distress now was +more than he could bear. He coughed slightly, and the alert Colonel +glanced up at him instantly. + +"Well, I'll be hanged!" The words fell from Pennington's lips with a +heartiness that was almost touching. "I thought you'd gone with the +train." + +"Sorry to have disappointed you, old top," Bryce replied blithely, "but +I'm just naturally stubborn. Too bad about the atmosphere you thought +cleared a moment ago! It's clogged worse than ever now." + +At the sound of Bryce's voice, Shirley raised her head, whirled and +looked up at him. He held his handkerchief over his gory face that the +sight might not distress her; he could have whooped with delight at the +joy that flashed through her wet lids. + +"Bryce Cardigan," she commanded sternly, "come down here this instant." + +"I'm not a pretty sight, Shirley. Better let me go about my business." + +She stamped her foot. "Come here!" + +"Well, since you insist," he replied, and he slid down the bank. + +"How did you get up there--and what do you mean by hiding there spying +on me, you--you--oh, YOU!" + +"Cuss a little, if it will help any," he suggested. "I had to get out of +your way--out of your sight--and up there was the best place. I was on +the roof of the caboose when it toppled over, so all I had to do was +step ashore and sit down." + +"Then why didn't you stay there?" she demanded furiously. + +"You wouldn't let me," he answered demurely. "And when I saw you weeping +because I was supposed to be with the angels, I couldn't help coughing +to let you know I was still hanging around, ornery as a book-agent." + +"How did you ruin your face, Mr. Cardigan?" + +"Tried to take a cast of the front end of the caboose in my classic +countenance--that's all." + +"But you were riding the top log on the last truck--" + +"Certainly, but I wasn't hayseed enough to stay there until we struck +this curve. I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I climbed down +to the bumper of the caboose, uncoupled it from the truck, climbed up +on the roof, and managed to get the old thing under control with the +hand-brake; then I skedaddled up into the brush because I knew you were +inside, and---By the way, Colonel Pennington, here is your axe, which I +borrowed this afternoon. Much obliged for its use. The last up-train is +probably waiting on the siding at Freshwater to pass the late +lamented; consequently a walk of about a mile will bring you a means of +transportation back to Sequoia. Walk leisurely--you have lots of time. +As for myself, I'm in a hurry, and my room is more greatly to be desired +than my company, so I'll start now." + +He lifted his hat, turned, and walked briskly down the ruined track. + +Shirley made a little gesture of dissent, half opened her lips to call +him back, thought better of it, and let him go. When he was out of +sight, it dawned on her that he had risked his life to save hers. + +"Uncle Seth," she said soberly, "what would have happened to us if Bryce +Cardigan had not come up here to-day to thrash your woods-boss?" + +"We'd both be in Kingdom Come now," he answered truthfully. + +"Under the circumstances, then," Shirley continued, "suppose we all +agree to forget that anything unusual happened to-day--" + +"I bear the young man no ill will, Shirley, but before you permit +yourself to be carried away by the splendour of his action in cutting +out the caboose and getting it under control, it might be well to +remember that his own precious hide was at stake also. He would have cut +the caboose out even if you and I had not been in it." + +"No, he would not," she insisted, for the thought that he had done it +for her sake was very sweet to her and would persist. "Cooped up in the +caboose, we did not know the train was running away until it was too +late for us to jump, while Bryce Cardigan, riding out on the logs, must +have known it almost immediately. He would have had time to jump before +the runaway gathered too much headway--and he would have jumped, Uncle +Seth, for his father's sake." + +"Well, he certainly didn't stay for mine, Shirley." + +She dried her moist eyes and blushed furiously. "Uncle Seth," she +pleaded, taking him lovingly by the arm, "let's be friends with Bryce +Cardigan; let's get together and agree on an equitable contract for +freighting his logs over our road." + +"You are now," he replied severely, "mixing sentiment and business; if +you persist, the result will be chaos. Cardigan has in a large measure +squared himself for his ruffianly conduct earlier in the day, and I'll +forgive him and treat him with courtesy hereafter; but I want you to +understand, Shirley, that such treatment by me does not constitute +a license for that fellow to crawl up in my lap and be petted. He is +practically a pauper now, which makes him a poor business risk, and +you'll please me greatly by leaving him severely alone--by making him +keep his distance." + +"I'll not do that," she answered with a quiet finality that caused her +uncle to favour her with a quick, searching glance. + +He need not have worried, however, for Bryce Cardigan was too well aware +of his own financial condition to risk the humiliation of asking Shirley +Sumner to share it with him. Moreover, he had embarked upon a war--a war +which he meant to fight to a finish. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +George Sea Otter, summoned by telephone, came out to Freshwater, the +station nearest the wreck, and transported his battered young master +back to Sequoia. Here Bryce sought the doctor in the Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company's little hospital and had his wrecked nose reorganized +and his cuts bandaged. It was characteristic of his father's son that +when this detail had been attended to, he should go to the office and +work until the six o'clock whistle blew. + +Old Cardigan was waiting for him at the gate when he reached home. +George Sea Otter had already given the old man a more or less garbled +account of the runaway log-train, and Cardigan eagerly awaited his son's +arrival in order to ascertain the details of this new disaster which had +come upon them. For disaster it was, in truth. The loss of the logs was +trifling--perhaps three or four thousand dollars; the destruction of +the rolling-stock was the crowning misfortune. Both Cardigans knew that +Pennington would eagerly seize upon this point to stint his +competitor still further on logging-equipment, that there would +be delays--purposeful but apparently unavoidable--before this lost +rolling-stock would be replaced. And in the interim the Cardigan mill, +unable to get a sufficient supply of logs to fill orders in hand, would +be forced to close down. Full well Pennington knew that anything which, +tends to bring about a shortage of raw material for any manufacturing +plant will result inevitably in the loss of customers. + +"Well, son," said John Cardigan mildly as Bryce unlatched the gate, +"another bump, eh?" + +"Yes, sir--right on the nose." + +"I meant another bump to your heritage, my son." + +"I'm worrying more about my nose, partner. In fact, I'm not worrying +about my heritage at all. I've come to a decision on that point: We're +going to fight and fight to the last; we're going down fighting. And by +the way, I started the fight this afternoon. I whaled the wadding out +of that bucko woods-boss of Pennington's, and as a special compliment to +you, John Cardigan, I did an almighty fine job of cleaning. Even went so +far as to muss the Colonel up a little." + +"Wow, wow, Bryce! Bully for you! I wanted that man Rondeau taken apart. +He has terrorized our woods-men for a long time. He's king of the +mad-train, you know." + +Bryce was relieved. His father did not know, then, of the act of +vandalism in the Valley of the Giants. This fact strengthened Bryce's +resolve not to tell him--also to get the fallen monarch sawed up and the +stump blasted out before an operation should restore his father's sight +and reveal to him the crowning cruelty of his enemy. + +Arm in arm they walked up the garden path together. + +Just as they entered the house, the telephone in the hall tinkled, and +Bryce answered. + +"Mr. Cardigan," came Shirley Sumner's voice over the wire. + +"Bryce," he corrected her. + +She ignored the correction, + +"I--I don't know what to say to you," she faltered. + +"There is no necessity for saying anything, Shirley." + +"But you saved our lives, and at least have a right to expect due and +grateful acknowledgment of our debt. I rang up to tell you how splendid +and heroic your action was--" + +"I had my own life to save, Shirley." + +"You did not think of that at the time." + +"Well--I didn't think of your uncle's, either," he replied without +enthusiasm. + +"I'm sure we never can hope to catch even with you, Mr. Cardigan." + +"Don't try. Your revered relative will not; so why should you?" + +"You are making it somewhat hard for me to--to--rehabilitate +our friendship, Mr. Cardigan. We have just passed through a most +extraordinary day, and if at evening I can feel as I do now, I think you +ought to do your share--and help." + +"Bless your heart," he murmured. "The very fact that you bothered to +ring me up at all makes me your debtor. Shirley, can you stand some +plain speaking--between friends, I mean?" + +"I think so, Mr. Cardigan." + +"Well, then," said Bryce, "listen to this: I am your uncle's enemy until +death do us part. Neither he nor I expect to ask or to give quarter, and +I'm going to smash him if I can." + +"If you do, you smash me," she warned him. + +"Likewise our friendship. I'm sorry, but it's got to be done if I can do +it. Shall--shall we say good-bye, Shirley?" + +"Yes-s-s!" There was a break in her voice. "Good-bye, Mr Cardigan. I +wanted you to know." + +"Good-bye! Well, that's cutting the mustard," he murmured sotto voce, +"and there goes another bright day-dream." Unknown to himself, he spoke +directly into the transmitter, and Shirley, clinging half hopefully +to the receiver at the other end of the wire, heard him--caught every +inflection of the words, commonplace enough, but freighted with the +pathos of Bryce's first real tragedy. + +"Oh, Bryce!" she cried sharply. But he did not hear her; he had hung up +his receiver now. + +The week that ensued was remarkable for the amount of work Bryce +accomplished in the investigation of his father's affairs--also for a +visit from Donald McTavish, the woods-boss. Bryce found him sitting in +the private office one morning at seven o'clock. + +"Hello, McTavish," he saluted the woods-boss cheerfully and extended +his hand for a cordial greeting. His wayward employee stood up, took the +proffered hand in both of his huge and callous ones, and held it rather +childishly. + +"Weel! 'Tis the wee laddie hissel," he boomed. "I'm glad to see ye, +boy." + +"You'd have seen me the day before yesterday--if you had been seeable," +Bryce reminded him with a bright smile. "Mac, old man, they tell me +you've gotten to be a regular go-to-hell." + +"I'll nae deny I take a wee drappie now an' then," the woods-boss +admitted frankly, albeit there was a harried, hangdog look in his eyes. + +Bryce sat down at his desk, lighted his pipe, and looked McTavish over +soberly. The woods-boss was a big, raw-boned Scotsman, with a plentiful +sprinkling of silver in his thick mane of red hair, which fell far down +on his shoulders. A tremendous nose rose majestically out of a face so +strong and rugged one searched in vain for aught of manly beauty in +it; his long arms hung gorilla-like, almost to his knees, and he was +slightly stooped, as if from bearing heavy burdens. Though in the late +fifties, his years had touched him lightly; but John Barleycorn had not +been so considerate. Bryce noted that McTavish was carrying some thirty +pounds of whiskey fat and that the pupils of his fierce blue eyes were +permanently distended, showing that alcohol had begun to affect his +brain. His hands trembled as he stood before Bryce, smiling fatuously +and plucking at the cuffs of his mackinaw. The latter realized that +McTavish was waiting for him to broach the object of the visit; so with +an effort he decided to begin the disagreeable task. + +"Mac, did Moira give you my message?" + +"Aye." + +"Well, I guess we understand each other, Mac. Was there something else +you wanted to see me about?" + +McTavish sidled up to the desk. "Ye'll no be firin' auld Mac oot o' +hand?" he pleaded hopefully. "Mon, ha ye the heart to do it--after a' +these years?" + +Bryce nodded. "If you have the heart--after all these years--to draw +pay you do not earn, then I have the heart to put a better man in your +place." + +"Ye was ever a laddie to hae your bit joke." + +"It's no good arguing, Mac. You're off the pay-roll onto the +pension-roll--your shanty in the woods, your meals at the camp kitchen, +your clothing and tobacco that I send out to you. Neither more nor +less!" He reached into his desk and drew forth a check. "Here's your +wages to the fifteenth. It's the last Cardigan check you'll ever finger. +I'm terribly sorry, but I'm terribly in earnest." + +"Who will ye pit in ma place?" + +"I don't know. However, it won't be a difficult task to find a better +man than you." + +"I'll nae let him work." McTavish's voice deepened to a growl. "You +worked that racket on my father. Try it on me, and you'll answer to +me--personally. Lay the weight of your finger on your successor, Mac, +and you'll die in the county poor-farm. No threats, old man! You know +the Cardigans; they never bluff." + +McTavish's glance met the youthful master's for several seconds; then +the woods-boss trembled, and his gaze sought the office floor. Bryce +knew he had his man whipped at last, and McTavish realized it, too, for +quite suddenly he burst into tears. + +"Dinna fire me, lad," he pleaded. "I'll gae back on the job an' leave +whusky alone." + +"Nothing doing, Mac. Leave whiskey alone for a year and I'll discharge +your successor to give you back your job. For the present however, my +verdict stands. You're discharged." + +"Who kens the Cardigan woods as I ken them?" McTavish blubbered. "Who'll +swamp a road into timber sixty per cent. clear when the mill's runnin' +on foreign orders an' the owd man's calling for clear logs? Who'll fell +trees wi' the least amount o' breakage? Who'll get the work out o' the +men? Who'll--" + +"Don't plead, Mac," Bryce interrupted gently. "You're quite through, and +I can't waste any more time on you." + +"Ye dinna mean it, lad. Ye canna mean it." + +"On your way, Mac. I loathe arguments. And don't forget your check." + +"I maun see yer faither aboot this. He'll nae stand for sic treatment o' +an auld employee." + +Bryce's temper flared up. "You keep away from my father. You've worried +him enough in the past, you drunkard. If you go up to the house to annoy +my father with your pleadings, McTavish, I'll manhandle you." He glanced +at his watch. "The next train leaves for the woods in twenty minutes. If +you do not go back on it and behave yourself, you can never go back to +Cardigan woods." + +"I will nae take charity from any man," McTavish thundered. "I'll nae +bother the owd man, an' I'll nae go back to yon woods to live on yer +bounty." + +"Well, go somewhere, Mac, and be quick about it. Only--when you've +reformed, please come back. You'll be mighty welcome. Until then, +however, you're as popular with me--that is, in a business way--as a wet +dog." + +"Ye're nae the man yer faither was," the woods-boss half sobbed. "Ye hae +a heart o' stone." + +"You've been drunk for fifteen days--and I'm paying you for it, Mac," +Bryce reminded him gently. "Don't leave your check behind. You'll need +it." + +With a fine show of contempt and rage, McTavish tore the check into +strips and threw them at Bryce. "I was never a mon to take charity," he +roared furiously, and left the office. Bryce called after him a cheerful +good-bye, but he did not answer. And he did not remain in town; neither +did he return to his shanty in the woods. For a month his whereabouts +remained a mystery; then one day Moira received a letter from him +informing her that he had a job knee-bolting in a shingle mill in +Mendocino County. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the interim Bryce had not been idle. From his woods-crew he picked +an old, experienced hand--one Jabez Curtis--to take the place of the +vanished McTavish. Colonel Pennington, having repaired in three days +the gap in his railroad, wrote a letter to the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company, informing Bryce that until more equipment could be purchased +and delivered to take the place of the rolling-stock destroyed in +the wreck, the latter would have to be content with half-deliveries; +whereupon Bryce irritated the Colonel profoundly by purchasing a lot of +second-hand trucks from a bankrupt sugar-pine mill in Lassen County and +delivering them to the Colonel's road via the deck of a steam schooner. + +"That will insure delivery of sufficient logs to get out our orders on +file," Bryce informed his father. "While we are morally certain our mill +will run but one year longer, I intend that it shall run full capacity +for that year. In fact, I'm going to saw in that one year remaining to +us as much lumber as we would ordinarily saw in two years. To be exact, +I'm going to run a night-shift." + +The sightless old man raised both hands in deprecation. "The market +won't absorb it," he protested. + +"Then we'll stack it in piles to air-dry and wait until the market is +brisk enough to absorb it," Bryce replied. + +"Our finances won't stand the overhead of that night-shift, I tell you," +his father warned. + +"I know we haven't sufficient cash on hand to attempt it, Dad, but--I'm +going to borrow some." + +"From whom? No bank in Sequoia will lend us a penny, and long before you +came home I had sounded every possible source of a private loan." + +"Did you sound the Sequoia Bank of Commerce?" + +"Certainly not. Pennington owns the controlling interest in that bank, +and I was never a man to waste my time." + +Bryce chuckled. "I don't care where the money comes from so long as I +get it, partner. Pennington's money may be tainted; in fact, I'd risk a +bet that it is; but our employees will accept it for wages nevertheless. +Desperate circumstances require desperate measures you know, and the +day before yesterday, when I was quite ignorant of the fact that Colonel +Pennington controls the Sequoia Bank of Commerce, I drifted in on the +president and casually struck him for a loan of one hundred thousand +dollars." + +"Well, I'll be shot, Bryce! What did he say?" + +"Said he'd take the matter under consideration and give me an answer +this morning. He asked me, of course, what I wanted that much money for, +and I told him I was going to run a night-shift, double my force of men +in the woods, and buy some more logging-trucks, which I can get rather +cheap. Well, this morning I called for my answer--and got it. The +Sequoia Bank of Commerce will loan me up to a hundred thousand, but +it won't give me the cash in a lump sum. I can have enough to buy the +logging-trucks now, and on the first of each month, when I present my +pay-roll, the bank will advance me the money to meet it." + +"Bryce, I am amazed." + +"I am not--since you tell me Colonel Pennington controls that bank. That +the bank should accommodate us is the most natural procedure imaginable. +Pennington is only playing safe--which is why the bank declined to give +me the money in a lump sum. If we run a night-shift, Pennington +knows that we can't dispose of our excess output under present market +conditions. The redwood trade is in the doldrums and will remain in them +to a greater or less degree until the principal redwood centres secure a +rail outlet to the markets of the country. It's a safe bet our lumber is +going to pile up on the mill dock; hence, when the smash comes and the +Sequoia Bank of Commerce calls our loan and we cannot possibly meet it, +the lumber on hand will prove security for the loan, will it not? In +fact, it will be worth two or three dollars per thousand more then than +it is now, because it will be air-dried. And inasmuch as all the signs +point to Pennington's gobbling us anyhow, it strikes me as a rather good +business on his part to give us sufficient rope to insure a thorough job +of hanging." + +"But what idea have you got back of such a procedure, Bryce?" + +"Merely a forlorn hope, Dad. Something might turn up. The market may +take a sudden spurt and go up three or four dollars." + +"Yes--and it may take a sudden spurt and drop three or four dollars," +his father reminded him. + +Bryce laughed. "That would be Pennington's funeral, Dad. And whether +the market goes up or comes down, it costs us nothing to make the +experiment." + +"Quite true." his father agreed. + +"Then, if you'll come down to the office to-morrow morning, Dad, we'll +hold a meeting of our board of directors and authorize me, as president +of the company, to sign the note to the bank. We're borrowing this +without collateral, you know." + +John Cardigan sighed. Such daring financial acrobatics were not usual +with him, but as Bryce had remarked there was no reason why, in their +present predicament, they should not gamble. Hence he entered no further +objection, and the following day the agreement was entered into with +the bank. Bryce closed by wire for the extra logging-equipment and +immediately set about rounding up a crew for the woods and for the +night-shift in the mill. + +For a month Bryce was as busy as the proverbial one-armed paper-hanger +with the itch, and during all that time he did not see Shirley Sumner or +hear of her, directly or indirectly. Only at infrequent intervals did he +permit himself to think of her, for he was striving to forget, and the +memory of his brief glimpse of paradise was always provocative of pain. + +Moira McTavish, in the meantime, had come down from the woods and +entered upon her duties in the mill office. The change from her dull, +drab life, giving her, as it did, an opportunity for companionship with +people of greater mentality and refinement than she had been used to, +quickly brought about a swift transition in the girl's nature. With the +passing of the coarse shoes and calico dresses and the substitution of +the kind of clothing all women of Moira's instinctive refinement and +natural beauty long for, the girl became cheerful, animated, and imbued +with the optimism of her years. At first old Sinclair resented the +advent of a woman in the office; then he discovered that Moira's efforts +lightened his own labours in exact proportion to the knowledge of the +business which she assimilated from day to day. + +Moira worked in the general office, and except upon occasions when Bryce +desired to look at the books or Moira brought some document into +the private office for his perusal, there were days during which +his pleasant "Good morning, Moira," constituted the extent of their +conversation. To John Cardigan, however, Moira was a ministering angel. +Gradually she relieved Bryce of the care of the old man. She made a +cushion for his easy-chair in the office; she read the papers to him, +and the correspondence, and discussed with him the receipt and delivery +of orders, the movements of the lumber-fleet, the comedies and tragedies +of his people, which had become to him matters of the utmost importance. +She brushed his hair, dusted his hat, and crowned him with it when he +left the office at nightfall, and whenever Bryce was absent in the woods +or in San Francisco, it fell to her lot to lead the old man to and from +the house on the hill. To his starved heart her sweet womanly attentions +were tremendously welcome, and gradually he formed the habit of speaking +of her, half tenderly, half jokingly, as "my girl." + +Bryce had been absent in San Francisco for ten days. He had planned to +stay three weeks, but finding his business consummated in less time, +he returned to Sequoia unexpectedly. Moira was standing at the tall +bookkeeping desk, her beautiful dark head bent over the ledger, when he +entered the office and set his suitcase in the corner. + +"Is that you, Mr. Bryce?" she queried. + +"The identical individual, Moira. How did you guess it was I?" + +She looked up at him then, and her wonderful dark eyes lighted with a +flame Bryce had not seen in them heretofore. "I knew you were coming," +she replied simply. + +"But how could you know? I didn't telegraph because I wanted to surprise +my father, and the instant the boat touched the dock, I went overside +and came directly here. I didn't even wait for the crew to run out the +gangplank--so I know nobody could have told you I was due." + +"That is quite right, Mr. Bryce. Nobody told me you were coming, but I +just knew, when I heard the Noyo whistling as she made the dock, that +you were aboard, and I didn't look up when you entered the office +because I wanted to verify my--my suspicion." + +"You had a hunch, Moira. Do you get those telepathic messages very +often?" He was crossing the office to shake her hand. + +"I've never noticed particularly--that is, until I came to work here. +But I always know when you are returning after a considerable absence." +She gave him her hand. "I'm so glad you're back." + +"Why?" he demanded bluntly. + +She flushed. "I--I really don't know, Mr. Bryce." + +"Well, then," he persisted, "what do you think makes you glad?" + +"I had been thinking how nice it would be to have you back, Mr. Bryce. +When you enter the office, it's like a breeze rustling the tops of the +Redwoods. And your father misses you so; he talks to me a great deal +about you. Why, of course we miss you; anybody would." + +As he held her hand, he glanced down at it and noted how greatly it had +changed during the past few months. The skin was no longer rough and +brown, and the fingers, formerly stiff and swollen from hard work, were +growing more shapely. From her hand his glance roved over the girl, +noting the improvements in her dress, and the way the thick, wavy black +hair was piled on top of her shapely head. + +"It hadn't occurred to me before, Moira," he said with a bright +impersonal smile that robbed his remark of all suggestion of masculine +flattery, "but it seems to me I'm unusually glad to see you, also. +You've been fixing your hair different." + +The soft lambent glow leaped again into Moira's eyes. He had noticed +her--particularly. "Do you like my hair done that way?" she inquired +eagerly. + +"I don't know whether I do or not. It's unusual--for you. You look +mighty sweetly old-fashioned with it coiled in back--somewhat like an +old-fashioned daguerreotype of my mother. Is this new style the latest +in hairdressing in Sequoia?" + +"I think so, Mr. Bryce. I copied it from Colonel Pennington's niece, +Miss Sumner." + +"Oh," he replied briefly. "You've met her, have you? I didn't know she +was in Sequoia still." + +"She's been away, but she came back last week. I went to the Valley of +the Giants last Saturday afternoon--" + +Bryce interrupted. "You didn't tell my father about the tree that was +cut, did you?" he demanded sharply. + +"No." + +"Good girl! He mustn't know. Go on, Moira. I interrupted you." + +"I met Miss Sumner up there. She was lost; she'd followed the old trail +into the timber, and when the trees shut out the sun, she lost all sense +of direction. She was terribly frightened and crying when I found her +and brought her home." + +"Well, I swan, Moira! What was she doing in our timber?" + +"She told me that once, when she was a little girl, you had taken her +for a ride on your pony up to your mother's grave. And it seems she had +a great curiosity to see that spot again and started out without saying +a word to any one. Poor dear! She was in a sad state when I found her." + +"How fortunate you found her! I've met Miss Sumner three or four times. +That was when she first came to Sequoia. She's a stunning girl, isn't +she?" + +"Perfectly, Mr. Bryce. She's the first lady I've ever met. She's +different." + +"No doubt! Her kind are not a product of homely little communities like +Sequoia. And for that matter, neither is her wolf of an uncle. What did +Miss Sumner have to say to you, Moira?" + +"She told me all about herself--and she said a lot of nice things about +you, Mr. Bryce, after I told her I worked for you. And when I showed +her the way home, she insisted that I should walk home with her. So I +did--and the butler served us with tea and toast and marmalade. Then she +showed me all her wonderful things--and gave me some of them. Oh, Mr. +Bryce, she's so sweet. She had her maid dress my hair in half a dozen +different styles until they could decide on the right style, and--" + +"And that's it--eh, Moira?" + +She nodded brightly. + +"I can see that you and Miss Sumner evidently hit it off just right with +each other. Are you going to call on her again?" + +"Oh, yes! She begged me to. She says she's lonesome." + +"I dare say she is, Moira. Well, her choice of a pal is a tribute to the +brains I suspected her of possessing, and I'm glad you've gotten to know +each other. I've no doubt you find life a little lonely sometimes." + +"Sometimes, Mr. Bryce." + +"How's my father?" + +"Splendid. I've taken good care of him for you." + +"Moira, you're a sweetheart of a girl. I don't know how we ever managed +to wiggle along without you." Fraternally--almost paternally--he gave +her radiant cheek three light little pats as he strode past her to the +private office. He was in a hurry to get to his desk, upon which he +could see through the open door a pile of letters and orders, and a +moment later he was deep in a perusal of them, oblivious to the fact +that ever and anon the girl turned upon him her brooding, Madonna-like +glance. + +That night Bryce and his father, as was their custom after dinner, +repaired to the library, where the bustling and motherly Mrs. Tully +served their coffee. This good soul, after the democratic fashion in +vogue in many Western communities, had never been regarded as a servant; +neither did she so regard herself. She was John Cardigan's housekeeper, +and as such she had for a quarter of a century served father and +son their meals and then seated herself at the table with them. This +arrangement had but one drawback, although this did not present +itself until after Bryce's return to Sequoia and his assumption of the +direction of the Cardigan destinies. For Mrs. Tully had a failing +common to many of her sex: she possessed for other people's business an +interest absolutely incapable of satisfaction--and she was, in addition, +garrulous beyond belief. The library was the one spot in the house which +at the beginning of her employment John Cardigan had indicated to Mrs. +Tully as sanctuary for him and his; hence, having served the coffee this +evening, the amiable creature withdrew, although not without a pang as +she reflected upon the probable nature of their conversation and the +void which must inevitably result by reason of the absence of her advice +and friendly cooperation and sympathy. + +No sooner had Mrs. Tully departed than Bryce rose and closed the door +behind her. John Cardigan opened the conversation with a contented +grunt: + +"Plug the keyhole, son," he continued. "I believe you have something on +your mind--and you know how Mrs. Tully resents the closing of that door. +Estimable soul that she is, I have known her to eavesdrop. She can't +help it, poor thing! She was born that way." + +Bryce clipped a cigar and held a lighted match while his father "smoked +up." Then he slipped into the easy-chair beside the old man. + +"Well, John Cardigan," he began eagerly, "fate ripped a big hole in our +dark cloud the other day and showed me some of the silver lining. I've +been making bad medicine for Colonel Pennington. Partner, the pill I'm +rolling for that scheming scoundrel will surely nauseate him when he +swallows it." + +"What's in the wind, boy?" + +"We're going to parallel Pennington's logging-road." + +"Inasmuch as that will cost close to three quarters of a million +dollars, I'm of the opinion that we're not going to do anything of the +sort." + +"Perhaps. Nevertheless, if I can demonstrate to a certain party that it +will not cost more than three quarters of a million, he'll loan me the +money." + +The old man shook his head. "I don't believe it, Bryce. Who's the crazy +man?" + +"His name is Gregory. He's Scotch." + +"Now I know he's crazy. When he hands you the money, you'll find he's +talking real money but thinking of Confederate greenbacks. For a sane +Scotchman to loan that much money without collateral security would be +equivalent to exposing his spinal cord and tickling it with a rat-tail +file." + +Bryce laughed. "Pal," he declared, "if you and I have any brains, they +must roll around in our skulls like buckshot in a tin pan. Here we've +been sitting for three months, and twiddling our thumbs, or lying awake +nights trying to scheme a way out of our difficulties, when if we'd had +the sense that God gives geese we would have solved the problem long +ago and ceased worrying. Listen, now, with all your ears. When Bill +Henderson wanted to build the logging railroad which he afterward sold +to Pennington, and which Pennington is now using as a club to beat our +brains out, did he have the money to build it?" + +"No." + +"Where did he get it?" + +"I loaned it to him. He only had about eight miles of road to build +then, so I could afford to accommodate him." + +"How did he pay you back?" + +"Why, he gave me a ten-year contract for hauling our logs at a dollar +and a half a thousand feet, and I merely credited his account with the +amount of the freight-bills he sent me until he'd squared up the loan, +principal and interest." + +"Well, if Bill Henderson financed himself on that plan, why didn't +we think of using the same time-honoured plan for financing a road to +parallel Pennington's?" + +John Cardigan sat up with a jerk. "By thunder!" he murmured. That was as +close as he ever came to uttering an oath. "By thunder!" he repeated. "I +never thought of that! But then," he added, "I'm not so young as I used +to be, and there are any number of ideas which would have occurred to me +twenty years ago but do not occur to me now." + +"All right, John Cardigan. I forgive you. Now, then, continue to listen: +to the north of that great block of timber held by you and Pennington +lie the redwood holdings of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company." + +"Never heard of them before." + +"Well, timber away in there in back of beyond has never been well +advertised, because it is regarded as practically inaccessible. By +extending his logging-road and adding to his rolling-stock, Pennington +could make it accessible, but he will not. He figures on buying all that +back timber rather cheap when he gets around to it, for the reason that +the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company cannot possibly mill its timber +until a railroad connects its holdings with the outside world. They +can hold it until their corporation franchise expires, and it will not +increase sufficiently in value to pay taxes." + +"I wonder why the blamed fools ever bought in there, Bryce." + +"When they bought, it looked like a good buy. You will remember that +some ten years ago a company was incorporated with the idea of building +a railroad from Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the line of the Southern +Pacific, down the Oregon and California coast to tap the redwood belt." + +"I remember. There was a big whoop and hurrah and then the proposition +died abornin'. The engineers found that the cost of construction through +that mountainous country was prohibitive." + +"Well, before the project died, Gregory and his associates believed +that it was going to survive. They decided to climb in on the ground +floor--had some advance, inside information that the road was to be +built; go they quietly gathered together thirty thousand acres of good +stuff and then sat down to wait for the railroad, And they are still +waiting. Gregory, by the way, is the president of the Trinidad Redwood +Timber Company. He's an Edinburgh man, and the fly American promoters +got him to put up the price of the timber and then mortgaged their +interests to him as security for the advance. He foreclosed on their +notes five years ago." + +"And there he is with his useless timber!" John Cardigan murmured +thoughtfully. "The poor Scotch sucker!" + +"He isn't poor. The purchase of that timber didn't even dent +his bank-roll. He's what they call in England a tinned-goods +manufacturer--purveyor to His Majesty the King, and all that. But he +would like to sell his timber, and being Scotch, naturally he desires to +sell it at a profit. In order to create a market for it, however, he has +to have an outlet to that market. We supply the outlet--with his help; +and what happens? Why, timber that cost him fifty and seventy-five +cents per thousand feet stumpage--and the actual timber will overrun +the cruiser's estimate every time--will be worth two dollars and fifty +cents--perhaps more." + +The elder Cardigan turned slowly in his chair and bent his sightless +gaze upon his son. "Well, well," he cried impatiently. + +"He loans us the money to build our road. We build it--on through our +timber and into his. The collateral security which we put up will be +a twenty-five-years contract to haul his logs to tidewater on Humboldt +Bay, at a base freight-rate of one dollar and fifty cents, with an +increase of twenty-five cents per thousand every five years thereafter, +and an option for a renewal of the contract upon expiration, at the rate +of freight last paid. We also grant him perpetual booming-space for his +logs in the slough which we own and where we now store our logs until +needed at the mill. In addition we sell him, at a reasonable figure, +sufficient land fronting on tidewater to enable him to erect a sawmill, +lay out his yards, and build a dock out into the deep water. + +"Thus Gregory will have that which he hasn't got now--an outlet to his +market by water; and when the railroad to Sequoia builds in from the +south, it will connect with the road which we have built from Sequoia up +into Township Nine to the north; hence Gregory will also have an outlet +to his market by rail. He can easily get a good manager to run his +lumber business until he finds a customer for it, and in the meantime +we will be charging his account with our freight-bills against him and +gradually pay off the loan without pinching ourselves." + +"Have you talked with Gregory?" + +"Yes. I met him while I was in San Francisco. Somebody brought him up +to a meeting of the Redwood Lumber Manufacturers' Association, and I +pounced on him like an owl on a mouse." + +John Cardigan's old hand came gropingly forth and rested affectionately +upon his boy's. "What a wonderful scheme it would have been a year ago," +he murmured sadly. "You forget, my son, that we cannot last in business +long enough to get that road built though Gregory should agree to +finance the building of it. The interest on our bonded indebtedness is +payable on the first--" + +"We can meet it, sir." + +"Aye, but we can't meet the fifty thousand dollars which, under the +terms of our deed of trust, we are required to pay in on July first +of each year as a sinking fund toward the retirement of our bonds. By +super-human efforts--by sacrificing a dozen cargoes, raising hob with +the market, and getting ourselves disliked by our neighbours--we managed +to meet half of it this year and procure an extension of six months on +the balance due. + +"That is Pennington's way. He plays with us as a cat does with a mouse, +knowing, like the cat, that when he is weary of playing, he will devour +us. And now, when we are deeper in debt than ever, when the market is +lower and more sluggish than it has been in fifteen years, to hope to +meet the interest and the next payment to the sinking fund taxes my +optimism. Bryce, it just can't be done. We'd have our road about half +completed when we'd bust up in business; indeed, the minute Pennington +suspected we were paralleling his line, he'd choke off our wind. I tell +you it can't be done." + +But Bryce contradicted him earnestly. "It can be done," he said. +"Gregory knows nothing of our financial condition. Our rating in the +reports of the commercial agencies is as good as it ever was, and a +man's never broke till somebody finds it out." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that if we can start building our road and have it half +completed before Pennington jumps on us, GREGORY WILL SIMPLY HAVE TO +COME TO OUR AID IN SELF-DEFENSE. Once he ties up with us, he's committed +to the task of seeing us through. If we fall, he must pick us up and +carry us, whether he wants to or not; and I will so arrange the deal +that he will have to. I can do it, I tell you." + +John Cardigan raised his hand. "No," he said firmly, "I will not allow +you to do this. That way--that is the Pennington method. If we fall, +my son, we pass out like gentlemen, not blackguards. We will not take +advantage of this man Gregory's faith. If he joins forces with us, we +lay our hand on the table and let him look." + +"Then he'll never join hands with us, partner. We're done." + +"We're not done, my son. We have one alternative, and I'm going to take +it. I've got to--for your sake. Moreover, your mother would have wished +it so." + +"You don't mean--" + +"Yes, I do. I'm going to sell Pennington my Valley of the Giants. Thank +God, that quarter-section does not belong to the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company. It is my personal property, and it is not mortgaged. Pennington +can never foreclose on it--and until he gets it, twenty-five hundred +acres of virgin timber on Squaw Creek are valueless--nay, a source of +expense to him. Bryce, he has to have it; and he'll pay the price, when +he knows I mean business." + +With a sweeping gesture he waved aside the arguments that rose to +his son's lips. "Lead me to the telephone," he commanded; and Bryce, +recognizing his sire's unalterable determination, obeyed. + +"Find Pennington's number in the telephone-book," John Cardigan +commanded next. + +Bryce found it, and his father proceeded to get the Colonel on the wire. +"Pennington," he said hoarsely, "this is John Cardigan speaking. I've +decided to sell you that quarter-section that blocks your timber on +Squaw Creek." + +"Indeed," the Colonel purred. "I had an idea you were going to present +it to the city for a natural park." + +"I've changed my mind. I've decided to sell at your last offer." + +"I've changed my mind, too. I've decided not to buy--at my last offer. +Good-night." + +Slowly John Cardigan hung the receiver on the hook, turned and groped +for his son. When he found him, the old man held him for a moment in his +arms. "Lead me upstairs, son," he murmured presently. "I'm tired. I'm +going to bed." + +When Colonel Seth Pennington turned from the telephone and faced +his niece, Shirley read his triumph in his face. "Old Cardigan has +capitulated at last," he cried exultingly. "We've played a waiting game +and I've won; he just telephoned to say he'd accept my last offer +for his Valley of the Giants, as the sentimental old fool calls that +quarter-section of huge redwoods that blocks the outlet to our Squaw +Creek timber." + +"But you're not going to buy it. You told him so, Uncle Seth." + +"Of course I'm not going to buy it--at my last offer. It's worth five +thousand dollars in the open market, and once I offered him fifty +thousand for it. Now I'll give him five." + +"I wonder why he wants to sell," Shirley mused. "From what Bryce +Cardigan told me once, his father attaches a sentimental value to that +strip of woods; his wife is buried there; it's--or rather, it used to +be--a sort of shrine to the old gentleman." + +"He's selling it because he's desperate. If he wasn't teetering on the +verge of bankruptcy, he'd never let me outgame him," Pennington replied +gayly. "I'll say this for the old fellow: he's no bluffer. However, +since I know his financial condition almost to a dollar, I do not think +it would be good business to buy his Valley of the Giants now. I'll +wait until he has gone bust--and save twenty-five or thirty thousand +dollars." + +"I think you're biting off your nose to spite your face, Uncle Seth. The +Laguna Grande Lumber Company needs that outlet. In dollars and cents, +what is it worth to the Company?" + +"If I thought I couldn't get it from Cardigan a few months from now, I'd +go as high as a hundred thousand for it to-night," he answered coolly. + +"In that event, I advise you to take it for fifty thousand. It's +terribly hard on old Mr. Cardigan to have to sell it, even at that +price." + +"You do not understand these matters, Shirley. Don't try. And don't +waste your sympathy on that old humbug. He has to dig up fifty thousand +dollars to pay on his bonded indebtedness, and he's finding it a +difficult job. He's just sparring for time, but he'll lose out." + +As if to indicate that he considered the matter closed, the Colonel drew +his chair toward the fire, picked up a magazine, and commenced idly to +slit the pages. Shirley studied the back of his head for some time, +then got out some fancy work and commenced plying her needle. And as she +plied it, a thought, nebulous at first, gradually took form in her head +until eventually she murmured loud enough for the Colonel to hear: + +"I'll do it." + +"Do what?" Pennington queried. + +"Something nice for somebody who did something nice for me," she +answered. + +"That McTavish girl?" he suggested. + +"Poor Moira! Isn't she sweet, Uncle Seth? I'm going to give her that +black suit of mine. I've scarcely worn it--" + +"I thought so," he interrupted with an indulgent yawn. "Well, do +whatever makes for your happiness, my dear. That's all money is for." + +About two o'clock the following afternoon old Judge Moore, of the +Superior Court of Humboldt County, drifted into Bryce Cardigan's office, +sat down uninvited, and lifted his long legs to the top of an adjacent +chair. + +"Well, Bryce, my boy," he began, "a little bird tells me your daddy +is considering the sale of Cardigan's Redwoods, or the Valley of the +Giants, as your paternal ancestor prefers to refer to that little old +quarter-section out yonder on the edge of town. How about it?" + +Bryce stared at him a moment questioningly. "Yes, Judge," he replied, +"we'll sell, if we get our price." + +"Well," his visitor drawled, "I have a client who might be persuaded. +I'm here to talk turkey. What's your price?" + +"Before we talk price," Bryce parried, "I want you to answer a +question." + +"Let her fly," said Judge Moore. + +"Are you, directly or indirectly, acting for Colonel Pennington?" + +"That's none of your business, young man--at least, it would be none +of your business if I were, directly or indirectly, acting for that +unconvicted thief. To the best of my information and belief, Colonel +Pennington doesn't figure in this deal in any way, shape, or manner; and +as you know, I've been your daddy's friend for thirty years." + +Still Bryce was not convinced, notwithstanding the fact that he would +have staked his honour on the Judge's veracity. Nobody knew better than +he in what devious ways the Colonel worked, his wonders to perform. + +"Well," he said, "your query is rather sudden, Judge, but still I can +name you a price. I will state frankly, however, that I believe it to +be over your head. We have several times refused to sell to Colonel +Pennington for a hundred thousand dollars." + +"Naturally that little dab of timber is worth more to Pennington than to +anybody else. However, my client has given me instructions to go as high +as a hundred thousand if necessary to get the property." + +"What!" + +"I said it. One hundred thousand dollars of the present standard weight +and fineness." + +Judge Moore's last statement swept away Bryce's suspicions. He required +now no further evidence that, regardless of the identity of the Judge's +client, that client could not possibly be Colonel Seth Pennington or any +one acting for him, since only the night before Pennington had curtly +refused to buy the property for fifty thousand dollars. For a moment +Bryce stared stupidly at his visitor. Then he recovered his wits. + +"Sold!" he almost shouted, and after the fashion of the West extended +his hand to clinch the bargain. The Judge shook it solemnly. "The Lord +loveth a quick trader," he declared, and reached into the capacious +breast pocket of his Prince Albert coat. "Here's the deed already made +out in favour of myself, as trustee." He winked knowingly. + +"Client's a bit modest, I take it," Bryce suggested. + +"Oh, very. Of course I'm only hazarding a guess, but that guess is that +my client can afford the gamble and is figuring on giving Pennington +a pain where he never knew it to ache him before. In plain English, I +believe the Colonel is in for a razooing at the hands of somebody with a +small grouch against him." + +"May the Lord strengthen that somebody's arm," Bryce breathed fervently. +"If your client can afford to hold out long enough, he'll be able to buy +Pennington's Squaw Creek timber at a bargain." + +"My understanding is that such is the programme." + +Bryce reached for the deed, then reached for his hat. "If you'll be good +enough to wait here, Judge Moore, I'll run up to the house and get +my father to sign this deed. The Valley of the Giants is his +personal property, you know. He didn't include it in his assets when +incorporating the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company." + +A quarter of an hour later he returned with the deed duly signed by John +Cardigan and witnessed by Bryce; whereupon the Judge carelessly tossed +his certified check for a hundred thousand dollars on Bryce's desk +and departed whistling "Turkey in the Straw." Bryce reached for the +telephone and called up Colonel Pennington. + +"Bryce Cardigan speaking," he began, but the Colonel cut him short. + +"My dear, impulsive young friend," he interrupted in oleaginous tones, +"how often do you have to be told that I am not quite ready to buy that +quarter-section?" + +"Oh," Bryce retorted, "I merely called up to tell you that every dollar +and every asset you have in the world, including your heart's blood, +isn't sufficient to buy the Valley of the Giants from us now." + +"Eh? What's that? Why?" + +"Because, my dear, overcautious, and thoroughly unprincipled enemy, +it was sold five minutes ago for the tidy sum of one hundred thousand +dollars, and if you don't believe me, come over to my office and I'll +let you feast your eyes on the certified check." + +He could hear a distinct gasp. After an interval of five seconds, +however, the Colonel recovered his poise. "I congratulate you," he +purred. "I suppose I'll have to wait a little longer now, won't I? +Well--patience is my middle name. Au revoir." + +The Colonel hung up. His hard face was ashen with rage, and he stared at +a calendar on the wall with his cold, phidian stare. However, he was not +without a generous stock of optimism. "Somebody has learned of the low +state of the Cardigan fortune," he mused, "and taken advantage of it to +induce the old man to sell at last. They're figuring on selling to me at +a neat profit. And I certainly did overplay my hand last night. However, +there's nothing to do now except sit tight and wait for the new owner's +next move." + +Meanwhile, in the general office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, +joy was rampant. Bryce Cardigan was doing a buck and wing dance around +the room, while Moira McTavish, with her back to her tall desk, +watched him, in her eyes a tremendous joy and a sweet, yearning glow of +adoration that Bryce was too happy and excited to notice. + +Suddenly he paused before her. "Moira, you're a lucky girl," he +declared. "I thought this morning you were going back to a kitchen in a +logging-camp. It almost broke my heart to think of fate's swindling +you like that." He put his arm around her and gave her a brotherly hug. +"It's autumn in the woods, Moira, and all the underbrush is golden." + +She smiled, though it was winter in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Not the least of the traits which formed Shirley Sumner's character +was pride. Proud people quite usually are fiercely independent and +meticulously honest--and Shirley's pride was monumental. Hers was the +pride of lineage, of womanhood, of an assured station in life, combined +with that other pride which is rather difficult of definition without +verbosity and is perhaps better expressed in the terse and illuminating +phrase "a dead-game sport." Unlike her precious relative, unlike the +majority of her sex, Shirley had a wonderfully balanced sense of the +eternal fitness of things; her code of honour resembled that of a very +gallant gentleman. She could love well and hate well. + +A careful analysis of Shirley's feelings toward Bryce Cardigan +immediately following the incident in Pennington's woods, had showed her +that under more propitious circumstances she might have fallen in love +with that tempestuous young man in sheer recognition of the many lovable +and manly qualities she had discerned in him. As an offset to the credit +side of Bryce's account with her, however, there appeared certain debits +in the consideration of which Shirley always lost her temper and was +immediately quite certain she loathed the unfortunate man. + +He had been an honoured and (for aught Shirley knew to the contrary) +welcome guest in the Penninton home one night, and the following day had +assaulted his host, committed great bodily injuries upon the latter's +employees for little or no reason save the satisfaction of an abominable +temper, made threats of further violence, declared his unfaltering +enmity to her nearest and best-loved relative, and in the next breath +had had the insolence to prate of his respect and admiration for her. +Indeed, in cogitating on this latter incongruity, Shirley recalled +that the extraordinary fellow had been forced rather abruptly to check +himself in order to avoid a fervid declaration of love! And all of this +under the protection of a double-bitted axe, one eye on her and the +other on his enemies. + +However, all of these grave crimes and misdemeanors were really +insignificant compared with his crowning offense. What had infuriated +Shirley was the fact that she had been at some pains to inform Bryce +Cardigan that she loathed him--whereat he had looked her over coolly, +grinned a little, and declined to believe her! Then, seemingly as if +fate had decreed that her futility should be impressed upon her still +further, Bryce Cardigan had been granted an opportunity to save, in +a strikingly calm, heroic, and painful manner, her and her uncle from +certain and horrible death, thus placing upon Shirley an obligation +that was as irritating to acknowledge as it was futile to attempt to +reciprocate. + +That was where the shoe pinched. Before that day was over she had been +forced to do one of two things--acknowledge in no uncertain terms her +indebtedness to him, or remain silent and be convicted of having been, +in plain language, a rotter. So she had telephoned him and purposely +left ajar the door to their former friendly relations. + +Monstrous! He had seen the open door and deliberately slammed it in her +face. Luckily for them both she had heard, all unsuspected by him as he +slowly hung the receiver on the hook, the soliloquy wherein he gave her +a pointed hint of the distress with which he abdicated--which knowledge +was all that deterred her from despising him with the fervour of a woman +scorned. + +Resolutely Shirley set herself to the task of forgetting Bryce when, +after the passage of a few weeks, she realized that he was quite sincere +in his determination to forget her. Frequent glimpses of him on the +streets of Sequoia, the occasional mention of his name in the Sequoia +Sentinel, the very whistle of Cardigan's mill, made her task a difficult +one; and presently in desperation she packed up and departed for an +indefinite stay in the southern part of the State. At the end of six +weeks, however, she discovered that absence had had the traditional +effect upon her heart and found herself possessed of a great curiosity +to study the villain at short range and discover, if possible, what new +rascality he might be meditating. About this time, a providential attack +of that aristocratic ailment, gout, having laid Colonel Pennington low, +she told herself her duty lay in Sequoia, that she had Shirley Sumner in +hand at last and that the danger was over. In consequence, she returned +to Sequoia. + +The fascination which a lighted candle holds for a moth is too well +known to require further elucidation here. In yielding one day to a +desire to visit the Valley of the Giants, Shirley told herself that she +was going there to gather wild blackberries. She had been thinking of +a certain blackberry pie, which thought naturally induced reflection +on Bryce Cardigan and reminded Shirley of her first visit to the Giants +under the escort of a boy in knickerbockers. She had a very vivid +remembrance of that little amphitheatre with the sunbeams falling like +a halo on the plain tombstone; she wondered if the years had changed it +all and decided that there could not possibly be any harm in indulging a +very natural curiosity to visit and investigate. + +Her meeting with Moira McTavish that day, and the subsequent +friendship formed with the woods-boss's daughter, renewed all her old +apprehensions. On the assumption that Shirley and Bryce were practically +strangers to each other (an assumption which Shirley, for obvious +reasons, did not attempt to dissipate), Moira did not hesitate to +mention Bryce very frequently. To her he was the one human being in +the world utterly worth while, and it is natural for women to discuss, +frequently and at great length, the subject nearest their hearts. In the +three stock subjects of the admirable sex--man, dress, and the ills +that flesh is heir to--man readily holds the ascendancy; and by degrees +Moira--discovering that Shirley, having all the dresses she required +(several dozen more, in fact) and being neither subnormal mentally nor +fragile physically, gave the last two topics scant attention--formed +the habit of expatiating at great length on the latter. Moira described +Bryce in minute detail and related to her eager auditor little +unconscious daily acts of kindness, thoughtfulness, or humour performed +by Bryce--his devotion to his father, his idealistic attitude toward +the Cardigan employees, his ability, his industry, the wonderful care +he bestowed upon his fingernails, his marvellous taste in neckwear, the +boyishness of his lighter and the mannishness of his serious moments. +And presently, little by little, Shirley's resentment against him faded, +and in her heart was born a great wistfulness bred of the hope that some +day she would meet Bryce Cardigan on the street and that he would pause, +lift his hat, smile at her his compelling smile and, forthwith proceed +to bully her into being friendly and forgiving--browbeat her into +admitting her change of heart and glorying in it. + +To this remarkable state of mind had Shirley Sumner attained at the time +old John Cardigan, leading his last little trump in a vain hope that it +would enable him to take the odd trick in the huge game he had played +for fifty years, decided to sell his Valley of the Giants. + +Shortly after joining her uncle in Sequoia, Shirley had learned from the +Colonel the history of old man Cardigan and his Valley of the Giants, +or as the townspeople called it, Cardigan's Redwoods. Therefore she was +familiar with its importance to the assets of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company, since, while that quarter-section remained the property of John +Cardigan, two thousand five hundred acres of splendid timber owned by +the former were rendered inaccessible. Her uncle had explained to +her that ultimately this would mean the tying up of some two million +dollars, and inasmuch as the Colonel never figured less than five per +cent. return on anything, he was in this instance facing a net loss +of one hundred thousand dollars for each year obstinate John Cardigan +persisted in retaining that quarter-section. + +"I'd gladly give him a hundred thousand for that miserable little dab of +timber and let him keep a couple of acres surrounding his wife's grave, +if the old fool would only listen to reason," the Colonel had complained +bitterly to her. "I've offered him that price a score of times, and he +tells me blandly the property isn't for sale. Well, he who laughs last +laughs best, and if I can't get that quarter-section by paying more than +ten times what it's worth in the open market, I'll get it some other +way, if it costs me a million." + +"How?" Shirley had queried at the time. + +"Never mind, my dear," he had answered darkly. "You wouldn't understand +the procedure if I told you. I'll have to run all around Robin Hood's +barn and put up a deal of money, one way or another, but in the end +I'll get it all back with interest--and Cardigan's Redwoods! The old man +can't last forever, and what with his fool methods of doing business, +he's about broke, anyhow. I expect to do business with his executor or +his receiver within a year." + +Shirley, as explained in a preceding chapter, had been present the night +John Cardigan, desperate and brought to bay at last, had telephoned +Pennington at the latter's home, accepting Pennington's last offer for +the Valley of the Giants. The cruel triumph in the Colonel's handsome +face as he curtly rebuffed old Cardigan had been too apparent for the +girl to mistake; recalling her conversation with him anent the impending +possibility of his doing business with John Cardigan's receiver or +executor, she realized now that a crisis had come in the affairs of the +Cardigans, and across her vision there flashed again the vision of Bryce +Cardigan's homecoming--of a tall old man with his trembling arms clasped +around his boy, with grizzled cheek laid against his son's, as one who, +seeking comfort through bitter years, at length had found it. + +Presently another thought came to Shirley. She knew Bryce Cardigan was +far from being indifferent to her; she had given him his opportunity +to be friendly with her again, and he had chosen to ignore her though +sorely against his will. For weeks Shirley had pondered this mysterious +action, and now she thought she caught a glimpse of the reason +underlying it all. In Sequoia, Bryce Cardigan was regarded as the heir +to the throne of Humboldt's first timber-king, but Shirley knew now that +as a timber-king, Bryce Cardigan bade fair to wear a tinsel crown. Was +it this knowledge that had led him to avoid her? + +"I wonder," she mused. "He's proud. Perhaps the realization that he will +soon be penniless and shorn of his high estate has made him chary of +acquiring new friends in his old circle. Perhaps if he were secure in +his business affairs--Ah, yes! Poor boy! He was desperate for fifty +thousand dollars!" Her heart swelled. "Oh, Bryce, Bryce," she murmured, +"I think I'm beginning to understand some of your fury that day in the +woods. It's all a great mystery, but I'm sure you didn't intend to be +so--so terrible. Oh, my dear, if we had only continued to be the good +friends we started out to be, perhaps you'd let me help you now. For +what good is money if one cannot help one's dear friends in distress. +Still, I know you wouldn't let me help you, for men of your stamp cannot +borrow from a woman, no matter how desperate their need. And yet--you +only need a paltry fifty thousand dollars!" + +Shirley carried to bed with her that night the woes of the Cardigans, +and in the morning she telephoned Moira McTavish and invited the latter +to lunch with her at home that noon. It was in her mind to question +Moira with a view to acquiring additional information. When Moira came, +Shirley saw that she had been weeping. + +"My poor Moira!" she said, putting her arms around her visitor. "What +has happened to distress you? Has your father come back to Sequoia? +Forgive me for asking. You never mentioned him, but I have heard--There, +there, dear! Tell me all about it." + +Moira laid her head on Shirley's shoulder and sobbed for several +minutes. Then, "It's Mr. Bryce," she wailed. "He's so unhappy. +Something's happened; they're going to sell Cardigan's Redwoods; and +they--don't want to. Old Mr. Cardigan is home--ill; and just before +I left the office, Mr. Bryce came in--and stood a moment looking--at +me--so tragically I--I asked him what had happened. Then he patted my +cheek--oh, I know I'm just one of his responsibilities--and said 'Poor +Moira! Never any luck!' and went into his--private office. I waited a +little, and then I went in too; and--oh, Miss Sumner, he had his head +down on his desk, and when I touched his head, he reached up and took my +hand and held it--and laid his cheek against it a little while--and +oh, his cheek was wet. It's cruel of God--to make him--unhappy, He's +good--too good. And--oh, I love him so, Miss Shirley, I love him so--and +he'll never, never know. I'm just one of his--responsibilities, you +know; and I shouldn't presume. But nobody--has ever been kind to me but +Mr. Bryce--and you. And I can't help loving people who are kind--and +gentle to nobodies." + +The hysterical outburst over, Shirley led the girl to her cozy +sitting-room upstairs and prevailed upon the girl to put on one of +her own beautiful negligees. Moira's story--her confession of love, +so tragic because so hopeless--had stirred Shirley deeply. She seated +herself in front of Moira and cupped her chin in her palm. + +"Of course, dear," she said, "you couldn't possibly see anybody you +loved suffer so and not feel dreadfully about it. And when a man like +Bryce Cardigan is struck down, he's apt to present rather a tragic and +helpless figure. He wanted sympathy, Moira--woman's sympathy, and it was +dear of you to give it to him." + +"I'd gladly die for him," Moira answered simply. "Oh, Miss Shirley, you +don't know him the way we who work for him do. If you did, you'd love +him, too. You couldn't help it, Miss Shirley." + +"Perhaps he loves you, too, Moira." The words came with difficulty. + +Moira shook her head hopelessly. "No, Miss Shirley. I'm only one of his +many human problems, and he just won't go back on me, for old sake's +sake. We played together ten years ago, when he used to spend his +vacations at our house in Cardigan's woods, when my father was +woods-boss. He's Bryce Cardigan--and I--I used to work in the kitchen of +his logging-camp." + +"Never mind, Moira. He may love you, even though you do not suspect it. +You mustn't be so despairing. Providence has a way of working out these +things. Tell me about his trouble, Moira." + +"I think it's money. He's been terribly worried for a long time, and I'm +afraid things aren't going right with the business. I've felt ever +since I've been there that there's something that puts a cloud over Mr. +Bryce's smile. It hurts them terribly to have to sell the Valley of the +Giants, but they have to; Colonel Pennington is the only one who would +consider buying it; they don't want him to have it--and still they have +to sell to him." + +"I happen to know, Moira, that he isn't going to buy it." + +"Yes, he is--but not at a price that will do them any good. They have +always thought he would be eager to buy whenever they decided to sell, +and now he says he doesn't want it, and old Mr. Cardigan is ill over +it all. Mr. Bryce says his father has lost his courage at last; and oh, +dear, things are in such a mess. Mr. Bryce started to tell me all about +it--and then he stopped suddenly and wouldn't say another word." + +Shirley smiled. She thought she understood the reason for that. However, +she did not pause to speculate on it, since the crying need of the +present was the distribution of a ray of sunshine to broken-hearted +Moira. + +"Silly," she chided, "how needlessly you are grieving! You say my uncle +has declined to buy the Valley of the Giants?" + +Moira nodded. + +"My uncle doesn't know what he's talking about, Moira. I'll see that he +does buy it. What price are the Cardigans asking for it now?" + +"Well, Colonel Pennington has offered them a hundred thousand dollars +for it time and again, but last night he withdrew that offer. Then they +named a price of fifty thousand, and he said he didn't want it at all." + +"He needs it, and it's worth every cent of a hundred thousand to him, +Moira. Don't worry, dear. He'll buy it, because I'll make him, and he'll +buy it immediately; only you must promise me not to mention a single +word of what I'm telling you to Bryce Cardigan, or in fact, to anybody. +Do you promise?" + +Moira seized Shirley's hand and kissed it impulsively. "Very well, +then," Shirley continued. "That matter is adjusted, and now we'll all +be happy. Here comes Thelma with luncheon. Cheer up, dear, and remember +that sometime this afternoon you're going to see Mr. Bryce smile again, +and perhaps there won't be so much of a cloud over his smile this time." + +When Moira returned to the office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company, Shirley rang for her maid. "Bring me my motor-coat and hat, +Thelma," she ordered, "and telephone for the limousine." She seated +herself before the mirror at her dressing-table and dusted her adorable +nose with a powder-puff. "Mr. Smarty Cardigan," she murmured happily, +"you walked rough-shod over my pride, didn't you! Placed me under an +obligation I could never hope to meet--and then ignored me--didn't you? +Very well, old boy. We all have our innings sooner or later, you know, +and I'm going to make a substantial payment on that huge obligation +as sure as my name is Shirley Sumner. Then, some day when the sun is +shining for you again, you'll come to me and be very, very humble. +You're entirely too independent, Mr. Cardigan, but, oh, my dear, I do +hope you will not need so much money. I'll be put to my wit's end to get +it to you without letting you know, because if your affairs go to smash, +you'll be perfectly intolerable. And yet you deserve it. You're such an +idiot for not loving Moira. She's an angel, and I gravely fear I'm just +an interfering, mischievous, resentful little devil seeking vengeance +on--" + +She paused suddenly. "No, I'll not do that, either," she soliloquized. +"I'll keep it myself--for an investment. I'll show Uncle Seth I'm a +business woman, after all. He has had his fair chance at the Valley +of the Giants, after waiting years for it, and now he has deliberately +sacrificed that chance to be mean and vindictive. I'm afraid Uncle Seth +isn't very sporty--after what Bryce Cardigan did for us that day the +log-train ran away. I'll have to teach him not to hit an old man when +he's down and begging for mercy. _I_'LL buy the Valley but keep my +identity secret from everybody; then, when Uncle Seth finds a stranger +in possession, he'll have a fit, and perhaps, before he recovers, he'll +sell me all his Squaw Creek timber--only he'll never know I'm the buyer. +And when I control the outlet--well, I think that Squaw Creek timber +will make an excellent investment if it's held for a few years. Shirley, +my dear, I'm pleased with you. Really, I never knew until now why men +could be so devoted to business. Won't it be jolly to step in between +Uncle Seth and Bryce Cardigan, hold up my hand like a policeman, and +say: 'Stop it, boys. No fighting, IF you please. And if anybody wants to +know who's boss around here, start something.'" + +And Shirley laid her head upon the dressing-table and laughed heartily. +She had suddenly bethought herself of Aesop's fable of the lion and the +mouse! + +When her uncle came home that night, Shirley observed that he was +preoccupied and disinclined to conversation. + +"I noticed in this evening's paper," she remarked presently, "that Mr. +Cardigan has sold his Valley of the Giants. So you bought it, after +all?" + +"No such luck!" he almost barked. "I'm an idiot. I should be placed in +charge of a keeper. Now, for heaven's sake, Shirley, don't discuss that +timber with me, for if you do, I'll go plain, lunatic crazy. I've had a +very trying day." + +"Poor Uncle Seth!" she purred sweetly. Her apparent sympathy soothed his +rasped soul. He continued: + +"Oh, I'll get the infernal property, and it will be worth what I have to +pay for it, only it certainly does gravel me to realize that I am about +to be held up, with no help in sight. I'll see Judge Moore to-morrow and +offer him a quick profit for his client. That's the game, you know." + +"I do hope the new owner exhibits some common sense, Uncle dear," she +replied, and turned back to the piano. "But I greatly fear," she added +to herself, "that the new owner is going to prove a most obstinate +creature and frightfully hard to discover." + +True to his promise, the Colonel called on Judge Moore bright and early +the following morning. "Act Three of that little business drama entitled +'The Valley of the Giants,' my dear Judge," he announced pleasantly. "I +play the lead in this act. You remember me, I hope. I played a bit in +Act Two." + +"In so far as my information goes, sir, you've been cut out of the cast +in Act Three. I don't seem to find any lines for you to speak." + +"One line, Judge, one little line. What profit does your client want on +that quarter-section?" + +"That quarter-section is not in the market, Colonel. When it is, I'll +send for you, since you're the only logical prospect should my client +decide to sell. And remembering how you butted in on politics in this +county last fall and provided a slush-fund to beat me and place a crook +on the Superior Court bench, in order to give you an edge in the many +suits you are always filing or having filed against you, I rise to +remark that you have about ten split seconds in which to disappear from +my office. If you linger longer, I'll start throwing paper-weights." And +as if to emphasize his remark, the Judge's hand closed over one of the +articles in question. + +The Colonel withdrew with what dignity he could muster. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Upon his return from the office that night, Bryce Cardigan found his +father had left his bed and was seated before the library fire. + +"Feeling a whole lot better to-day, eh, pal?" his son queried. + +John Cardigan smiled. "Yes, son," he replied plaintively. "I guess I'll +manage to live till next spring." + +"Oh, I knew there was nothing wrong with you, John Cardigan, that a +healthy check wouldn't cure. Pennington rather jolted you, though, +didn't he?" + +"He did, Bryce. It was jolt enough to be forced to sell that quarter--I +never expected we'd have to do it; but when I realize that it was a case +of sacrificing you or my Giants, of course you won. And I didn't feel +so badly about it as I used to think I would. I suppose that's because +there is a certain morbid pleasure in a real sacrifice for those we +love. And I never doubted but that Pennington would snap up the property +the instant I offered to sell. Hence his refusal--in the face of our +desperate need for money to carry on until conditions improve--almost +floored your old man." + +"Well, we can afford to draw our breath now, and that gives us a +fighting chance, partner. And right after dinner you and I will sit down +and start brewing a pot of powerful bad medicine for the Colonel." + +"Son, I've been sitting here simmering all day." There was a note of +the old dominant fighting John Cardigan in his voice now. "And it has +occurred to me that even if I must sit on the bench and root, I've +not reached the point where my years have begun to affect my thinking +ability." He touched his leonine head. "I'm as right as a fox upstairs, +Bryce." + +"Right-o, Johnny. We'll buck the line together. After dinner you trot +out your plan of campaign and I'll trot out mine; then we'll tear them +apart, select the best pieces of each and weld them into a perfect +whole." + +Accordingly, dinner disposed of, father and son sat down together to +prepare the plan of campaign. For the space of several minutes a silence +settled between them, the while they puffed meditatively upon their +cigars. Then the old man spoke. + +"We'll have to fight him in the dark." + +"Why?" + +"Because if Pennington knows, or even suspects the identity of the man +who is going to parallel his logging railroad, he will throw all the +weight of his truly capable mind, his wealth and his ruthlessness +against you--and you will be smashed. To beat that man, you must do more +than spend money. You will have to outthink him, outwork him, outgame +him, and when eventually you have won, you'll know you've been in the +fight of your career. You have one advantage starting out. The Colonel +doesn't think you have the courage to parallel his road in the first +place; in the second place, he knows you haven't the money; and in the +third place he is morally certain you cannot borrow it, because you +haven't any collateral to secure your note. + +"We are mortgaged now to the limit, and our floating indebtedness is +very large; on the face of things and according to the Colonel's very +correct inside information, we're helpless; and unless the lumber-market +stiffens very materially this year, by the time our hauling-contract +with Pennington's road expires, we'll be back where we were yesterday +before we sold the Giants. Pennington regards that hundred thousand as +get-away money for us. So, all things considered, the Colonel, will be +slow to suspect us of having an ace in the hole; but by jinks we have +it, and we're going to play it." + +"No," said Bryce, "we're going to let somebody else play it for us. +The point you make--to wit, that we must remain absolutely in the +background--is well taken." + +"Very well," agreed the old man. "Now let us proceed to the next point. +You must engage some reliable engineer to look over the proposed route +of the road and give us an estimate of the cost of construction." + +"For the sake of argument we will consider that done, and that the +estimate comes within the scope of the sum Gregory is willing to advance +us." + +"Your third step, then, will be to incorporate a railroad company under +the laws of the State of California." + +"I think I'll favour the fair State of New Jersey with our trade," Bryce +suggested dryly. "I notice that when Pennington bought out the Henderson +interests and reorganized that property, he incorporated the Laguna +Grande Lumber Company under the laws of the State of New Jersey, home of +the trusts. There must be some advantage connected with such a course." + +"Have it your own way, boy. What's good enough for the Colonel is good +enough for us. Now, then, you are going to incorporate a company to +build a road twelve miles long--and a private road, at that. That would +be a fatal step. Pennington would know somebody was going to build a +logging-road, and regardless of who the builders were, he would have to +fight them in self-protection. How are you going to cover your trail, my +son?" + +Bryce pondered. "I will, to begin, have a dummy board of directors. +Also, my road cannot be private; it must be a common carrier, and that's +where the shoe pinches. Common carriers are subject to the rules and +regulations of the Railroad Commission." + +"They are wise and just rules," commented the old man, "expensive to +obey at times, but quite necessary. We can obey and still be happy. +Objection overruled." + +"Well, then, since we must be a common carrier, we might as well carry +our deception still further and incorporate for the purpose of building +a road from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, there to connect with the +Southern Pacific." + +John Cardigan smiled. "The old dream revived, eh? Well, the old jokes +always bring a hearty laugh. People will laugh at your company, because +folks up this way realize that the construction cost of such a road +is prohibitive, not to mention the cost of maintenance, which would be +tremendous and out of all proportion to the freight area tapped." + +"Well, since we're not going to build more than twelve miles of our road +during the next year, and probably not more than ten miles additional +during the present century, we won't worry over it. It doesn't cost a +cent more to procure a franchise to build a road from here to the +moon. If we fail to build to Grant's Pass, our franchise to build the +uncompleted portion of the road merely lapses and we hold only that +portion which we have constructed. That's all we want to hold." + +"How about rights of way?" + +"They will cost us very little, if anything. Most or the landowners +along the proposed route will give us rights of way free gratis and for +nothing, just to encourage the lunatics. Without a railroad the land is +valueless; and as a common carrier they know we can condemn rights of +way capriciously withheld--something we cannot do as a private road. +Moreover, deeds to rights of way can be drawn with a time-limit, after +which they revert to the original owners." + +"Good strategy, my son! And certainly as a common carrier we will be +welcomed by the farmers and cattlemen along our short line. We can +handle their freight without much annoyance and perhaps at a slight +profit." + +"Well, that about completes the rough outline of our plan. The next +thing to do is to start and keep right on moving, for as old Omar +has it, 'The bird of time hath but a little way to flutter,' and the +birdshot is catching up with him. We have a year in which to build our +road; if we do not hurry, the mill will have to shut down for lack of +logs, when our contract with Pennington expires." + +"You forget the manager for our new corporation--the vice-president +and general manager. The man we engage must be the fastest and most +convincing talker in California; not only must he be able to tell a lie +with a straight face, but he must be able to believe his own lies. And +he must talk in millions, look millions, and act as if a million dollars +were equivalent in value to a redwood stump. In addition, he must be a +man of real ability and a person you can trust implicitly." + +"I have the very man you mention. His name is Buck Ogilvy and only this +very day I received a letter from him begging me for a small loan. I +have Buck on ice in a fifth-class San Francisco hotel." + +"Tell me about him, Bryce." + +"Don't have to. You've just told me about him, However, I'll read you +his letter. I claim there is more character in a letter than in a face." + +Here Bryce read aloud: + +Golden Gate Hotel--Rooms fifty cents--and up. San Francisco, California, +August fifteenth, 1916. + +MY DEAR CARDIGAN: Hark to the voice of one crying in the wilderness; +then picture to yourself the unlovely spectacle of a strong man crying. + +Let us assume that you have duly considered. Now wind up your wrist and +send me a rectangular piece of white, blue, green, or pink paper bearing +in the lower right-hand corner, in your clear, bold chirography, the +magic words "Bryce Cardigan"--with the little up-and-down hook and +flourish which identifies your signature given in your serious moods +and lends value to otherwise worthless paper. Five dollars would make +me chirk up; ten would start a slight smile; twenty would put a beam in +mine eye; fifty would cause me to utter shrill cries of unadulterated +joys and a hundred would inspire me to actions like unto those of a +whirling dervish. + +I am so flat busted my arches make hollow sounds as I tread the hard +pavements of a great city, seeking a job. Pausing on the brink of +despair, that destiny which shapes our ends inspired me to think of old +times and happier days and particularly of that pink-and-white midget of +a girl who tended the soda-fountain just back of the railroad station at +Princeton. You stole that damsel from me, and I never thanked you. Then +I remembered you were a timber-king with a kind heart and that you lived +somewhere in California; so I looked in the telephone book and found +the address of the San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company. You have a mean man in charge there. I called on him, told +him I was an old college pal of yours, and tried to borrow a dollar. He +spurned me with contumely--so much of it, in fact, that I imagine you +have a number of such friends. While he was abusing me, I stole from his +desk the stamped envelope which bears to you these tidings of great woe; +and while awaiting your reply, be advised that I subsist on the bitter +cud of reflection, fresh air, and water, all of which, thank God, cost +nothing. + +My tale is soon told. When you knew me last, I was a prosperous young +contractor. Alas! I put all my eggs in one basket and produced an +omelet. Took a contract to build a railroad in Honduras. Honduras got +to fighting with Nicaragua; the government I had done business with went +out of business; and the Nicaraguan army recruited all my labourers and +mounted them on my mules and horses, swiped all my grub, and told me to +go home. I went. Why stay? Moreover, I had an incentive consisting of +about an inch of bayonet--fortunately not applied in a vital spot--which +accelerated rather than decreased my speed. + +Hurry, my dear Cardigan. Tempest fidgets; remember Moriarity--which, if +you still remember your Latin, means: "Time flies. Remember to-morrow!" +I finished eating my overcoat the day before yesterday. + +Make it a hundred, and God will bless you. When I get it, I'll come to +Sequoia and kiss you. I'll pay you back sometime--of course. + +Wistfully thine--Buck Ogilvy + +P.S.--Delays are dangerous, and procrastination is the thief of +time.--B. + +John Cardigan chuckled. "I'd take Buck Ogilvy, Bryce. He'll do. Is he +honest?" + +"I don't know. He was, the last time I saw him." + +"Then wire him a hundred. Don't wait for the mail. The steamer that +carries your letter might be wrecked and your friend Ogilvy forced to +steal." + +"I have already wired him the hundred. In all probability he is now out +whirling like a dervish." + +"Good boy! Well, I think we've planned sufficient for the present, +Bryce. You'd better leave for San Francisco to-morrow and close your +deal with Gregory. Arrange with him to leave his own representative with +Ogilvy to keep tab on the job, check the bills, and pay them as they +fall due; and above all things, insist that Gregory shall place the +money in a San Francisco bank, subject to the joint check of his +representative and ours. Hire a good lawyer to draw up the agreement +between you; be sure you're right, and then go ahead--full speed. When +you return to Sequoia, I'll have a few more points to give you. I'll +mull them over in the meantime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +When Bryce Cardigan walked down the gang-plank at the steamship-dock in +San Francisco, the first face he saw among the waiting crowd was Buck +Ogilvy's. Mr. Ogilvy wore his over-coat and a joyous smile, proving that +in so far as he was concerned all was well with the world; he pressed +forward and thrust forth a great speckled paw for Bryce to shake. Bryce +ignored it. + +"Why, don't you remember me?" Ogilvy demanded. "I'm Buck Ogilvy." + +Bryce looked him fairly in the eye and favoured him with a lightning +wink. "I have never heard of you, Mr. Ogilvy. You are mistaking me for +someone else." + +"Sorry," Ogilvy murmured. "My mistake! Thought you were Bill Kerrick, +who used to be a partner of mine. I'm expecting him on this boat, and +he's the speaking image of you." + +Bryce nodded and passed on, hailed a taxicab, and was driven to the San +Francisco office of his company. Five minutes later the door opened and +Buck Ogilvy entered. + +"I was a bit puzzled at the dock, Bryce," he explained as they shook +hands, "but decided to play safe and then follow you to your office. +What's up? Have you killed somebody, and are the detectives on your +trail? If so, 'fess up and I'll assume the responsibility for your +crime, just to show you how grateful I am for that hundred." + +"No, I wasn't being shadowed, Buck, but my principal enemy was coming +down the gangplank right behind me, and--" + +"So was my principal enemy," Ogilvy interrupted. "What does our enemy +look like?" + +"Like ready money. And if he had seen me shaking hands with you, he'd +have suspected a connection between us later on. Buck, you have a good +job--about five hundred a month." + +"Thanks, old man. I'd work for you for nothing. What are we going to +do?" + +"Build twelve miles of logging railroad and parallel the line of the old +wolf I spoke of a moment ago." + +"Good news! We'll do it. How soon do you want it done?" + +"As soon as possible. You're the vice-president and general manager." + +"I accept the nomination. What do I do first?" + +"Listen carefully to my story, analyze my plan for possible weak spots, +and then get busy, because after I have provided the funds and given the +word 'Go!' the rest is up to you. I must not be known in the transaction +at all, because that would be fatal. And I miss my guess if, once we +start building or advertising the building of the road, you and I and +everybody connected with the enterprise will not be shadowed day and +night by an army of Pinkertons." + +"I listen," said Buck Ogilvy, and he inclined a large speckled ear in +Bryce's direction, the while his large speckled hand drew a scratch-pad +toward him. + +Three hours later Ogilvy was in possession of the most minute details of +the situation in Sequoia, had tabulated, indexed, and cross-indexed +them in his ingenious brain and was ready for business--and so announced +himself. "And inasmuch as that hundred you sent me has been pretty well +shattered," he concluded, "suppose you call in your cold-hearted manager +who refused me alms on your credit, and give him orders to honour my +sight-drafts. If I'm to light in Sequoia looking like ready money, I've +got to have some high-class, tailor-made clothes, and a shine and a +shave and a shampoo and a trunk and a private secretary. If there was a +railroad running into Sequoia, I'd insist on a private car." + +This final detail having been attended to, Mr. Ogilvy promptly proceeded +to forget business and launched forth into a recital of his manifold +adventures since leaving Princeton; and when at length all of their +classmates had been accounted for and listed as dead, married, +prosperous, or pauperized, the amiable and highly entertaining Buck took +his departure with the announcement that he would look around a little +and try to buy some good second-hand grading equipment and a locomotive, +in addition to casting an eye over the labour situation and sending a +few wires East for the purpose of sounding the market on steel rails. +Always an enthusiast in all things, in his mind's eye Mr. Ogilvy could +already see a long trainload of logs coming down the Northern California +& Oregon Railroad, as he and Bryce had decided to christen the venture. + +"N. C. & O.," Mr. Ogilvy murmured. "Sounds brisk and snappy. I like it. +Hope that old hunks Pennington likes it, too. He'll probably feel that +N. C. & O. stands for Northern California Outrage." + +When Bryce Cardigan returned to Sequoia, his labours, insofar as the +building of the road were concerned, had been completed. His agreement +with Gregory of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company had been signed, +sealed, and delivered; the money to build the road had been deposited +in bank; and Buck Ogilvy was already spending it like a drunken sailor. +From now on, Bryce could only watch, wait, and pray. + +On the next steamer a surveying party with complete camping-equipment +arrived in Sequoia, purchased a wagon and two horses, piled their +dunnage into the wagon, and disappeared up-country. Hard on their +heels came Mr. Buck Ogilvy, and occupied the bridal suite in the Hotel +Sequoia, arrangements for which had previously been made by wire. In +the sitting room of the suite Mr. Ogilvy installed a new desk, a +filing-cabinet, and a brisk young male secretary. + +He had been in town less than an hour when the editor of the Sequoia +Sentinel sent up his card. The announcement of the incorporation of the +Northern California Outrage (for so had Mr. Ogilvy, in huge enjoyment of +the misery he was about to create, dubbed the road) had previously been +flashed to the Sentinel by the United Press Association, as a local +feature story, and already speculation was rife in Sequoia as to the +identity of the harebrained individuals who dared to back an enterprise +as nebulous as the millennium. Mr. Ogilvy was expecting the visit--in +fact, impatiently awaiting it; and since the easiest thing he did was to +speak for publication, naturally the editor of the Sentinel got a +story which, to that individual's simple soul, seemed to warrant a +seven-column head--which it received. Having boned up on the literature +of the Redwood Manufacturers' Association, what Buck Ogilvy didn't know +about redwood timber, redwood lumber, the remaining redwood acreage and +market conditions, past and present, might have been secreted in the +editorial eye without seriously hampering the editorial sight. He stated +that the capital behind the project was foreign, that he believed in the +success of the project and that his entire fortune was dependent upon +the completion of it. In glowing terms he spoke of the billions of tons +of timber-products to be hauled out of this wonderfully fertile and +little-known country, and confidently predicted for the county a future +commercial supremacy that would be simply staggering to contemplate. + +When Colonel Seth Pennington read this outburst he smiled. "That's a +bright scheme on the part of that Trinidad Redwood Timber Company gang +to start a railroad excitement and unload their white elephant," he +declared. "A scheme like that stuck them with their timber, and I +suppose they figure there's a sucker born every minute and that the +same old gag might work again. Chances are they have a prospect in tow +already." + +When Bryce Cardigan read it, he laughed. The interview was so like Buck +Ogilvy! In the morning the latter's automobile was brought up from the +steamship-dock, and accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Ogilvy disappeared +into the north following the bright new stakes of his surveying-gang, +and for three weeks was seen no more. As for Bryce Cardigan, that young +man buckled down to business, and whenever questioned about the new +railroad was careful to hoot at the idea. + +On a day when Bryce's mind happened to be occupied with thoughts of +Shirley Sumner, he bumped into her on the main street of Sequoia, and to +her great relief but profound surprise, he paused in his tracks, lifted +his hat, smiled, and opened his mouth to say something--thought better +of it, changed his mind, and continued on about his business. As Shirley +passed him, she looked him squarely in the face, and in her glance there +was neither coldness nor malice. + +Bryce felt himself afire from heels to hair one instant, and cold and +clammy the next, for Shirley spoke to him. + +"Good morning, Mr. Cardigan." + +He paused, turned, and approached her. "Good morning, Shirley," he +replied. "How have you been?" + +"I might have been dead, for all the interest you took in me," she +replied sharply. "As matters stand, I'm exceedingly well--thank you. By +the way, are you still belligerent?" + +He nodded. "I have to be." + +"Still peeved at my uncle?" + +Again he nodded. + +"I think you're a great big grouch, Bryce Cardigan," she flared at him +suddenly. "You make me unutterably weary." + +"I'm sorry," he answered, "but just at present I am forced to subject +you to the strain. Say a year from now, when things are different with +me, I'll strive not to offend." + +"I'll not be here a year from now," she warned him. He bowed. "Then +I'll go wherever you are--and bring you back." And with a mocking little +grin, he lifted his hat and passed on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Though Buck Ogilvy was gone from Sequoia for a period of three weeks, +he was by no means forgotten. His secretary proved to be an industrious +press-agent who by mail, telegraph, and long-distance telephone managed +daily to keep the editor of the Sequoia Sentinel fully apprised of all +developments in the matter of the Northern California Oregon Railroad +Company--including some that had not as yet developed! The result was +copious and persistent publicity for the new railroad company, and the +arousing in the public mind of a genuine interest in this railroad which +was to do so much for the town of Sequoia. + +Colonel Seth Pennington was among those who, skeptical at first and +inclined to ridicule the project into an early grave, eventually found +himself swayed by the publicity and gradually coerced into serious +consideration of the results attendant upon the building of the road. +The Colonel was naturally as suspicious as a rattlesnake in August; +hence he had no sooner emerged from the ranks of the frank scoffers than +his alert mind framed the question: + +"How is this new road--improbable as I know it to be--going to affect +the interests of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, if the unexpected +should happen and those bunco-steerers should actually build a road +from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, and thus construct a feeder to a +transcontinental line?" + +Five minutes of serious reflection sufficed to bring the Colonel to the +verge of panic, notwithstanding the fact that he was ashamed of himself +for yielding to fright despite his firm belief that there was no reason +why he should be frightened. Similar considerations occur to a small boy +who is walking home in the dark past a cemetery. + +The vital aspects of his predicament dawned on the Colonel one night at +dinner, midway between the soup and the fish. So forcibly did they occur +to him, in fact, that for the nonce he forgot that his niece was seated +opposite him. + +"Confound them," the Colonel murmured distinctly, "I must look into this +immediately." + +"Look into what, Uncle dear?" Shirley asked innocently. + +"This new railroad that man Ogilvy talks of building--which means, +Shirley, that with Sequoia as his starting point, he is going to build +a hundred and fifty miles north to connect with the main line of the +Southern Pacific in Oregon." + +"But wouldn't that be the finest thing that could possibly happen to +Humboldt County?" she demanded of him. + +"Undoubtedly it would--to Humboldt County; but to the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company, in which you have something more than a sentimental +interest, my dear, it would be a blow. A large part of the estate left +by your father is invested in Laguna Grande stock, and as you know, all +of my efforts are devoted to appreciating that stock and to fighting +against anything that has a tendency to depreciate it." + +"Which reminds me, Uncle Seth, that you never discuss with me any of the +matters pertaining to my business interests," she suggested. + +He beamed upon her with his patronizing and indulgent smile. "There is +no reason why you should puzzle that pretty head of yours with business +affairs while I am alive and on the job," he answered. "However, since +you have expressed a desire to have this railroad situation explained +to you, I will do so. I am not interested in seeing a feeder built from +Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, and connecting with the Southern Pacific, +but I am tremendously interested in seeing a feeder built south from +Sequoia toward San Francisco, to connect with the Northwestern Pacific." + +"Why?" + +"For cold, calculating business reasons, my dear." He hesitated a moment +and then resumed: "A few months ago I would not have told you the things +I am about to tell you, Shirley, for the reason that a few months ago +it seemed to me you were destined to become rather friendly with young +Cardigan. When that fellow desires to be agreeable, he can be rather a +likable boy--lovable, even. You are both young; with young people who +have many things in common and are thrown together in a community like +Sequoia, a lively friendship may develop into an ardent love; and it +has been my experience that ardent love not infrequently leads to the +altar." + +Shirley blushed, and her uncle chuckled good-naturedly. "Fortunately," +he continued, "Bryce Cardigan had the misfortune to show himself to +you in his true colours, and you had the good sense to dismiss him. +Consequently I see no reason why I should not explain to you now what +I considered it the part of wisdom to withhold from you at that +time--provided, of course, that all this does not bore you to +extinction." + +"Do go on, Uncle Seth. I'm tremendously interested," averred Shirley. + +"Shortly after I launched the Laguna Grande Lumber Company--in which, as +your guardian and executor of your father's estate, I deemed it wise to +invest part of your inheritance--I found myself forced to seek further +for sound investments for your surplus funds. Now, good timber, +bought cheap, inevitably will be sold dear. At least, such has been my +observation during a quarter of a century--and old John Cardigan +had some twenty thousand acres of the finest redwood timber in the +State--timber which had cost him an average price of less than fifty +cents per thousand. + +"Well, in this instance the old man had overreached himself, and finding +it necessary to increase his working capital, he incorporated his +holdings into the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company and floated a +bond-issue of a million dollars. They were twenty-year six per cent. +certificates; the security was ample, and I invested for you three +hundred thousand dollars in Cardigan bonds. I bought them at eighty, and +they were worth two hundred; at least, they would have been worth two +hundred under my management--" + +"How did you manage to buy them so cheap?" she interrupted. + +"Old Cardigan had had a long run of bad luck--due to bad management and +bad judgment, my dear--and when a corporation is bonded, the bondholders +have access to its financial statements. From time to time I discovered +bondholders who needed money and hence unloaded at a sacrifice; but by +far the majority of the bonds I purchased for your account were owned by +local people who had lost confidence in John Cardigan and the future of +the redwood lumber industry hereabouts. You understand, do you not?" + +"I do not understand what all this has to do with a railroad." + +"Very well--I shall proceed to explain." He held up his index finger. +"Item one: For years old John Cardigan has rendered valueless, because +inaccessible, twenty-five hundred acres of Laguna Grande timber on Squaw +Creek. His absurd Valley of the Giants blocks the outlet, and of course +he persisted in refusing me a right of way through that little dab of +timber in order to discourage me and force me to sell him that Squaw +Creek timber at his price." + +"Yes," Shirley agreed, "I dare say that was his object. Was it +reprehensible of him, Uncle Seth?" + +"Not a bit, my dear. He was simply playing the cold game of business. +I would have done the same thing to Cardigan had the situation been +reversed. We played a game together--and I admit that he won, fairly and +squarely." + +"Then why is it that you feel such resentment against him?" + +"Oh, I don't resent the old fool, Shirley. He merely annoys me. I +suppose I feel a certain natural chagrin at having been beaten, and in +consequence cherish an equally natural desire to pay the old schemer +back in his own coin. Under the rules as we play the game, such action +on my part is perfectly permissible, is it not?" + +"Yes," she agreed frankly, "I think it is, Uncle Seth. Certainly, if he +blocked you and rendered your timber valueless, there is no reason why, +if you have the opportunity, you should not block him--and render his +timber valueless." + +The Colonel banged the table with his fist so heartily that the silver +fairly leaped. "Spoken like a man!" he declared. "I HAVE the opportunity +and am proceeding to impress the Cardigans with the truth of the old +saying that every dog must have his day. When Cardigan's contract with +our road for the hauling of his logs expires by limitation next year, I +am not going to renew it--at least not until I have forced him to make +me the concessions I desire, and certainly not at the present ruinous +freight-rate." + +"Then," said Shirley eagerly, "if you got a right of way through his +Valley of the Giants, you would renew the contract he has with you for +the hauling of his logs, would you not?" + +"I would have, before young Cardigan raised such Hades that day in +the logging-camp, before old Cardigan sold his Valley of the Giants to +another burglar--and before I had gathered indubitable evidence that +neither of the Cardigans knows enough about managing a sawmill and +selling lumber to guarantee a reasonable profit on the capital they +have invested and still pay the interest on their bonded and floating +indebtedness. Shirley, I bought those Cardigan bonds for you because +I thought old Cardigan knew his business and would make the bonds +valuable--make them worth par. Instead, the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company is tottering on the verge of bankruptcy; the bonds I purchased +for you are now worth less than I paid for them, and by next year the +Cardigans will default on the interest. + +"So I'm going to sit tight and decline to have any more business +dealings with the Cardigans. When their hauling contract expires, I +shall not renew it under any circumstances; that will prevent them +from getting logs, and so they will automatically go out of the lumber +business and into the hands of a receiver; and since you are the largest +individual stockholder, I, representing you and a number of minor +bondholders, will dominate the executive committee of the bondholders +when they meet to consider what shall be done when the Cardigans default +on their interest and the payment due the sinking fund. I shall then +have myself appointed receiver for the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, +investigate its affairs thoroughly, and see for myself whether or no +there is a possibility of working it out of the jam it is in and saving +you a loss on your bonds. + +"I MUST pursue this course, my dear, in justice to you and the other +bondholders. If, on the other hand, I find the situation hopeless or +conclude that a period of several years must ensue before the Cardigans +work out of debt, I shall recommend to the bank which holds the deed of +trust and acts as trustee, that the property be sold at public auction +to the highest bidder to reimburse the bondholders. Of course," he +hastened to add, "if the property sells for more than the corporation +owes such excess will then in due course be turned over to the +Cardigans." + +"Is it likely to sell at a price in excess of the indebtedness?" Shirley +queried anxiously. + +"It is possible, but scarcely probable," he answered dryly. "I have in +mind, under those circumstances, bidding the property in for the Laguna +Grande Lumber Company and merging it with our holdings, paying part of +the purchase-price of the Cardigan property in Cardigan bonds, and the +remainder in cash." + +"But what will the Cardigans do then, Uncle Seth?" + +"Well, long before the necessity for such a contingency arises, the +old man will have been gathered to the bosom of Abraham; and after the +Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company has ceased to exist, young Cardigan can +go to work for a living." + +"Would you give him employment, Uncle Seth?" + +"I would not. Do you think I'm crazy, Shirley? Remember, my dear, +there is no sentiment in business. If there was, we wouldn't have any +business." + +"I think I understand, Uncle Seth--with the exception of what effect the +building of the N. C. O. has upon your plans." + +"Item two," he challenged, and ticked it off on his middle finger. "The +Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company owns two fine bodies of redwood +timber widely separated--one to the south of Sequoia in the San Hedrin +watershed and at present practically valueless because inaccessible, and +the other to the north of Sequoia, immediately adjoining our holdings +in Township Nine and valuable because of its accessibility." He paused +a moment and looked at her smilingly, "The logging railroad of our +corporation, the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, makes it accessible. Now, +while the building of the N.C.O. would be a grand thing for the county +in general, we can get along without it because it doesn't help us out +particularly. We already have a railroad running from our timber to +tidewater, and we can reach the markets of the world with our ships." + +"I think I understand, Uncle Seth. When Cardigan's hauling contract with +our road expires, his timber in Township Nine will depreciate in value +because it will no longer be accessible, while our timber, being still +accessible, retains its value." + +"Exactly. And to be perfectly frank with you, Shirley, I do not +want Cardigan's timber in Township Nine given back its value through +accessibility provided by the N.C.O. If that road is not built, +Cardigan's timber in Township Nine will be valuable to us, but not to +another living soul. Moreover, the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company has +a raft of fine timber still farther north and adjoining the holdings +of our company and Cardigan's, and if this infernal N.C.O. isn't built, +we'll be enabled to buy that Trinidad timber pretty cheap one of these +bright days, too." + +"All of which appears to me to constitute sound business logic, Uncle +Seth." + +He nodded. "Item three," he continued, and ticked it off on his third +finger: "I want to see the feeder for a transcontinental line built into +Sequoia from the south, for the reason that it will tap the Cardigan +holdings in the San Hedrin watershed and give a tremendous value +to timber which at the present time is rather a negative asset; +consequently I would prefer to have that value created after Cardigan's +San Hedrin timber has been merged with the assets of the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company." + +"And so--" + +"I must investigate this N.C.O. outfit and block it if possible--and it +should be possible." + +"How, for instance?" + +"I haven't considered the means, my dear. Those come later. For the +present I am convinced that the N.C.O. is a corporate joke, sprung on +the dear public by the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company to get the said +dear public excited, create a real-estate boom, and boost timber-values. +Before the boom collapses--a condition which will follow the collapse of +the N.C.O.--the Trinidad people hope to sell their holdings and get from +under." + +"Really," said Shirley, demurely, "the more I see of business, the more +fascinating I find it." + +"Shirley, it's the grandest game in the world." + +"And yet," she added musingly, "old Mr. Cardigan is so blind and +helpless." + +"They'll be saying that about me some day if I live to be as old as John +Cardigan." + +"Nevertheless, I feel sorry for him, Uncle Seth." + +"Well, if you'll continue to waste your sympathy on him rather than on +his son, I'll not object," he retorted laughingly. + +"Oh, Bryce Cardigan is able to take care of himself." + +"Yes, and mean enough." + +"He saved our lives, Uncle Seth." + +"He had to--in order to save his own. Don't forget that, my dear." +Carefully he dissected a sand-dab and removed the backbone. "I'd give +a ripe peach to learn the identity of the scheming buttinsky who bought +old Cardigan's Valley of the Giants," he said presently. "I'll be hanged +if that doesn't complicate matters a little." + +"You should have bought it when the opportunity offered," she reminded +him. "You could have had it then for fifty thousand dollars less than +you would have paid for it a year ago--and I'm sure that should have +been sufficient indication to you that the game you and the Cardigans +had been playing so long had come to an end. He was beaten and +acknowledged it, and I think you might have been a little more generous +to your fallen enemy, Uncle Seth." + +"I dare say," he admitted lightly. "However, I wasn't, and now I'm going +to be punished for it, my dear: so don't roast me any more. By the +way, that speckled hot-air fellow Ogilvy, who is promoting the Northern +California Oregon Railroad, is back in town again. Somehow, I haven't +much confidence in that fellow. I think I'll wire the San Francisco +office to look him up in Dun's and Bradstreet's. Folks up this way are +taking too much for granted on that fellow's mere say--so, but I for +one intend to delve for facts--particularly with regard to the N.C.O. +bank-roll and Ogilvy's associates. I'd sleep a whole lot more soundly +to-night if I knew the answer to two very important questions." + +"What are they, Uncle Seth?" + +"Well, I'd like to know whether the N.C.O. is genuine or a screen to +hide the operations of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company." + +"It might," said Shirley, with one of those sudden flashes of intuition +peculiar to women, "be a screen to hide the operations of Bryce +Cardigan. Now that he knows you aren't going to renew his hauling +contract, he may have decided to build his own logging railroad." + +After a pause the Colonel made answer: "No, I have no fear of that. It +would cost five hundred thousand dollars to build that twelve-mile +line and bridge Mad River, and the Cardigans haven't got that amount of +money. What's more, they can't get it." + +"But suppose," she persisted, "that the real builder of the road should +prove to be Bryce Cardigan, after all. What would you do?" + +Colonel Pennington's eyes twinkled. "I greatly fear, my dear, I should +make a noise like something doing." + +"Suppose you lost the battle." + +"In that event the Laguna Grande Lumber Company wouldn't be any worse +off than it is at present. The principal loser, as I view the situation, +would be Miss Shirley Sumner, who has the misfortune to be loaded up +with Cardigan bonds. And as for Bryce Cardigan--well, that young man +would certainly know he'd been through a fight." + +"I wonder if he'll fight to the last, Uncle Seth." + +"Why, I believe he will," Pennington replied soberly. + +"I'd love to see you beat him." + +"Shirley! Why, my dear, you're growing ferocious." Her uncle's tones +were laden with banter, but his countenance could not conceal the +pleasure her last remark had given him. + +"Why not? I have something at stake, have I not?" + +"Then you really want me to smash him?" The Colonel's voice proclaimed +his incredulity. + +"You got me into this fight by buying Cardigan bonds for me," she +replied meaningly, "and I look to you to save the investment or as +much of it as possible; for certainly, if it should develop that the +Cardigans are the real promoters of the N.C.O., to permit them to go +another half-million dollars into debt in a forlorn hope of saving a +company already top-heavy with indebtedness wouldn't savor of common +business sense. Would it?" + +The Colonel rose hastily, came around the table, and kissed her +paternally. "My dear," he murmured, "you're such a comfort to me. Upon +my word, you are." + +"I'm so glad you have explained the situation to me, Uncle Seth." + +"I would have explained it long ago had I not cherished a sneaking +suspicion that--er--well, that despite everything, young Cardigan +might--er--influence you against your better judgment and--er--mine." + +"You silly man!" + +He shrugged. "One must figure every angle of a possible situation, my +dear, and I should hesitate to start something with the Cardigans, and +have you, because of foolish sentiment, call off my dogs." + +Shirley thrust out her adorable chin aggressively. "Sick 'em. Tige!" she +answered. "Shake 'em up, boy!" + +"You bet I'll shake 'em up," the Colonel declared joyously. He +paused with a morsel of food on his fork and waved the fork at her +aggressively. "You stimulate me into activity, Shirley. My mind has been +singularly dull of late; I have worried unnecessarily, but now that I +know you are with me, I am inspired. I'll tell you how we'll fix this +new railroad, if it exhibits signs of being dangerous." Again he smote +the table. "We'll sew 'em up tighter than a new buttonhole." + +"Do tell me how," she pleaded eagerly. + +"I'll block them on their franchise to run over the city streets of +Sequoia." + +"How?" + +"By making the mayor and the city council see things my way," he +answered dryly. "Furthermore, in order to enter Sequoia, the N. C. O. +will have to cross the tracks of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's line +on Water Street--make a jump-crossing--and I'll enjoin them and hold +them up in the courts till the cows come home." + +"Uncle Seth, you're a wizard." + +"Well, at least I'm no slouch at looking after my own interests--and +yours, Shirley. In the midst of peace we should be prepared for war. +You've met Mayor Poundstone and his lady, haven't you?" + +"I had tea at her house last week." + +"Good news. Suppose you invite her and Poundstone here for dinner some +night this week. Just a quiet little family dinner, Shirley, and after +dinner you can take Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, on some pretext or other, +while I sound Poundstone out on his attitude toward the N. C. O. They +haven't asked for a franchise yet; at least, the Sentinel hasn't printed +a word about it;--but when they do, of course the franchise will be +advertised for sale to the highest bidder. Naturally, I don't want to +bid against them; they might run the price up on me and leave me with +a franchise on my hands--something I do not want, because I have no use +for the blamed thing myself. I feel certain, however, I can find some +less expensive means of keeping them out of it--say by convincing +Poundstone and a majority of the city council that the N. C. O. is not +such a public asset as its promoters claim for it. Hence I think it wise +to sound the situation out in advance, don't you, my dear?" + +She nodded. "I shall attend to the matter, Uncle Seth." + +Five minutes after dinner was over, Shirley joined her uncle in the +library and announced that His Honor, the Mayor, and Mrs. Poundstone, +would be delighted to dine with them on the following Thursday night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +To return to Bryce Cardigan: Having completed his preliminary plans +to build the N. C. O., Bryce had returned to Sequoia, prepared to sit +quietly on the side-lines and watch his peppery henchman Buck Ogilvy go +into action. The more Bryce considered that young man's fitness for +the position he occupied, the more satisfied did he become with his +decision. While he had not been in touch with Ogilvy for several years, +he had known him intimately at Princeton. + +In his last year at college Ogilvy's father, a well-known railroad +magnate, had come a disastrous cropper in the stock market, thus +throwing Buck upon his own resources and cutting short his college +career--which was probably the very best thing that could happen to +his father's son. For a brief period--perhaps five minutes--Buck had +staggered under the blow; then his tremendous optimism had asserted +itself, and while he packed his trunk, he had planned for the future. +As to how that future had developed, the reader will have gleaned +some slight idea from the information imparted in his letter to Bryce +Cardigan, already quoted. In a word, Mr. Ogilvy had had his ups and +downs. + +Ogilvy's return to Sequoia following his three-weeks tour in search of +rights of way for the N. C. O. was heralded by a visit from him to +Bryce Cardigan at the latter's office. As he breasted the counter in the +general office, Moira McTavish left her desk and came over to see what +the visitor desired. + +"I should like to see Mr. Bryce Cardigan," Buck began in crisp +businesslike accents. He was fumbling in his card-case and did not look +up until about to hand his card to Moira--when his mouth flew half open, +the while he stared at her with consummate frankness. The girl's glance +met his momentarily, then was lowered modestly; she took the card and +carried it to Bryce. + +"Hum-m-m!" Bryce grunted. "That noisy fellow Ogilvy, eh?" + +"His clothes are simply wonderful--and so is his voice. He's very +refined. But he's carroty red and has freckled hands, Mr. Bryce." + +Bryce rose and sauntered into the general office. + +"Mr. Bryce Cardigan?" Buck queried politely, with an interrogative lift +of his blond eyebrows. + +"At your service, Mr. Ogilvy. Please come in." + +"Thank you so much, sir." He followed Bryce to the latter's private +office, closed the door carefully behind him, and stood with his broad +back against it. + +"Buck, are you losing your mind?" Bryce demanded. + +"Losing it? I should say not. I've just lost it." + +"I believe you. If you were quite sane, you wouldn't run the risk of +being seen entering my office." + +"Tut-tut, old dear! None of that! Am I not the main-spring of the +Northern California Oregon Railroad and privileged to run the destinies +of that soulless corporation as I see fit?" He sat down, crossed his +long legs, and jerked a speckled thumb toward the outer office. "I was +sane when I came in here, but the eyes of the girl outside--oh, yow, +them eyes! I must be introduced to her. And you're scolding me for +coming around here in broad daylight. Why, you duffer, if I come at +night, d'ye suppose I'd have met her? Be sensible." + +"You like Moira's eyes, eh?" + +"I've never seen anything like them. Zounds, I'm afire. I have little +prickly sensations, like ants running over me. How can you be insensate +enough to descend to labour with an houri like that around? Oh, man! To +think of an angel like that WORKING--to think of a brute like you making +her work!" + +"Love at first sight, eh, Buck?" + +"I don't know what it is, but it's nice. Who is she?" + +"She's Moira McTavish, and you're not to make love to her. Understand? I +can't have you snooping around this office after to-day." + +Mr. Ogilvy's eyes popped with interest. "Oh," he breathed. "You have an +eye to the main chance yourself have you? Have you proposed to the lady +as yet?" + +"No, you idiot." + +"Then I'll match you for her--or rather for the chance to propose +first." Buck produced a dollar and spun it in the air. + +"Nothing doing, Buck. Spare yourself these agonizing suspicions. The +fact of the matter is that you give me a wonderful inspiration. I've +always been afraid Moira would fall in love with some ordinary fellow +around Sequoia--propinquity, you know--" + +"You bet. Propinquity's the stuff. I'll stick around." + +"--and I we been on the lookout for a fine man to marry her off to. +She's too wonderful for you, Buck, but in time you might learn to live +up to her." + +"Duck! I'm liable to kiss you." + +"Don't be too precipitate. Her father used to be our woods-boss. I fired +him for boozing." + +"I wouldn't care two hoots if her dad was old Nick himself. I'm going to +marry her--if she'll have me. Ah, the glorious creature!" He waved his +long arms despairingly. "O Lord, send me a cure for freckles. Bryce, +you'll speak a kind word for me, won't you--sort of boom my stock, eh? +Be a good fellow." + +"Certainly. Now come down to earth and render a report on your +stewardship." + +"I'll try. To begin, I've secured rights of way, at a total cost of +twelve thousand, one hundred and three dollars and nine cents, from +the city limits of Sequoia to the southern boundary of your timber in +Township Nine. I've got my line surveyed, and so far as the building of +the road is concerned, I know exactly what I'm going to do, and how and +when I'm going to do it, once I get my material on the ground." + +"What steps have you taken toward securing your material?" + +"Well, I can close a favourable contract for steel rails with the +Colorado Steel Products Company. Their schedule of deliveries is O. +K. as far as San Francisco, but it's up to you to provide water +transportation from there to Sequoia." + +"We can handle the rails on our steam schooners. Next?" + +"I have an option of a rattling good second-hand locomotive down at +the Santa Fe shops, and the Hawkins & Barnes Construction Company have +offered me a steam shovel, half a dozen flat-cars, and a lot of fresnos +and scrapers at ruinous prices. This equipment is pretty well worn, and +they want to get rid of it before buying new stuff for their contract +to build the Arizona and Sonora Central. However, it is first-rate +equipment for us, because it will last until we're through with it; then +we can scrap it for junk. We can buy or rent teams from local citizens +and get half of our labour locally. San Francisco employment bureaus +will readily supply the remainder, and I have half a dozen fine boys +on tap to boss the steam shovel, pile-driver, bridge-building gang, +track-layer and construction gang. And as soon as you tell me how I'm to +get my material ashore and out on the job, I'll order it and get busy." + +"That's exactly where the shoe begins to pinch, Pennington's main-line +tracks enter the city along Water Street, with one spur into his +log-dump and another out on his mill-dock. From the main-line tracks we +also have built a spur through our drying-yard out to our log-dump and a +switch-line out on to our milldock. We can unload our locomotive, steam +shovel, and flat-cars on our own wharf, but unless Pennington gives us +permission to use his main-line tracks out to a point beyond the city +limits--where a Y will lead off to the point where our construction +begins--we're up a stump." + +"Suppose he refuses, Bryce. What then?" + +"Why, we'll simply have to enter the city down Front Street, paralleling +Pennington's tracks on Water Street, turning down B Street, make a +jump-crossing of Pennington's line on Water Street, and connecting with +the spur into our yard." + +"Can't have an elbow turn at Front and B streets?" + +"Don't have to. We own a square block on that corner, and we'll build +across it, making a gradual turn." + +"See here, my son," Buck said solemnly, "is this your first adventure in +railroad building?" + +Bryce nodded. + +"I thought so; otherwise you wouldn't talk so confidently of running +your line over city streets and making jump-crossings on your +competitor's road. If your competitor regards you as a menace to his +pocketbook, he can give you a nice little run for your money and delay +you indefinitely." + +"I realize that, Buck. That's why I'm not appearing in this railroad +deal at all. If Pennington suspected I was back of it, he'd fight me +before the city council and move heaven and earth to keep me out of a +franchise to use the city streets and cross his line. Of course, since +his main line runs on city property, under a franchise granted by the +city, the city has a perfect right to grant me the privilege of making a +jump-crossing of his line---" + +"Will they do it? That's the problem. If they will not, you're licked, +my son, and I'm out of a job." + +"We can sue and condemn a right of way." + +"Yes, but if the city council puts up a plea that it is against the best +interests of the city to grant the franchise, you'll find that except in +most extraordinary cases, the courts regard it as against public policy +to give judgment against a municipality, the State or the Government of +the United States. At any rate, they'll hang you up in the courts till +you die of old age; and as I understand the matter, you have to have +this line running in less than a year, or go out of business." + +Bryce hung his head thoughtfully. "I've been too cocksure," he muttered +presently. "I shouldn't have spent that twelve thousand for rights of +way until I had settled the matter of the franchise." + +"Oh, I didn't buy any rights of way--yet," Ogilvy hastened to assure +him. "I've only signed the land-owners up on an agreement to give or +sell me a right of way at the stipulated figures any time within +one year from date. The cost of the surveying gang and my salary and +expenses are all that you are out to date." + +"Buck, you're a wonder." + +"Not at all. I've merely been through all this before and have profited +by my experience. Now, then, to get back to our muttons. Will the city +council grant you a franchise to enter the city and jump Pennington's +tracks?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, Buck. You'll have to ask them--sound them out. +The city council meets Saturday morning." + +"They'll meet this evening--in the private diningroom of the Hotel +Sequoia, if I can arrange it," Buck Ogilvy declared emphatically. "I'm +going to have them all up for dinner and talk the matter over. I'm not +exactly aged, Bryce, but I've handled about fifteen city councils +and county boards of supervisors, not to mention Mexican and Central +American governors and presidents, in my day, and I know the breed from +cover to cover. Following a preliminary conference, I'll let you know +whether you're going to get that franchise without difficulty or whether +somebody's itchy palm will have to be crossed with silver first. Honest +men never temporize. You know where they stand, but a grafter temporizes +and plays a waiting game, hoping to wear your patience down to the point +where you'll ask him bluntly to name his figure. By the way, what do you +know about your blighted old city council, anyway?" + +"Two of the five councilmen are for sale; two are honest men--and one +is an uncertain quantity. The mayor is a politician. I've known them all +since boyhood, and if I dared come out in the open, I think that even +the crooks have sentiment enough for what the Cardigans stand for in +this county to decline to hold me up." + +"Then why not come out in the open and save trouble and expense?" + +"I am not ready to have a lot of notes called on me," Bryce replied +dryly. "Neither am I desirous of having the Laguna Grande Lumber Company +start a riot in the redwood lumber market by cutting prices to a point +where I would have to sell my lumber at a loss in order to get hold of a +little ready money. Neither do I desire to have trees felled across the +right of way of Pennington's road after his trainloads of logs have gone +through and before mine have started from the woods. I don't want my +log-landings jammed until I can't move, and I don't want Pennington's +engineer to take a curve in such a hurry that he'll whip my loaded +logging-trucks off into a canon and leave me hung up for lack of +rolling-stock. I tell you, the man has me under his thumb, and the only +way I can escape is to slip out when he isn't looking. He can do too +many things to block the delivery of my logs and then dub them acts +of God, in order to avoid a judgment against him on suit for +non-performance of his hauling contract with this company." + +"Hum-m-m! Slimy old beggar, isn't he? I dare say he wouldn't hesitate to +buy the city council to block you, would he?" + +"I know he'll lie and steal. I dare say he'd corrupt a public official." + +Buck Ogilvy rose and stretched himself. "I've got my work cut out for +me, haven't I?" he declared with a yawn. "However, it'll be a fight +worth while, and that at least will make it interesting. Well?" + +Bryce pressed the buzzer on his desk, and a moment later Moira entered. +"Permit me, Moira, to present Mr. Ogilvy. Mr. Ogilvy, Miss McTavish." +The introduction having been acknowledged by both parties, Bryce +continued: "Mr. Ogilvy will have frequent need to interview me at this +office, Moira, but it is our joint desire that his visits here shall +remain a profound secret to everybody with the exception of ourselves. +To that end he will hereafter call at night, when this portion of the +town is absolutely deserted. You have an extra key to the office, Moira. +I wish you would give it to Mr. Ogilvy." + +The girl nodded. "Mr. Ogilvy will have to take pains to avoid our +watchman," she suggested. + +"That is a point well taken, Moira. Buck, when you call, make it a point +to arrive here promptly on the hour. The watchman will be down in the +mill then, punching the time-clock." + +Again Moira inclined her dark head and withdrew. Mr. Buck Ogilvy +groaned. "God speed the day when you can come out from under and I'll +be permitted to call during office hours," he murmured. He picked up +his hat and withdrew, via the general office. Half an hour later, Bryce +looked out and saw him draped over the counter, engaged in animated +conversation with Moira McTavish. Before Ogilvy left, he had managed to +impress Moira with a sense of the disadvantage under which he laboured +through being forced, because of circumstances Mr. Cardigan would +doubtless relate to her in due course, to abandon all hope of seeing her +at the office--at least for some time to come. Then he spoke feelingly +of the unmitigated horror of being a stranger in a strange town, forced +to sit around hotel lobbies with drummers and other lost souls, and drew +from Moira the assurance that it wasn't more distressing than having to +sit around a boardinghouse night after night watching old women tat and +tattle. + +This was the opening Buck Ogilvy had sparred for. Fixing Moira with his +bright blue eyes, he grinned boldly and said: "Suppose, Miss McTavish, +we start a league for the dispersion of gloom. You be the president, and +I'll be the financial secretary." + +"How would the league operate?" Moira demanded cautiously. + +"Well, it might begin by giving a dinner to all the members, followed +by a little motor-trip into the country next Saturday afternoon," Buck +suggested. + +Moira's Madonna glance appraised him steadily. "I haven't known you very +long, Mr. Ogilvy," she reminded him. + +"Oh, I'm easy to get acquainted with," he retorted lightly. "Besides, +don't I come well recommended?" He pondered for a moment. Then: "I'll +tell you what, Miss McTavish. Suppose we put it up to Bryce Cardigan. +If he says it's all right we'll pull off the party. If he says it's all +wrong, I'll go out and drown myself--and fairer words than them has no +man spoke." + +"I'll think it over," said Moira. + +"By all means. Never decide such an important matter in a hurry. Just +tell me your home telephone number, and I'll ring up at seven this +evening for your decision." + +Reluctantly Moira gave him the number. She was not at all prejudiced +against this carroty stranger--in fact, she had a vague suspicion that +he was a sure cure for the blues, an ailment which she suffered from +all too frequently; and, moreover, his voice, his respectful manner, +his alert eyes, and his wonderful clothing were all rather alluring. +Womanlike, she was flattered at being noticed--particularly by a man +like Ogilvy, whom it was plain to be seen was vastly superior to any +male even in Sequoia, with the sole exception of Bryce Cardigan. The +flutter of a great adventure was in Moira's heart, and the flush of +a thousand roses in her cheeks when, Buck Ogilvy having at length +departed, she went into Bryce's private office to get his opinion as to +the propriety of accepting the invitation. + +Bryce listened to her gravely as with all the sweet innocence of her +years and unworldliness she laid the Ogilvy proposition before him. + +"By all means, accept," he counselled her. "Buck Ogilvy is one of the +finest gentlemen you'll ever meet. I'll stake my reputation on him. +You'll find him vastly amusing, Moira. He'd make Niobe forget her +troubles, and he DOES know how to order a dinner." + +"Don't you think I ought to have a chaperon?" + +"Well, it isn't necessary, although it's good form in a small town like +Sequoia, where everybody knows everybody else." + +"I thought so," Moira murmured thoughtfully. "I'll ask Miss Sumner to +come with us. Mr. Ogilvy won't mind the extra expense, I'm sure." + +"He'll be delighted," Bryce assured her maliciously. "Ask Miss Sumner, +by all means." + +When Moira had left him, Bryce sighed. "Gosh!" he murmured. "I wish I +could go, too." + +He was roused from his bitter introspections presently by the ringing of +the telephone. To his amazement Shirley Sumner was calling him! + +"You're a wee bit surprised, aren't you, Mr. Cardigan?" she said +teasingly. + +"I am," he answered honestly. "I had a notion I was quite persona non +grata with you." + +"Are you relieved to find you are not? You aren't, you know." + +"Thank you. I am relieved." + +"I suppose you're wondering why I have telephoned to you?" + +"No, I haven't had time. The suddenness of it all has left me more or +less dumb. Why did you ring up?" + +"I wanted some advice. Suppose you wanted very, very much to know what +two people were talking about, but found yourself in a position where +you couldn't eavesdrop. What would you do?" + +"I wouldn't eavesdrop," he told her severely. "That isn't a nice thing +to do, and I didn't think you would contemplate anything that isn't +nice." + +"I wouldn't ordinarily. But I have every moral, ethical, and financial +right to be a party to that conversation, only--well--" + +"With you present there would be no conversation--is that it?" + +"Exactly, Mr. Cardigan." + +"And it is of the utmost importance that you should know what is said?" + +"Yes." + +"And you do not intend to use your knowledge of this conversation, when +gained, for an illegal or unethical purpose?" + +"I do not. On the contrary, if I am aware of what is being planned, I +can prevent others from doing something illegal and unethical." + +"In that event, Shirley, I should say you are quite justified in +eavesdropping." + +"But how can I do it? I can't hide in a closet and listen." + +"Buy a dictograph and have it hidden in the room where the conversation +takes place. It will record every word of it." + +"Where can I buy one?" + +"In San Francisco." + +"Will you telephone to your San Francisco office and have them buy one +for me and ship it to you, together with directions for using. George +Sea Otter can bring it over to me when it arrives." + +"Shirley, this is most extraordinary." + +"I quite realize that. May I depend upon you to oblige me in this +matter?" + +"Certainly. But why pick on me, of all persons, to perform such a +mission for you?" + +"I can trust you to forget that you have performed it." + +"Thank you. I think you may safely trust me. And I shall attend to the +matter immediately." + +"You are very kind, Mr. Cardigan. How is your dear old father? Moira +told me sometime ago that he was ill." + +"He's quite well again, thank you. By the way, Moira doesn't know that +you and I have ever met. Why don't you tell her?" + +"I can't answer that question--now. Perhaps some day I may be in a +position to do so." + +"It's too bad the circumstances are such that we, who started out to be +such agreeable friends, see so little of each other, Shirley." + +"Indeed, it is. However, it's all your fault. I have told you once how +you can obviate that distressing situation. But you're so stubborn, Mr. +Cardigan." + +"I haven't got to the point where I like crawling on my hands and +knees," he flared back at her. + +"Even for your sake, I decline to simulate friendship or tolerance for +your uncle; hence I must be content to let matters stand as they are +between us." + +She laughed lightly. "So you are still uncompromisingly +belligerent--still after Uncle Seth's scalp?" + +"Yes; and I think I'm going to get it. At any rate, he isn't going to +get mine." + +"Don't you think you're rather unjust to make me suffer for the sins of +my relative, Bryce?" she demanded. + +She had called him by his first name. He thrilled. "I'm lost in a +quagmire of debts--I'm helpless now," he murmured. "I'm not fighting +for myself alone, but for a thousand dependents--for a principle--for +an ancient sentiment that was my father's and is now mine. You do not +understand." + +"I understand more than you give me credit for, and some day you'll +realize it. I understand just enough to make me feel sorry for you. I +understand what even my uncle doesn't suspect at present, and that +is that you're the directing genius of the Northern California Oregon +Railroad and hiding behind your friend Ogilvy. Now, listen to me, Bryce +Cardigan: You're never going to build that road. Do you understand?" + +The suddenness of her attack amazed him to such an extent that he did +not take the trouble to contradict her. Instead he blurted out, angrily +and defiantly: "I'll build that road if it costs me my life--if it costs +me you. Understand! I'm in this fight to win." + +"You will not build that road," she reiterated. + +"Why?" + +"Because I shall not permit you to. I have some financial interest +in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, and it is not to that financial +interest that you should build the N.C.O." + +"How did you find out I was behind Ogilvy?" + +"Intuition. Then I accused you of it, and you admitted it." + +"I suppose you're going to tell your uncle now," he retorted +witheringly. + +"On the contrary, I am not. I greatly fear I was born with a touch of +sporting blood, Mr. Cardigan, so I'm going to let you two fight until +you're exhausted, and then I'm going to step in and decide the issue. +You can save money by surrendering now. I hold the whip hand." + +"I prefer to fight. With your permission this bout will go to a +knockout." + +"I'm not so certain I do not like you all the more for that decision. +And if it will comfort you the least bit, you have my word of honour +that I shall not reveal to my uncle the identity of the man behind the +N. C. O. I'm not a tattletale, you know, and moreover I have a great +curiosity to get to the end of the story. The fact is, both you and +Uncle Seth annoy me exceedingly. How lovely everything would have been +if you two hadn't started this feud and forced upon me the task of +trying to be fair and impartial to you both." + +"Can you remain fair and impartial?" + +"I think I can--even up to the point of deciding whether or not you are +going to build that road. Then I shall act independently of you both. +Forgive my slang, but--I'm going to hand you each a poke then." + +"Shirley," he told her earnestly, "listen carefully to what I am about +to say: I love you. I've loved you from the day I first met you. I shall +always love you; and when I get around to it, I'm going to ask you +to marry me. At present, however, that is a right I do not possess. +However, the day I acquire the right I shall exercise it." + +"And when will that day be?" Very softly, in awesome tones! + +"The day I drive the last spike in the N. C. O." + +Fell a silence. Then: "I'm glad, Bryce Cardigan, you're not a quitter. +Good-bye, good luck--and don't forget my errand." She hung up and sat +at the telephone for a moment, dimpled chin in dimpled hand, her glance +wandering through the window and far away across the roofs of the town +to where the smoke-stack of Cardigan's mill cut the sky-line. "How I'd +hate you if I could handle you!" she murmured. + +Following this exasperating but illuminating conversation with Shirley +Sumner over the telephone, Bryce Cardigan was a distressed and badly +worried man. However, Bryce was a communicant of a very simple faith--to +wit, that one is never whipped till one is counted out, and the first +shock of Shirley's discovery having passed, he wasted no time in +vain repinings but straightway set himself to scheme a way out of his +dilemma. + +For an hour he sat slouched in his chair, chin on breast, the while he +reviewed every angle of the situation. + +He found it impossible, however, to dissociate the business from the +personal aspects of his relations with Shirley, and he recalled that she +had the very best of reasons for placing their relations on a business +basis rather than a sentimental one. He had played a part in their +little drama which he knew must have baffled and infuriated her. More, +had she, in those delightful few days of their early acquaintance, +formed for him a sentiment somewhat stronger than friendship (he did +not flatter himself that this was so), he could understand her attitude +toward him as that of the woman scorned. For the present, however, it +was all a profound and disturbing mystery, and after an hour of futile +concentration there came to Bryce the old childish impulse to go to +his father with his troubles. That sturdy old soul, freed from the hot +passions of youth, its impetuosity and its proneness to consider cause +rather than effect, had weathered too many storms in his day to permit +the present one to benumb his brain as it had his son's. + +"He will be able to think without having his thoughts blotted out by a +woman's face," Bryce soliloquized. "He's like one of his own big redwood +trees; his head is always above the storm." + +Straightway Bryce left the office and went home to the old house on the +knoll. John Cardigan was sitting on the veranda, and from a stand beside +him George Sea Otter entertained him with a phonograph selection--"The +Suwanee River," sung by a male quartet. As the gate clicked, John raised +his head; then as Bryce's quick step spurned the cement walk up +the little old-fashioned garden, he rose and stood with one hand +outstretched and trembling a little. He could not see, but with the +intuition of the blind, he knew. + +"What is it, son?" he demanded gently as Bryce came up the low steps. +"George, choke that contraption off." + +Bryce took his father's hand. "I'm in trouble, John Cardigan," he said +simply, "and I'm not big enough to handle it alone." + +The leonine old man smiled, and his smile had all the sweetness of a +benediction. His boy was in trouble and had come to him. Good! Then he +would not fail him. "Sit down, son, and tell the old man all about it. +Begin at the beginning and let me have all the angles of the angle." + +Bryce obeyed, and for the first time John Cardigan learned of his son's +acquaintance with Shirley Sumner and the fact that she had been present +in Pennington's woods the day Bryce had gone there to settle the score +with Jules Rondeau. In the wonderful first flush of his love a sense of +embarrassment, following his discovery of the fact that his father and +Colonel Pennington were implacable enemies, had decided Bryce not +to mention the matter of the girl to John Cardigan until the ENTENTE +CORDIALE between Pennington and his father could be reestablished, for +Bryce had, with the optimism of his years, entertained for a few days a +thought that he could bring about this desirable condition of affairs. +The discovery that he could not, together with his renunciation of his +love until he should succeed in protecting his heritage and eliminating +the despair that had come upon his father in the latter's old age, had +further operated to render unnecessary any discussion of the girl with +the old man. + +With the patience and gentleness of a confessor John Cardigan heard the +story now, and though Bryce gave no hint in words that his affections +were involved in the fight for the Cardigan acres, yet did his father +know It, for he was a parent. And his great heart went out in sympathy +for his boy. + +"I understand, sonny, I understand. This young lady is only one +additional reason why you must win, for of course you understand she is +not indifferent to you." + +"I do not know that she feels for me anything stronger than a vagrant +sympathy, Dad, for while she is eternally feminine, nevertheless she has +a masculine way of looking at many things. She is a good comrade with +a bully sense of sportsmanship, and unlike her skunk of an uncle, she +fights in the open. Under the circumstances, however, her first loyalty +is to him; in fact, she owes none to me. And I dare say he has given +her some extremely plausible reason why we should be eliminated; while +I think she is sorry that it must be done, nevertheless, in a mistaken +impulse of self-protection she is likely to let him do it." + +"Perhaps, perhaps. One never knows why a woman does things, although it +is a safe bet that if they're with you at all, they're with you all the +way. Eliminate the girl, my boy. She's trying to play fair to you and +her relative. Let us concentrate on Pennington." + +"The entire situation hinges on that jump-crossing of his tracks on +Water Street." + +"He doesn't know you plan to cross them, does he?" + +"No." + +"Then, lad, your job is to get your crossing in before he finds out, +isn't it?" + +"Yes, but it is an impossible task, partner. I'm not Aladdin, you know. +I have to have a franchise from the city council, and I have to have +rails." + +"Both are procurable, my son. Induce the city council to grant you a +temporary franchise to-morrow, and buy your rails from Pennington. He +has a mile of track running up Laurel Creek, and Laurel Creek was logged +out three years ago. I believe that spur is useless to Pennington, and +the ninety-pound rails are rusting there." + +"But will he sell them to me?" + +"Not if you tell him why you want them." + +"But he hates me, old pal." + +"The Colonel never permits sentiment to interfere with business, my son. +He doesn't need the rails, and he does desire your money. Consider the +rail-problem settled." + +"How do you stand with the Mayor and the council?" + +"I do not stand at all. I opposed Poundstone for the office; Dobbs, +who was appointed to fill a vacancy caused by the death of a regularly +elected councilman, was once a bookkeeper in our office, you will +remember. I discharged him for looting the petty-cash drawer. Andrews +and Mullin are professional politicians and not to be trusted. In fact, +Poundstone, Dobbs, Andrews, and Mullin are known as the Solid Four. +Yates and Thatcher, the remaining members of the city council, are +the result of the reform ticket last fall, but since they are in the +minority, they are helpless." + +"That makes it bad." + +"Not at all. The Cardigans are not known to be connected with the N. C. +O. Send your bright friend Ogilvy after that franchise. He's the only +man who can land it. Give him a free hand and tell him to deliver the +goods by any means short of bribery. I imagine he's had experience +with city councils and will know exactly how to proceed. I KNOW you +can procure the rails and have them at the intersection of B and Water +streets Thursday night. If Ogilvy can procure the temporary franchise +and have it in his pocket by six o'clock Thursday night, you should have +that crossing in by sunup Friday morning. Then let Pennington rave. He +cannot procure an injunction to restrain us from cutting his tracks, +thus throwing the matter into the courts and holding us up indefinitely, +because by the time he wakes up, the tracks will have been cut. The best +he can do then will be to fight us before the city council when we apply +for our permanent franchise. Thank God, however, the name of Cardigan +carries weight in this county, and with the pressure of public sympathy +and opinion back of us, we may venture, my boy, to break a lance with +the Solid Four, should they stand with Pennington." + +"Partner, it looks like a forlorn hope," said Bryce. + +"Well, you're the boy to lead it. And it will cost but little to put +in the crossing and take a chance. Remember, Bryce, once we have that +crossing in, it stands like a spite-fence between Pennington and the law +which he knows so well how to pervert to suit his ignoble purposes." He +turned earnestly to Bryce and waved a trembling admonitory finger. "Your +job is to keep out of court. Once Pennington gets the law on us, +the issue will not be settled in our favour for years; and in the +meantime--you perish. Run along now and hunt up Ogilvy. George, play +that 'Suwannee River' quartet again. It sort o' soothes me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +It was with a considerably lighter heart that Bryce returned to the +mill-office, from which he lost no time in summoning Buck Ogilvy by +telephone. + +"Thanks so much for the invitation," Ogilvy murmured gratefully. "I'll +be down in a pig's whisper." And he was. "Bryce, you look like the +devil," he declared the moment he entered the latter's private office. + +"I ought to, Buck. I've just raised the devil and spilled the beans on +the N. C. O." + +"To whom, when, and where?" + +"To Pennington's niece, over the telephone about two hours ago." + +Buck Ogilvy smote his left palm with his right fist. "And you've waited +two hours to confess your crime? Zounds, man, this is bad." + +"I know. Curse me, Buck. I've probably talked you out of a good job." + +"Oh, say not so, old settler. We may still have an out. How did you let +the cat out of the bag?" + +"That remarkable girl called me up, and accused you of being a mere +screen for me and amazed me so I admitted it." + +Ogilvy dropped his red head in simulated agony and moaned. Presently he +raised it and said: "Well, it might have been worse. Think of what +might have happened had she called in person. She would have picked your +pocket for the corporate seal, the combination of the safe, and the list +of stockholders, and probably ended up by gagging you and binding you in +your own swivel-chair." + +"Don't, Buck. Comfort and not abuse is what I need now." + +"All right. I'll conclude my remarks by stating that I regard you as +a lovable fat-head devoid of sufficient mental energy to pound the +proverbial sand into the proverbial rat-hole. Now, then, what do you +want me to do to save the day?" + +"Deliver to me by six o'clock Thursday night a temporary franchise from +the city council, granting the N. C. O. the right to run a railroad from +our drying-yard across Water Street at its intersection with B Street +and out Front Street." + +"Certainly. By all means! Easiest thing I do! Sure you don't want me to +arrange to borrow a star or two to make a ta-ra-ra for the lady that's +made a monkey out of you? No? All right, old dear! I'm on my way to +do my damnedest, which angels can't do no more. Nevertheless, for your +sins, you shall do me a favour before my heart breaks after falling down +on this contract you've just given me." + +"Granted, Buck. Name it." + +"I'm giving a nice little private, specially cooked dinner to Miss +McTavish to-night. We're going to pull it off in one of those private +screened corrals in that highly decorated Chink restauraw on Third +Street. Moira--that is, Miss McTavish--is bringing a chaperon, one Miss +Shirley Sumner. Your job is to be my chaperon and entertain Miss Sumner, +who from all accounts is most brilliant and fascinating." + +"Nothing doing!" Bryce almost roared. "Why, she's the girl that bluffed +the secret of the N. C. O. out of me!" + +"Do you hate her for it?" + +"No, I hate myself." + +"Then you'll come. You promised in advance, and no excuses go now. The +news will be all over town by Friday morning; so why bother to keep up +appearances any longer. Meet me at the Canton at seven and check dull +care at the entrance." + +And before Bryce could protest, Ogilvy had thrown open the office door +and called the glad tidings to Moira, who was working in the next room; +whereupon Moira's wonderful eyes shone with that strange lambent flame. +She clasped her hands joyously. "Oh, how wonderful!" she exclaimed "I've +always wanted Miss Shirley to meet Mr. Bryce." + +Again Bryce was moved to protest, but Buck Ogilvy reached around the +half-opened door and kicked him in the shins. "Don't crab my game, you +miserable snarley-yow. Detract one speck from that girl's pleasure, and +you'll never see that temporary franchise," he threatened. "I will not +work for a quitter--so, there!" And with his bright smile he set out +immediately upon the trail of the city council, leaving Bryce Cardigan +a prey to many conflicting emotions, the chief of which, for all that +he strove to suppress it, was riotous joy in the knowledge that while he +had fought against it, fate had decreed that he should bask once more in +the radiance of Shirley Sumner's adorable presence. Presently, for +the first time in many weeks, Moira heard him whistling "Turkey in the +Straw." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Fortunately for the situation which had so suddenly confronted him, +Bryce Cardigan had Mr. Buck Ogilvy; and out of the experiences gained +in other railroad-building enterprises, the said Ogilvy, while startled, +was not stunned by the suddenness and immensity of the order so casually +given him by his youthful employer, for he had already devoted to the +matter of that crossing the better part of the preceding night. Also +he had investigated, indexed, and cross-indexed the city council with a +view to ascertaining how great or how little would be the effort he must +devote to obtaining from it the coveted franchise. + +"Got to run a sandy on the Mayor," Buck soliloquized as he walked +rapidly uptown. "And I'll have to be mighty slick about it, too, or I'll +get my fingers in the jam. If I get the Mayor on my side--if I get him +to the point where he thinks well of me and would like to oblige me +without prejudicing himself financially or politically--I can get that +temporary franchise. Now, how shall I proceed to sneak up on that oily +old cuss's blind side?" + +Two blocks farther on, Mr. Ogilvy paused and snapped his fingers +vigorously. "Eureka!" he murmured. "I've got Poundstone by the tail on a +downhill haul. Is it a cinch? Well, I just guess I should tell a man!" + +He hurried to the telephone building and put in a long-distance call for +the San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. When +the manager came on the line, Ogilvy dictated to him a message which he +instructed the manager to telegraph back to him at the Hotel Sequoia one +hour later; this mysterious detail attended to, he continued on to the +Mayor's office in the city hall. + +Mayor Poundstone's bushy eyebrows arched with interest when his +secretary laid upon his desk the card of Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, +vice-president and general manager of the Northern California Oregon +Railroad. "Ah-h-h!" he breathed with an unpleasant resemblance to a bon +vivant who sees before him his favourite vintage. "I have been expecting +Mr. Ogilvy to call for quite a while. At last we shall see what we shall +see. Show him in." + +The visitor was accordingly admitted to the great man's presence and +favoured with an official handshake of great heartiness. "I've been +hoping to have this pleasure for quite some time, Mr. Poundstone," Buck +announced easily as he disposed of his hat and overcoat on an adjacent +chair. "But unfortunately I have had so much preliminary detail to +attend to before making an official call that at last I grew discouraged +and concluded I'd just drop in informally and get acquainted." Buck's +alert blue eyes opened wide in sympathy with his genial mouth, to +deluge Mayor Poundstone with a smile that was friendly, guileless, +confidential, and singularly delightful. Mr. Ogilvy was a man possessed +of tremendous personal magnetism when he chose to exert it, and that +smile was ever the opening gun of his magnetic bombardment, for it was a +smile that always had the effect of making the observer desire to behold +it again--of disarming suspicion and establishing confidence. + +"Glad you did--mighty glad," the Mayor cried heartily. "We have all, of +course, heard of your great plans and are naturally anxious to hear +more of them, in the hope that we can do all that anybody reasonably and +legally can to promote your enterprise and incidentally our own, since +we are not insensible to the advantages which will accrue to this county +when it is connected by rail with the outside world." + +"That extremely broad view is most encouraging," Buck chirped, and he +showered the Mayor with another smile. "Reciprocity is the watchword of +progress. I might state, however, that while you Humboldters are fully +alive to the benefits to be derived from a feeder to a transcontinental +road, my associates and myself are not insensible of the fact that the +success of our enterprise depends to a great extent upon the enthusiasm +with which the city of Sequoia shall cooperate with us; and since you +are the chief executive of the city, naturally I have come to you to +explain our plans fully." + +"I have read your articles of incorporation, Mr. Ogilvy," Mayor +Poundstone boomed paternally. "You will recall that they were published +in the Sequoia SENTINEL. It strikes me---" + +"Then you know exactly what we purpose doing, and any further +explanation would be superfluous," Buck interrupted amiably, glad to +dispose of the matter so promptly. Again he favoured the Mayor with his +bright smile, and the latter, now fully convinced that here was a young +man of vast emprise whom it behooved him to receive in a whole-hearted +and public-spirited manner, nodded vigorous approval. + +"Well, that being the case, Mr. Ogilvy," he continued, "what can we +Sequoians do to make you happy?" + +"Why, to begin with, Mr. Poundstone, you might accept my solemn +assurances that despite the skepticism which, for some unknown reason, +appears to shroud our enterprise in the minds of some people, we have +incorporated a railroad company for the purpose of building a railroad. +We purpose commencing grading operations in the very near future, and +the only thing that can possibly interfere with the project will be the +declination of the city council to grant us a franchise to run our line +through the city to tidewater." + +He handed his cigar-case to Mayor Poundstone and continued lightly: "And +I am glad to have your assurance that the city council will not drop a +cold chisel in the cogs of the wheels of progress." + +Mr. Poundstone had given no such assurance, but for some reason he did +not feel equal to the task of contradicting this pleasant fellow. Ogilvy +continued: "At the proper time we shall apply for the franchise. It will +then be time enough to discuss it. In the meantime the N. C. O. plans a +public dedicatory ceremony at the first breaking of ground, and I would +be greatly honoured, Mr. Mayor, if you would consent to turn the +first shovelful of earth and deliver the address of welcome upon that +occasion." + +The Mayor swelled like a Thanksgiving turkey. "The honour will be mine," +he corrected his visitor. + +"Thank you so much, sir. Well, that's another worry off my mind." With +the tact of a prime minister Buck then proceeded deliberately to shift +the conversation to the weather and asked a number of questions anent +the annual rainfall. Then he turned to crops, finance, and national +politics and gradually veered around to an artistic word-picture of +the vast expansion of the redwood-lumber industry when the redwood-belt +should be connected by rail with the markets of the entire country. He +spoke of the magic effect the building of such a line would have upon +the growth of Sequoia. Sequoia, he felt convinced, was destined to +become a city of at least a hundred thousand inhabitants; he rhapsodized +over the progressive spirit of the community and with a wave of his +hand studded the waters of Humboldt Bay with the masts of the world's +shipping. Suddenly he checked himself, glanced at his watch, apologized +for consuming so much of His Honour's valuable time, expressed himself +felicitated at knowing the Mayor, gracefully expressed his appreciation +for the encouragement given his enterprise, and departed. When he had +gone, Mayor Poundstone declared to his secretary that without doubt +Ogilvy was the livest, keenest fellow that had struck Sequoia since the +advent of old John Cardigan. + +Half an hour later the Mayor's telephone-bell rang. Buck Ogilvy was on +the line. "I beg your pardon for bothering you with my affairs twice in +the same day, Mr. Mayor," he announced deprecatingly, "but the fact is, +a condition has just arisen which necessitates the immediate employment +of an attorney. The job is not a very important one and almost any +lawyer would do, but in view of the fact that we must, sooner or later, +employ an attorney to look after our interests locally, it occurred to +me that I might as well make the selection of a permanent attorney now. +I am a stranger in this city Mr. Poundstone. Would it be imposing on +your consideration if I asked you to recommend such a person?" + +"Why, not at all, not at all! Delighted to help you, Mr. Ogilvy. Let me +see, now. There are several attorneys in Sequoia, all men of excellent +ability and unimpeachable integrity, whom I can recommend with the +utmost pleasure. Cadman look up the relatives of a public official! +Well! Forward, men, follow me--to Henry's office." + +Henry Poundstone, Junior, proved to be the sole inhabitant of one rather +bare office in the Cardigan Block. Buck had fully resolved to give him +a retainer of a thousand dollars, or even more, if he asked for it, +but after one look at Henry he cut the appropriation to two hundred and +fifty dollars. Young Mr. Poundstone was blonde and frail, with large +round spectacles, rabbit teeth, and the swiftly receding chin of the +terrapin. Moreover, he was in such a flutter of anticipation over the +arrival of his client that Buck deduced two things--to wit, that the +Mayor had telephoned Henry he was apt to have a client, and that as a +result of this miracle, Henry was in no fit state to discuss the sordid +subject of fees and retainers. Ergo, Mr. Ogilvy decided to obviate such +discussion now or in the future. He handed Henry a check for two hundred +and fifty dollars, which he wrote out on the spot, and with his bright +winning smile remarked: "Now, Mr. Poundstone, we will proceed to +business. That retainer isn't a large one, I admit, but neither is the +job I have for you to-day. Later, if need of your services on a +larger scale should develop, we shall of course expect to make a new +arrangement whereby you will receive the customary retainer of all of +our corporation attorneys I trust that is quite satisfactory." + +"Eminently so," gasped the young disciple of Blackstone. + +"Very well, then; let us proceed to business." Buck removed from a +small leather bag a bale of legal-looking documents. "I have here," he +announced, "agreements from landowners along the proposed right of way +of the N. C. O. to give to that company, on demand, within one year +from date, satisfactory deeds covering rights of way which are minutely +described in the said agreements. I wish these deeds prepared for +signing and recording at the earliest possible moment." + +"You shall have them at this time to-morrow," Henry promised. + +The head of Henry Poundstone, Junior, was held high for the first time +since he had flung forth his modest shingle to the breezes of Sequoia +six months before, and there was an unaccustomed gleam of importance in +his pale eyes as he rushed into big father's office in the city hall. + +"By jinks, Dad!" he exulted. "I've hooked a fish at last--and he's a +whopper." + +"Omit the cheers, my boy. Remember I sent that fish to you," his father +answered with a bland and indulgent smile. "What are you doing for +Ogilvy, and how large a retainer did he give you?" + +"I'm making out deeds to his rights of way. Ordinarily it's about a +fifty-dollar job, but without waiting to discuss finances he handed me +out two hundred and fifty dollars. Why, Dad, that's more than you make +in a month from your job as Mayor." + +"Well, that isn't a bad retainer. It's an opening wedge. However, it +would be mere chicken-feed in San Francisco." + +"Read this," Henry urged, and thrust a yellow telegraph-form under the +Mayor's nose. The latter adjusted his glasses and read: + +Imperative building operations commence immediately. Local skepticism +injurious and delays dangerous. We must show good faith to our New York +friends. J. P. M. insists upon knowing promptly where we stand with +Sequoia city council. See them immediately and secure temporary +franchise, if possible, to enable us to cross Water Street at B Street +and build out Front Street. Your arrangement with Cardigan for use of +his mill-dock and spur for unloading material from steamer ratified by +board but regarded as hold-up. If your judgment indicates no hold-up +on permanent franchise, commence active operations immediately upon +acquisition of permanent franchise. Engage local labour as far as +possible. Cannot impress upon you too fully necessity for getting busy, +as road must be completed in three years if our plans are to bear fruit +and time is all too short. Impress this upon city council and wire +answer to-morrow. + +HOCKLEY. + +This telegram, as the Mayor observed, was dated that day and addressed +to Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, Hotel Sequoia, Sequoia, Calif. Also, with a keen +eye to minor details, lie noted that it had been filed at San Francisco +SUBSEQUENT to Ogilvy's visit to him that afternoon. + +"Ah-h-h!" breathed His Honour. "That accounts for his failure to bring +the matter up at our interview. Upon his return to the hotel he +found this telegram and got busy at once. By Jupiter, this looks like +business. Henry, how did you come into possession of this telegram?" + +"It must have been mixed up in the documents Ogilvy left with me. +I found it on my desk when I was sorting out the papers, and in my +capacity of attorney for the N.C.O. I had no hesitancy in reading it." + +"Well, I do declare! Wonder who Hockley is. Never heard of that fellow +in connection with the N.C.O." + +"Hockley doesn't matter," young Henry declared triumphantly, "although +I'd bet a hat he's one of those heavy-weight Wall Street fellows and +one of J.P.M's vice-presidents, probably. J.P.M., of course, is the man +behind." + +"Who the devil is J.P.M.?" + +Henry smiled tolerantly upon his ignorant and guileless parent. "Well, +how would J. Pierpont Morgan do for a guess?" he queried. + +"Hell's bells and panther-tracks!" Mayor Poundstone started as if +snake-bitten. "I should say you have hooked a big fish. Boy, you've +landed a whale!" And the Mayor whistled softly in his amazement +and delight. "By golly, to think of you getting in with that bunch! +Tremendyous! Per-fect-ly tree-mend-yous! Did Ogilvy say anything about +future business?" + +"He did. Said if I proved satisfactory, he would probably take me on and +pay the customary retainer given all of their corporation attorneys." + +"Well, by golly, he'd better take you on! I had a notion that chap +Ogilvy was smart enough to know which side his bread is buttered on and +who does the buttering." + +"If I could guarantee Mr. Ogilvy that temporary franchise mentioned +in his telegram, it might help me to get in right with J.P.M, at the +start," his hopeful suggested. "I guess it would be kind of poor to +be taken on as one of the regular staff of attorneys for a Morgan +corporation, eh? Say, they pay those chaps as high as fifty thousand +dollars a year retainer!" + +"Guarantee it!" his father shouted. "Guarantee it! Well, I should +snicker! We'll just show J. P. M. and his crowd that they made no +mistake when they picked you as their Sequoia legal representative. I'll +call a special meeting of that little old city council of mine and jam +that temporary franchise through while you'd be saying 'Jack Robinson!'" + +"I'll tell you what let's do," Henry suggested. "I'll draw up the +temporary franchise to-night, and we'll put it through to-morrow at, +say, ten o'clock without saying a word to Mr. Ogilvy about it. Then when +the city clerk has signed and attested it and put the seal of the city +on it, I'll just casually take it over to Mr. Ogilvy. Of course he'll be +surprised and ask me how I came to get it, and--" + +"And you LOOK surprised," his father cautioned, "--sort of as if you +failed to comprehend what he's driving at. Make him repeat. Then you +say: 'Oh, that! Why, that's nothing, Mr. Ogilvy. I found the telegram +in those papers you left with me, read it, and concluded you'd left it +there to give me the dope so I could go ahead and get the franchise for +you. Up here, whenever anybody wants a franchise from the city, they +always hire an attorney to get it for them, so I didn't think anything +about this but just naturally went and got it for you. If it ain't +right, why, say so and I'll have it made right.'" Old Poundstone nudged +his son in the short ribs and winked drolly. "Let him get the idea +you're a fly bird and on to your job." + +"Leave it to yours truly," said Henry. + +His father carefully made a copy of the telegram. + +"H'm!" he grunted. "Wants to cross Water Street at B and build out +Front Street. Well, I dare say nobody will kick over the traces at that. +Nothing but warehouses and lumber-drying yards along there, anyhow. +Still, come to think of it, Pennington will probably raise a howl about +sparks from the engines of the N. C. O. setting his lumber piles afire. +And he won't relish the idea of that crossing, because that means a +watchman and safety-gates, and he'll have to stand half the cost of +that." + +"He'll be dead against it," Henry declared. "I know, because at the +Wednesday meeting of the Lumber Manufacturers' Association the subject +of the N. C. O. came up, and Pennington made a talk against it. He said +the N. C. O. ought to be discouraged, if it was a legitimate enterprise, +which he doubted, because the most feasible and natural route for a road +would be from Willits, Mendocino County, north to Sequoia. He said the +N. C. O. didn't tap the main body of the redwood-belt and that his own +road could be extended to act as a feeder to a line that would build in +from the south. I tell you he's dead set against it." + +"Then we won't tell him anything about it, Henry. We'll just pull off +this special session of the council and forget to invite the reporters; +after the job has been put over, Pennington can come around and howl +all he wants. We're not letting a chance like this slip by us without +grabbing a handful of the tail-feathers, Henry. No, sir--not if we know +it." + +"You bet!" said Henry earnestly. + +And it was even so. The entire council was present with the exception +of Thatcher, who was home ill. His running mate Yates was heartily +in favour of doing all and sundry of those things which would aid and +encourage the building of the much-to-be-desired railroad and offered +no objection to the motion to grant a sixty-day temporary franchise. +However, he always played ball with the absent Thatcher and he was +fairly well acquainted with his other colleagues on the council; where +they were concerned he was as suspicious as a rattlesnake in August--in +consequence of which he considered it policy to play safe pending +Thatcher's recovery. Rising in his place, he pointed out to the board +the fact that many prominent citizens who yearned for such a road as +the N. C. O. had warned him of the danger of lending official aid and +comfort to a passel of professional promoters and fly-by-nights; +that after all, the N. C. O. might merely be the stalking-horse to a +real-estate boom planned to unload the undesirable timber holdings of +the Trinidad Redwood Lumber Company, in which event it might be well for +the council to proceed with caution. It was Mr. Yates' opinion that for +the present a temporary franchise for thirty days only should be given; +if during that thirty days the N. C. O. exhibited indubitable signs of +activity, he would gladly vote for a thirty-day extension to enable the +matter of a permanent franchise to be taken up in regular order. + +This amendment to the original motion met with the unqualified approval +of the Mayor, as he was careful to announce for the benefit of the other +members of the Solid Four. The fact of the matter was, however, that +he was afraid to oppose Yates in such a simple matter through fear that +Yates might grow cantankerous and carry his troubles to the Sequoia +Sentinel--a base trick he had been known to do in the past. After +explaining the advisability of keeping secret for the present the fact +that a thirty-day franchise had been granted, His Honour, with the +consent of the maker of the original motion and the second thereof, +submitted the amended motion to a vote, which was carried unanimously. + +At eleven-thirty Thursday morning, therefore, young Henry Poundstone, +having worked the greater part of the previous night preparing the +deeds, delivered both deeds and franchise to Buck Ogilvy at the +latter's hotel. It was with difficulty that the latter could conceal his +tremendous amazement when Henry casually handed him the franchise. True, +he had slipped that fake telegram among the contracts as bait for Henry +and his father, but in his wildest flights of fancy had not looked for +them to swallow hook, line, and sinker. His fondest hope, at the time he +conceived the brilliant idea, was that Henry would show the telegram to +his father and thus inculcate in the old gentleman a friendly feeling +toward the N. C. O. not unmixed with pleasurable anticipations of the +day when Henry Poundstone, Junior, should be one of the most highly +prized members of the legal staff of a public-service corporation. + +When he could control his emotions, Mr. Ogilvy gazed approvingly upon +Henry Poundstone. "Mr. Poundstone," he said solemnly, "I have met some +meteoric young attorneys in my day, but you're the first genuine comet I +have seen in the legal firmament. Do you mind telling me exactly how you +procured this franchise--and why you procured it without explicit orders +from me?" + +Henry did his best to look puzzled. "Why," he said, "you left +that telegram with me, and I concluded that you regarded it as +self-explanatory or else had forgotten to mention it. I knew you were +busy, and I didn't want to bother you with details, so I just went ahead +and filled the order for you. Anything wrong about that?" + +"Certainly not. It's perfectly wonderful. But how did you put it over?" + +Henry smirked. "My dad's the engineer," he said bluntly. "If thirty days +ain't enough time, see me and I'll get you thirty days more. And in the +meantime nobody knows a thing about this little deal. What's more, they +won't know. I figured Colonel Pennington might try to block you at that +crossing so I--" + +Buck Ogilvy extended his hand in benediction and let it drop lightly on +Henry Poundstone's thin shoulder. Henry quivered with anticipation under +that gentle accolade and swallowed his heart while the great Ogilvy made +a portentous announcement. + +"My dear Poundstone," he said earnestly, "I am not a man to forget +clever work. At the proper time I shall--" He smiled his radiant smile. +"You understand, of course, that I am speaking for and can make you no +firm promises. However--" He smiled again. "All I have to say is that +you'll do!" + +"Thank you," said Henry Poundstone, Junior. "Thank you ever so much." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +An experience extending over a very active business career of thirty +years had convinced Colonel Seth Pennington of the futility of wracking +his brains in vain speculation over mysteries. In his day he had +been interested in some small public-service corporations, which is +tantamount to saying that he knew peanut politics and had learned that +the very best way to fight the devil is with fire. Frequently he had +found it of great interest and profit to him to know exactly how certain +men spent their time and his money, and since he was a very busy man +himself, naturally he had to delegate somebody else, to procure this +information for him. When, therefore, the Northern California Oregon +Railroad commenced to encroach on the Colonel's time-appropriation for +sleep, he realized that there was but one way in which to conserve his +rest and that was by engaging to fathom the mystery for him a specialist +in the unravelling of mysteries. In times gone by, the Colonel had +found a certain national detective-agency an extremely efficient aid to +well-known commercial agencies, and to these tried and true subordinates +he turned now for explicit and satisfying information anent the Northern +California Outrage! + +The information forthcoming from Dun's and Bradstreet's was vague and +unsatisfying. Neither of these two commercial agencies could ascertain +anything of interest regarding the finances of the N. C. O. For the +present the corporation had no office, its destinies in San Francisco +being guarded by a well-known attorney who had declined to make any +statement regarding the company but promised one at an early date. The +board of directors consisted of this attorney, his two assistants, his +stenographer, and Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy. The company had been incorporated +for five million dollars, divided into five million shares of par value +of one dollar each, and five shares had been subscribed! Both agencies +forwarded copies of the articles of incorporation, but since the Colonel +had already read this document in the Sequoia Sentinel, he was not +further interested. + +"It looks fishy to me," the Colonel commented to his manager, "and I'm +more than ever convinced it's a scheme of that Trinidad Redwood Timber +Company to start a timber-boom and unload. And that is something the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company does not view with favour, for the reason +that one of these bright days those Trinidad people will come to their +senses and sell cheap to us. A slight extension of our logging-road +will make that Trinidad timber accessible; hence we are the only logical +customers and should control the situation. However, to be sure is to +be satisfied. Telephone the San Francisco office to have the +detective-agency that handled the longshoremen's strike job for us +send a couple of their best operatives up on the next steamer, with +instructions to report to me on arrival." + +When the operatives reported, the Colonel's orders were brief and +explicit. "I want to know all about a man named Buchanan Ogilvy, who is +up north somewhere procuring rights of way for the Northern California +Oregon Railroad. Find him. Get up with him in the morning and put him to +bed at night. Report to me daily." + +Buck was readily located in the country north of Arcata, and one of the +operatives actually procured a job as chainman with his surveying gang, +while the other kept Ogilvy and his secretary under surveillance. Their +reports, however, yielded the Colonel nothing until the first day of +Buck's return to Sequoia, when the following written report caused the +Colonel to sit up and take notice. It was headed: "Report of Operative +No. 41," and it read: + +Ogilvy in his room until 12 o'clock noon. At 12:05 entered dining room, +leaving at 1 P. M. and proceeding direct to office of Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company. Operative took post behind a lumber-pile at side of +office so as to command view of interior of office. From manner of +greeting accorded Ogilvy by Bryce Cardigan, operative is of opinion they +had not met before. Ogilvy remained in Cardigan's private office half +an hour, spent another half-hour conversing with young lady in general +office. Young lady a brunette. O. then returned to Hotel Sequoia, +where he wrote several letters in writing-room. At 3 p. M. called to +telephone. At 3:02 p. M. left hurriedly for Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company's office. Entered private office without waiting to be +announced. Emerged at 3:12, walking slowly and in deep thought. At B and +Cedar streets stopped suddenly, snapped his fingers and started walking +rapidly, in the manner of one who has arrived at a decision. At +3:24 entered the telephone building and placed a long-distance call. +Operative standing at counter close by heard him place call with the +girl on duty. He asked for the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company in San +Francisco. + +Concluded his conversation at 3:32 and proceeded to the city hall, +entering the Mayor's office at 3:43 and emerging at 4:10. He then +returned to the Hotel Sequoia and sat in the lobby until handed a +telegram at 4:40; whereupon he entered the telephone-booth and talked +to someone, emerging at 4:43 to go to his room. He returned at 4:46 and +hurried to the law-office of Henry Poundstone, Junior, in the Cardigan +Block. He was with Poundstone until 4:59, when he returned leisurely to +the Hotel Sequoia, carrying a small leather grip. He also had this grip +when he entered Poundstone's office. + +Arrived at the hotel at 5:03 and went to his room. At 6:45 he entered +a public automobile in front of the hotel and was driven to No. 846 Elm +Street. The brunette young lady who works m the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company's office emerged presently and entered the car, which then +proceeded to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, where the brunette young lady +alighted and entered the house. She returned at 7 sharp, accompanied by +a young lady whom she introduced to O. All three were then driven to the +Canyon restaurant at 432 Third Street and escorted to a reserved table +in one of the screened-off semi-private rooms along the right side of +the dining room. At 7:15 Bryce Cardigan entered the restaurant and was +escorted by the waiter to the table occupied by O. and party. + +At 9:30 entire party left restaurant and entered a Napier car driven by +a half-breed Indian whom the second young lady hailed as George. O. and +the brunette young lady were dropped at 846 Elm Street while Cardigan +and the other young lady proceeded directly to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard. +After aiding the lady to alight, Cardigan talked with her a few minutes +at the gate, then bade her good-night and after waiting until she had +disappeared inside the front door, returned to the automobile and was +driven to his home, while the chauffeur George ran the car into the +Cardigan garage. + +Upon returning to Hotel Sequoia, found O. in hotel bar. Saw him to bed +at 10 sharp. + +Needless to relate, this report had a most amazing effect upon Colonel +Pennington, and when at length he could recover his mental equilibrium, +he set about quite calmly to analyze the report, word by word and +sentence by sentence, with the result that he promptly arrived at the +following conclusion: + +(1) His niece Shirley Sumner was not to be trusted in so far as young +Bryce Cardigan was concerned. Despite her assumption of hostility toward +the fellow since that memorable day in Pennington's woods, the Colonel +was now fully convinced that she had made her peace with him and had +been the recipient of his secret attentions right along. The Colonel was +on the verge of calling his niece up to demand an explanation, but on +second thought decided to wait a few days and see what his gum-shoe men +might have to report further. + +(2) The N. C. O. was still a mystery, but a mystery in which Bryce +Cardigan was interested. Moreover, he was anxious to aid the N. C. O. in +every way possible. However, the Colonel could understand this. Cardigan +would aid anything that might possibly tend to lift the Cardigan lumber +interests out from under the iron heel of Colonel Pennington and he +was just young enough and unsophisticated enough to be fooled by that +Trinidad Redwood Timber gang. + +(3) The N. C. O. was going to make a mighty bluff, even to the extent of +applying for a franchise to run over the city streets of Sequoia. Hence +Ogilvy's visit to Mayor Poundstone--doubtless on the advice of Bryce +Cardigan. Hence, also, his visit to young Henry Poundstone, whom he had +doubtless engaged as his legal representative in order to ingratiate +himself with the young man's father. Coarse work! + +(4) Ogilvy had carried a small leather bag to and from Henry +Poundstone's office. That bag was readily explained. It had contained a +bribe in gold coin and young Henry had been selected as the +go-between. That meant that Mayor Poundstone had agreed to deliver the +franchise--for a consideration; and like the smooth scoundrel he was, he +wanted his bit in gold coin, which could not be marked without the marks +being discovered! Ogilvy had called first on the Mayor to arrange +the details; then he had called on the Mayor's son to complete the +transaction. + +(5) If a franchise had been arranged for and the bribe already +delivered, that meant the prompt and unadvertised commencement of +operations. Where (the Colonel asked himself) would these operations +begin? Why, close to the waterfront, where materials could be landed +from the steamer that brought them to Sequoia. At whose mill-dock would +those materials be discharged? Why, Cardigan's dock, of course. Ogilvy +had probably called first on Cardigan to arrange that detail. Yes, +the N. C. O. was going to carry its monumental bluff to the point of +building a mile of track through town. ... No--no, they wouldn't spend +that much money on a bluff; they wouldn't bribe Poundstone unless the +road was meant. And was it a common carrier, after all? Had Cardigan in +some mysterious manner managed to borrow enough money to parallel the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company's logging-road, and was he disguising it as +a common carrier? + +The trail was growing hot; the Colonel mopped his brow and concentrated +further. If the N. C. O. was really going to start operations, in order +to move its material from the Cardigan dock to the scene of operations +it would have to cut his (the Colonel's) tracks somewhere on Water +Street. Damnation! That was it. They were trying to slip one over on +him. They were planning to get a jump-crossing in before he should awake +to the situation; they were planning, too, to have the city council slip +through the franchise when nobody was looking, and once the crossing +should be in, they could laugh at Colonel Pennington! + +"The scoundrels!" he murmured. "I'm on to them! Cardigan is playing the +game with them. That's why he bought those rails from the old Laurel +Creek spur! Oh, the sly young fox--quoting that portion of our hauling +contract which stipulates that all spurs and extensions of my road, once +it enters Cardigan's lands, must be made at Cardigan's expense! And all +to fool me into thinking he wanted those rails for an extension of his +logging-system. Oh, what a blithering idiot I have been! However, it's +not too late yet. Poundstone is coming over to dinner Thursday night, +and I'll wring the swine dry before he leaves the house. And as for +those rails Cardigan managed to hornswoggle me out of--" + +He seized the telephone and fairly shouted to his exchange operator to +get his woods-foreman Jules Rondeau on the line. + +"That you, Rondeau?" he shouted when the big French Canadian responded. +"Pennington talking. What has young Cardigan done about those rails I +sold him from the abandoned spur up Laurel Creek?" + +"He have two flat-cars upon ze spur now. Dose woods-gang of hees she +tear up dose rails from ze head of ze spur and load in ze flat-cars." + +"The ears haven't left the Laurel Creek spur, then?" + +"No, she don't leave yet." + +"See to it, Rondeau, that they do not leave until I give the word. +Understand? Cardigan's woods-boss will call you up and ask you to send +a switch-engine tip to snake them out late this afternoon or to-morrow +afternoon. Tell him the switch-engine is in the shop for repairs or +is busy at other work--anything that will stall him off and delay +delivery." + +"Suppose Bryce Cardigan, he comes around and say 'Why?'" Rondeau queried +cautiously. + +"Kill him," the Colonel retorted coolly. "It strikes me you and the +Black Minorca are rather slow playing even with young Cardigan." + +Rondeau grunted. "I theenk mebbe so you kill heem yourself, boss," he +replied enigmatically, and hung up. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The dictograph which Shirley had asked Bryce to obtain for her in San +Francisco arrived on the regular passenger-steamer on Thursday morning +and Bryce called her up to ask when she desired it sent over. + +"Good morning, Mr. Cardigan," she greeted him cheerily. "How do you feel +this morning? Any the worse for having permitted yourself to be a human +being last night?" + +"Why, I feel pretty fine, Shirley. I think it did me a lot of good to +crawl out of my shell last night." + +"You feel encouraged to go on living, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"And fighting?" + +"By all means." + +"Then, something has occurred of late to give you new courage?" + +"Oh, many things. Didn't I give an exhibition of my courage in accepting +Ogilvy's invitation to dinner, knowing you were going to be there?" + +She did not like that. "You carry your frankness to extremes, my +friend," she retorted. "I'm sure I've always been much nicer to you than +you deserve." + +"Nevertheless there wasn't any valid reason why I should tantalize +myself last night." + +"Then why did you come?" He had a suspicion that she was laughing +silently at him. + +"Partly to please Ogilvy, who has fallen head over heels in love with +Moira; partly to please Moira, who wanted me to meet you, but mostly to +please myself, because, while I dreaded it, nevertheless I wanted to +see you again. I comforted myself with the thought that for the sake of +appearances we dared not quarrel in the presence of Moira and my friend +Ogilvy, and I dare say you felt the same way. At any rate, I have seldom +had more enjoyment when partaking of a meal with an enemy." + +"Please do not say that," she answered. "I am your opponent, but not +your enemy." + +"That's nice of you. By the way, Shirley, you may inform your uncle at +breakfast Friday morning about my connection with the N. C. O. In fact, +I think it would be far better for you if you made it a point to do so." + +"Why?" + +"Because both Ogilvy and myself have a very strong suspicion that your +uncle has a detective or two on our trails. There was a strange man +rather prevalent around him all day yesterday and I noticed a fellow +following my car last night. He was on a bicycle and followed me home. +I communicated my suspicions to Ogilvy, and this morning he spent two +hours trying to shake the same man off his trail--and couldn't. So I +judge your uncle will learn to-day that you dined with Ogilvy, Moira, +and me last night." + +"Oh, dear! That's terrible." He could sense her distress. + +"Ashamed of having been seen in my company, eh?" + +"Please don't. Are you quite serious in this matter?" + +"Quite." + +"Uncle Seth will think it so--so strange." + +"He'll probably tell you about it. Better beat him to the issue by +'fessing up, Shirley. Doubtless his suspicions are already aroused, and +if you inform him that you know I am the real builder of the N. C. O., +he'll think you're a smart woman and that you've been doing a little +private gum-shoe work of your own on behalf of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company." + +"Which is exactly what I have been doing," she reminded him. + +"I know. But then, I'm not afraid of you, Shirley--that is, any more. +And after Friday morning I'll not be afraid of your uncle. Do tell him +at breakfast. Then watch to see if it affects his appetite." + +"Oh, dear! I feel as if I were a conspirator." + +"I believe you are one. Your dictograph has arrived. Shall I send George +Sea Otter over with it? And have you somebody to install it?" + +"Oh, bother! Does it have to be installed?" + +"It does. You place the contraption--hide it, rather--in the room where +the conspirators conspire; then you run wires from it into another room +where the detectives listen in on the receivers." + +"Could George Sea Otter install it?" + +"I think he could. There is a printed card of instructions, and I dare +say George would find the job no more baffling than the ignition-system +on the Napier." + +"Will he tell anybody?" + +"Not if you ask him not to." + +"Not even you?" + +"Not even a whisper to himself, Shirley." + +"Very well, then. Please send him over. Thank you so much, Bryce +Cardigan. You're an awful good old sort, after all. Really, it hurts me +to have to oppose you. It would be so much nicer if we didn't have all +those redwood trees to protect, wouldn't it?" + +"Let us not argue the question, Shirley. I think I have my redwood trees +protected. Good-bye." + +He had scarcely finished telephoning his home to instruct George Sea +Otter to report with the express package to Shirley when Buck Ogilvy +strolled into the office and tossed a document on his desk. "There's +your little old temporary franchise, old thing," he announced; and with +many a hearty laugh he related to Bryce the ingenious means by which he +had obtained it. "And now if you will phone up to your logging-camp and +instruct the woods-boss to lay off about fifty men to rest for the day, +pending a hard night's work, and arrange to send them down on the last +log-train to-day, I'll drop around after dinner and we'll fly to that +jump-crossing. Here's a list of the tools we'll need." + +"I'll telephone Colonel Pennington's manager and ask him to kick a +switch-engine in on the Laurel Creek spur and snake those flat-cars with +my rails aboard out to the junction with the main line," Bryce replied. +And he called up the Laguna Grande Lumber Company--only to be informed +by no less a person than Colonel Pennington himself that it would be +impossible to send the switch-engine in until the following afternoon. +The Colonel was sorry, but the switch-engine was in the shop having the +brick in her fire-box renewed, while the mogul that hauled the log trams +would not have time to attend to the matter, since the flats would have +to be spotted on the sidetrack at Cardigan's log-landing in the woods, +and this could not be done until the last loaded log-train for the day +had been hauled out to make room. + +"Why not switch back with the mogul after the logtrain has been hauled +out on the main line?" Bryce demanded pointedly. + +Pennington, however, was not trapped. "My dear fellow," he replied +patronizingly, "quite impossible, I assure you. That old trestle across +the creek, my boy--it hasn't been looked at for years. While I'd send +the light switch-engine over it and have no fears--" + +"I happen to know, Colonel, that the big mogul kicked those flats in to +load the rails!" + +"I know it. And what happened? Why, that old trestle squeaked and shook +and gave every evidence of being about to buckle in the centre. My +engineer threatened to quit if I sent him in again." + +"Very well. I suppose I'll have to wait until the switch-engine comes +out of the shop," Bryce replied resignedly, and hung up. He turned +a troubled face to Ogilvy. "Checkmated!" he announced. "Whipped to a +frazzle. The Colonel is lying, Buck, and I've caught him at it. As +a matter of fact, the mogul didn't kick those flats in at all. The +switch-engine did--and I know it. Now I'm going to send a man over to +snoop around Pennington's roundhouse and verify his report about the +switch-engine being in the shop." + +He did so. Half an hour later the messenger returned with the +information that not only was the switch-engine not in the shop but her +fire-box had been overhauled the week before and was reported to be in +excellent condition. + +"That settles it," Buck Ogilvy mourned. "He had gum-shoe men on my +trail, after all; they have reported, and the Colonel is as suspicious +as a rhino. He doesn't know anything, but he smells danger just the +same." + +"Exactly, Buck. So he is delaying the game until he can learn something +definite." He drummed idly on his desk for several minutes. Then: + +"Buck, can you run a locomotive?" + +"With one hand, old man." + +"Fine business! Well, I guess we'll put in that crossing to-morrow +night. The switch-engine will be in the roundhouse at Pennington's mill +to-morrow night so we can't steal that; but we can steal the mogul. I'll +just send word up to my woods-boss not to have his train loaded when +the mogul comes up late to-morrow afternoon to haul it down to our +log-landing. He will explain to the engineer and fireman that our big +bull donkey went out and we couldn't get our logs down to the landing +in time to get them loaded that day. Of course, the engine-crew won't +bother to run down to Sequoia for the night--that is, they won't run the +mogul down. They'll just leave her at our log-landing all night and put +up for the night at our camp. However, if they should be forced, because +of their private affairs, to return to Sequoia, they'll borrow my +trackwalker's velocipede. I have one that is driven with a small +gasolene engine--I use it in running back and forth to the logging-camp +in case I fail to connect with a log-train." + +"But how do you know they will put up at your camp all night, Bryce?" + +"My men will make them comfortable, and it means they can lie abed until +seven o'clock instead of having to roll out at five o'clock, which would +be the case if they spent the night at this end of the line. If they +do not stay at our logging-camp, the mogul will stay there, provided my +woods-foreman lends them my velocipede. The fireman would prefer that to +firing that big mogul all the way back to Sequoia." + +"Yes," Buck agreed, "I think he would." + +"There is a slight grade at our log-landing. I know that, because the +air leaked out of the brakes on a log-train I was on a short time +ago, and the train ran away with me. Now, the engine-crew will set the +airbrakes on the mogul and leave her with steam up to throb all night; +they'll not blow her down, for that would mean work firing her in the +morning. Our task, Buck, will be to throw off the airbrakes and let her +glide silently out of our log-landing. About a mile down the road we'll +stop, get up steam, run down to the junction with the main line, back +in on the Laurel Creek spur, couple on to those flat-cars and breeze +merrily down to Sequoia with them. They'll be loaded waiting for us; our +men will be congregated in our dry-yard just off Water Street near B, +waiting for us to arrive with the rails--and bingo--we go to it. After +we drop the flats, we'll run the engine back to the woods, leave it +where we found it, return a-flying on the velocipede, if it's there, or +in my automobile, if it isn't there. You can get back in ample time to +superintend the cutting of the crossing!" + +"Spoken like a man!" quoth Buck Ogilvy. "You're the one man in this +world for whom I'd steal a locomotive. 'At-a boy!" + +Had either of the conspirators known of Pennington's plans to entertain +Mayor Poundstone at dinner on Thursday night, it is probable they would +not have cheered until those flat-cars were out of the woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Mayor Poundstone and his wife arrived at the Pennington home in Redwood +Boulevard at six forty-five Thursday evening. It was with a profound +feeling of relief that His Honour lifted the lady from their modest +little "flivver," for once inside the Pennington house, he felt, +he would be free from a peculiarly devilish brand of persecution +inaugurated by his wife about three months previously. Mrs. Poundstone +wanted a new automobile. And she had entered upon a campaign of nagging +and complaint; hoping to wear Poundstone's resistance down to the point +where he would be willing to barter his hope of salvation in return for +a guarantee of peace on earth. + +"I feel like a perfect fool, calling upon these people in this filthy +little rattletrap," Mrs. Poundstone protested as they passed up the +cement walk toward the Pennington portal. + +Mayor Poundstone paused. Had he been Medusa, the glance he bent upon +his spouse would have transformed her instantly into a not particularly +symmetrical statue of concrete. He had reached the breaking-point. + +"In pity's name, woman," he growled, "talk about something else. Give me +one night of peace. Let me enjoy my dinner and this visit." + +"I can't help it," Mrs. P. retorted with asperity. She pointed to +Shirley Sumner's car parked under the porte-cochere. "If I had a sedan +like that, I could die happy. And it only cost thirty-two hundred and +fifty dollars." + +"I paid six hundred and fifty for the rattletrap, and I couldn't afford +that," he almost whimpered. "You were happy with it until I was elected +mayor." + +"You forget our social position, my dear," she purred sweetly. + +He could have struck her. "Hang your social position," he gritted +savagely. "Shut up, will you? Social position in a sawmill town! Rats!" + +"Sh--sh! Control yourself, Henry!" She plucked gently at his arm; with +her other hand she lifted the huge knocker on the front door. + +"Dammit, you'll drive me crazy yet," Poundstone gurgled, and subsided. + +The Pennington butler, a very superior person, opened the door and swept +them with a faintly disapproving glance. It is possible that he found +Mayor Poundstone, who was adorned with a white string tie, a soft slouch +hat, a Prince Albert coat, and horseshoe cut vest, mildly amusing. + +The Poundstones entered. At the entrance to the living room the butler +announced sonorously: "Mayor Poundstone and Mrs. Poundstone." + +"Glad to see you aboard the ship," Colonel Pennington boomed with his +best air of hearty expansiveness. "Well, well," he continued, leading +Mrs. Poundstone to a divan in front of the fire, "this is certainly +delightful. My niece will be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Have a +cigarette, Mr. Poundstone." + +In the midst of the commonplace chatter incident to such occasions, +Shirley entered the room; and the Colonel, leaving her to entertain the +guests, went to a small sideboard in one corner and brought forth the +"materials," as he jocularly termed them. James appeared like magic +with a tray, glasses, and tiny serviettes, and the Colonel's elixir was +passed to the company. + +"To your beautiful eyes, Mrs. Poundstone," was Pennington's debonair +toast as he fixed Mrs. P.'s green orbs with his own. "Poundstone, your +very good health, sir." + +"Dee-licious," murmured Mrs. Poundstone. "Perfectly dee-licious. And not +a bit strong!" + +"Have another," her hospitable host suggested, and he poured it, quite +oblivious of the frightened wink which the mayor telegraphed his wife. + +"I will, if Miss Sumner will join me," Mrs. P. acquiesced. + +"Thanks. I seldom drink a cocktail, and one is always my limit," Shirley +replied smilingly. + +"Oh, well," the Colonel retorted agreeably, "we'll make it a +three-cornered festival. Poundstone, smoke up." + +They "smoked up," and Poundstone prayed to his rather nebulous gods that +Mrs. P. would not discuss automobiles during the dinner. + +Alas! The Colonel's cocktails were not unduly fortified, but for all +that, the two which Mrs. Poundstone had assimilated contained just +sufficient "kick" to loosen the lady's tongue without thickening +it. Consequently, about the time the piece de resistance made its +appearance, she threw caution to the winds and adverted to the subject +closest to her heart. + +"I was telling Henry as we came up the walk how greatly I envied you +that beautiful sedan, Miss Sumner," she gushed. "Isn't it a perfectly +stunning car?" + +Poundstone made one futile attempt to head her off. "And I was telling +Mrs. Poundstone," he struck in with a pathetic attempt to appear +humorous and condescending, "that a little jitney was our gait, and +that she might as well abandon her passionate yearning for a closed car. +Angelina, my dear, something tells me I'm going to enjoy this dinner +a whole lot more if you'll just make up your mind to be real nice and +resign yourself to the inevitable." + +"Never, my dear, never." She shook a coy finger at him. "You dear old +tightie," she cooed, "you don't realize what a closed car means to a +woman." She turned to Shirley. "How an open car does blow one around, my +dear!" + +"Yes, indeed," said Shirley innocently. + +"Heard the McKinnon people had a man killed up in their woods yesterday, +Colonel," Poundstone remarked, hoping against hope to divert the +conversation. + +"Yes. The fellow's own fault," Pennington replied. "He was one of those +employees who held to the opinion that every man is the captain of his +own soul and the sole proprietor of his own body--hence that it behooved +him to look after both, in view of the high cost of safety-appliances. +He was warned that the logging-cable was weak at that old splice and +liable to pull out of the becket--and sure enough it did. The free end +of the cable snapped back like a whip, and--" + +"I hold to the opinion," Mrs. Poundstone interrupted, "that if one +wishes for a thing hard enough and just keeps on wishing, one is bound +to get it." + +"My dear," said Mr. Poundstone impressively, "if you would only confine +yourself to wishing, I assure you your chances for success would be +infinitely brighter." + +There was no mistaking this rebuke; even two cocktails were powerless +to render Mrs. Poundstone oblivious to it. Shirley and her uncle saw +the Mayor's lady flush slightly; they caught the glint of murder in His +Honour's eye; and the keen intelligence of each warned them that closed +cars should be a closed topic of conversation with the Poundstones. With +the nicest tact in the world, Shirley adroitly changed the subject to +some tailored shirt-waists she had observed in the window of a local +dry-goods emporium that day, and Mrs. Poundstone subsided. + +About nine o'clock, Shirley, in response to a meaning glance from her +relative, tactfully convoyed Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, leaving her uncle +alone with his prey. Instantly Pennington got down to business. + +"Well," he queried, apropos of nothing, "what do you hear with reference +to the Northern-California-Gregon Railroad?" + +"Oh, the usual amount of wind, Colonel. Nobody knows what to make of +that outfit." + +Pennington studied the end of his cigar a moment. "Well, I don't know +what to think of that project either," he admitted presently, "But while +it looks like a fake, I have a suspicion that where there's so much +smoke, one is likely to discover a little fire. I've been waiting to see +whether or not they will apply for a franchise to enter the city, but +they seem to be taking their time about it." + +"They certainly are a deliberate crowd," the Mayor murmured. + +"Have they made any move to get a franchise?" Pennington asked bluntly. +"If they have, I suppose you would be the first man to hear about it. I +don't mean to be impertinent," he added with a gracious smile, "but the +fact is I noticed that windbag Ogilvy entering your office in the city +hall the other afternoon, and I couldn't help wondering whether his +visit was social or official." + +"Social--so far as I could observe," Poundstone replied truthfully, +wondering just how much Pennington knew, and rather apprehensive that he +might get caught in a lie before the evening was over. + +"Preliminary to the official visit, I dare say." + +The Colonel puffed thoughtfully for a while--for which the Mayor was +grateful, since it provided time in which to organize himself. Suddenly, +however, Pennington turned toward his guest and fixed the latter with a +serious glance. + +"I hadn't anticipated discussing this matter with you, Poundstone, and +you must forgive me for it; but the fact is--I might as well be frank +with you--I am very greatly interested in the operation of this proposed +railroad." + +"Indeed! Financially?" + +"Yes, but not in the financial way you think. If that railroad is built, +it will have a very distinct effect on my finances." + +"In just what way?" + +"Disastrous." + +"I am amazed, Colonel." + +"You wouldn't if you had given the subject very close consideration. The +logical route for this railroad is from Willits north to Sequoia, not +from Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, Oregon. Such a road as the N.C.O. +contemplates will tap about one third of the redwood belt only, while +a line built in from the south will tap two thirds of it. The remaining +third can be tapped by an extension of my own logging-road; when my own +timber is logged out, I will want other business for my road, and if +the N.C.O. parallels it, I will be left with two streaks of rust on my +hands." + +"Ah, I perceive. So it will, so it will!" + +"You agree with me, then, Poundstone, that the N.C.O. is not designed to +foster the best interests of the community. Of course you do." + +"Well, I hadn't given the subject very mature thought, Colonel, but +in the light of your observations it would appear that you are quite +right." + +"Of course I am right. I take it, therefore, that when the N.C.O. +applies for its franchise to run through Sequoia, neither you nor your +city council will consider the proposition at all." + +"I cannot, of course, speak for the city council--" Poundstone began, +but Pennington's cold, amused smile froze further utterance. + +"Be frank with me, Poundstone. I am not a child. What I would like to +know is this: will you exert every effort to block that franchise in the +firm conviction that by so doing you will accomplish a laudable public +service?" + +Poundstone squirmed. "I should not care, at this time, to go on record," +he replied evasively. "When I have had time to look into the matter more +thoroughly--" + +"Tut-tut, my dear man! Let us not straddle the fence. Business is a +game, and so is politics. Neither knows any sentiment. Suppose you +should favour this N.C.O. crowd in a mistaken idea that you were doing +the right thing, and that subsequently numberless fellow-citizens +developed the idea that you had not done your public duty? Would some of +them not be likely to invoke a recall election and retire you and your +city council--in disgrace?" + +"I doubt if they could defeat me, Colonel." + +"I have no such doubt," Pennington replied pointedly. + +Poundstone looked up at him from under lowered lids. "Is that a threat?" +he demanded tremulously. + +"My dear fellow! Threaten my guest!" Pennington laughed patronizingly. +"I am giving you advice, Poundstone--and rather good advice, it strikes +me. However, while we're on the subject, I have no hesitancy in telling +you that in the event of a disastrous decision on your part, I should +not feel justified in supporting you." + +He might, with equal frankness, have said: "I would smash you." To his +guest his meaning was not obscure. Poundstone studied the pattern of +the rug, and Pennington, watching him sharply, saw that the man was +distressed. Then suddenly one of those brilliant inspirations, or +flashes of rare intuition, which had helped so materially to fashion +Pennington into a captain of industry, came to him. He resolved on a +bold stroke. + +"Let's not beat about the bush, Poundstone," he said with the air of a +father patiently striving to induce his child to recant a lie, tell +the truth, and save himself from the parental wrath. "You've been doing +business with Ogilvy; I know it for a fact, and you might as well admit +it." + +Poundstone looked up, red and embarrassed. "If I had known--" he began. + +"Certainly, certainly! I realize you acted in perfect good faith. +You're like the majority of people in Sequoia. You're all so crazy for +rail-connection with the outside world that you jump at the first plan +that seems to promise you one. Now, I'm as eager as the others, but if +we are going to have a railroad, I, for one, desire the right kind of +railroad; and the N.C.O. isn't the right kind--that is, not for the +interests I represent. Have you promised Ogilvy a franchise?" + +There was no dodging that question. A denial, under the present +circumstances, would be tantamount to an admission; Poundstone could not +guess just how much the Colonel really knew, and it would not do to lie +to him, since eventually the lie must be discovered. Caught between the +horns of a dilemma, Poundstone only knew that Ogilvy could never be +to him such a powerful enemy as Colonel Seth Pennington; so, after the +fashion of his kind, he chose the lesser of two evils. He resolved to +"come clean." + +"The city council has already granted the N.C.O. a temporary franchise," +he confessed. + +Pennington sprang furiously to his feet. "Dammit." he snarled, "why did +you do that without consulting me?" + +"Didn't know you were remotely interested." Now that the ice was broken, +Poundstone felt relieved and was prepared to defend his act vigorously. +"And we did not commit ourselves irrevocably," he continued. "The +temporary franchise will expire in twenty-eight days--and in that short +time the N.C.O. cannot even get started." + +"Have you any understanding as to an extension of that temporary +franchise, in case the N.C.O. desires it?" + +"Well, yes--not in writing, however. I gave Ogilvy to understand that +if he was not ready in thirty days, an extension could readily be +arranged." + +"Any witnesses?" + +"I am not such a fool, sir," Poundstone declared with asperity. "I had a +notion--I might as well admit it--that you would have serious objection +to having your tracks cut by a jump-crossing at B and Water streets." +And for no reason in life except to justify himself and inculcate in +Pennington an impression that the latter was dealing with a crafty and +far-seeing mayor, Poundstone smiled boldly and knowingly. "I repeat," +he said, "that I did not put it in writing." He leaned back nonchalantly +and blew smoke at the ceiling. + +"You oily rascal!" Pennington soliloquized. "You're a smarter man than +I thought. You're trying to play both ends against the middle." He +recalled the report of his private detective and the incident of +Ogilvy's visit to young Henry Poundstone's office with a small leather +bag; he was more than ever convinced that this bag had contained +the bribe, in gold coin, which had been productive of that temporary +franchise and the verbal understanding for its possible extension. + +"Ogilvy did business with you through your son Henry," he challenged. +Poundstone started violently. "How much did Henry get out of it?" +Pennington continued brutally. + +"Two hundred and fifty dollars retainer, and not a cent more," +Poundstone protested virtuously--and truthfully. + +"You're not so good a business man as I gave you credit for being," the +Colonel retorted mirthfully "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Oh, Lord! +Poundstone, you're funny. Upon my word, you're a scream." And the +Colonel gave himself up to a sincerely hearty laugh. "You call it a +retainer," he continued presently, "but a grand jury might call it +something else. However," he went on after a slight pause, "you're not +in politics for your health; so let's get down to brass tacks. How much +do you want to deny the N.C.O. not only an extension of that temporary +franchise but also a permanent franchise when they apply for it?" + +Poundstone rose with great dignity. "Colonel Pennington, sir," he said, +"you insult me." + +"Sit down. You've been insulted that way before now. Shall we say one +thousand dollars per each for your three good councilmen and true, and +for yourself that sedan of my niece's? It's a good car. Last year's +model, but only run about four thousand miles and in tiptop condition. +It's always had the best of care, and I imagine it will please Mrs. P. +immensely and grant you surcease from sorrow. Of course, I will not give +it to you. I'll sell it to you--five hundred down upon the signing of +the agreement, and in lieu of the cash, I will take over that jitney +Mrs. Poundstone finds so distasteful. Then I will employ your son Henry +as the attorney for the Laguna Grande Lumber Company and give him a +retainer of twenty-five hundred dollars for one year. I will leave it to +you to get this twenty-five hundred dollars from Henry and pay my niece +cash for the car. Doesn't that strike you as a perfectly safe and sane +proposition?" + +Had a vista of paradise opened up before Mr. Poundstone, he could not +have been more thrilled. He had been absolutely honest in +his plea to Mrs. Poundstone that he could not afford a +thirty-two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar sedan, much as he longed to oblige +her and gain a greatly to be desired peace. And now the price was +dangling before his eyes, so to speak. At any rate it was parked in the +porte-cochere not fifty feet distant! + +For the space of a minute the Mayor weighed his son's future as a +corporation attorney against his own future as mayor of Sequoia--and +Henry lost. + +"It might be arranged, Colonel," he murmured in a low voice--the voice +of shame. + +"It is already arranged," the Colonel replied cheerfully. "Leave your +jit at the front gate and drive home in Shirley's car. I'll arrange +matters with her." He laughed shortly. "It means, of course, that I'll +have to telegraph to San Francisco to-morrow and buy her a later model. +Thank goodness, she has a birthday to-morrow! Have a fresh cigar, +Mayor." + +Riding home that night in Shirley Sumner's car Mrs. Poundstone leaned +suddenly toward her husband, threw a fat arm around his neck and kissed +him. "Oh, Henry, you darling!" she purred. "What did I tell you? If a +person only wishes hard enough--" + +"Oh, go to the devil!" he roared angrily. "You've nagged me into it. +Shut up and take your arm away. Do you want me to wreck the car before +we've had it an hour?" + +As for Colonel Pennington, he had little difficulty in explaining +the deal to Shirley, who was sleepy and not at all interested. The +Poundstones had bored her to extinction, and upon her uncle's assurance +that she would have a new car within a week, she thanked him and for the +first time retired without offering her cheek for his good-night +kiss. Shortly thereafter the Colonel sought his own virtuous couch and +prepared to surrender himself to the first good sleep in three weeks. +He laid the flattering unction to his soul that Bryce Cardigan had dealt +him a poor hand from a marked deck and he had played it exceedingly +well. "Lucky I blocked the young beggar from getting those rails out of +the Laurel Creek spur," he mused, "or he'd have had his jump-crossing +in overnight--and then where the devil would I have been? Up Salt Creek +without a paddle--and all the courts in Christendom would avail me +nothing." + +He was dozing off, when a sound smote upon his ears. Instantly he was +wide awake, listening intently, his head cocked on one side. The sound +grew louder; evidently it was approaching Sequoia--and with a bound the +Colonel sat up in bed, trembling in every limb. + +Suddenly, out of the deep, rumbling diapason he heard a sharp +click--then another and another. He counted them--six in all. + +"A locomotive and two flat-cars!" he murmured. "And they just passed +over the switch leading from the main-line tracks out to my log-dump. +That means the train is going down Water Street to the switch into +Cardigan's yard. By George, they've outwitted me!" + +With the agility of a boy he sprang into his clothes, raced downstairs, +and leaped into Mayor Poundstone's jitney, standing in the darkness at +the front gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +The success of Bryce Cardigan's plan for getting Ms rails down from +Laurel Creek depended entirely upon the whimsy which might seize +the crew of the big mogul that hauled the last load of logs out of +Cardigan's redwoods on Thursday afternoon. Should the engineer and +fireman decide to leave the locomotive at the logging-camp for the +night, Bryce's task would be as simple as turning a hose down a +squirrel-hole. On the other hand, should they run back to Sequoia with +the engine, he and Ogilvy faced the alternative of "borrowing" it from +the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's roundhouse; and that operation, in +view of the fact that Pennington's night watchman would be certain to +hear the engine leaving, offered difficulties. + +Throughout the afternoon, after having sent his orders in writing to +the woods-boss, via George Sea Otter (for he dared not trust to the +telephone), be waited in his office for a telephone-call from the +logging-camp as to what action the engine-crew had taken. He could +not work; he could not think. He only knew that all depended upon the +success of his coup to-night. Finally, at a quarter of six, Curtis, his +woods-boss rang in. + +"They're staying here all night, sir," he reported. + +"House them as far from the log-landing as possible, and organize a +poker-game to keep them busy in case they don't go to bed before eight +o'clock," Bryce ordered. "In the meantime, send a man you can trust--Jim +Harding, who runs the big bull-donkey, will do--down to the locomotive +to keep steam up until I arrive." + +He had scarcely hung up, when Buck Ogilvy came into the office. "Well?" +he queried casually. + +"Safe-o, Buck!" replied Bryce. "How about your end of the contract?" + +"Crowbars, picks, shovels, hack-saws to cut the rails, lanterns to work +by, and men to do the work will be cached in your lumber-yard by nine +o'clock, waiting for the rails to arrive." + +Bryce nodded his approval, "Then I suppose there's nothing to do but get +a bite of dinner and proceed to business." + +Buck insisted on keeping an engagement to dine with Moira, and Bryce +agreed to call for him at the Bon Gusto restaurant. Then Bryce went home +to dine with his father. Old Cardigan was happier than his son had seen +him since the return of the latter to Sequoia. + +"Well, sonny, I've had a mighty pleasant afternoon," he declared as +Bryce led him to the dinner-table. "I've been up to the Valley of the +Giants." + +Bryce was amazed. "Why, how could you?" he demanded. "The old skid-road +is impassable, and after you leave the end of the skid-road, the trail +in to Mother's grave is so overgrown with buckthorn and wild lilac I +doubt if a rabbit could get through it comfortably." + +"Not a bit of it," the old man replied. "Somebody has gone to work and +planked that old skid-road and put up a hand-railing on each side, while +the trail through the Giants has been grubbed out and smoothed over. All +that old logging-cable I abandoned in those choppings has been strung +from tree to tree alongside the path on both sides. I can go up there +alone now, once George sets me on the old skid-road; I can't get lost." + +"How did you discover this?" Bryce demanded. + +"Judge Moore, representing the new owner, called round this morning +and took me in tow. He said his client knew the property held for me a +certain sentimental value which wasn't transferred in the deed, and +so the Judge had been instructed to have the skid-road planked and the +forest trail grubbed out--for me. It appears that the Valley is going to +be a public park, after all, but for the present and while I live, it is +my private park." + +"This is perfectly amazing, partner." + +"It's mighty comforting," his father admitted. "Guess the new owner must +be one of my old friends--perhaps somebody I did a favour for once--and +this is his way of repaying. Remember the old sugar-pine windfall we +used to sit on? Well, it's rotted through, and bears have clawed it into +chips in their search for grubs, but the new owner had a seat put in +there for me--just the kind of seat I like--a lumberjack's rocking-chair +made from an old vinegar-barrel. I sat in it, and the Judge left me, +and I did a right smart lot o' thinking. And while it didn't lead me +anywhere, still I--er--" + +"You felt better, didn't you?" his son suggested. + +John Cardigan nodded. "I'd like to know the name of the owner," he said +presently. "I'd like mighty well to say thank you to him. It isn't usual +for people nowadays to have as much respect for sentiment in an old +duffer like me as the fellow has. He sort of makes me feel as if I +hadn't sold at all." + +Buck Ogilvy came out of the Bon Gusto restaurant with Moira, just as +Bryce, with George Sea Otter at the wheel of the Napier, drove up to +the curb. They left Moira at her boarding-house, and rolled noiselessly +away. + +At nine o'clock they arrived at Cardigan's log-landing and found Jim +Harding, the bull-donkey engineer, placidly smoking his pipe in the cab. +Bryce hailed him. + +"That you, Jim?" + +"You bet." + +"Run up to Jabe Curtis's shanty, and tell him we're here. Have him +gather his gang and bring two pairs of overalls and two jumpers--large +size--with him when he comes." + +Harding vanished into the darkness, and Buck Ogilvy climbed up into the +cab and glanced at the steam-gauge. "A hundred and forty," he announced. +"Good enough!" + +Presently the woods-boss, accompanied by thirty of his best men, came +down to the log-landing. At Bryce's order they clambered aboard the +engine and tender, hanging on the steps, on the roof of the cab, on the +cowcatcher--anywhere they could find a toe-hold. Harding cast aside the +two old ties which the careful engine-crew had placed across the tracks +in front of the drivers as additional precaution; Buck Ogilvy cut off +the air, and the locomotive and tender began to glide slowly down the +almost imperceptible grade. With a slight click it cleared the switch +and slid out onto the Cardigan lateral, swiftly gathering speed. A +quarter of a mile down the line Buck Ogilvy applied the brakes and eased +her down to twenty miles per hour. + +At the junction with the main line Buck backed briskly up into the +Laguna Grande woods, and coupled to the two loaded flat-cars. The +woods-gang scrambled aboard the flats, and the train pulled out for +Sequoia. Forty minutes later they rumbled down Water Street and slid to +a grinding halt at the intersection of B Street. + +From the darkness of Cardigan's drying-yard, where they had been +waiting, twenty picked men of the mill-crew now emerged, bearing +lanterns and tools. Under Buck Ogilvy's direction the dirt promptly +began to fly, while the woods-crew unloaded the rails and piled them +close to the sidewalk. + +Suddenly a voice, harsh and strident with passion, rose above the thud +of the picks and the clang of metal. + +"Who's in charge here, and what in blazes do you mean by cutting my +tracks?" + +Bryce turned in time to behold Colonel Seth Pennington leap from an +automobile and advance upon Buck Ogilvy. Ogilvy held a lantern up to the +Colonel's face and surveyed Pennington calmly. + +"Colonel," he began with exasperating politeness, "--I presume you are +Colonel Pennington--my name is Buchanan P. Ogilvy, and I am in charge +of these operations. I am the vice-president and general manager of the +N.C.O., and I am engaged in the blithe task of making a jump-crossing +of your rails. I had hoped to accomplish this without your knowledge +or consent, but now that you are here, that hope, of course, has died +a-bornin'. Have a cigar." And he thrust a perfecco under the Colonel's +nose. Pennington struck it to the ground, and on the instant, half a +dozen rough rascals emptied their shovels over him. He was deluged with +dirt. + +"Stand back, Colonel, stand back, if you please. You're in the way of +the shovellers," Buck Ogilvy warned him soothingly. + +Bryce Cardigan came over, and at sight of him Pennington choked with +fury. "You--you--" he sputtered, unable to say more. + +"I'm the N.C.O.," Bryce replied. "Nice little fiction that of yours +about the switch-engine being laid up in the shops and the Laurel Creek +bridge being unsafe for this big mogul." He looked Pennington over with +frank admiration. "You're certainly on the job, Colonel. I'll say that +much for you. The man who plans to defeat you must jump far and fast, or +his tail will be trod on." + +"You've stolen my engine," Pennington almost screamed. "I'll have the +law on you for grand larceny." + +"Tut-tut! You don't know who stole your engine. For all you know, your +own engine-crew may have run it down here." + +"I'll attend to you, sir," Pennington replied, and he turned to enter +Mayor Poundstone's little flivver. + +"Not to-night, at least," Bryce retorted gently. "Having gone this far, +I would be a poor general to permit you to escape now with the news of +your discovery. You'd be down here in an hour with a couple of hundred +members of your mill-crew and give us the rush. You will oblige me, +Colonel Pennington, by remaining exactly where you are until I give you +permission to depart." + +"And if I refuse--" + +"Then I shall manhandle you, truss you up like a fowl in the tonneau of +your car, and gag you." + +To Bryce's infinite surprise the Colonel smiled. "Oh, very well!" he +replied. "I guess you've got the bulge on me, young man. Do you mind if +I sit in the warm cab of my own engine? I came away in such a hurry I +quite forgot my overcoat." + +"Not at all. I'll sit up there and keep you company." + +Half an hour passed. An automobile came slowly up Water Street and +paused half a block away, evidently reconnoitering the situation. +Instantly the Colonel thrust his head out the cab window. + +"Sexton!" he shouted. "Cardigan's cutting in a crossing. He's holding me +here against my will. Get the mill-crew together and phone for Rondeau +and his woods-crew. Send the switch-engine and a couple of flats up for +them. Phone Poundstone. Tell him to have the chief of police--" + +Bryce Cardigan's great hand closed over the Colonel's neck, while +down Water Street a dark streak that was Buck Ogilvy sped toward the +automobile, intending to climb in and make Pennington's manager a +prisoner also. He was too late, however. Sexton swung his car and +departed at full speed down Water Street, leaving the disappointed Buck +to return panting to the scene of operations. + +Bryce Cardigan released his hold on Pennington's neck. "You win, +Colonel," he announced. "No good can come of holding you here any +longer. Into your car and on your way." + +"Thank you, young man," the Colonel answered, and there was a metallic +ring in his voice. He looked at his watch in the glare of a torch. +"Plenty of time," he murmured. "Curfew shall not ring to-night." Quite +deliberately he climbed into the Mayor's late source of woe and breezed +away. + +Colonel Pennington did not at once return to his home, however. Instead, +he drove up to the business centre of the town. The streets were +deserted, but one saloon--the Sawdust Pile--was still open. + +Pennington strode through the bar and into the back room, where a +number of poker-games were in progress. For a moment he stood, his cold, +ophidian glance circling the room until it came to rest on no less a +personage than the Black Minorca, an individual with whom the reader has +already had some slight acquaintance. It will be recalled that the +Black Minorca led the futile rush against Bryce Cardigan that day in +Pennington's woods. + +The Colonel approached the table where the Black Minorca sat thumbing +the edges of his cards, and touched the cholo on the shoulder. The Black +Minorca turned, and Pennington nodded to him to follow; whereupon the +latter cashed in his chips and joined his employer on the sidewalk. Here +a whispered conversation ensued, and at its conclusion the Black Minorca +nodded vigorously. + +"Sure!" he assured the Colonel. "I'll fix 'em good and plenty." + +Together Pennington and the Black Minorca entered the automobile and +proceeded swiftly to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's mill-office. +From a locker the Colonel produced a repeating rifle and three boxes of +cartridges, which he handed to the cholo, who departed without further +ado into the night. + +Twenty minutes later, from the top of a lumber-pile in Cardigan's +drying-yard, Bryce Cardigan saw the flash of a rifle and felt a sudden +sting on his left forearm. He leaped around in front of the cowcatcher +to gain the shelter of the engine, and another bullet struck at his feet +and ricocheted off into the night. It was followed by a fusillade, the +bullets kicking up the freshly disturbed earth among the workers and +sending them scurrying to various points of safety. In an instant the +crossing was deserted, and work had been stopped, while from the top of +the adjacent lumber-pile the Black Minorca poured a stream of lead +and filthy invective at every point which he suspected of harbouring a +Cardigan follower. + +"I don't think he's hurt anybody," Buck Ogilvy whispered as he crouched +with Bryce beside the engine, "but that's due to his marksmanship rather +than his intentions." + +"He tried hard enough to plug me," Bryce declared, and showed the hole +through his sleeve. "They call him the Black Minorca, and he's a mongrel +greaser who'd kill his own mother for a fifty-dollar bill." + +"I'd like to plug him," Buck murmured regretfully. + +"What would be the use? This will be his last night in Humboldt +County--" + +A rifle shot rang out from the side of B Street; from the lumber-pile +across the street, Bryce and Ogilvy heard a suppressed grunt of pain, +and a crash as of a breaking board. Instantly out of the shadows George +Sea Otter came padding on velvet feet, rifle in hand--and then Bryce +understood. + +"All right, boss," said George simply as he joined Bryce and Ogilvy +under the lee of the locomotive. "Now we get busy again." + +"Safe-o, men," Ogilvy called. "Back to the job." And while Bryce, +followed by the careless George Sea Otter, went into the lumber-yard to +succour the enemy, Ogilvy set an example to the men by stepping into the +open and starting briskly to work with a shovel. + +At the bottom of the pile of lumber the Black Minorca was discovered +with a severe flesh-wound in his right hip; also he was suffering from +numerous bruises and contusions. George Sea Otter possessed himself of +the fallen cholo's rifle, while Bryce picked the wretch up and carried +him to his automobile. + +"Take the swine over to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's hospital and +tell them to patch him up," he ordered George Sea Otter. "I'll keep both +rifles and the ammunition here for Jules Rondeau and his woods-gang. +They'll probably be dropping in on us about two a.m., if I know anything +about Colonel Pennington's way of doing things." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Having dispatched the Black Minorca to hold up the work until the +arrival of reinforcements, Colonel Pennington fairly burned the streets +en route to his home. He realized that there would be no more sleep +for him that night, and he was desirous of getting into a heavy ulster +before venturing forth again into the night air. + +The violent slam with which he closed the front door after him brought +Shirley, in dressing-gown and slippers, to the staircase. + +"Uncle Seth!" she called. + +"Here!" he replied from the hall below. + +"What's the matter?" + +"There's the devil to pay," he answered. "That fellow Cardigan is back +of the N.C.O., after all, and he and Ogilvy have a gang of fifty +men down at the intersection of Water and B streets, cutting in a +jump-crossing of our line." + +He dashed into the living room, and she heard him calling frantically +into the telephone. + +"At last!" she murmured, and crept down the stairs, pausing behind the +heavy portieres at the entrance to the living room. + +"That you, Poundstone?" she heard him saying rapidly into the +transmitter. "Pennington speaking. Young Bryce Cardigan is behind that +N.C.O. outfit, and it's a logging-road and not intended to build through +to Grant's Pass at all. Cardigan and Ogilvy are at Water and B streets +this very instant with a gang of fifty men cutting in a jump-crossing of +my line, curse them! They'll have it in by six o'clock to-morrow morning +if something isn't done--and once they get it in, the fat's in the fire. + +"Telephone the chief of police and order him to take his entire force +down there, if necessary, and stop that work. To blazes with that +temporary franchise! You stop that work for two hours, and I'll do +the rest. Tell the chief of police not to recognize that temporary +franchise. He can be suspicious of it, can't he, and refuse to let +the work go on until he finds you? And you can be hard to find for two +hours, can you not? Delay, delay, man! That's all I want... Yes, yes, +I understand. You get down about daylight and roast the chief of police +for interfering, but in the meantime!... Thank you, Poundstone, thank +you. Good-bye." + +He stood at the telephone, the receiver still held to his ear and his +right forefinger holding down the hook while the line cleared. When +he spoke again, Shirley knew he was calling his mill-office. He got a +response immediately, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. + +"Sexton? Pennington speaking. I've sent over the Black Minorca with a +rifle and sixty rounds of ammunition... What? You can hear him shooting +already? Bully boy with a crockery eye! He'll clean that gang out +and keep them from working until the police arrive. You've telephoned +Rondeau, have you?... Good! He'll have his men waiting at the +log-landing, and there'll be no delay. As soon as you've seen the +switch-engine started for the woods, meet me down at Water and B +streets. Sexton, we've got to block them. It means a loss of millions to +me if we fail!" + +Shirley was standing in the doorway as he faced about from the +telephone. "Uncle Seth," she said quietly, "use any honourable method of +defeating Bryce Cardigan, but call off the Black Minorca. I shall hold +you personally responsible for Bryce Cardigan's life, and if you fail +me, I shall never forgive you." + +"Silly, silly girl!" he soothed her. "Don't you know I would not stoop +to bush-whacking? There's some shooting going on, but its wild shooting, +just to frighten Cardigan and his men off the job." + +"You can't frighten him," she cried passionately, "You know you can't. +He'll kill the Black Minorca, or the Black Minorca will kill him. Go +instantly and stop it." + +"All right, all right!" he said rather humbly, and sprang down the front +steps into the waiting car. "I'll play the game fairly, Shirley, never +fear." + +She stood in the doorway and watched the red tail-light, like a +malevolent eye, disappear down the street. And presently as she stood +there, down the boulevard a huge gray car came slipping noiselessly--so +noiselessly, in fact, that Shirley recognized it by that very quality of +silence. It was Bryce Cardigan's Napier. + +"George!" she called. "Come here." + +The car slid over to the gate and stopped at the sight of the slim white +figure running down the garden walk. + +"Is Mr. Cardigan hurt?" she demanded in an agony of suspense. + +George Sea Otter grunted contemptuously. "Nobody hurt 'cept the Black +Minorca. I am taking him to your company hospital, miss. He tried to +shoot my boss, so I shoot him myself once through the leg. Now my boss +says: 'Take him to the Laguna Grande hospital, George.' Me, I would drop +this greaser in the bay if I was the boss." + +She laughed hysterically. "On your way back from the hospital stop and +pick me up, George," she ordered. "This senseless feud has gone far +enough. I must stop it--at once." + +He touched his broad hat, and she returned to the house to dress. + +Meanwhile Colonel Pennington had reached the crossing once more, +simultaneously with the arrival of Sam Perkins, the chief of police, +accompanied by two automobiles crammed with patrolmen. Perkins strutted +up to Bryce Cardigan and Buck Ogilvy. + +"What's the meaning of all this row, Mr. Cardigan?" he demanded. + +"Something has slipped, Sam," Bryce retorted pleasantly. "You've been +calling me Bryce for the past twenty years, and now you're mistering me! +The meaning of this row, you ask?" Bryce continued. "Well, I'm engaged +in making a jump-crossing of Colonel Pennington's tracks, under a +temporary franchise granted me by the city of Sequoia. Here's the +franchise." And he thrust the document under the police chief's nose. + +"This is the first I've heard about any franchise," Sam Perkins replied +suspiciously. "Seems to me you been mighty secret about this job. How do +I know this ain't a forgery?" + +"Call up the mayor and ask him," Bryce suggested. + +"I'll do that," quoth Mr. Perkins ponderously. "And in the meantime, +don't do any more digging or rail-cutting." He hurried away to his +automobile, leaving a lieutenant in charge of the squad. + +"Also in the meantime, young man," Colonel Pennington announced, "you +will pardon me if I take possession of my locomotive and flat-cars. I +observe you have finished unloading those rails." + +"Help yourself, Colonel," Bryce replied with an assumption of heartiness +he was far from feeling. + +"Thank you so much, Cardigan." With the greatest good nature in life, +Pennington climbed into the cab, reached for the bell-cord, and rang +the bell vigorously. Then he permitted himself a triumphant toot of +the whistle, after which he threw off the air and gently opened the +throttle. He was not a locomotive-engineer but he had ridden in the +cab of his own locomotive and felt quite confident of his ability in a +pinch. + +With a creak and a bump the train started, and the Colonel ran it slowly +up until the locomotive stood on the tracks exactly where Buck Ogilvy +had been cutting in his crossing; whereupon the Colonel locked the +brakes, opened his exhaust, and blew the boiler down. And when the last +ounce of steam had escaped, he descended and smilingly accosted Bryce +Cardigan. + +"That engine being my property," he announced, "I'll take the short end +of any bet you care to make, young man, that it will sit on those tracks +until your temporary franchise expires. I'd give a good deal to see +anybody not in my employ attempt to get up steam in that boiler until I +give the word. Cut in your jump-crossing now, if you can, you whelp, and +be damned to you. I've got you blocked!" + +"I rather imagine this nice gentleman has it on us, old dear," chirped +Buck Ogilvy plaintively. "Well! We did our damndest, which angels +can't do no more. Let us gather up our tools and go home, my son, for +something tells me that if I hang around here I'll bust one of two +things--this sleek scoundrel's gray head or one of my bellicose veins! +Hello! Whom have we here?" + +Bryce turned and found himself facing Shirley Sumner. Her tender lip was +quivering, and the tears shone in her eyes like stars. He stared at her +in silence. + +"My friend," she murmured tremulously, "didn't I tell you I would not +permit you to build the N.C.O.?" + +He bowed his head in rage and shame at his defeat. Buck Ogilvy took him +by the arm. "''Tis midnight's holy hour,'" he quoted, "'and silence +now is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er a still and pulseless world.' +Bryce, old chap, this is one of those occasions where silence is golden. +Speak not. I'll do it for you. Miss Sumner," he continued, bowing +graciously, "and Colonel Pennington," favouring that triumphant rascal +with an equally gracious bow, "we leave you in possession of the +field--temporarily. However, if anybody should drive up in a hack and +lean out and ask you, just tell him Buck Ogilvy has another trump tucked +away in his kimono." + +Bryce turned to go, but with a sudden impulse Shirley laid her hand on +his arm--his left arm. "Bryce!" she murmured. + +He lifted her hand gently from his forearm, led her to the front of +the locomotive, and held her hand up to the headlight. Her fingers were +crimson with blood. + +"Your uncle's killer did that, Shirley," he said ironically. "It's only +a slight flesh-wound, but that is no fault of your allies. Good-night." + +And he left her standing, pale of face and trembling, in the white glare +of the headlight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Shirley made no effort to detain Bryce Cardigan as he walked to his car +and climbed into it. Ogilvy remained merely long enough to give orders +to the foreman to gather up the tools, store them in the machine-shop +of Cardigan's mill, and dismiss his gang; then he, too, entered the +automobile, and at a word from Bryce, the car slid noiselessly away into +the darkness. The track-cutting crew departed a few minutes later, and +when Shirley found herself alone with her uncle, the tumult in her heart +gave way to the tears she could no longer repress. Pennington stood by, +watching her curiously, coldly. + +Presently Shirley mastered her emotion and glanced toward him. + +"Well, my dear?" he queried nervously. + +"I--I think I had better go home," she said without spirit. + +"I think so, too," he answered. "Get into the Mayor's flivver, my dear, +and I'll drive you. And perhaps the least said about this affair the +better, Shirley. There are many things that you do not understand and +which cannot be elucidated by discussion." + +"I can understand an attempt at assassination, Uncle Seth." + +"That blackguard Minorca! I should have known better than to put him on +such a job. I told him to bluff and threaten; Cardigan, I knew, would +realize the grudge the Black Minorca has against him, and for that +reason I figured the greaser was the only man who could bluff him. While +I gave him orders to shoot, I told him distinctly not to hit anybody. +Good Lord, Shirley, surely you do not think I would wink at a murder!" + +"I do," she answered passionately. "With Bryce Cardigan out of the way, +you would have a clear field before you--" + +"Oh, my dear, my dear! Surely you do not realize what you are saying. +You are beside yourself, Shirley. Please--please do not wound me so--so +horribly. You do not--you cannot realize what a desperate fight I have +been putting up for both our sakes. I am surrounded by enemies--the most +implacable enemies. They force me to fight the devil with fire--and here +you are, giving them aid and comfort." + +"I want you to defeat Bryce Cardigan, if you can do it fairly." + +"At another time and in a calmer mood we will discuss that villain," +he said authoritatively. "If we argue the matter now, we are liable to +misunderstandings; we may quarrel, and that is something neither of us +can afford. Get into the car, and we will go home. There is nothing more +to be done to-night." + +"Your sophistry does not alter my opinion," she replied firmly. +"However, as you say, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss +it." + +They drove home in silence. Shirley went at once to her room. For the +Colonel, however, the night's work had scarcely begun. The instant he +heard the door to his niece's room shut, he went to the telephone and +called up the Laguna Grande roundhouse. Sexton, his manager, answered. + +"Have you sent the switch-engine to the woods for Rondeau and his men?" + +"Just left." + +"Good! Now, then, Sexton, listen to me: As you know, this raid of +Cardigan's has developed so suddenly I am more or less taken by surprise +and have had no time to prepare the kind of counter-attack that will be +most effective. However, with the crossing blocked, I gain time in which +to organize--only there must be no weak point in my organization. In +order to insure that, I am proceeding to San Francisco to-night by +motor, via the coast road. I will arrive late to-morrow night, and early +Saturday morning I will appear in the United States District Court with +our attorneys and file a complaint and petition for an order temporarily +restraining the N.C.O. from cutting our tracks. + +"I will have to make an affidavit to support the complaint, so I had +better be Johnny-on-the-spot to do it, rather than risk the delay of +making the affidavit tomorrow morning here and forwarding it by mail to +our attorneys. The judge will sign a restraining order, returnable in +from ten to thirty days--I'll try for thirty, because that will knock +out the N.C.O.'s temporary franchise--and after I have obtained the +restraining order, I will have the United States marshal telegraph it to +Ogilvy and Cardigan!" + +"Bully!" cried Sexton heartily. "That will fix their clock." + +"In the meantime," Pennington continued, "logs will be glutting our +landings. We need that locomotive for its legitimate purposes. Take all +that discarded machinery and the old boiler we removed from the mill +last fall, dump it on the tracks at the crossing, and get the locomotive +back on its run. Understand? The other side, having no means of removing +these heavy obstructions, will be blocked until I return; by that time +the matter will be in the District Court, Cardigan will be hung up until +his temporary franchise expires--and the city council will not renew it. +Get me?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I'll be back Sunday forenoon. Good-bye." + +He hung up, went to his chauffeur's quarters over the garage, and routed +the man out of bed. Then he returned quietly to his room, dressed and +packed a bag for his journey, left a brief note for Shirley notifying +her of his departure, and started on his two-hundred-and-fifty mile +trip over the mountains to the south. As his car sped through sleeping +Sequoia and gained the open country, the Colonel's heart thrilled +pleasurably. He held cards and spades, big and little casino, four +aces and the joker; therefore he knew he could sweep the board at his +pleasure. And during his absence Shirley would have opportunity to +cool off, while he would find time to formulate an argument to lull her +suspicions upon his return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +Quite oblivious of her uncle's departure for San Francisco, Shirley lay +awake throughout the remainder of the night, turning over and over in +her mind the various aspects of the Cardigan-Fennington imbroglio. Of +one thing she was quite certain; peace must be declared at all hazards. +She had been obsessed of a desire, rather unusual in her sex, to see a +fight worth while; she had planned to permit it to go to a knockout, to +use Bryce Cardigan's language, because she believed Bryce Cardigan would +be vanquished--and she had desired to see him smashed--but not beyond +repair, for her joy in the conflict was to lie in the task of putting +the pieces together afterward! She realized now, however, that she +had permitted matters to go too far. A revulsion of feeling toward her +uncle, induced by the memory of Bryce Cardigan's blood on her white +finger-tips, convinced the girl that, at all hazards to her financial +future, henceforth she and her uncle must tread separate paths. She had +found him out at last, and because in her nature there was some of his +own fixity of purpose, the resolution cost her no particular pang. + +It was rather a relief, therefore, when the imperturbable James handed +her at breakfast the following note: + +Shirley, Dear + +After leaving you last night, I decided that in your present frame +of mind my absence for a few days might tend to a calmer and clearer +perception, on your part, of the necessary tactics which in a moment of +desperation, I saw fit, with regret, to pursue last night. And in the +hope that you will have attained your old attitude toward me before +my return, I am leaving in the motor for San Francisco. Your terrible +accusation has grieved me to such an extent that I do not feel equal to +the task of confronting you until, in a more judicial frame of mind, +you can truly absolve me of the charge of wishing to do away with young +Cardigan. Your affectionate Uncle Seth. + +Shirley's lip curled. With a rarer, keener intuition than she had +hitherto manifested, she sensed the hypocrisy between the lines; she was +not deceived. + +"He has gone to San Francisco for more ammunition," she soliloquized. +"Very well, Unkie-dunk! While you're away, I shall manufacture a few +bombs myself." + +After breakfast she left the house and walked to the intersection of B +with Water Street. Jules Rondeau and his crew of lumberjacks were there, +and with two policemen guarded the crossing. + +Rondeau glanced at Shirley, surprised, then lifted his hat. Shirley +looked from the woods bully to the locomotive and back to Rondeau. + +"Rondeau," she said, "Mr. Cardigan is a bad man to fight. You fought him +once. Are you going to do it again?" + +He nodded. + +"By whose orders?" + +"Mr. Sexton, he tell me to do it." + +"Well, Rondeau, some day I'll be boss of Laguna Grande and there'll +be no more fighting," she replied, and passed on down B Street to the +office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. Moira McTavish looked up +as she entered. + +"Where is he, dear?" Shirley asked. "I must see him." + +"In that office, Miss Shirley," Moira replied, and pointed to the door. +Shirley stepped to the door, knocked, and then entered. Bryce Cardigan, +seated at his desk, looked up as she came in. His left arm was in a +sling, and he looked harassed and dejected. + +"Don't get up, Bryce," she said as he attempted to rise. "I know you're +quite exhausted. You look it." She sat down. "I'm so sorry," she said +softly. + +His dull glance brightened. "It doesn't amount to that, Shirley." And he +snapped his fingers. "It throbs a little and it's stiff and sore, so I +carry it in the sling. That helps a little. What did you want to see me +about?" + +"I wanted to tell you," said Shirley, "that--that last night's affair +was not of my making." He smiled compassionately. "I--I couldn't bear to +have you think I'd break my word and tell him." + +"It never occurred to me that you had dealt me a hand from the bottom of +the deck, Shirley. Please don't worry about it. Your uncle has had two +private detectives watching Ogilvy and me." + +"Oh!" she breathed, much relieved. A ghost of the old bantering smile +lighted her winsome features. "Well, then," she challenged, "I suppose +you don't hate me." + +"On the contrary, I love you," he answered. "However, since you must +have known this for some time past, I suppose it is superfluous to +mention it. Moreover, I haven't the right--yet." + +She had cast her eyes down modestly. She raised them now and looked at +him searchingly. "I suppose you'll acknowledge yourself whipped at last, +Bryce?" she ventured. + +"Would it please you to have me surrender?" He was very serious. + +"Indeed it would, Bryce." + +"Why?" + +"Because I'm tired of fighting. I want peace. I'm--I'm afraid to let +this matter go any further. I'm truly afraid." + +"I think I want peace, too," he answered wearily. "I'd be glad to +quit--with honour. And I'll do it, too, if you can induce your uncle to +give me the kind of logging contract I want with his road." + +"I couldn't do that, Bryce. He has you whipped--and he is not merciful +to the fallen. You'll have to--surrender unconditionally." Again she +laid her little hand timidly on his wounded forearm. "Please give up, +Bryce--for my sake. If you persist, somebody will get killed." + +"I suppose I'll have to," he murmured sadly. "I dare say you're +right, though one should never admit defeat until he is counted out. +I suppose," he continued bitterly, "your uncle is in high feather this +morning." + +"I don't know, Bryce. He left in his motor for San Francisco about one +o'clock this morning." + +For an instant Bryce Cardigan stared at her; then a slow, mocking little +smile crept around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes lighted with +mirth. + +"Glorious news, my dear Shirley, perfectly glorious! So the old fox has +gone to San Francisco, eh? Left in a hurry and via the overland route! +Couldn't wait for the regular passenger-steamer to-morrow, eh? Great +jumping Jehoshaphat! He must have had important business to attend to." +And Bryce commenced to chuckle. "Oh, the poor old Colonel," he continued +presently, "the dear old pirate! What a horrible right swing he's +running into! And you want me to acknowledge defeat! My dear girl, in +the language of the classic, there is nothing doing. I shall put in my +crossing Sunday morning, and if you don't believe it, drop around and +see me in action." + +"You mustn't try," protested Shirley. "Rondeau is there with his +crew--and he has orders to stop you. Besides, you can't expect help from +the police. Uncle Seth has made a deal with the Mayor," Shirley pleaded +frantically. + +"That for the police and that venal Mayor Poundstone!" Bryce retorted, +with another snap of his fingers. "I'll rid the city of them at the fall +election." + +"I came prepared to suggest a compromise, Bryce," she declared, but he +interrupted her with a wave of his hand. + +"You can't effect a compromise. You've been telling me I shall never +build the N.C.O. because you will not permit me to. You're powerless, I +tell you. I shall build it." + +"You shan't!" she fired back at him, and a spot of anger glowed in each +cheek. "You're the most stubborn and belligerent man I have ever known. +Sometimes I almost hate you." + +"Come around at ten to-morrow morning and watch me put in the +crossing--watch me give Rondeau and his gang the run." He reached over +suddenly, lifted her hand, and kissed it. "How I love you, dear little +antagonist!" he murmured. + +"If you loved me, you wouldn't oppose me," she protested softly. "I tell +you again, Bryce, you make it very hard for me to be friendly with you." + +"I don't want to be friendly with you. You're driving me crazy, +Shirley. Please run along home, or wherever you're bound. I've tried to +understand your peculiar code, but you're too deep for me; so let me go +my way to the devil. George Sea Otter is outside asleep in the tonneau +of the car. Tell him to drive you wherever you're going. I suppose +you're afoot to-day, for I noticed the Mayor riding to his office in +your sedan this morning." + +She tried to look outraged, but for the life of her she could not +take offense at his bluntness; neither did she resent a look which she +detected in his eyes, even though it told her he was laughing at her. + +"Oh, very well," she replied with what dignity she could muster. "Have +it your own way. I've tried to warn you. Thank you for your offer of +the car. I shall be glad to use it. Uncle Seth sold my car to Mayor +Poundstone last night. Mrs. P. admired it so!" + +"Ah! Then it was that rascally Poundstone who told your uncle about the +temporary franchise, thus arousing his suspicions to such an extent that +when he heard his locomotive rumbling into town, he smelled a rat and +hurried down to the crossing?" + +"Possibly. The Poundstones dined at our house last night." + +"Pretty hard on you, I should say. But then I suppose you have to play +the game with Uncle Seth. Well, good morning, Shirley. Sorry to hurry +you away, but you must remember we're on a strictly business basis--yet; +and you mustn't waste my time." + +"You're horrid, Bryce Cardigan." + +"You're adorable. Good morning." + +"You'll be sorry for this," she warned him. "Good morning." She passed +out into the general office, visited with Moira about five minutes, and +drove away in the Napier. Bryce watched her through the window. She +knew he was watching her, but nevertheless she could not forbear turning +round to verify her suspicions. When she did, he waved his sound arm at +her, and she flushed with vexation. + +"God bless her!" he murmured. "She's been my ally all along, and I never +suspected it! I wonder what her game can be." + +He sat musing for a long time. "Yes," he concluded presently, "old +Poundstone has double-crossed us--and Pennington made it worth his +while. And the Colonel sold the Mayor his niece's automobile. It's +worth twenty-five hundred dollars, at least, and since old Poundstone's +finances will not permit such an extravagance, I'm wondering how +Pennington expects him to pay for it. I smell a rat as big as a +kangaroo. In this case two and two don't make four. They make six! Guess +I'll build a fire under old Poundstone." + +He took down the telephone-receiver and called up the Mayor. "Bryce +Cardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone," he greeted the chief executive of +Sequoia. + +"Oh, hello, Bryce, my boy," Poundstone boomed affably. "How's tricks?" + +"So-so! I hear you've bought that sedan from Colonel Pennington's niece. +Wish I'd known it was for sale. I'd have outbid you. Want to make a +profit on your bargain?" + +"No, not this morning, Bryce. I think we'll keep it. Mrs. P. has been +wanting a closed car for a long time, and when the Colonel offered me +this one at a bargain, I snapped it up. Couldn't afford a new one, you +know, but then this one's just as good as new." + +"And you don't care to get rid of it at a profit?" Bryce repeated. + +"No, sirree!" + +"Oh, you're mistaken, Mr. Mayor. I think you do. I would suggest that +you take that car back to Pennington's garage and leave it there. That +would be the most profitable thing you could do." + +"Wha--what--what in blue blazes are you driving at?" the Mayor +sputtered. + +"I wouldn't care to discuss it over the telephone. I take it, however, +that a hint to the wise is sufficient; and I warn you, Mayor, that if +you keep that car it will bring you bad luck. To-day is Friday, and +Friday is an unlucky day. I'd get rid of that sedan before noon if I +were you." + +There was a long, fateful silence. Then in a singularly small, quavering +voice: "You think it best, Cardigan?" + +"I do. Return it to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, and no questions will be +asked. Good-bye!" + +When Shirley reached home at noon, she found her car parked in front of +the porte cochere; and a brief note, left with the butler, informed her +that after thinking the matter over, Mrs. Poundstone had decided the +Poundstone family could not afford such an extravagance, and accordingly +the car was returned with many thanks for the opportunity to purchase it +at such a ridiculously low figure. Shirley smiled, and put the car up in +the garage. When she returned to the house her maid Thelma informed her +that Mr. Bryce Cardigan had been calling her on the telephone. So she +called Bryce up at once. + +"Has Poundstone returned your car?" he queried. + +"Why, yes. What makes you ask?" + +"Oh, I had a suspicion he might. You see, I called him up and suggested +it; somehow His Honour is peculiarly susceptible to suggestions from me, +and--" + +"Bryce Cardigan," she declared, "you're a sly rascal--that's what you +are. I shan't tell you another thing." + +"I hope you had a stenographer at the dictograph when the Mayor and your +uncle cooked up their little deal," he continued. "That was thoughtful +of you, Shirley. It was a bully club to have up your sleeve at the final +show-down, for with it you can make Unkie-dunk behave himself and force +that compromise you spoke of. Seriously, however, I don't want you to +use it, Shirley. We must avoid a scandal by all means; and praise be, +I don't need your club to beat your uncle's brains out. I'm taking HIS +club away from him to use for that purpose." + +"Really, I believe you're happy to-day." + +"Happy? I should tell a man! If the streets of Sequoia were paved with +eggs, I could walk them all day without making an omelette." + +"It must be nice to feel so happy, after so many months of the blues." + +"Indeed it is, Shirley. You see until very recently I was very much +worried as to your attitude toward me. I couldn't believe you'd so far +forget yourself as to love me in spite of everything--so I never took +the trouble to ask you. And now I don't have to ask you. I know! And +I'll be around to see you after I get that crossing in!" + +"You're perfectly horrid," she blazed, and hung up without the formality +of saying good-bye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Shortly after Shirley's departure from his office, Bryce had a visit +from Buck Ogilvy. The latter wore a neatly pressed suit of Shepherd +plaid, with a white carnation in his lapel, and he was, apparently, the +most light-hearted young man in Humboldt County. He struck an attitude +and demanded: + +"Boss, what do you think of my new suit?" + +"You lunatic! Don't you know red blonds should never wear light shades? +You're dressed like a Negro minstrel." + +"Well, I feel as happy as an end-man. And by the way, you're all chirked +up yourself. Who's been helping you to the elixir of life. When +we parted last night, you were forty fathoms deep in the slough of +despond." + +"No less a divinity than Miss Shirley Sumner! She called this morning +to explain that last night's fiasco was none of her making, and quite +innocently she imparted the information that old Pennington lighted out +for San Francisco at one o'clock this morning. Wherefore I laugh. Te-he! +Ha-hah!" + +"Three long, loud raucous cheers for Uncle. He's gone to rush a +restraining order through the United States District Court. Wonder why +he didn't wire his attorneys to attend to the matter for him." + +"He has the crossing blocked, and inasmuch as the Mayor feeds out of +Pennington's hand, the Colonel is quite confident that said crossing +will remain blocked, As for the restraining order--well, if one wants a +thing well done, one should do it oneself." + +"All that doesn't explain your cheerful attitude, though." + +"Oh, but it does. I've told you about old Duncan McTavish, Moira's +father, haven't I?" Ogilvy nodded, and Bryce continued: "When I fired +the old scoundrel for boozing, it almost broke his heart; he had to +leave Humboldt, where everybody knew him, so he wandered down into +Mendocino County and got a job sticking lumber in the drying-yard of +the Willits Lumber Company. He's been there two months now, and I am +informed by his employer that old Mac hasn't taken a drink in all that +time. And what's more, he isn't going to take one again." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because I make it my business to find out. Mac was the finest +woods-boss this county ever knew; hence you do not assume that I would +lose the old scoundrel without making a fight for him, do you? Why, +Buck, he's been on the Cardigan pay-roll thirty years, and I only fired +him in order to reform him. Well, last week I sent one of Mac's old +friends down to Willits purposely to call on him and invite him out +'for a time'; but Mac wouldn't drink with him. No, sir, he couldn't be +tempted. On the contrary, he told the tempter that I had promised to +give him back his job if he remained on the water wagon for one year; he +was resolved to win back his job and his self-respect." + +"I know what your plan is," Ogilvy interrupted. "You're going to ask +Duncan McTavish to waylay Pennington on the road at some point where it +runs through the timber, kidnap him, and hold him until we have had time +to clear the crossing and cut Pennington's tracks. + +"We will do nothing of the sort," Buck continued seriously. "Listen, +now, to Father's words of wisdom. This railroad-game is an old one +to me; I've fought at crossings before now, and whether successful or +defeated, I have always learned something in battle. Didn't you hear me +tell that girl and her villainous avuncular relative last night that I +had another ace up my kimono?" + +Bryce nodded. + +"That was not brag, old dear. I had the ace, and this morning I +played it--wherefore in my heart there is that peace that passeth +understanding--particularly since I have just had a telegram informing +me that my ace took the odd trick." + +He opened a drawer in Bryce's desk and reached for the cigars he knew +were there. + +"Not at all a bad cigar for ten cents. However--you will recall that +from the very instant we decided to cut in that jump-crossing, we +commenced to plan against interference by Pennington; in consequence we +kept, or tried to keep, our decision a secret. However, there existed at +all times the possibility that Pennington might discover our benevolent +intentions and block us with his only weapon--a restraining order issued +by the judge of the United States District Court. + +"Now, one of the most delightful things I know about a court is that it +is open to all men seeking justice--or injustice disguised as justice. +Also there is a wise old saw to the effect that battles are won by the +fellow who gets there first with the most men. The situation from the +start was absurdly simple. If Pennington got to the District Court +first, we were lost!" + +"You mean you got there first?" exclaimed Bryce. + +"I did--by the very simple method of preparing to get there first in +case anything slipped. Something did slip--last night! However, I was +ready; so all I had to do was press the button, for as Omar Khayyam +remarked: 'What shall it avail a man if he buyeth a padlock for his +stable after his favourite stallion hath been lifted?' Several days +ago, my boy, I wrote a long letter to our attorney in San Francisco +explaining every detail of our predicament; the instant I received that +temporary franchise from the city council, I mailed a certified copy +of it to our attorney also. Then, in anticipation of our discovery +by Pennington, I instructed the attorney to prepare the complaint and +petition for a restraining order against Seth Pennington et al. and +stand by to rush the judge with it the instant he heard from me! + +"Well, about the time old Pennington started for San Francisco this +morning, I had our attorney out of bed and on the long-distance +telephone; at nine o'clock this morning he appeared in the United States +District Court; at nine-fifteen the judge signed a restraining order +forbidding our enemies to interfere with us in the exercise of a right +legally granted us by the city of Sequoia, and at nine-thirty a deputy +United States marshal started in an automobile for Sequoia, via the +overland route. He will arrive late to-morrow night, and on Sunday we +will get that locomotive out of our way and install our crossing." + +"And Pennington--" + +"Ah, the poor Pennington! Mon pauvre Seth!" Buck sighed comically. "He +will be just twenty-four hours late." + +"You old he-fox!" Bryce murmured. "You wicked, wicked man!" + +Buck Ogilvy lifted his lapel and sniffed luxuriously at his white +carnation, the while a thin little smile played around the corners of +his humorous mouth. "Ah," he murmured presently, "life's pretty sweet, +isn't it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Events followed each other with refreshing rapidity. While the crew of +the big locomotive on the crossing busied themselves getting up steam, +Sexton and Jules Rondeau toiled at the loading of the discarded boiler +and heavy castings aboard two flat-cars. By utilizing the steel derrick +on the company's wrecking-car, this task was completed by noon, and +after luncheon the mogul backed up the main line past the switch into +the Laguna Grande yards; whereupon the switch-engine kicked the two +flat-cars and the wrecking-car out of the yard and down to the crossing, +where the obstructions were promptly unloaded. The police watched +the operation with alert interest but forebore to interfere in this +high-handed closing of a public thoroughfare. + +To Sexton's annoyance and secret apprehension, Bryce Cardigan and Buck +Ogilvy promptly appeared on the scene, both very cheerful and lavish +with expert advice as to the best method of expediting the job in hand. +To Bryce's surprise Jules Rondeau appeared to take secret enjoyment of +this good-natured chaffing of the Laguna Grande manager. Occasionally +he eyed Bryce curiously but without animus, and presently he flashed the +latter a lightning wink, as if to say: "What a fool Sexton is to oppose +you!" + +"Well, Rondeau," Bryce hailed the woods-boss cheerfully, "I see you have +quite recovered from that working over I gave you some time ago. No hard +feelings, I trust. I shouldn't care to have that job to do over again. +You're a tough one." + +"By gar, she don' pay for have hard feelings wiz you, M'sieur," Rondeau +answered bluntly. "We have one fine fight, but"--he shrugged--"I don' +want some more." + +"Yes, by gar, an' she don' pay for cut other people's trees, M'sieur," +Bryce mimicked him. "I shouldn't wonder if I took the value of that tree +out of your hide." + +"I t'enk so, M'sieur." He approached Bryce and lowered his voice. "For +one month I am no good all ze tam. We don' fight some more, M'sieur. And +I have feel ashame' for dose Black Minorca feller. Always wiz him eet +is ze knife or ze club--and now eet is ze rifle. COCHON! W'en I fight, I +fight wiz what le bon Dieu give me." + +"You appear to have a certain code, after all," Bryce laughed. "I am +inclined to like you for it. You're sporty in your way, you tremendous +scoundrel!" + +"Mebbeso," Rondeau suggested hopefully, "M'sieur likes me for +woods-boss?" + +"Why, what's the matter with Pennington? Is he tired of you?" + +The colour mounted slowly to the woods bully's swarthy cheek. +"Mademoiselle Sumnair, he's tell me pretty soon he's goin' be boss of +Laguna Grande an' stop all thees fight. An' w'en Mademoiselle, he is in +the saddle, good-bye Jules Rondeau. Thees country--I like him. I feel +sad, M'sieur, to leave dose beeg trees." He paused, looking rather +wistfully at Bryce. "I am fine woods-boss for somebody," he suggested +hopefully. + +"You think Miss Sumner dislikes you then, Rondeau?" + +"I don' theenk. I know." He sighed; his huge body seemed to droop. "I +am out of zee good luck now," he murmured bitterly. "Everybody, she hate +Jules Rondeau. Colonel--she hate because I don' keel M'sieur Cardigan; +Mademoiselle, he hate because I try to keel M'sieur Cardigan; M'sieur +Sexton, she hate because I tell her thees mornin' she is one fool for +fight M'sieur Cardigan." + +Again he sighed. "Dose beeg trees! In Quebec we have none. In zee woods, +M'sieur, I feel--here!" And he laid his great calloused, hairy hand over +his heart. "W'en I cut your beeg trees, M'sieur, I feel like hell." + +"That infernal gorilla of a man is a poet," Buck Ogilvy declared. "I'd +think twice before I let him get out of the country, Bryce." + +"'Whose salt he eats, his song he sings,'" quoth Bryce. "I forgive you, +Rondeau, and when I need a woods-boss like you, I'll send for you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +At eleven o'clock Saturday night the deputy United States marshal +arrived in Sequoia. Upon the advice of Buck Ogilvy, however, he made +no attempt at service that night, notwithstanding the fact that Jules +Rondeau and his bullies still guarded the crossing. At eight o'clock +Sunday morning, however, Bryce Cardigan drove him down to the crossing. +Buck Ogilvy was already there with his men, superintending the erection +of a huge derrick close to the heap of obstructions placed on the +crossing. Sexton was watching him uneasily, and flushed as Ogilvy +pointed him out to the marshal. + +"There's your meat, Marshal," he announced. The marshal approached +and extended toward Sexton a copy of the restraining order. The latter +struck it aside and refused to accept it--whereupon the deputy marshal +tapped him on the shoulder with it. "Tag! You're out of the game, my +friend," he said pleasantly. + +As the document fluttered to Sexton's feet, the latter turned to Jules +Rondeau. "I can no longer take charge here, Rondeau," he explained. "I +am forbidden to interfere." + +"Jules Rondeau can do ze job," the woods-boss replied easily. "Ze law, +she have not restrain' me. I guess mebbeso you don' take dose theengs +away, eh, M'sieur Cardigan. Myself, I lak see." + +The deputy marshal handed Rondeau a paper, at the same time showing his +badge. "You're out, too, my friend," he laughed. "Don't be foolish and +try to buck the law. If you do, I shall have to place a nice little pair +of handcuffs on you and throw you in jail--and if you resist arrest, I +shall have to shoot you. I have one of these little restraining +orders for every able-bodied man in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's +employ--thanks to Mr. Ogilvy's foresight; so it is useless to try to +beat this game on a technicality." + +Sexton, who still lingered, made a gesture of surrender. "Dismiss your +crew, Rondeau," he ordered. "We're whipped to a frazzle." + +A gleam of pleasure, not unmixed with triumph, lighted the dark eyes +of the French-Canadian. "I tol' M'sieur Sexton she cannot fight M'sieur +Cardigan and win," he said simply, "Now mebbe he believe that Jules +Rondeau know somet'ing." + +"Shut up," Sexton roared petulantly. Rondeau shrugged contemptuously, +turned, and with a sweep of his great arm indicated to his men that they +were to go; then, without a backward glance to see that they followed, +the woods-boss strode away in the direction of the Laguna Grande mill. +Arrived at the mill-office, he entered, took down the telephone, and +called up Shirley Sumner. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "Jules Rondeau speaks to you. I have for you +zee good news. Bryce Cardigan, she puts in the crossing to-day. One man +of the law she comes from San Francisco with papers, and M'sieur +Sexton say to me: 'Rondeau, we are whip'. Deesmess your men.' So I have +deesmess doze men, and now I deesmess myself. Mebbeso bimeby I go to +work for M'sieur Cardigan. For Mademoiselle I have no weesh to make +trouble to fire me. I queet. I will not fight dose dirty fight some +more. Au revoir, mademoiselle. I go." + +And without further ado he hung up. + +"What's this, what's this?" Sexton demanded. "You re going to quit? +Nonsense, Rondeau, nonsense!" + +"I will have my time, M'sieur," said Jules Rondeau. "I go to work for a +man. Mebbeso I am not woods-boss for heem, but--I work." + +"You'll have to wait until the Colonel returns, Rondeau." + +"I will have my time," said Jules Rondeau patiently. + +"Then you'll wait till pay-day for it, Rondeau. You know our rules. Any +man who quits without notice waits until the regular pay-day for his +money." + +Jules advanced until he towered directly over the manager. "I tol' +M'sieur I would have my time," he repeated once more. "Is M'sieur deaf +in zee ears?" He raised his right hand, much as a bear raises its paw; +his blunt fingers worked a little and there was a smoldering fire in his +dark eyes. + +Without further protest Sexton opened the safe, counted out the wages +due, and took Rondeau's receipt. + +"Thank you, M'sieur," the woods-boss growled as he swept the coin into +his pocket. "Now I work for M'sieur Cardigan; so, M'sieur, I will have +zee switchengine weeth two flat-cars and zee wrecking-car. Doze dam +trash on zee crossing--M'sieur Cardigan does not like, and by gar, I +take heem away. You onderstand, M'sieur? I am Jules Rondeau, and I +work for M'sieur Cardigan. La la, M'sieur!" The great hand closed over +Sexton's collar. "Not zee pistol--no, not for Jules Rondeau." + +Quite as easily as a woman dresses a baby, he gagged Sexton with +Sexton's own handkerchief, laid him gently on the floor and departed, +locking the door behind him and taking the key. At the corner of the +building, where the telephone-line entered the office, he paused, jerked +once at the wire, and passed on, leaving the broken ends on the ground. + +In the round-house he found the switch-engine crew on duty, waiting for +steam in the boiler. The withdrawal of both locomotives, brief as had +been their absence, had caused a glut of logs at the Laguna Grande +landings, and Sexton was catching up with the traffic by sending the +switch-engine crew out for one train-load, even though it was Sunday. +The crew had been used to receiving orders from Rondeau, and moreover +they were not aware of his recent action; hence at his command they ran +the switch-engine out of the roundhouse, coupled up the two flat-cars +and the wrecking-car, and backed down to the crossing. Upon arrival, +Jules Rondeau leaned out of the cab window and hailed Bryce. +"M'sieur," he said, "do not bozzer to make zee derrick. I have here zee +wrecking-car--all you need; pretty soon we lift him off zee crossing, I +tell you, eh, M'sieur Cardigan?" + +Bryce stepped over to the switch-engine and looked up at his late enemy. +"By whose orders is this train here?" he queried. + +"Mine," Rondeau answered. "M'sieur Sexton I have tie like one leetle pig +and lock her in her office. I work now for M'sieur." + +And he did. He waited not for a confirmation from his new master but +proceeded to direct operations like the born driver and leader of +men that he was. With his late employer's gear he fastened to the +old castings and the boiler, lifted them with the derrick on the +wrecking-car, and swung them up and around onto the flat-cars. By the +middle of the afternoon the crossing was once more clear. Then the +Cardigan crew fell upon it while Jules Rondeau ran the train back to the +Laguna Grande yards, dismissed his crew, returned to the mill-office, +and released the manager. + +"You'll pay through the nose for this, you scoundrel," Sexton whimpered. +"I'll fix you, you traitor." + +"You feex nothing, M'sieur Sexton," Rondeau replied imperturbably. "Who +is witness Jules Rondeau tie you up? Somebody see you, no? I guess you +don' feex me. Sacre! I guess you don' try." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +Colonel Pennington's discovery at San Francisco that Bryce Cardigan had +stolen his thunder and turned the bolt upon him, was the hardest blow +Seth Pennington could remember having received throughout thirty-odd +years of give and take. He was too old and experienced a campaigner, +however, to permit a futile rage to cloud his reason; he prided himself +upon being a foeman worthy of any man's steel. + +On Tuesday he returned to Sequoia. Sexton related to him in detail the +events which had transpired since his departure, but elicited nothing +more than a noncommittal grunt. + +"There is one more matter, sir, which will doubtless be of interest to +you," Sexton continued apologetically. "Miss Sumner called me on the +telephone yesterday and instructed me formally to notify the board +of directors of the Laguna Grande Company of a special meeting of the +board, to be held here at two o'clock this afternoon. In view of the +impossibility of communicating with you while you were en route, I +conformed to her wishes. Our by-laws, as you know, stipulate that no +meeting of the board shall be called without formal written notice to +each director mailed twenty-four hours previously." + +"What the devil do you mean, Sexton, by conforming to her wishes? Miss +Sumner is not a director of this company." Pennington's voice was harsh +and trembled with apprehension. + +"Miss Sumner controls forty per cent. of the Laguna Grande stock, sir. I +took that into consideration." + +"You lie!" Pennington all but screamed. "You took into consideration +your job as secretary and general manager. Damnation!" + +He rose and commenced pacing up and down his office. Suddenly he paused. +Sexton still stood beside his desk, watching him respectfully. "You +fool!" he snarled. "Get out of here and leave me alone." + +Sexton departed promptly, glancing at his watch as he did so. It lacked +five minutes of two. He passed Shirley Sumner in the general office. + +"Shirley," Pennington began in a hoarse voice as she entered his office, +"what is the meaning of this directors' meeting you have requested?" + +"Be seated, Uncle Seth," the girl answered quietly. "If you will only +be quiet and reasonable, perhaps we can dispense with this directors' +meeting which appears to frighten you so." + +He sat down promptly, a look of relief on his face. + +"I scarcely know how to begin, Uncle Seth," Shirley commenced sadly. "It +hurts me terribly to be forced to hurt you, but there doesn't appear to +be any other way out of it. I cannot trust you to manage my financial +affairs in the future--this for a number of reasons, the principal one +being--" + +"Young Cardigan," he interrupted in a low voice. + +"I suppose so," she answered, "although I did think until very recently +that it was those sixteen townships of red cedar--that crown grant in +British Columbia in which you induced me to invest four hundred thousand +dollars. You will remember that you purchased that timber for me from +the Caribou Timber Company, Limited. You said it was an unparalleled +investment. Quite recently I learned--no matter how--that you were the +principal owner of the Caribou Timber Company, Limited! Smart as you +are, somebody swindled you with that red cedar. It was a wonderful stand +of timber--so read the cruiser's report--but fifty per cent. of it, +despite its green and flourishing appearance, is hollow-butted! And the +remaining fifty per cent. of sound timber cannot be logged unless the +rotten timber is logged also and gotten out of the way also. And I am +informed that logging it spells bankruptcy." + +She gazed upon him steadily, but without malice; his face crimsoned and +then paled; presently his glance sought the carpet. While he struggled +to formulate a verbal defense against her accusation Shirley continued: + +"You had erected a huge sawmill and built and equipped a logging-road +before you discovered you had been swindled. So, in order to save +as much as possible from the wreck, you decided to unload your white +elephant on somebody else. I was the readiest victim. You were the +executor of my father's estate--you were my guardian and financial +adviser, and so you found it very, very easy to swindle me!" + +"I had my back to the wall," he quavered. "I was desperate--and it +wasn't at all the bad investment you have been told it is. You had the +money--more money than you knew what to do with--and with the proceeds +of the sale of those cedar lands, I knew I could make an investment in +California redwood and more than retrieve my fortunes--make big money +for both of us." + +"You might have borrowed the money from me. You know I have never +hesitated to join in your enterprises." + +"This was too big a deal for you, Shirley. I had vision. I could see +incalculable riches in this redwood empire, but it was a tremendous +gamble and required twenty millions to swing it at the very start. I +dreamed of the control of California redwood; and if you will stand by +me, Shirley, I shall yet make my dream come true--and half of it shall +be yours. It has always been my intention to buy back from you secretly +and at a nice profit to you that Caribou red cedar, and with the +acquisition of the Cardigan properties I would have been in position to +do so. Why, that Cardigan tract in the San Hedrin which we will buy in +within a year for half a million is worth five millions at least. And +by that time, I feel certain--in fact, I know--the Northern Pacific will +commence building in from the south, from Willits." + +She silenced him with a disdainful gesture. "You shall not smash the +Cardigans," she declared firmly. + +"I shall--" he began, but he paused abruptly, as if he had suddenly +remembered that tact and not pugnacity was the requirement for the +handling of this ticklish situation. + +"You are devoid of mercy, of a sense of sportsmanship. Now, then, Uncle +Seth, listen to me: You have twenty-four hours in which to make up your +mind whether to accept my ultimatum or refuse it. If you refuse, I shall +prosecute you for fraud and a betrayal of trust as my father's executor +on that red-cedar timber deal." + +He brightened a trifle. "I'm afraid that would be a long, hard row to +hoe, my dear, and of course, I shall have to defend myself." + +"In addition," the girl went on quietly, "the county grand jury shall +be furnished with a stenographic report of your conversation of Thursday +night with Mayor Poundstone. That will not be a long, hard row to hoe, +Uncle Seth, for in addition to the stenographer, I have another very +reliable witness, Judge Moore. Your casual disposal of my sedan as a +bribe to the Mayor will be hard to explain and rather amusing, in view +of the fact that Bryce Cardigan managed to frighten Mr. Poundstone into +returning the sedan while you were away. And if that is not sufficient +for my purposes, I have the sworn confession of the Black Minorca +that you gave him five hundred dollars to kill Bryce Cardigan. Your +woods-boss, Rondeau, will also swear that you approached him with a +proposition to do away with Bryce Cardigan. I think, therefore, that you +will readily see how impossible a situation you have managed to create +and will not disagree with me when I suggest that it would be better for +you to leave this county." + +His face had gone gray and haggard. "I can't," he murmured, "I can't +leave this great business now. Your own interests in the company render +such a course unthinkable. Without my hand at the helms, things will go +to smash." + +"I'll risk that. I want to get rid of that worthless red-cedar timber; +so I think you had better buy it back from me at the same figure at +which, you sold it to me." + +"But I haven't the money and I can't borrow it. I--I---" + +"I will have the equivalent in stock of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company. You will call on Judge Moore to complete the transaction and +leave with him your resignation as president of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company." + +The Colonel raised his glance and bent it upon her in cold appraisal. +She met it with firmness, and the thought came to him: "She is a +Pennington!" And hope died out in his heart. He began pleading in +maudlin fashion for mercy, for compromise. But the girl was obdurate. + +"I am showing you more mercy than you deserve--you to whom mercy was +ever a sign of weakness, of vacillation. There is a gulf between us, +Uncle Seth--a gulf which for a long time I have dimly sensed and which, +because of my recent discoveries, has widened until it can no longer be +bridged." + +He wrung his hands in desperation and suddenly slid to his knees before +her; with hypocritical endearments he strove to take her hand, but +she drew away from him. "Don't touch me," she cried sharply and with a +breaking note in her voice. "You planned to kill Bryce Cardigan! And for +that--and that alone--I shall never forgive you." + +She fled from the office, leaving him cringing and grovelling on the +floor. "There will be no directors' meeting, Mr. Sexton," she informed +the manager as she passed through the general office. "It is postponed." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +That trying interview with her uncle had wrenched Shirley's soul to +a degree that left her faint and weak. She at once set out on a long +drive, in the hope that before she turned homeward again she might +regain something of her customary composure. + +Presently the asphaltum-paved street gave way to a dirt road and +terminated abruptly at the boundaries of a field that sloped gently +upward--a field studded with huge black redwood stumps showing dismally +through coronets of young redwoods that grew riotously around the +base of the departed parent trees. From the fringe of the thicket thus +formed, the terminus of an old skid-road showed and a signboard, freshly +painted, pointed the way to the Valley of the Giants. + +Shirley had not intended to come here, but now that she had arrived, it +occurred to her that it was here she wanted to come. Parking her car by +the side of the road, she alighted and proceeded up the old skid, now +newly planked and with the encroaching forestration cut away so that the +daylight might enter from above. On over the gentle divide she went and +down toward the amphitheatre where the primeval giants grew. And as she +approached it, the sound that is silence in the redwoods--the +thunderous diapason of the centuries--wove its spell upon her; quickly, +imperceptibly there faded from her mind the memory of that grovelling +Thing she had left behind in the mill-office, and in its place there +came a subtle peace, a feeling of awe, of wonder--such a feeling, +indeed, as must come to one in the realization that man is distant but +God is near. + +A cluster of wild orchids pendent from the great fungus-covered roots +of a giant challenged her attention. She gathered them. Farther on, in +a spot where a shaft of sunlight fell, she plucked an armful of golden +California poppies and flaming rhododendron, and with her delicate +burden she came at length to the giant-guarded clearing where the halo +of sunlight fell upon the grave of Bryce Cardigan's mother. There were +red roses on it--a couple of dozen, at least, and these she rearranged +in order to make room for her own offering. + +"Poor dear!" she murmured audibly. "God didn't spare you for much +happiness, did He?" + +A voice, deep, resonant, kindly, spoke a few feet away. "Who is it?" + +Shirley, startled, turned swiftly. Seated across the little amphitheatre +in a lumberjack's easy-chair fashioned from an old barrel, John Cardigan +sat, his sightless gaze bent upon her. "Who is it?" he repeated. + +"Shirley Sumner," she answered. "You do not know me, Mr. Cardigan." + +"No," replied he, "I do not. That is a name I have heard, however. You +are Seth Pennington's niece. Is someone with you?" + +"I am quite alone, Mr. Cardigan." + +"And why did you come here alone?" he queried. + +"I--I wanted to think." + +"You mean you wanted to think clearly, my dear. Ah, yes, this is the +place for thoughts." He was silent a moment. Then: "You were thinking +aloud, Miss Shirley Sumner. I heard you. You said: 'Poor dear, God +didn't spare you for much happiness, did He?' And I think you rearranged +my roses. Didn't I have them on her grave?" + +"Yes, Mr. Cardigan. I was merely making room for some wild flowers I had +gathered." + +"Indeed. Then you knew--about her being here." + +"Yes, sir. Some ten years ago, when I was a very little girl, I met your +son Bryce. He gave me a ride on his Indian pony, and we came here. So I +remember." + +"Well, I declare! Ten years ago, eh? You've met, eh? You've met Bryce +since his return to Sequoia, I believe. He's quite a fellow now." + +"He is indeed." + +John Cardigan nodded sagely. "So that's why you thought aloud," he +remarked impersonally. "Bryce told you about her. You are right, Miss +Shirley Sumner. God didn't give her much time for happiness--just three +years; but oh, such wonderful years! Such wonderful years! + +"It was mighty fine of you to bring flowers," he announced presently. +"I appreciate that. I wish I could see you. You must be a dear, nice, +thoughtful girl. Won't you sit down and talk to me?" + +"I should be glad to," she answered, and seated herself on the brown +carpet of redwood twigs close to his chair. + +"So you came up here to do a little clear thinking," he continued in his +deliberate, amiable tones. "Do you come here often?" + +"This is the third time in ten years," she answered. "I feel that I have +no business to intrude here. This is your shrine, and strangers should +not profane it." + +"I think I should have resented the presence of any other person, Miss +Sumner. I resented you--until you spoke." + +"I'm glad you said that, Mr. Cardigan. It sets me at ease." + +"I hadn't been up here for nearly two years until recently. You see I--I +don't own the Valley of the Giants any more." + +"Indeed. To whom have you sold it?" + +"I do not know, Miss Sumner. I had to sell; there was no other way out +of the jam Bryce and I were in; so I sacrificed my sentiment for my boy. +However, the new owner has been wonderfully kind and thoughtful. She +reorganized that old skid-road so even an old blind duffer like me +can find his way in and out without getting lost--and she had this +easy-chair made for me. I have told Judge Moore, who represents the +unknown owner, to extend my thanks to his client. But words are so +empty, Shirley Sumner. If that new owner could only understand how truly +grateful I am--how profoundly her courtesy touches me--" + +"HER courtesy?" Shirley echoed. "Did a woman buy the Giants?" + +He smiled down at her. "Why, certainly. Who but a woman--and a dear, +kind, thoughtful woman--would have thought to have this chair made and +brought up here for me?" + +Fell a long silence between them; then John Cardigan's trembling hand +went groping out toward the girl's. "Why, how stupid of me not to have +guessed it immediately!" he said. "You are the new owner. My dear +child, if the silent prayers of a very unhappy old man will bring God's +blessing on you--there, there, girl! I didn't intend to make you weep. +What a tender heart it is, to be sure!" + +She took his great toil-worn hand, and her hot tears fell on it, for his +gentleness, his benignancy, had touched her deeply. "Oh, you must not +tell anybody! You mustn't," she cried. + +He put his hand on her shoulder as she knelt before him. "Good land +of love, girl, what made you do it? Why should a girl like you give +a hundred thousand dollars for my Valley of the Giants? Were +you"--hesitatingly--"your uncle's agent?" + +"No, I bought it myself--with my own money. My uncle doesn't know I am +the new owner. You see, he wanted it--for nothing." + +"Ah, yes. I suspected as much a long time ago. Your uncle is the modern +type of business man. Not very much of an idealist, I'm afraid. But tell +me why you decided to thwart the plans of your relative." + +"I knew it hurt you terribly to sell your Giants; they were dear to +you for sentimental reasons. I understood, also, why you were forced to +sell; so I--well, I decided the Giants would be safer in my possession +than in my uncle's. In all probability he would have logged this valley +for the sake of the clear seventy-two-inch boards he could get from +these trees." + +"That does not explain satisfactorily, to me, why you took sides with a +stranger against your own kin," John Cardigan persisted. "There must be +a deeper and more potent reason, Miss Shirley Sumner." + +"Well," Shirley made answer, glad that he could not see the flush of +confusion and embarrassment that crimsoned her cheek, "when I came to +Sequoia last May, your son and I met, quite accidentally. The stage to +Sequoia had already gone, and he was gracious enough to invite me to +make the journey in his car. Then we recalled having met as children, +and presently I gathered from his conversation that he and his +John-partner, as he called you, were very dear to each other. I was +witness to your meeting that night--I saw him take you in his big arms +and hold you tight because you'd--gone blind while he was away having a +good time. And you hadn't told him! I thought that was brave of you; +and later, when Bryce and Moira McTavish told me about you--how kind +you were, how you felt your responsibility toward your employees and the +community--well, I just couldn't help a leaning toward John-partner and +John-partner's boy, because the boy was so fine and true to his father's +ideals." + +"Ah, he's a man. He is indeed," old John Cardigan murmured proudly. "I +dare say you'll never get to know him intimately, but if you should--" + +"I know him intimately," she corrected him. "He saved my life the day +the log-train ran away. And that was another reason. I owed him a debt, +and so did my uncle; but Uncle wouldn't pay his share, and I had to pay +for him." + +"Wonderful," murmured John Cardigan, "wonderful! But still you haven't +told me why you paid a hundred thousand dollars for the Giants when you +could have bought them for fifty thousand. You had a woman's reason, +I dare say, and women always reason from the heart, never the head. +However, if you do not care to tell me, I shall not insist. Perhaps I +have appeared, unduly inquisitive." + +"I would rather not tell you," she answered. + +A gentle, prescient smile fringed his old mouth; he wagged his leonine +head as if to say: "Why should I ask, when I know?" Fell again a restful +silence. Then: + +"Am I allowed one guess, Miss Shirley Sumner?" + +"Yes, but you would never guess the reason." + +"I am a very wise old man. When one sits in the dark, one sees much that +was hidden from him in the full glare of the light. My son is proud, +manly, independent, and the soul of honour. He needed a hundred thousand +dollars; you knew it. Probably your uncle informed you. You wanted to +loan him some money, but--you couldn't. You feared to offend him by +proffering it; had you proffered it, he would have declined it. So you +bought my Valley of the Giants at a preposterous price and kept your +action a secret." And he patted her hand gently, as if to silence +any denial, while far down the skid-road a voice--a half-trained +baritone--floated faintly to them through the forest. Somebody was +singing--or rather chanting--a singularly tuneless refrain, wild and +barbaric. + +"What is that?" Shirley cried. + +"That is my son, coming to fetch his old daddy home," replied John +Cardigan. "That thing he's howling is an Indian war-song or paean of +triumph--something his nurse taught him when he wore pinafores. If +you'll excuse me, Miss Shirley Sumner, I'll leave you now. I generally +contrive to meet him on the trail." + +He bade her good-bye and started down the trail, his stick tapping +against the old logging-cable stretched from tree to tree beside the +trail and marking it. + +Shirley was tremendously relieved. She did not wish to meet Bryce +Cardigan to-day, and she was distinctly grateful to John Cardigan for +his nice consideration in sparing her an interview. She seated herself +in the lumberjack's easy-chair so lately vacated, and chin in hand +gave herself up to meditation on this extraordinary old man and his +extraordinary son. + +A couple of hundred yards down the trail Bryce met his father. "Hello, +John Cardigan!" he called. "What do you mean by skallyhooting through +these woods without a pilot? Eh? Explain your reckless conduct." + +"You great overgrown duffer," his father retorted affectionately, +"I thought you'd never come." He reached into his pocket for a +handkerchief, but failed to find it and searched through another pocket +and still another. "By gravy, son," he remarked presently, "I do +believe I left my silk handkerchief--the one Moira gave me for my last +birthday--up yonder. I wouldn't lose that handkerchief for a farm. Skip +along and find it for me, son. I'll wait for you here. Don't hurry." + +"I'll be back in a pig's whisper," his son replied, and started briskly +up the trail, while his father leaned against a madrone tree and smiled +his prescient little smile. + +Bryce's brisk step on the thick carpet of withered brown twigs aroused +Shirley from her reverie. When she looked up, he was standing in the +centre of the little amphitheatre gazing at her. + +"You--you!" she stammered, and rose as if to flee from him. + +"The governor sent me back to look for his handkerchief, Shirley," he +explained. "He didn't tell me you were here. Guess he didn't hear you." +He advanced smilingly toward her. "I'm tremendously glad to see you +to-day, Shirley," he said, and paused beside her. "Fate has been +singularly kind to me. Indeed, I've been pondering all day as to just +how I was to arrange a private and confidential little chat with you, +without calling upon you at your uncle's house." + +"I don't feel like chatting to-day," she answered a little drearily--and +then he noted her wet lashes. Instantly he was on one knee beside her; +with the amazing confidence that had always distinguished him in her +eyes, his big left arm went around her, and when her hands went to her +face, he drew them gently away. + +"I've waited too long, sweetheart," he murmured. "Thank God, I can tell +you at last all the things that have been accumulating in my heart. +I love you, Shirley. I've loved you from that first day we met at the +station, and all these months of strife and repression have merely +served to make me love you the more. Perhaps you have been all the +dearer to me because you seemed so hopelessly unattainable." + +He drew her head down on his breast; his great hand patted her hot +cheek; his honest brown eyes gazed earnestly, wistfully into hers. "I +love you," he whispered. "All that I have--all that I am--all that I +hope to be--I offer to you, Shirley Sumner; and in the shrine of +my heart I shall hold you sacred while life shall last. You are not +indifferent to me, dear. I know you're not; but tell me--answer me--" + +Her violet eyes were uplifted to his, and in them he read the answer to +his cry. "Ah, may I?" he murmured, and kissed her. + +"Oh, my dear, impulsive, gentle big sweetheart," she whispered--and then +her arms went around his neck, and the fullness of her happiness found +vent in tears he did not seek to have her repress. In the safe haven of +his arms she rested; and there, quite without effort or distress, she +managed to convey to him something more than an inkling of the thoughts +that were wont to come to her whenever they met. + +"Oh, my love!" he cried happily, "I hadn't dared dream of such happiness +until to-day. You were so unattainable--the obstacles between us were so +many and so great--" + +"Why to-day, Bryce?" she interrupted him. + +He took her adorable little nose in his great thumb and forefinger and +tweaked it gently. "The light began to dawn yesterday, my dear little +enemy, following an interesting half-hour which I put in with His Honour +the Mayor. Acting upon suspicion only, I told Poundstone I was prepared +to send him to the rock-pile if he didn't behave himself in the matter +of my permanent franchise for the N.C.O.--and the oily old invertebrate +wept and promised me anything if I wouldn't disgrace him. So I promised +I wouldn't do anything until the franchise matter should be definitely +settled--after which I returned to my office, to find awaiting me there +no less a person than the right-of-way man for the Northwestern Pacific. +He was a perfectly delightful young fellow, and he had a proposition to +unfold. It seems the Northwestern Pacific has decided to build up from +Willits, and all that powwow and publicity of Buck Ogilvy's about +the N.C.O. was in all probability the very thing that spurred them to +action. They figured the C.M. & St.P. was back of the N.C.O.--that +it was to be the first link of a chain of coast roads to be connected +ultimately with the terminus of the C.M. & St.P. on Gray's Harbour, +Washington, and if the N.C.O. should be built, it meant that a rival +road would get the edge on them in the matter of every stick of Humboldt +and Del Norte redwood--and they'd be left holding the sack." + +"Why did they think that, dear?" + +"That amazing rascal Buck Ogilvy used to be a C. M. me that the money +had been deposited in escrow there awaiting formal deed. That money puts +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company in the clear--no receivership for +us now, my dear one. And I'm going right ahead with the building of the +N.C.O.--while our holdings down on the San Hedrin double in value, for +the reason that within three years they will be accessible and can be +logged over the rails of the Northwestern Pacific!" + +"Bryce," Shirley declared, "haven't I always told you I'd never permit +you to build the N.C.O.?" + +"Of course," he replied, "but surely you're going to withdraw your +objections now." + +"I am not. You must choose between the N.C.O. and me." And she met his +surprised gaze unflinchingly. + +"Shirley! You don't mean it?" + +"I do mean it. I have always meant it. I love you, dear, but for all +that, you must not build that road." + +He stood up and towered above her sternly. "I must build it, Shirley. +I've contracted to do it, and I must keep faith with Gregory of the +Trinidad Timber Company. He's putting up the money, and I'm to do the +work and operate the line. I can't go back on him now." + +"Not for my sake?" she pleaded. He shook his head. "I must go on," he +reiterated. + +"Do you realize what that resolution means to us?" The girl's tones were +grave, her glance graver. + +"I realize what it means to me!" + +She came closer to him. Suddenly the blaze in her violet eyes gave +way to one of mirth. "Oh, you dear big booby!" she cried. "I was just +testing you." And she clung to him, laughing. "You always beat me +down--you always win. Bryce, dear, I'm the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company--at least, I will be to-morrow, and I repeat for the last time +that you shall NOT build the N.C.O.--because I'm going to--oh, dear, I +shall die laughing at you--because I'm going to merge with the Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company, and then my railroad shall be your railroad, +and we'll extend it and haul Gregory's logs to tidewater for him also. +And--silly, didn't I tell you you'd never build the N.C.O.?" + +"God bless my mildewed soul!" he murmured, and drew her to him. + +In the gathering dusk they walked down the trail. Beside the madrone +tree John Cardigan waited patiently. + +"Well," he queried when they joined him, "did you find my handkerchief +for me, son?" + +"I didn't find your handkerchief, John Cardigan," Bryce answered, "but +I did find what I suspect you sent me back for--and that is a perfectly +wonderful daughter-in-law for you." + +John Cardigan smiled and held out his arms for her. "This," he said, "is +the happiest day that I have known since my boy was born." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +Colonel Seth Pennington was thoroughly crushed. Look which way he would, +the bedevilled old rascal could find no loophole for escape. + +"You win, Cardigan," he muttered desperately as he sat in his office +after Shirley had left him. "You've had more than a shade in every round +thus far, and at the finish you've landed a clean knockout. If I had to +fight any man but you--" + +He sighed resignedly and pressed the push-button on his desk. Sexton +entered. "Sexton," he said bluntly and with a slight quiver in his +voice, "my niece and I have had a disagreement. We have quarrelled over +young Cardigan. She's going to marry him. Now, our affairs are somewhat +involved, and in order to straighten them out, we spun a coin to see +whether she should sell her stock in Laguna Grande to me or whether I +should sell mine to her--and I lost. The book-valuation of the stock at +the close of last year's business, plus ten per cent. will determine +the selling price, and I shall resign as president. You will, in all +probability, be retained to manage the company until it is merged with +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company--when, I imagine, you will be given +ample notice to seek a new job elsewhere. Call Miss Sumner's attorney, +Judge Moore, on the telephone and ask him to come to the office at nine +o'clock to-morrow, when the papers can be drawn up and signed. That is +all." + +The Colonel did not return to his home in Redwood Boulevard that night. +He had no appetite for dinner and sat brooding in his office until very +late; then he went to the Hotel Sequoia and engaged a room. He did not +possess sufficient courage to face his niece again. + +At four o'clock the next day the Colonel, his baggage, his automobile, +his chauffeur, and the solemn butler James, boarded the passenger +steamer for San Francisco, and at four-thirty sailed out of Humboldt Bay +over the thundering bar and on into the south. The Colonel was still a +rich man, but his dream of a redwood empire had faded, and once more he +was taking up the search for cheap timber. Whether he ever found it or +not is a matter that does not concern us. + +At a moment when young Henry Poundstone's dream of legal opulence +was fading, when Mayor Poundstone's hopes for domestic peace had been +shattered beyond repair, the while his cheap political aspirations had +been equally devastated because of a certain damnable document in +the possession of Bryce Cardigan, many events of importance were +transpiring. On the veranda of his old-fashioned home, John Cardigan +sat tapping the floor with his stick and dreaming dreams which, for the +first time in many years, were rose-tinted. Beside him Shirley sat, her +glance bent musingly out across the roofs of Sequoia and on to the +bay shore, where the smoke and exhaust-steam floated up from two +sawmills--her own and Bryce Cardigan's. To her came at regularly spaced +intervals the faint whining of the saws and the rumble of log-trains +crawling out on the log-dumps; high over the piles of bright, freshly +sawed lumber she caught from time to time the flash of white spray +as the great logs tossed from the trucks, hurtled down the skids, and +crashed into the Bay. At the docks of both mills vessels were loading, +their tall spars cutting the skyline above and beyond the smokestacks; +far down the Bay a steam schooner, loaded until her main-deck was almost +flush with the water, was putting out to sea, and Shirley heard the +faint echo of her siren as she whistled her intention to pass to +starboard of a wind-jammer inward bound in tow of a Cardigan tug. + +"It's wonderful," she said presently, apropos of nothing. + +"Aye," he replied in his deep, melodious voice, "I've been sitting here, +my dear, listening to your thoughts. You know something, now, of the +tie that binds my boy to Sequoia. This"--he waved his arm abroad in the +darkness--"this is the true essence of life--to create, to develop +the gifts that God has given us--to work and know the blessing of +weariness--to have dreams and see them come true. That is life, and I +have lived. And now I am ready to rest." He smiled wistfully. "'The king +is dead. Long live the king.' I wonder if you, raised as you have been, +can face life in Sequoia resolutely with my son. It is a dull, drab +sawmill town, where life unfolds gradually without thrill--where the +years stretch ahead of one with only trees, among simple folk. The life +may be hard on you, Shirley; one has to acquire a taste for it, you +know." + +"I have known the lilt of battle, John-partner," she answered; "hence I +think I can enjoy the sweets of victory. I am content." + +"And what a run you did give that boy Bryce!" + +She laughed softly. "I wanted him to fight; I had a great curiosity to +see the stuff that was in him," she explained. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +Next day Bryce Cardigan, riding the top log on the end truck of a long +train just in from Cardigan's woods in Township Nine, dropped from the +end of the log as the train crawled through the mill-yard on its way to +the log-dump. He hailed Buck Ogilvy, where the latter stood in the door +of the office. + +"Big doings up on Little Laurel Creek this morning, Buck." + +"Do tell!" Mr. Ogilvy murmured morosely. + +"It was great," Bryce continued. "Old Duncan McTavish returned. I knew +he would. His year on the mourner's-bench expired yesterday, and he came +back to claim his old job of woods-boss." + +"He's one year too late," Ogilvy declared. "I wouldn't let that big +Canadian Jules Rondeau quit for a farm. Some woods-boss, that--and +his first job with this company was the dirtiest you could hand +him--smearing grease on the skid-road at a dollar and a half a day and +found. He's made too good to lose out now. I don't care what his private +morals may be. He CAN get out the logs, hang his rascally hide, and I'm +for him." + +"I'm afraid you haven't anything to say about it, Buck," Bryce replied +dryly. + +"I haven't, eh? Well, any time you deny me the privilege of hiring and +firing, you're going to be out the service of a rattling good general +manager, my son. Yes, sir! If you hold me responsible for results, I +must select the tools I want to work with." + +"Oh, very well," Bryce laughed. "Have it your own way. Only if you can +drive Duncan McTavish out of Cardigan's woods, I'd like to see you do +it. Possession is nine points of the law, Buck--and Old Duncan is in +possession." + +"What do you mean--in possession?" + +"I mean that at ten o'clock this morning Duncan McTavish appeared at our +log-landing. The whisky-fat was all gone from him, and he appeared forty +years old instead of the sixty he is. With a whoop he came jumping over +the logs, straight for Jules Rondeau. The big Canuck saw him coming and +knew what his visit portended--so he wasn't taken unawares. It was a +case of fight for his job--and Rondeau fought." + +"The devil you say!" + +"I do--and there was the devil to pay. It was a rough and tumble and +no grips barred--just the kind of fight Rondeau likes. Nevertheless +old Duncan floored him. While he's been away somebody taught him the +hammer-lock and the crotch-hold and a few more fancy ones, and he got +to work on Rondeau in a hurry. In fact, he had to, for if the tussle had +gone over five minutes, Rondeau's youth would have decided the issue." + +"And Rondeau was whipped?" + +"To a whisper. Mac floored him, climbed him, and choked him until he +beat the ground with his free hand in token of surrender; whereupon old +Duncan let him up, and Rondeau went to his shanty and packed his turkey. +The last I saw of him he was headed over the hill to Camp Two on Laguna +Grande. He'll probably chase that assistant woods-boss I hired after the +consolidation, out of Shirley's woods and help himself to the fellow's +job. I don't care if he does. What interests me is the fact that the +old Cardigan woods-boss is back on the job in Cardigan's woods, and I'm +mighty glad of it. The old horsethief has had his lesson and will remain +sober hereafter. I think he's cured." + +"The infamous old outlaw!" + +"Mac knows the San Hedrin as I know my own pocket. He'll be a tower of +strength when we open up that tract after the railroad builds in. By the +way, has my dad been down this morning?" + +"Yes. Moira read the mail to him and then took him up to the Valley of +the Giants. He said he wanted to do a little quiet figuring on that new +steam schooner you're thinking of building. He thinks she ought to be +bigger--big enough to carry two million feet." + +Bryce glanced at his watch. "It's half after eleven," he said. "Guess +I'll run up to the Giants and bring him home to luncheon." + +He stepped into the Napier standing outside the office and drove away. +Buck Ogilvy waited until Bryce was out of sight; then with sudden +determination he entered the office. + +"Moira," he said abruptly, approaching the desk where she worked, "your +dad is back, and what's more, Bryce Cardigan has let him have his old +job as woods-boss. And I'm here to announce that you're not going back +to the woods to keep house for him. Understand? Now, look here, Moira. +I've shilly-shallied around you for months, protesting my love, and I +haven't gotten anywhere. To-day I'm going to ask you for the last time. +Will you marry me? I need you worse than that rascal of a father of +yours does, and I tell you I'll not have you go back to the woods to +take care of him. Come, now, Moira. Do give me a definite answer." + +"I'm afraid I don't love you well enough to marry you, Mr. Ogilvy," +Moira pleaded. "I'm truly fond of you, but--" + +"The last boat's gone," cried Mr. Ogilvy desperately. "I'm answered. +Well, I'll not stick around here much longer, Moira. I realize I must +be a nuisance, but I can't help being a nuisance when you're near me. So +I'll quit my good job here and go back to my old game of railroading." + +"Oh, you wouldn't quit a ten-thousand-dollar job," Moira cried, aghast. + +"I'd quit a million-dollar job. I'm desperate enough to go over to the +mill and pick a fight with the big bandsaw. I'm going away where I can't +see you. Your eyes are driving me crazy." + +"But I don't want you to go, Mr. Ogilvy." + +"Call me Buck," he commanded sharply. + +"I don't want you to go, Buck," she repeated meekly. "I shall feel +guilty, driving you out of a fine position." + +"Then marry me and I'll stay." + +"But suppose I don't love you the way you deserve--" + +"Suppose! Suppose!" Buck Ogilvy cried. "You're no longer certain of +yourself. How dare you deny your love for me? Eh? Moira, I'll risk it." + +Her eyes turned to him timidly, and for the first time he saw in their +smoky depths a lambent flame. "I don't know," she quavered, "and it's a +big responsibility in case--" + +"Oh, the devil take the case!" he cried rapturously, and took her +hands in his. "Do I improve with age, dear Moira?" he asked with boyish +eagerness; then, before she could answer, he swept on, a tornado of love +and pleading. And presently Moira was in his arms, he was kissing her, +and she was crying softly because--well, she admired Mr. Buck Ogilvy; +more, she respected him and was genuinely fond of him. She wondered, and +as she wondered, a quiet joy thrilled her in the knowledge that it did +not seem at all impossible for her to grow, in time, absurdly fond of +this wholesome red rascal. + +"Oh, Buck, dear," she whispered, "I don't know, I'm sure, but perhaps +I've loved you a little bit for a long time." + +"I'm perfectly wild over you. You're the most wonderful woman I ever +heard of. Old rosy-cheeks!" And he pinched them just to see the colour +come and go. + + John Cardigan was seated in his lumberjack's easy-chair as his son +approached. His hat lay on the litter of brown twigs beside him; his +chin was sunk on his breast, and his head was held a little to one side +in a listening attitude; a vagrant little breeze rustled gently a lock +of his fine, long white hair. Bryce stooped over the old man and shook +him gently by the shoulder. + +"Wake up, partner," he called cheerfully. But John Cardigan did not +wake, and again his son shook him. Still receiving no response, Bryce +lifted the leonine old head and gazed into his father's face. "John +Cardigan!" he cried sharply. "Wake up, old pal." + +The old eyes opened, and John Cardigan smiled up at his boy. "Good son," +he whispered, "good son!" He closed his sightless eyes again as if +the mere effort of holding them open wearied him. "I've been sitting +here--waiting," he went on in the same gentle whisper. "No, not waiting +for you, boy--waiting--" + +His head fell over on his son's shoulder; his hand went groping for +Bryce's. "Listen," he continued. "Can't you hear it--the Silence? I'll +wait for you here, my son. Mother and I will wait together now--in +this spot she fancied. I'm tired--I want rest. Look after old Mac and +Moira--and Bill Dandy, who lost his leg at Camp Seven last fall--and Tom +Ellington's children--and--all the others, son. You know, Bryce. They're +your responsibilities. Sorry I can't wait to see the San Hedrin opened +up, but--I've lived my life and loved my love. Ah, yes, I've been +happy--so happy just doing things--and--dreaming here among my +Giants--and--" + +He sighed gently. "Good son," he whispered again; his big body relaxed, +and the great heart of the Argonaut was still. Bryce held him until the +realization came to him that his father was no more--that like a watch, +the winding of which has been neglected, he had gradually slowed up and +stopped. + +"Good-bye, old John-partner!" he murmured. + +"You've escaped into the light at last. We'll go home together now, but +we'll come back again." + +And with his father's body in his strong arms he departed from the +little amphitheatre, walking lightly with his heavy burden down the old +skid-road to the waiting automobile. And two days later John Cardigan +returned to rest forever--with his lost mate among the Giants, himself +at last an infinitesimal portion of that tremendous silence that is the +diapason of the ages. + +When the funeral was over, Shirley and Bryce lingered until they found +themselves alone beside the freshly turned earth. Through a rift in the +great branches two hundred feet above, a patch of cerulean sky +showed faintly; the sunlight fell like a broad golden shaft over the +blossom-laden grave, and from the brown trunk of an adjacent tree a gray +squirrel, a descendant, perhaps, of the gray squirrel that had been wont +to rob Bryce's pockets of pine-nuts twenty years before, chirped at them +inquiringly. + +"He was a giant among men," said Bryce presently. "What a fitting place +for him to lie!" He passed his arm around his wife's shoulders and drew +her to him. "You made it possible, sweetheart." + +She gazed up at him in adoration. And presently they left the Valley +of the Giants to face the world together, strong in their faith to live +their lives and love their loves, to dream their dreams and perchance +when life should be done with and the hour of rest at hand, to +surrender, sustained and comforted by the knowledge that those dreams +had come true. + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Valley of the Giants, by Peter B. 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Kyne + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5735] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on August 18, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + +BY + +PETER B. KYNE + +AUTHOR OF CAPPY RICKS, THE LONG CHANCE, Etc. + +ILLUSTRATED BY DEAN CORNWELL + + + + +TO MY WIFE + + + + +THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS + +CHAPTER I + + +In the summer of 1850 a topsail schooner slipped into the cove under +Trinidad Head and dropped anchor at the edge of the kelp-fields. +Fifteen minutes later her small-boat deposited on the beach a man +armed with long squirrel-rifle and an axe, and carrying food and +clothing in a brown canvas pack. From the beach he watched the boat +return and saw the schooner weigh anchor and stand out to sea before +the northwest trades. When she had disappeared from his ken, he swung +his pack to his broad and powerful back and strode resolutely into +the timber at the mouth of a little river. + +The man was John Cardigan; in that lonely, hostile land he was the +first pioneer. This is the tale of Cardigan and Cardigan's son, for +in his chosen land the pioneer leader in the gigantic task of hewing +a path for civilization was to know the bliss of woman's love and of +parenthood, and the sorrow that comes of the loss of a perfect mate; +he was to know the tremendous joy of accomplishment and worldly +success after infinite labour; and in the sunset of life he was to +know the dull despair of failure and ruin. Because of these things +there is a tale to be told, the tale of Cardigan's son, who, when his +sire fell in the fray, took up the fight to save his heritage--a tale +of life with its love and hate, its battle, victory, defeat, labour, +joy, and sorrow, a tale of that unconquerable spirit of youth which +spurred Bryce Cardigan to lead a forlorn hope for the sake not of +wealth but of an ideal. Hark, then, to this tale of Cardigan's +redwoods: + +Along the coast of California, through the secret valleys and over +the tumbled foothills of the Coast Range, extends a belt of timber of +an average width of thirty miles. In approaching it from the Oregon +line the first tree looms suddenly against the horizon--an outpost, +as it were, of the host of giants whose column stretches south nearly +four hundred miles to where the last of the rear-guard maintains +eternal sentry go on the crest of the mountains overlooking Monterey +Bay. Far in the interior of the State, beyond the fertile San Joaquin +Valley, the allies of this vast army hold a small sector on the west +slope of the Sierras. + +These are the redwood forests of California, the only trees of their +kind in the world and indigenous only to these two areas within the +State. The coast timber is known botanically as sequoia sempervirens, +that in the interior as sequoia gigantea. As the name indicates, the +latter is the larger species of the two, although the fibre of the +timber is coarser and the wood softer and consequently less valuable +commercially than the sequoia sempervirens--which in Santa Cruz, San +Mateo, Marin, and Sonoma counties has been almost wholly logged off, +because of its accessibility. In northern Mendocino, Humboldt, and +Del Norte counties, however, sixty years of logging seems scarcely to +have left a scar upon this vast body of timber. Notwithstanding sixty +years of attrition, there remain in this section of the redwood belt +thousands upon thousands of acres of virgin timber that had already +attained a vigorous growth when Christ was crucified. In their vast, +sombre recesses, with the sunlight filtering through their branches +two hundred and fifty feet above, one hears no sound save the +tremendous diapason of the silence of the ages; here, more forcibly +than elsewhere in the universe, is one reminded of the littleness of +man and the glory of his creator. + +In sizes ranging from five to twenty feet in diameter, the brown +trunks rise perpendicularly to a height of from ninety to a hundred +and fifty feet before putting forth a single limb, which frequently +is more massive than the growth which men call a tree in the forests +of Michigan. Scattered between the giants, like subjects around their +king, one finds noble fir, spruce, or pines, with some Valparaiso +live oak, black oak, pepper-wood, madrone, yew, and cedar. + +In May and June, when the twisted and cowering madrone trees are +putting forth their clusters of creamy buds, when the white blossoms +of the dogwoods line the banks of little streams, when the azaleas +and rhododendrons, lovely and delicate as orchids, blaze a bed of +glory, and the modest little oxalis has thrust itself up through the +brown carpet of pine-needles and redwood-twigs, these wonderful +forests cast upon one a potent spell. To have seen them once thus in +gala dress is to yearn thereafter to see them again and still again +and grieve always in the knowledge of their inevitable death at the +hands of the woodsman. + +John Cardigan settled in Humboldt County, where the sequoia +sempervirens attains the pinnacle of its glory, and with the lust for +conquest hot in his blood, he filed upon a quarter-section of the +timber almost on the shore of Humboldt Bay--land upon which a city +subsequently was to be built. With his double-bitted axe and crosscut +saw John Cardigan brought the first of the redwood giants crashing to +the earth above which it had towered for twenty centuries, and in the +form of split posts, railroad ties, pickets, and shakes, the fallen +giant was hauled to tidewater in ox-drawn wagons and shipped to San +Francisco in the little two-masted coasting schooners of the period. +Here, by the abominable magic of barter and trade, the dismembered +tree was transmuted into dollars and cents and returned to Humboldt +County to assist John Cardigan in his task of hewing an empire out of +a wilderness. + +At a period in the history of California when the treasures of the +centuries were to be had for the asking or the taking, John Cardigan +chose that which others elected to cast away. For him the fertile +wheat and fruit-lands of California's smiling valleys, the dull +placer gold in her foot-hill streams, and the free grass, knee deep, +on her cattle and sheep-ranges held no lure; for he had been first +among the Humboldt redwoods and had come under the spell of the +vastness and antiquity, the majesty and promise of these epics of a +planet. He was a big man with a great heart and the soul of a +dreamer, and in such a land as this it was fitting he should take his +stand. + +In that wasteful day a timber-claim was not looked upon as valuable. +The price of a quarter-section was a pittance in cash and a brief +residence in a cabin constructed on the claim as evidence of good +faith to a government none too exacting in the restrictions with +which it hedged about its careless dissipation of the heritage of +posterity. Hence, because redwood timber-claims were easy to acquire, +many men acquired them; but when the lure of greener pastures gripped +these men and the necessity for ready money oppressed, they were wont +to sell their holdings for a few hundred dollars. Gradually it became +the fashion in Humboldt to "unload" redwood timber-claims on thrifty, +far-seeing, visionary John Cardigan who appeared to be always in the +market for any claim worth while. + +Cardigan was a shrewd judge of stumpage; with the calm certitude of a +prophet he looked over township after township and cunningly +checkerboarded it with his holdings. Notwithstanding the fact that +hillside timber is the best, John Cardigan in those days preferred to +buy valley timber, for he was looking forward to the day when the +timber on the watersheds should become available. He knew that when +such timber should be cut it would have to be hauled out through the +valleys where his untouched holdings formed an impenetrable barrier +to the exit! Before long the owners of timber on the watersheds would +come to realize this and sell to John Cardigan at a reasonable price. + +Time passed. John Cardigan no longer swung an axe or dragged a cross- +cut saw through a fallen redwood. He was an employer of labour now, +well known in San Francisco as a manufacturer of split-redwood +products, the purchasers sending their own schooners for the cargo. +And presently John Cardigan mortgaged all of his timber holdings with +a San Francisco bank, made a heap of his winnings, and like a true +adventurer staked his all on a new venture--the first sawmill in +Humboldt County. The timbers for it were hewed out by hand; the +boards and planking were whipsawed. + +It was a tiny mill, judged by present-day standards, for in a +fourteen-hour working day John Cardigan and his men could not cut +more than twenty thousand feet of lumber. Nevertheless, when Cardigan +looked at his mill, his great heart would swell with pride. Built on +tidewater and at the mouth of a large slough in the waters of which +he stored the logs his woods-crew cut and peeled for the bull- +whackers to haul with ox-teams down a mile-long skid-road, vessels +could come to Cardigan's mill dock to load and lie safely in twenty +feet of water at low tide. Also this dock was sufficiently far up the +bay to be sheltered from the heavy seas that rolled in from Humboldt +Bar, while the level land that stretched inland to the timber-line +constituted the only logical townsite on the bay. + +"Here," said John Cardigan to himself exultingly when a long-drawn +wail told him his circular saw was biting into the first redwood log +to be milled since the world began, "I shall build a city and call it +Sequoia. By to-morrow I shall have cut sufficient timber to make a +start. First I shall build for my employees better homes than the +rude shacks and tent-houses they now occupy; then I shall build +myself a fine residence with six rooms, and the room that faces on +the bay shall be the parlour. When I can afford it, I shall build a +larger mill, employ more men, and build more houses. I shall +encourage tradesmen to set up in business in Sequoia, and to my city +I shall present a church and a schoolhouse. We shall have a volunteer +fire department, and if God is good, I shall, at a later date, get +out some long-length fir-timber and build a schooner to freight my +lumber to market. And she shall have three masts instead of two, and +carry half a million feet of lumber instead of two hundred thousand. +First, however, I must build a steam tugboat to tow my schooner in +and out over Humboldt Bar. And after that--ah, well! That is +sufficient for the present." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Thus did John Cardigan dream, and as he dreamed he worked. The city +of Sequoia was born with the Argonaut's six-room mansion of rough +redwood boards and a dozen three-room cabins with lean-to kitchens; +and the tradespeople came when John Cardigan, with something of the +largeness of his own redwood trees, gave them ground and lumber in +order to encourage the building of their enterprises. Also the dream +of the schoolhouse and the church came true, as did the steam tugboat +and the schooner with three masts. The mill was enlarged until it +could cut forty thousand feet on a twelve-hour shift, and a planer +and machines for making rustic siding and tongued-and-grooved +flooring and ceiling were installed. More ox-teams appeared upon the +skid-road, which was longer now; the cry of "Timber-r-r!" and the +thunderous roar of a falling redwood grew fainter and fainter as the +forest receded from the bay shore, and at last the whine of the saws +silenced these sounds forever in Sequoia. + +At forty John Cardigan was younger than most men at thirty, albeit he +worked fourteen hours a day, slept eight, and consumed the remaining +two at his meals. But through all those fruitful years of toil he had +still found time to dream, and the spell of the redwoods had lost +none of its potency. He was still checker-boarding the forested +townships with his adverse holdings--the key-positions to the timber +in back of beyond which some day should come to his hand. Also he had +competition now: other sawmills dotted the bay shore; other three- +masted schooners carried Humboldt redwood to the world beyond the +bar, over which they were escorted by other and more powerful steam- +tugs. This competition John Cardigan welcomed and enjoyed, however, +for he had been first in Humboldt, and the townsite and a mile of +tidelands fronting on deep water were his; hence each incoming +adventurer merely helped his dream of a city to come true. + +At forty-two Cardigan was the first mayor of Sequoia. At forty-four +he was standing on his dock one day, watching his tug kick into her +berth the first square-rigged ship that had ever come to Humboldt Bay +to load a cargo of clear redwood for foreign delivery. She was a big +Bath-built clipper, and her master a lusty down-Easter, a widower +with one daughter who had come with him around the Horn. John +Cardigan saw this girl come up on the quarter-deck and stand by with +a heaving-line in her hand; calmly she fixed her glance upon him, and +as the ship was shunted in closer to the dock, she made the cast to +Cardigan. He caught the light heaving-line, hauled in the heavy +Manila stern-line to which it was attached, and slipped the loop of +the mooring-cable over the dolphin at the end of the dock. + +"Some men wanted aft here to take up the slack of the stern-line on +the windlass, sir," he shouted to the skipper, who was walking around +on top of the house. "That girl can't haul her in alone." + +"Can't. I'm short-handed," the skipper replied. "Jump aboard and help +her." + +Cardigan made a long leap from the dock to the ship's rail, balanced +there lightly a moment, and sprang to the deck. He passed the bight +of the stern-line in a triple loop around the drum of the windlass, +and without awaiting his instructions, the girl grasped the slack of +the line and prepared to walk away with it as the rope paid in on the +windlass. Cardigan inserted a belaying-pin in the windlass, paused +and looked at the girl. "Raise a chantey," he suggested. Instantly +she lifted a sweet contralto in that rollicking old ballad of the +sea--"Blow the Men Down." + + For tinkers and tailors and lawyers and all, + Way! Aye! Blow the men down! + They ship for real sailors aboard the Black Ball, + Give me some time to blow the men down. + +Round the windlass Cardigan walked, steadily and easily, and the +girl's eyes widened in wonder as he did the work of three powerful +men. When the ship had been warped in and the slack of the line made +fast on the bitts, she said: + +"Please run for'd and help my father with the bow-lines. You're worth +three foremast hands. Indeed, I didn't expect to see a sailor on this +dock." + +"I had to come around the Horn to get here, Miss," he explained, "and +when a man hasn't money to pay for his passage, he needs must work +it." + +"I'm the second mate," she explained. "We had a succession of gales +from the Falklands to the Evangelistas, and there the mate got her in +irons and she took three big ones over the taffrail and cost us eight +men. Working short-handed, we couldn't get any canvas on her to speak +of--long voyage, you know, and the rest of the crew got scurvy." + +"You're a brave girl," he told her. + +"And you're a first-class A. B.," she replied. "If you're looking for +a berth, my father will be glad to ship you." + +"Sorry, but I can't go," he called as he turned toward the companion +ladder. "I'm Cardigan, and I own this sawmill and must stay here and +look after it." + +There was a light, exultant feeling in his middle-aged heart as he +scampered along the deck. The girl had wonderful dark auburn hair and +brown eyes, with a milk-white skin that sun and wind had sought in +vain to blemish. And for all her girlhood she was a woman--bred from +a race (his own people) to whom danger and despair merely furnished a +tonic for their courage. What a mate for a man! And she had looked at +him pridefully. + +They were married before the ship was loaded, and on a knoll of the +logged-over lands back of the town and commanding a view of the bay, +with the dark-forested hills in back and the little second-growth +redwoods flourishing in the front yard, he built her the finest home +in Sequoia. He had reserved this building-site in a vague hope that +some day he might utilize it for this very purpose, and here he spent +with her three wonderfully happy years. Here his son Bryce was born, +and here, two days later, the new-made mother made the supreme +sacrifice of maternity. + +For half a day following the destruction of his Eden John Cardigan +sat dumbly beside his wife, his great, hard hand caressing the auburn +head whose every thought for three years had been his happiness and +comfort. Then the doctor came to him and mentioned the matter of +funeral arrangements. + +Cardigan looked up at him blankly. "Funeral arrangements?" he +murmured. "Funeral arrangements?" He passed his gnarled hand over his +leonine head. "Ah, yes, I suppose so. I shall attend to it." + +He rose and left the house, walking with bowed head out of Sequoia, +up the abandoned and decaying skid-road through the second-growth +redwoods to the dark green blur that marked the old timber. It was +May, and Nature was renewing herself, for spring comes late in +Humboldt County. From an alder thicket a pompous cock grouse boomed +intermittently; the valley quail, in pairs, were busy about their +household affairs; from a clump of manzanita a buck watched John +Cardigan curiously. On past the landing where the big bull donkey- +engine stood (for with the march of progress, the logging donkey- +engine had replaced the ox-teams, while the logs were hauled out of +the woods to the landing by means of a mile-long steel cable, and +there loaded on the flat-cars of a logging railroad to be hauled to +the mill and dumped in the log-boom) he went, up the skid-road +recently swamped from the landing to the down timber where the +crosscut men and barkpeelers were at work, on into the green timber +where the woods-boss and his men were chopping. + +"Come with me, McTavish," he said to his woods-boss. They passed +through a narrow gap between two low hills and emerged in a long +narrow valley where the redwood grew thickly and where the smallest +tree was not less than fifteen feet in diameter and two hundred and +fifty feet tall. McTavish followed at the master's heels as they +penetrated this grove, making their way with difficulty through the +underbrush until they came at length to a little amphitheatre, a +clearing perhaps a hundred feet in diameter, oval-shaped and +surrounded by a wall of redwoods of such dimensions that even +McTavish, who was no stranger to these natural marvels, was struck +with wonder. The ground in this little amphitheatre was covered to a +depth of a foot with brown, withered little redwood twigs to which +the dead leaves still clung, while up through this aromatic covering +delicate maidenhair ferns and oxalis had thrust themselves. Between +the huge brown boles of the redwoods woodwardia grew riotously, while +through the great branches of these sentinels of the ages the +sunlight filtered. Against the prevailing twilight of the surrounding +forest it descended like a halo, and where it struck the ground John +Cardigan paused. + +"McTavish," he said, "she died this morning." + +"I'm sore distressed for you, sir," the woods-boss answered. "We'd a +whisper in the camp yesterday that the lass was like to be in a bad +way." + +Cardigan scuffed with his foot a clear space in the brown litter. +"Take two men from the section-gang, McTavish," he ordered, "and have +them dig her grave here; then swamp a trail through the underbrush +and out to the donkey-landing, so we can carry her in. The funeral +will be private." + +McTavish nodded. "Any further orders, sir?" + +"Yes. When you come to that little gap in the hills, cease your +logging and bear off yonder." He waved his hand. "I'm not going to +cut the timber in this valley. You see, McTavish, what it is. The +trees here--ah, man, I haven't the heart to destroy God's most +wonderful handiwork. Besides, she loved this spot, McTavish, and she +called the valley her Valley of the Giants. I--I gave it to her for a +wedding present because she had a bit of a dream that some day the +town I started would grow up to yonder gap, and when that time came +and we could afford it, 'twas in her mind to give her Valley of the +Giants to Sequoia for a city park, all hidden away here and +unsuspected. + +"She loved it, McTavish. It pleased her to come here with me; she'd +make up a lunch of her own cooking and I would catch trout in the +stream by the dogwoods yonder and fry the fish for her. Sometimes I'd +barbecue a venison steak and--well, 'twas our playhouse, McTavish, +and I who am no longer young--I who never played until I met her--I-- +I'm a bit foolish, I fear, but I found rest and comfort here, +McTavish, even before I met her, and I'm thinking I'll have to come +here often for the same. She--she was a very superior woman, +McTavish--very superior. Ah, man, the soul of her! I cannot bear that +her body should rest in Sequoia cemetery, along with the rag tag and +bobtail o' the town. She was like this sunbeam, McTavish. She--she--" + +"Aye," murmured McTavish huskily. "I ken. Ye wouldna gie her a common +or a public spot in which to wait for ye. An' ye'll be shuttin' down +the mill an' loggin'-camps an' layin' off the hands in her honour for +a bit?" + +"Until after the funeral, McTavish. And tell your men they'll be paid +for the lost time. That will be all, lad." + +When McTavish was gone, John Cardigan sat down on a small sugar-pine +windfall, his head held slightly to one side while he listened to +that which in the redwoods is not sound but rather the absence of it. +And as he listened, he absorbed a subtle comfort from those huge +brown trees, so emblematic of immortality; in the thought he grew +closer to his Maker, and presently found that peace which he sought. +Love such as theirs could never die... The tears came at last. + +At sundown he walked home bearing an armful of rhododendrons and +dogwood blossoms, which he arranged in the room where she lay. Then +he sought the nurse who had attended her. + +"I'd like to hold my son," he said gently. "May I?" + +She brought him the baby and placed it in his great arms that +trembled so; he sat down and gazed long and earnestly at this flesh +of his flesh and blood of his blood. "You'll have her hair and skin +and eyes," he murmured. "My son, my son, I shall love you so, for now +I must love for two. Sorrow I shall keep from you, please God, and +happiness and worldly comfort shall I leave you when I go to her." He +nuzzled his grizzled cheek against the baby's face. "Just you and my +trees," he whispered, "just you and my trees to help me hang on to a +plucky finish." + +For love and paternity had come to him late in life, and so had his +first great sorrow; wherefore, since he was not accustomed to these +heritages of all flesh, he would have to adjust himself to the +change. But his son and his trees--ah, yes, they would help. And he +would gather more redwoods now! + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A young half-breed Digger woman, who had suffered the loss of the +latest of her numerous progeny two days prior to Mrs. Cardigan's +death, was installed in the house on the knoll as nurse to John +Cardigan's son whom he called Bryce, the family name of his mother's +people. A Mrs. Tully, widow of Cardigan's first engineer in the mill, +was engaged as housekeeper and cook; and with his domestic +establishment reorganized along these simple lines, John Cardigan +turned with added eagerness to his business affairs, hoping between +them and his boy to salvage as much as possible from what seemed to +him, in the first pangs of his loneliness and desolation, the +wreckage of his life. + +While Bryce was in swaddling clothes, he was known only to those +females of Sequoia to whom his half-breed foster mother proudly +exhibited him when taking him abroad for an airing in his +perambulator. With his advent into rompers, however, and the +assumption of his American prerogative of free speech, his father +developed the habit of bringing the child down to the mill office, to +which he added a playroom that connected with his private office. +Hence, prior to his second birthday, Bryce divined that his father +was closer to him than motherly Mrs. Tully or the half-breed girl, +albeit the housekeeper sang to him the lullabys that mothers know +while the Digger girl, improvising blank verse paeans of praise and +prophecy, crooned them to her charge in the unmusical monotone of her +tribal tongue. His father, on the contrary, wasted no time in +singing, but would toss him to the ceiling or set him astride his +foot and swing him until he screamed in ecstasy. Moreover, his father +took him on wonderful journeys which no other member of the household +had even suggested. Together they were wont to ride to and from the +woods in the cab of the logging locomotive, and once they both got on +the log carriage in the mill with Dan Keyes, the head sawyer, and had +a jolly ride up to the saw and back again, up and back again until +the log had been completely sawed; and because he had refrained from +crying aloud when the greedy saw bit into the log with a shrill +whine, Dan Keyes had given him a nickel to put in his tin bank. + +Of all their adventures together, however, those which occurred on +their frequent excursions up to the Valley of the Giants impressed +themselves imperishably upon Bryce's memory. How well he remembered +their first trip, when, seated astride his father's shoulders with +his sturdy little legs around Cardigan's neck and his chubby little +hands clasping the old man's ears, they had gone up the abandoned +skid-road and into the semi-darkness of the forest, terminating +suddenly in a shower of sunshine that fell in an open space where a +boy could roll and play and never get dirty. Also there were several +dozen gray squirrels there waiting to climb on his shoulder and +search his pockets for pine-nuts, a supply of which his father always +furnished. + +Bryce always looked forward with eagerness to those frequent trips +with his father "to the place where Mother dear went to heaven." From +his perch on his father's shoulders he could look vast distances into +the underbrush and catch glimpses of the wild life therein; when the +last nut had been distributed to the squirrels in the clearing, he +would follow a flash of blue that was a jay high up among the +evergreen branches, or a flash of red that was a woodpecker hammering +a home in the bark of a sugar-pine. Eventually, however, the spell of +the forest would creep over the child; intuitively he would become +one with the all-pervading silence, climb into his father's arms as +the latter sat dreaming on the old sugar-pine windfall, and presently +drop off to sleep. + +When Bryce was six years old, his father sent him to the public +school in Sequoia with the children of his loggers and mill-hands, +thus laying the foundation for a democratic education all too +infrequent with the sons of men rated as millionaires. At night old +Cardigan (for so men had now commenced to designate him!) would hear +his boy's lessons, taking the while an immeasurable delight in +watching the lad's mind develop. As a pupil Bryce was not meteoric; +he had his father's patient, unexcitable nature; and, like the old +man, he possessed the glorious gift of imagination. Never mediocre, +he was never especially brilliant, but was seemingly content to +maintain a steady, dependable average in all things. He had his +mother's dark auburn hair, brown eyes, and fair white skin, and quite +early in life he gave promise of being as large and powerful a man as +his father. + +Bryce's boyhood was much the same as that of other lads in Sequoia, +save that in the matter of toys and, later guns, fishing-rods, dogs, +and ponies he was a source of envy to his fellows. After his tenth +year his father placed him on the mill pay-roll, and on payday he was +wont to line up with the mill-crew to receive his modest stipend of +ten dollars for carrying in kindling to the cook in the mill kitchen +each day after school. + +This otherwise needless arrangement was old Cardigan's way of +teaching his boy financial responsibility. All that he possessed he +had worked for, and he wanted his son to grow up with the business to +realize that he was a part of it with definite duties connected with +it developing upon him--duties which he must never shirk if he was to +retain the rich redwood heritage his father had been so eagerly +storing up for him. + +When Bryce Cardigan was about fourteen years old there occurred an +important event in his life. In a commendable effort to increase his +income he had laid out a small vegetable garden in the rear of his +father's house, and here on a Saturday morning, while down on his +knees weeding carrots, he chanced to look up and discovered a young +lady gazing at him through the picket fence. She was a few years his +junior, and a stranger in Sequoia. Ensued the following conversation: +"Hello, little boy." + +"Hello yourself! I ain't a little boy." + +She ignored the correction. "What are you doing?" + +"Weedin' carrots. Can't you see?" + +"What for?" + +Bryce, highly incensed at having been designated a little boy by this +superior damsel, saw his opportunity to silence her. "Cat's fur for +kitten breeches," he retorted--without any evidence of originality, +we must confess. Whereat she stung him to the heart with a sweet +smile and promptly sang for him this ancient ballad of childhood: + + "What are little boys made of? + What are little boys made of? + Snakes and snails, + And puppy dog's tails, + And that's what little boys are made of." + +Bryce knew the second verse and shrivelled inwardly in anticipation +of being informed that little girls are made of sugar and spice and +everything nice. Realizing that he had begun something which might +not terminate with credit to himself, he hung his head and for the +space of several minutes gave all his attention to his crop. And +presently the visitor spoke again. + +"I like your hair, little boy. It's a pretty red." + +That settled the issue between them. To be hailed as little boy was +bad enough, but to be reminded of his crowning misfortune was adding +insult to injury. He rose and cautiously approached the fence with +the intention of pinching the impudent stranger, suddenly and +surreptitiously, and sending her away weeping. As his hand crept +between the palings on its wicked mission, the little miss looked at +him in friendly fashion and queried: + +"What's your name?" + +Bryce's hand hesitated. "Bryce Cardigan," he answered gruffly. + +"I'm Shirley Sumner," she ventured, "Let's be friends." + +"When did you come to live in Sequoia?" he demanded. + +"I don't live here. I'm just visiting here with my aunt and uncle. +We're staying at the hotel, and there's nobody to play with. My +uncle's name is Pennington. So's my aunt's. He's out here buying +timber, and we live in Michigan. Do you know the capital of +Michigan?" + +"Of course I do," he answered. "The capital of Michigan is Chicago." + +"Oh, you big stupid! It isn't. It's Detroit." + +"'Tain't neither. It's Chicago." + +"I live there--so I guess I ought to know. So there!" + +Bryce was vanquished, and an acute sense of his imperfections in +matters geographical inclined him to end the argument. "Well, maybe +you're right," he admitted grudgingly. "Anyhow, what difference does +it make?" + +She did not answer. Evidently she was desirous of avoiding an +argument if possible. Her gaze wandered past Bryce to where his +Indian pony stood with her head out the window of her box-stall +contemplating her master. + +"Oh, what a dear little horse!" Shirley Sumner exclaimed. "Whose is +he?" + +"'Tain't a he. It's a she. And she belongs to me." + +"Do you ride her?" + +"Not very often now. I'm getting too heavy for her, so Dad's bought +me a horse that weighs nine hundred pounds. Midget only weighs five +hundred." He considered her a moment while she gazed in awe upon this +man with two horses. "Can you ride a pony?" he asked, for no reason +that he was aware of. + +She sighed, shaking her head resignedly. "We haven't any room to keep +a pony at our house in Detroit," she explained, and added hopefully: +"But I'd love to ride on Midget. I suppose I could learn to ride if +somebody taught me how." + +He looked at her again. At that period of his existence he was +inclined to regard girls as a necessary evil. For some immutable +reason they existed, and perforce must be borne with, and it was his +hope that he would get through life and see as little as possible of +the exasperating sex. Nevertheless, as Bryce surveyed this winsome +miss through the palings, he was sensible of a sneaking desire to +find favour in her eyes--also equally sensible of the fact that the +path to that desirable end lay between himself and Midget. He swelled +with the importance of one who knows he controls a delicate +situation. "Well, I suppose if you want a ride I'll have to give it +to you," he grumbled, "although I'm mighty busy this morning." + +"Oh, I think you're so nice," she declared. + +A thrill shot through him that was akin to pain; with difficulty did +he restrain an impulse to dash wildly into the stable and saddle +Midget in furious haste. Instead he walked to the barn slowly and +with extreme dignity. When he reappeared, he was leading Midget, a +little silverpoint runt of a Klamath Indian pony, and Moses, a sturdy +pinto cayuse from the cattle ranges over in Trinity County. "I'll +have to ride with you," he announced. "Can't let a tenderfoot like +you go out alone on Midget." + +All aflutter with delightful anticipation, the young lady climbed up +on the gate and scrambled into the saddle when Bryce swung the pony +broadside to the gate. Then he adjusted the stirrups to fit her, +passed a hair rope from Midget's little hackamore to the pommel of +Moses' saddle, mounted the pinto, and proceeded with his first +adventure as a riding-master. Two hours of his valuable time did he +give that morning before the call of duty brought him back to the +house and his neglected crop of carrots. When he suggested tactfully, +however, that it was now necessary that his guest and Midget +separate, a difficulty arose. Shirley Sumner refused point blank to +leave the premises. She liked Bryce for his hair and because he had +been so kind to her; she was a stranger in Sequoia, and now that she +had found an agreeable companion, it was far from her intention to +desert him. + +So Miss Sumner stayed and helped Bryce weed his carrots, and since as +a voluntary labourer she was at least worth her board, at noon Bryce +brought her in to Mrs. Tully with a request for luncheon. When he +went to the mill to carry in the kindling for the cook, the young +lady returned rather sorrowfully to the Hotel Sequoia, with a fervent +promise to see him the next day. She did, and Bryce took her for a +long ride up into the Valley of the Giants and showed her his +mother's grave. The gray squirrels were there, and Bryce gave Shirley +a bag of pine-nuts to feed them. Then they put some flowers on the +grave, and when they returned to town and Bryce was unsaddling the +ponies, Shirley drew Midget's nose down to her and kissed it. Then +she commenced to weep rather violently. + +"What are you crying about?" Bryce demanded. Girls were so hard to +understand. + +"I'm go-going h-h-h-home to-morrow," she howled. + +He was stricken with dismay and bade her desist from her vain +repinings. But her heart was broken, and somehow--Bryce appeared to +act automatically--he had his arm around her. "Don't cry, Shirley," +he pleaded. "It breaks my heart to see you cry. Do you want Midget? +I'll give her to you." + +Between sobs Shirley confessed that the prospect of parting with him +and not Midget was provocative of her woe. This staggered Bryce and +pleased him immensely. And at parting she kissed him good-bye, +reiterating her opinion that he was the nicest, kindest boy she had +ever met or hoped to meet. + +When Shirley and her uncle and aunt boarded the steamer for San +Francisco, Bryce stood disconsolate on the dock and waved to Shirley +until he could no longer discern her on the deck. Then he went home, +crawled up into the haymow and wept, for he had something in his +heart and it hurt. He thought of his elfin companion very frequently +for a week, and he lost his appetite, very much to Mrs. Tully's +concern. Then the steelhead trout began to run in Eel River, and the +sweetest event that can occur in any boy's existence--the sudden +awakening to the wonder and beauty of life so poignantly realized in +his first love-affair--was lost sight of by Bryce. In a month he had +forgotten the incident; in six months he had forgotten Shirley +Sumner. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The succeeding years of Bryce Cardigan's life, until he completed his +high-school studies and went East to Princeton, were those of the +ordinary youth in a small and somewhat primitive country town. He +made frequent trips to San Francisco with his father, taking passage +on the steamer that made bi-weekly trips between Sequoia and the +metropolis--as The Sequoia Sentinel always referred to San Francisco. +He was an expert fisherman, and the best shot with rifle or shot-gun +in the county; he delighted in sports and, greatly to the secret +delight of his father showed a profound interest in the latter's +business. + +Throughout the happy years of Bryce's boyhood his father continued to +enlarge and improve his sawmill, to build more schooners, and to +acquire more redwood timber. Lands, the purchase of which by Cardigan +a decade before had caused his neighbours to impugn his judgment, now +developed strategical importance. As a result those lands necessary +to consolidate his own holdings came to him at his own price, while +his adverse holdings that blocked the logging operations of his +competitors went from him--also at his own price. In fact, all well- +laid plans matured satisfactorily with the exception of one, and +since it has a very definite bearing on the story, the necessity for +explaining it is paramount. + +Contiguous to Cardigan's logging operations to the east and north of +Sequoia, and comparatively close in, lay a block of two thousand +acres of splendid timber, the natural, feasible, and inexpensive +outlet for which, when it should be logged, was the Valley of the +Giants. For thirty years John Cardigan had played a waiting game with +the owner of that timber, for the latter was as fully obsessed with +the belief that he was going to sell it to John Cardigan at a dollar +and a half per thousand feet stumpage as Cardigan was certain he was +going to buy it for a dollar a thousand--when he should be ready to +do so and not one second sooner. He calculated, as did the owner of +the timber, that the time to do business would be a year or two +before the last of Cardigan's timber in that section should be gone. + +Eventually the time for acquiring more timber arrived. John Cardigan, +meeting his neighbour on the street, accosted him thus: + +"Look here, Bill: isn't it time we got together on that timber of +yours? You know you've been holding it to block me and force me to +buy at your figure." + +"That's why I bought it," the other admitted smilingly. "Then, before +I realized my position, you checkmated me with that quarter-section +in the valley, and we've been deadlocked ever since." + +"I'll give you a dollar a thousand stumpage for your timber, Bill." + +"I want a dollar and a half." + +"A dollar is my absolute limit." + +"Then I'll keep my timber." + +"And I'll keep my money. When I finish logging in my present +holdings, I'm going to pull out of that country and log twenty miles +south of Sequoia. I have ten thousand acres in the San Hedrin +watershed. Remember, Bill, the man who buys your timber will have to +log it through my land--and I'm not going to log that quarter-section +in the valley. Hence there will be no outlet for your timber in +back." + +"Not going to log it? Why, what are you going to do with it?" + +"I'm just going to let it stay there until I die. When my will is +filed for probate, your curiosity will be satisfied--but not until +then." + +The other laughed. "John," he declared, "you just haven't got the +courage to pull out when your timber adjoining mine is gone, and move +twenty miles south to the San Hedrin watershed. That will be too +expensive a move, and you'll only be biting off your nose to spite +your face. Come through with a dollar and a half, John." + +"I never bluff, Bill. Remember, if I pull out for the San Hedrin, +I'll not abandon my logging-camps there to come back and log your +timber. One expensive move is enough for me. Better take a dollar, +Bill. It's a good, fair price, as the market on redwood timber is +now, and you'll be making an even hundred per cent, on your +investment. Remember, Bill, if I don't buy your timber, you'll never +log it yourself and neither will anybody else. You'll be stuck with +it for the next forty years--and taxes aren't getting any lower. +Besides, there's a good deal of pine and fir in there, and you know +what a forest fire will do to that." + +"I'll hang on a little longer, I think." + +"I think so, too," John Cardigan replied. And that night, as was his +wont, even though he realized that it was not possible for Bryce to +gain a profound understanding of the business problems to which he +was heir, John Cardigan discussed the Squaw Creek timber with his +son, relating to him the details of his conversation with the owner. + +"I suppose he thinks you're bluffing," Bryce commented. + +"I'm not, Bryce. I never bluff--that is, I never permit a bluff of +mine to be called, and don't you ever do it, either. Remember that, +boy. Any time you deliver a verdict, be sure you're in such a +position you won't have to reverse yourself. I'm going to finish +logging in that district this fall, so if I'm to keep the mill +running, I'll have to establish my camps on the San Hedrin watershed +right away." + +Bryce pondered. "But isn't it cheaper to give him his price on Squaw +Creek timber than go logging in the San Hedrin and have to build +twenty miles of logging railroad to get your logs to the mill?" + +"It would be, son, if I HAD to build the railroad. Fortunately, I do +not. I'll just shoot the logs down the hillside to the San Hedrin +River and drive them down the stream to a log-boom on tidewater." + +"But there isn't enough water in the San Hedrin to float a redwood +log, Dad. I've fished there, and I know." + +"Quite true--in the summer and fall. But when the winter freshets +come on and the snow begins to melt in the spring up in the Yola +Bolas, where the San Hedrin has its source, we'll have plenty of +water for driving the river. Once we get the logs down to tide-water, +we'll raft them and tow them up to the mill. So you see, Bryce, we +won't be bothered with the expense of maintaining a logging railroad, +as at present." + +Bryce looked at his father admiringly. "I guess Dan Keyes is right, +Dad," he said. "Dan says you're crazy--like a fox. Now I know why +you've been picking up claims in the San Hedrin watershed." + +"No, you don't, Bryce. I've never told you, but I'll tell you now the +real reason. Humboldt County has no rail connection with the outside +world, so we are forced to ship our lumber by water. But some day a +railroad will be built in from the south--from San Francisco; and +when it comes, the only route for it to travel is through our timber +in the San Hedrin Valley. I've accumulated that ten thousand acres +for you, my son, for the railroad will never be built in my day. It +may come in yours, but I have grown weary waiting for it, and now +that my hand is forced, I'm going to start logging there. It doesn't +matter, son. You will still be logging there fifty years from now. +And when the railroad people come to you for a right of way, my boy, +give it to them. Don't charge them a cent. It has always been my +policy to encourage the development of this county, and I want you to +be a forward-looking, public-spirited citizen. That's why I'm sending +you East to college. You've been born and raised in this town, and +you must see more of the world. You mustn't be narrow or provincial, +because I'm saving up for you, my son, a great many responsibilities, +and I want to educate you to meet them bravely and sensibly." + +He paused, regarding the boy gravely and tenderly. "Bryce, lad," he +said presently, "do you ever wonder why I work so hard and barely +manage to spare the time to go camping with you in vacation time?" + +"Why don't you take it easy, Dad? You do work awfully hard, and I +have wondered about it." + +"I have to work hard, my son, because I started something a long time +ago, when work was fun. And now I can't let go. I employ too many +people who are dependent on me for their bread and butter. When they +plan a marriage or the building of a home or the purchase of a +cottage organ, they have to figure me in on the proposition. I didn't +have a name for the part I played in these people's lives until the +other night when I was helping you with your algebra. I'm the unknown +quantity." + +"Oh, no," Bryce protested. "You're the known quantity." + +Cardigan smiled. "Well, maybe I am," he admitted. "I've always tried +to be. And if I have succeeded, then you're the unknown quantity, +Bryce, because some day you'll have to take my place; they will have +to depend upon you when I am gone. Listen to me, son. You're only a +boy, and you can't understand everything I tell you now, but I want +you to remember what I tell you, and some day understanding will come +to you. You mustn't fail the people who work for you--who are +dependent upon your strength and brains and enterprises to furnish +them with an opportunity for life, liberty, and the pursuit of +happiness. When you are the boss of Cardigan's mill, you must keep +the wheels turning; you must never shut down the mill or the logging- +camps in dull times just to avoid a loss you can stand better than +your employees." + +His hard, trembling old hand closed over the boy's. "I want you to be +a brave and honourable man," he concluded. + +True to his word, when John Cardigan finished his logging in his old, +original holdings adjacent to Sequoia and Bill Henderson's Squaw +Creek timber, he quietly moved south with his Squaw Creek woods-gang +and joined the crew already getting out logs in the San Hedrin +watershed. Not until then did Bill Henderson realize that John +Cardigan had called his bluff--whereat he cursed himself for a fool +and a poor judge of human nature. He had tried a hold-up game and had +failed; a dollar a thousand feet stumpage was a fair price; for years +he had needed the money; and now, when it was too late, he realized +his error. Luck was with Henderson, however; for shortly thereafter +there came again to Sequoia one Colonel Seth Pennington, a +millionaire white-pine operator from Michigan. The Colonel's Michigan +lands had been logged off, and since he had had one taste of cheap +timber, having seen fifty-cent stumpage go to five dollars, the +Colonel, like Oliver Twist, desired some more of the same. On his +previous visit to Sequoia he had seen his chance awaiting him in the +gradually decreasing market for redwood lumber and the corresponding +increase of melancholia in the redwood operators; hence he had +returned to Michigan, closed out his business interests there, and +returned to Sequoia on the alert for an investment in redwood timber. +From a chair-warmer on the porch of the Hotel Sequoia, the Colonel +had heard the tale of how stiff-necked old John Cardigan had called +the bluff of equally stiff-necked old Bill Henderson; so for the next +few weeks the Colonel, under pretense of going hunting or fishing on +Squaw Creek, managed to make a fairly accurate cursory cruise of the +Henderson timber--following which he purchased it from the delighted +Bill for a dollar and a quarter per thousand feet stumpage and paid +for it with a certified check. With his check in his hand, Henderson +queried: + +"Colonel, how do you purpose logging that timber?" + +The Colonel smiled. "Oh, I don't intend to log it. When I log timber, +it has to be more accessible. I'm just going to hold on and outgame +your former prospect, John Cardigan. He needs that timber; he has to +have it--and one of these days he'll pay me two dollars for it." + +Bill Henderson raised an admonitory finger and shook it under the +Colonel's nose. "Hear me, stranger," he warned. "When you know John +Cardigan as well as I do, you'll change your tune. He doesn't bluff." + +"He doesn't?" The Colonel laughed derisively. "Why, that move of his +over to the San Hedrin was the most monumental bluff ever pulled off +in this country." + +"All right, sir. You wait and see." + +"I've seen already. I know." + +"How do you know?" + +"Well, for one thing, Henderson, I noticed Cardigan has carefully +housed his rolling-stock--and he hasn't scrapped his five miles of +logging railroad and three miles of spurs." + +Old Bill Henderson chewed his quid of tobacco reflectively and spat +at a crack in the sidewalk. "No," he replied, "I'll admit he ain't +started scrappin' it yet, but I happen to know he's sold the rollin'- +stock an' rails to the Freshwater Lumber Company, so I reckon they'll +be scrappin' that railroad for him before long." + +The Colonel was visibly moved. "If your information is authentic," he +said slowly, "I suppose I'll have to build a mill on tidewater and +log the timber." + +"'Twon't pay you to do that at the present price of redwood lumber." + +"I'm in no hurry. I can wait for better times." + +"Well, when better times arrive, you'll find that John Cardigan owns +the only water-front property on this side of the bay where the +water's deep enough to let a ship lie at low tide and load in +safety." + +"There is deep water across the bay and plenty of water-front +property for sale. I'll find a mill-site there and tow my logs +across." + +"But you've got to dump 'em in the water on this side. Everything +north of Cardigan's mill is tide-flat; he owns all the deep-water +frontage for a mile south of Sequoia, and after that come more tide- +flats. If you dump your logs on these tide-flats, they'll bog down in +the mud, and there isn't water enough at high tide to float 'em off +or let a tug go in an' snake 'em off." + +"You're a discouraging sort of person," the Colonel declared +irritably. "I suppose you'll tell me now that I can't log my timber +without permission from Cardigan." + +Old Bill spat at another crack; his faded blue eyes twinkled +mischievously. "No, that's where you've got the bulge on John, +Colonel. You can build a logging railroad from the southern fringe of +your timber north and up a ten per cent. grade on the far side of the +Squaw Creek watershed, then west three miles around a spur of low +hills, and then south eleven miles through the level country along +the bay shore. If you want to reduce your Squaw Creek grade to say +two per cent., figure on ten additional miles of railroad and a +couple extra locomotives. You understand, of course, Colonel, that no +Locomotive can haul a long trainload of redwood logs up a long, +crooked, two per cent. grade. You have to have an extry in back to +push." + +"Nonsense! I'll build my road from Squaw Creek gulch south through +that valley where those whopping big trees grow. That's the natural +outlet for the timber. See here:" [graphic] + +Colonel Pennington took from his pocket the rough sketch-map of the +region which we have reproduced herewith and pointed to the spot +numbered "11." + +"But that valley ain't logged yet," explained Henderson. + +"Don't worry. Cardigan will sell that valley to me--also a right of +way down his old railroad grade and through his logged-over lands to +tidewater." + +"Bet you a chaw o' tobacco he won't. Those big trees in that valley +ain't goin' to be cut for no railroad right o' way. That valley's +John Cardigan's private park; his wife's buried up there. Why, +Colonel, that's the biggest grove of the biggest sequoia sempervirens +in the world, an' many's the time I've heard John say he'd almost as +lief cut off his right hand as fell one o' his giants, as he calls +'em. I tell you, Colonel, John Cardigan's mighty peculiar about them +big trees. Any time he can get a day off he goes up an' looks 'em +over." + +"But, my very dear sir," the Colonel protested, "if the man will not +listen to reason, the courts will make him. I can condemn a right of +way, you know." + +"We-ll," said old Bill, wagging his head sagely, "mebbe you can, an' +then again mebbe you can't. It took me a long time to figger out just +where I stood, but mebbe you're quicker at figgers than I am. Anyhow, +Colonel, good luck to you, whichever way the cat jumps." + +This illuminating conversation had one effect on Colonel Seth +Pennington. It decided him to make haste slowly; so without taking +the trouble to make the acquaintance of John Cardigan, he returned to +Detroit, there to await the next move in this gigantic game of chess. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +No man is infallible, and in planning his logging operations in the +San Hedrin watershed, John Cardigan presently made the discovery that +he had erred in judgment. That season, from May to November, his +woods-crew put thirty million feet of logs into the San Hedrin River, +while the mill sawed on a reserve supply of logs taken from the last +of the old choppings adjacent to Squaw Creek. That year, however, the +rainfall in the San Hedrin country was fifty per cent. less than +normal, and by the first of May of the following year Cardigan's +woods-crew had succeeded in driving slightly less than half of the +cut of the preceding year to the boom on tidewater at the mouth of +the river. + +"Unless the Lord'll gi' us a lot more water in the river," the woods- +boss McTavish complained, "I dinna see how I'm to keep the mill +runnin'." He was taking John Cardigan up the riverbank and explaining +the situation. "The heavy butt-logs hae sunk to the bottom," he +continued. "Wie a normal head o' water, the lads'll move them, but +wi' the wee drappie we have the noo--" He threw up his hamlike hands +despairingly. + +Three days later a cloud-burst filled the river to the brim; it came +at night and swept the river clean of Cardigan's clear logs, An army +of Juggernauts, they swept down on the boiling torrent to tidewater, +reaching the bay shortly after the tide had commenced to ebb. + +Now, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and a log-boom is +a chaplet of a small logs, linked end to end by means of short +chains; hence when the vanguard of logs on the lip of that flood +reached the log-boom, the impetus of the charge was too great to be +resisted. Straight through the weakest link in this boom the huge +saw-logs crashed and out over Humboldt Bar to the broad Pacific. With +the ebb tide some of them came back, while others, caught in cross- +currents, bobbed about the Bay all night and finally beached at +widely scattered points. Out of the fifteen million feet of logs less +than three million feet were salvaged, and this task in itself was an +expensive operation. + +John Cardigan received the news calmly. "Thank God we don't have a +cloud-burst more than once in ten years," he remarked to his manager. +"However, that is often enough, considering the high cost of this +one. Those logs were worth eight dollars a thousand feet, board +measure, in the millpond, and I suppose we've lost a hundred thousand +dollars' worth." + +He turned from the manager and walked away through the drying yard, +up the main street of Sequoia, and on into the second-growth timber +at the edge of the town. Presently he emerged on the old, decaying +skid-road and continued on through his logged-over lands, across the +little divide and down into the quarter-section of green timber he +had told McTavish not to cut. Once in the Valley of the Giants, he +followed a well-worn foot-path to the little amphitheatre, and where +the sunlight filtered through like a halo and fell on a plain little +white marble monument, he paused and sat down on the now almost +decayed sugar-pine windfall. + +"I've come for a little comfort, sweetheart," he murmured to her who +slept beneath the stone. Then he leaned back against a redwood tree, +removed his hat, and closed his eyes, holding his great gray head the +while a little to one side in a listening attitude. Long he sat +there, a great, time-bitten devotee at the shrine of his comfort; and +presently the harried look left his strong, kind face and was +replaced by a little prescient smile--the sort of smile worn by one +who through bitter years has sought something very, very precious and +has at length discovered it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was on the day that John Cardigan received the telegram from Bryce +saying that, following four years at Princeton and two years of +travel abroad, he was returning to Sequoia to take over his redwood +heritage--that he discovered that a stranger and not the flesh of his +flesh and the blood of his blood was to reap the reward of his fifty +years of endeavour. Small wonder, then, that he laid his leonine head +upon his desk and wept, silently, as the aged and helpless weep. + +For a long time he sat there lethargic with misery. Eventually he +roused himself, reached for the desk telephone, and pressed a button +on the office exchange-station. His manager, one Thomas Sinclair, +answered. "Thomas," he said calmly, "you know, of course, that Bryce +is coming home. Tell George to take the big car and go over to Red +Bluff for him." + +"I'll attend to it, Mr Cardigan. Anything else?" + +"Yes, but I'll wait until Bryce gets home." + +George Sea Otter, son of Bryce Cardigan's old half-breed nurse, was a +person in whose nature struggled the white man's predilection for +advertisement and civic pride and the red man's instinct for +adornment. For three years he had been old man Cardigan's chauffeur +and man-of-all-work about the latter's old-fashioned home, and in the +former capacity he drove John Cardigan's single evidence of +extravagance--a Napier car, which was very justly regarded by George +Sea Otter as the king of automobiles, since it was the only imported +car in the county. Upon receipt of orders, therefore, from Sinclair, +to drive the Napier over to Red Bluff and meet his future boss and +one-time playfellow, George Sea Otter arrayed himself in a pair of +new black corduroy trousers, yellow button shoes, a blue woollen +shirt with a large scarlet silk handkerchief tied around the neck, a +pair of beaded buckskin gloves with fringe dependent from the +gauntlet, and a broad white beaver hat with a rattlesnake-skin band. +Across the windshield of the Napier he fastened an orange-coloured +pennant bearing in bright green letters the legend: MY CITY--SEQUOIA. +As a safety-first precaution against man and beast en route, he +buckled a gun-scabbard to the spare tires on the running-board and +slipped a rifle into the scabbard within quick and easy reach of his +hand; and arrayed thus, George descended upon Red Bluff at the helm +of the king of automobiles. + +When the overland train coasted into Red Bluff and slid to a grinding +halt, Bryce Cardigan saw that the Highest Living Authority had +descended from the train also. He had elected to designate her thus +in the absence of any information anent her Christian and family +names, and for the further reason that quite obviously she was a very +superior person. He had a vague suspicion that she was the kind of +girl in whose presence a man always feels that he must appear on +parade--one of those alert, highly intelligent young women so +extremely apt to reduce an ordinarily intelligent young man to a +state of gibbering idiocy or stupid immobility. + +Bryce had travelled in the same car with the Highest Living Authority +from Chicago and had made up his mind by observation that with a +little encouragement she could be induced to mount a soap-box and +make a speech about Women's Rights; that when her native State should +be granted equal suffrage she would run for office or manage +somebody's political campaign; that she could drive an automobile and +had probably been arrested for speeding; that she could go around any +golf links in the country in ninety and had read Maeterlinck and +enjoyed it. + +Bryce could see that she was the little daughter of some large rich +man. The sparsity of jewellery and the rich simplicity of her attire +proved that, and moreover she was accompanied by a French maid to +whom she spoke French in a manner which testified that before +acquiring the French maid she had been in the custody of a French +nurse. She possessed poise. For the rest, she had wonderful jet-black +hair, violet eyes, and milk-white skin, a correct nose but a somewhat +generous mouth, Bryce guessed she was twenty or twenty-one years old +and that she had a temper susceptible of being aroused. On the whole, +she was rather wonderful but not dazzling--at least, not to Bryce +Cardigan. He told himself she merely interested him as a type-- +whatever he meant by that. + +The fact that this remarkable young woman had also left the train at +Red Bluff further interested him, for he knew Red Bluff and while +giving due credit to the many lovely damsels of that ambitious little +city, Bryce had a suspicion that no former Red Bluff girl would dare +to invade the old home town with a French maid. He noted, as further +evidence of the correctness of his assumption, that the youthful +baggage-smasher at the station failed to recognize her and was +evidently dazzled when, followed by the maid struggling with two +suit-cases, she approached him and in pure though alien English (the +Italian A predominated) inquired the name and location of the best +hotel and the hour and point of departure of the automobile stage for +San Hedrin. The youth had answered her first question and was about +to answer the second when George Sea Otter, in all his barbaric +splendour, came pussy-footing around the comer of the station in old +man Cardigan's regal touring-car. + +The Highest Living Authority, following the gaze of the baggage- +smasher, turned and beheld George Sea Otter. Beyond a doubt he was of +the West westward. She had heard that California stage-drivers were +picturesque fellows, and in all probability the displacing of the old +Concord coach of the movie-thriller in favour of the motor-stage had +not disturbed the idiosyncrasies of the drivers in their choice of +raiment. She noted the rifle-stock projecting from the scabbard, and +a vision of a stage hold-up flashed across her mind. Ah, yes, of +course--the express messenger's weapon, no doubt! And further to +clinch her instant assumption that here was the Sequoia motor-stage, +there was the pennant adorning the wind-shield! + +Dismissing the baggage-smasher with a gracious smile, the Highest +Living Authority approached George Sea Otter, noting, the while, +further evidence that this car was a public conveyance, for the young +man who had been her fellow-passenger was heading toward the +automobile also. She heard him say: + +"Hello, George, you radiant red rascal! I'm mighty glad to see you, +boy. Shake!" + +They shook, George Sea Otter's dark eyes and white teeth flashing +pleasurably. Bryce tossed his bag into the tonneau; the half-breed +opened the front door; and the young master had his foot on the +running-board and was about to enter the car when a soft voice spoke +at his elbow: + +"Driver, this is the stage for Sequoia, is it not?" + +George Sea Otter could scarcely credit his auditory nerves. "This +car?" he demanded bluntly, "this--the Sequoia stage! Take a look, +lady. This here's a Napier imported English automobile. It's a +private car and belongs to my boss here." + +"I'm so sorry I slandered your car," she replied demurely. "I +observed the pennant on the wind-shield, and I thought--" + +Bryce Cardigan turned and lifted his hat. + +"Quite naturally, you thought it was the Sequoia stage," he said to +her. He turned a smoldering glance upon George Sea Otter. "George," +he declared ominously, but with a sly wink that drew the sting from +his words, "if you're anxious to hold down your job the next time a +lady speaks to you and asks you a simple question, you answer yes or +no and refrain from sarcastic remarks. Don't let your enthusiasm for +this car run away with you." He faced the girl again. "Was it your +intention to go out to Sequoia on the next trip of the stage?" + +She nodded. + +"That means you will have to wait here three days until the stage +returns from Sequoia," Bryce replied. + +"I realized, of course, that we would arrive here too late to connect +with the stage if it maintained the customary schedule for its +departure," she explained, "but it didn't occur to me that the stage- +driver wouldn't wait until our train arrived. I had an idea his +schedule was rather elastic." + +"Stage-drivers have no imagination, to speak of," Bryce assured her. +To himself he remarked: "She's used to having people wait on her." + +A shade of annoyance passed over the classic features of the Highest +Living Authority. "Oh, dear," she complained, "how fearfully awkward! +Now I shall have to take the next train to San Francisco and book +passage on the steamer to Sequoia--and Marcelle is such a poor +sailor. Oh, dear!" + +Bryce had an inspiration and hastened to reveal it. + +"We are about to start for Sequoia now, although the lateness of our +start will compel us to put up tonight at the rest-house on the south +fork of Trinity River and continue the journey in the morning. +However, this rest-house is eminently respectable and the food and +accommodations are extraordinarily good for mountains; so, if an +invitation to occupy the tonneau of my car will not be construed as +an impertinence, coming as it does from a total stranger, you are at +liberty to regard this car as to all intents and purposes the public +conveyance which so scandalously declined to wait for you this +morning." + +She looked at him searchingly for a brief instant: then with a +peculiarly winning smile and a graceful inclination of her head she +thanked him and accepted his hospitality--thus: + +"Why, certainly not! You are very kind, and I shall be eternally +grateful." + +"Thank you for that vote of confidence. It makes me feel that I have +your permission to introduce myself. My name is Bryce Cardigan, and I +live in Sequoia when I'm at home." + +"Of Cardigan's Redwoods?" she questioned. He nodded. "I've heard of +you, I think," she continued. "I am Shirley Sumner." + +"You do not live in Sequoia." + +"No, but I'm going to hereafter. I was there about ten years ago." + +He grinned and thrust out a great hand which she surveyed gravely for +a minute before inserting hers in it. "I wonder," he said, "if it is +to be my duty to give you a ride every time you come to Sequoia? The +last time you were there you wheedled me into giving you a ride on my +pony, an animal known as Midget. Do you, by any chance, recall that +incident?" + +She looked up at him wonderingly. "Why--why you're the boy with the +beautiful auburn hair," she declared. He lifted his hat and revealed +his thick thatch in all its glory. "I'm not so sensitive about it +now," he explained. "When we first met, reference to my hair was apt +to rile me." He shook her little hand with cordial good-nature. "What +a pity it wasn't possible for us to renew acquaintance on the train, +Miss Sumner!" + +"Better late than never, Mr. Cardigan, considering the predicament in +which you found me. What became of Midget?" + +"Midget, I regret to state, made a little pig of herself one day and +died of acute indigestion. She ate half a sack of carrots, and +knowing full well that she was eating forbidden fruit, she bolted +them, and for her failure to Fletcherize--but speaking of +Fletcherizing, did you dine aboard the train?" + +She nodded. "So did I, Miss Sumner; hence I take it that you are +quite ready to start." + +"Quite, Mr. Cardigan." + +"Then we'll drift. George, suppose you pile Miss Sumner's hand- +baggage in the tonneau and then pile in there yourself and keep +Marcelle company. I'll drive; and you can sit up in front with me, +Miss Sumner, snug behind the wind-shield where you'll not be blown +about." + +"I'm sure this is going to be a far pleasanter journey than the stage +could possibly have afforded," she said graciously as Bryce slipped +in beside her and took the wheel. + +"You are very kind to share the pleasure with me, Miss Sumner." He +went through his gears, and the car glided away on its journey. "By +the way," he said suddenly as he turned west toward the distant blue +mountains of Trinity County, "how did you happen to connect me with +Cardigan's redwoods?" + +"I've heard my uncle, Colonel Seth Pennington, speak of them." + +"Colonel Seth Pennington means nothing in my young life. I never +heard of him before; so I dare say he's a newcomer in our country. +I've been away six years," he added in explanation. + +"We're from Michigan. Uncle was formerly in the lumber business +there, but he's logged out now." + +"I see. So he came West, I suppose, and bought a lot of redwood +timber cheap from some old croaker who never could see any future to +the redwood lumber industry. Personally, I don't think he could have +made a better investment. I hope I shall have the pleasure of making +his acquaintance when I deliver you to him. Perhaps you may be a +neighbour of mine. Hope so." + +At this juncture George Sea Otter, who had been an interested +listener to the conversation, essayed a grunt from the rear seat. +Instantly, to Shirley Sumner's vast surprise, her host grunted also; +whereupon George Sea Otter broke into a series of grunts and guttural +exclamations which evidently appeared quite intelligible to her host, +for he slowed down to five miles an hour and cocked one ear to the +rear; apparently he was profoundly interested in whatever information +his henchman had to impart. When George Sea Otter finished his +harangue, Bryce nodded and once more gave his attention to tossing +the miles behind him. + +"What language was that?" Shirley Sumner inquired, consumed with +curiosity. + +"Digger Indian," he replied. "George's mother was my nurse, and he +and I grew up together. So I can't very well help speaking the +language of the tribe." + +They chattered volubly on many subjects for the first twenty miles; +then the road narrowed and commenced to climb steadily, and +thereafter Bryce gave all of his attention to the car, for a +deviation of a foot from the wheel-rut on the outside of the road +would have sent them hurtling over the grade into the deep-timbered +canons below. Their course led through a rugged wilderness, widely +diversified and transcendently beautiful, and the girl was rather +glad of the opportunity to enjoy it in silence. Also by reason of the +fact that Bryce's gaze never wavered from the road immediately in +front of the car, she had a chance to appraise him critically while +pretending to look past him to the tumbled, snow-covered ranges to +their right. + +She saw a big, supple, powerful man of twenty-five or six, with the +bearing and general demeanour of one many years his elder. His rich, +dark auburn hair was wavy, and a curling lock of it had escaped from +the band of his cap at the temple; his eyes were brown to match his +hair and were the striking feature of a strong, rugged countenance, +for they were spaced at that eminently proper interval which +proclaims an honest man. His nose was high, of medium thickness and +just a trifle long--the nose of a thinker. His ears were large, with +full lobes--the ears of a generous man. The mouth, full-lipped but +firm, the heavy jaw and square chin, the great hands (most amazingly +free from freckles) denoted the man who would not avoid a fight worth +while. Indeed, while the girl was looking covertly at him, she saw +his jaw set and a sudden, fierce light leap up in his eyes, which at +first sight had seemed to her rather quizzical. Subconsciously he +lifted one hand from the wheel and clenched it; he wagged his head a +very little bit; consequently she knew his thoughts were far away, +and for some reason, not quite clear to her, she would have preferred +that they weren't. As a usual thing, young men did not go wool- +gathering in her presence; so she sought to divert his thoughts to +present company. + +"What a perfectly glorious country!" she exclaimed. "Can't we stop +for just a minute to appreciate it?" + +"Yes," he replied abstractedly as he descended from the car and sat +at her feet while she drank in the beauty of the scene, "it's a he +country; I love it, and I'm glad to get back to it." + +Upon their arrival at the rest-house, however, Bryce cheered up, and +during dinner was very attentive and mildly amusing, although +Shirley's keen wits assured her that this was merely a clever pose +and sustained with difficulty. She was confirmed in this assumption +when, after sitting with him a little on the porch after dinner, she +complained of being weary and bade him good-night. She had scarcely +left him when he called: + +"George!" + +The half-breed slid out of the darkness and sat down beside him. A +moment later, through the open window of her room just above the +porch where Bryce and George Sea Otter sat, Shirley heard the former +say: + +"George, when did you first notice that my father's sight was +beginning to fail?" + +"About two years ago, Bryce." + +"What made you notice it?" + +"He began to walk with his hands held out in front of him, and +sometimes he lifted his feet too high." + +"Can he see at all now, George?" + +"Oh, yes, a little bit--enough to make his way to the office and +back." + +"Poor old governor! George, until you told me this afternoon, I +hadn't heard a word about it. If I had, I never would have taken that +two-year jaunt around the world." + +George Sea Otter grunted. "That's what your father said, too. So he +wouldn't tell you, and he ordered everybody else to keep quiet about +it. Myself--well, I didn't want you to go home and not know it until +you met him." + +"That was mighty kind and considerate of you, George. And you say +this man Colonel Pennington and my father have been having trouble?" + +"Yes--" Here George Sea Otter gracefully unburdened himself of a +fervent curse directed at Shirley's avuncular relative; whereupon +that young lady promptly left the window and heard no more. + +They were on the road again by eight o'clock next morning, and just +as Cardigan's mill was blowing the six o'clock whistle, Bryce stopped +the car at the head of the street leading down to the water-front. +"I'll let you drive now, George," he informed the silent Sea Otter. +He turned to Shirley Sumner. "I'm going to leave you now," he said. +"Thank you for riding over from Red Bluff with me. My father never +leaves the office until the whistle blows, and so I'm going to hurry +down to that little building you see at the end of the street and +surprise him." + +He stepped out on the running-board, stood there a moment, and +extended his hand. Shirley had commenced a due and formal expression +of her gratitude for having been delivered safely in Sequoia, when +George Sea Otter spoke: + +"Here comes John Cardigan," he said. + +"Drive Miss Sumner around to Colonel Pennington's house," Bryce +ordered, and even while he held Shirley's hand, he turned to catch +the first glimpse of his father. Shirley followed his glance and saw +a tall, powerfully built old man coming down the street with his +hands thrust a little in front of him, as if for protection from some +invisible assailant. + +"Oh, my poor old father!" she heard Bryce Cardigan murmur. "My dear +old pal! And I've let him grope in the dark for two years!" + +He released her hand and leaped from the car. "Dad!" he called. "It +is I--Bryce. I've come home to you at last." + +The slightly bent figure of John Cardigan straightened with a jerk; +he held out his arms, trembling with eagerness, and as the car +continued on to the Pennington house Shirley looked back and saw +Bryce folded in his father's embrace. She did not, however, hear the +heart-cry with which the beaten old man welcomed his boy. + +"Sonny, sonny--oh, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. Bryce, +I'm whipped--I've lost your heritage. Oh, son! I'm old--I can't fight +any more. I'm blind--I can't see my enemies. I've lost your redwood +trees--even your mother's Valley of the Giants." + +And he commenced to weep for the third time in fifty years. And when +the aged and helpless weep, nothing is more terrible. Bryce Cardigan +said no word, but held his father close to his great heart and laid +his cheek gently against the old man's, tenderly as a woman might. +And presently, from that silent communion of spirit, each drew +strength and comfort. As the shadows fell in John Cardigan's town, +they went home to the house on the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Shirley Sumner's eyes were still moist when George Sea Otter, in +obedience to the instructions of his youthful master, set her, the +French maid, and their hand-baggage down on the sidewalk in front of +Colonel Seth Pennington's house. The half-breed hesitated a moment, +undecided whether he would carry the hand-baggage up to the door or +leave that task for a Pennington retainer; then he noted the tear- +stains on the cheeks of his fair passenger. Instantly he took up the +hand-baggage, kicked open the iron gate, and preceded Shirley up the +cement walk to the door. + +"Just wait a moment, if you please, George," Shirley said as he set +the baggage down and started back for the car. He turned and beheld +her extracting a five-dollar bill from her purse. "For you, George," +she continued. "Thank you so much." + +In all his life George Sea Otter had never had such an experience-- +he, happily, having been raised in a country where, with the +exception of waiters, only a pronounced vagrant expects or accepts a +gratuity from a woman. He took the bill and fingered it curiously; +then his white blood asserted itself and he handed the bill back to +Shirley. + +"Thank you," he said respectfully. "If you are a man--all right. But +from a lady--no. I am like my boss. I work for you for nothing." + +Shirley did not understand his refusal, but her instinctive tact +warned her not to insist. She returned the bill to her purse, thanked +him again, and turned quickly to hide the slight flush of annoyance. +George Sea Otter noted it. + +"Lady," he said with great dignity, "at first I did not want to carry +your baggage. I did not want to walk on this land." And with a +sweeping gesture he indicated the Pennington grounds. "Then you cry a +little because my boss is feeling bad about his old man. So I like +you better. The old man--well, he has been like father to me and my +mother--and we are Indians. My brothers, too--they work for him. So +if you like my boss and his old man, George Sea Otter would go to +hell for you pretty damn' quick. You bet you my life!" + +"You're a very good boy, George," she replied, with difficulty +repressing a smile at his blunt but earnest avowal. "I am glad the +Cardigans have such an honest, loyal servant." + +George Sea Otter's dark face lighted with a quick smile. "Now you pay +me," he replied and returned to the car. + +The door opened, and a Swedish maid stood in the entrance regarding +her stolidly. "I'm Miss Sumner," Shirley informed her. "This is my +maid Marcelle. Help her in with the hand-baggage." She stepped into +the hall and called: "Ooh-hooh! Nunky-dunk!" + +"Ship ahoy!" An answering call came to her from the dining room, +across the entrance-hall, and an instant later Colonel Seth +Pennington stood in the doorway, "Bless my whiskers! Is that you, my +dear?" he cried, and advanced to greet her. "Why, how did you get +here, Shirley? I thought you'd missed the stage." + +She presented her cheek for his kiss. "So I did, Uncle, but a nice +red-haired young man named Bryce Cardigan found me in distress at Red +Bluff, picked me up in his car, and brought me here." She sniffed +adorably. "I'm so hungry," she declared, "and here I am, just in time +for dinner. Is my name in the pot?" + +"It isn't, Shirley, but it soon will be. How perfectly bully to have +you with me again, my dear! And what a charming young lady you've +grown to be since I saw you last! You're--why, you've been crying! By +Jove, I had no idea you'd be so glad to see me again." + +She could not forego a sly little smile at his egoism. + +"You're looking perfectly splendid, Uncle Seth," she parried. + +"And I'm feeling perfectly splendid. This is a wonderful country, +Shirley, and everything is going nicely with me here. By the way, who +did you say picked you up in his car?" + +"Bryce Cardigan. Do you know him?" + +"No, we haven't met. Son of old John Cardigan, I dare say. I've heard +of him. He's been away from Sequoia for quite a while, I believe." + +"Yes; he was abroad for two years after he was graduated from +Princeton." + +"Hum-m-m! Well, it's about time he came home to take care of that +stiff-necked old father of his." He stepped to the bell and pressed +it, and the butler answered. "Set a place at dinner for Miss Shirley, +James," he ordered. "Thelma will show you your rooms, Shirley. I was +just about to sit down to dinner. I'll wait for you." + +While Shirley was in the living room Colonel Pennington's features +wore an expression almost pontifical, but when she had gone, the +atmosphere of paternalism and affection which he radiated faded +instantly. The Colonel's face was in repose now--cold, calculating, +vaguely repellent. He scowled slightly. + +"Now, isn't that the devil's luck?" he soliloquized. "Young Cardigan +is probably the only man in Sequoia--dashed awkward if they should +become interested in each other--at this time. Everybody in town, +from lumberjacks to bankers, has told me what a fine fellow Bryce +Cardigan is. They say he's good-looking; certainly he is educated and +has acquired some worldly polish--just the kind of young fellow +Shirley will find interesting and welcome company in a town like +this. Many things can happen in a year--and it will be a year before +I can smash the Cardigans. Damn it!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Along the well-remembered streets of Sequoia Bryce Cardigan and his +father walked arm in arm, their progress continuously interrupted by +well-meaning but impulsive Sequoians who insisted upon halting the +pair to shake hands with Bryce and bid him welcome home. In the +presence of those third parties the old man quickly conquered the +agitation he had felt at this long-deferred meeting with his son, and +when presently they left the business section of the town and turned +into a less-frequented street, his emotion assumed the character of a +quiet joy, evidenced in a more erect bearing and a firmer tread, as +if he strove, despite his seventy-six years, not to appear +incongruous as he walked beside his splendid son. + +"I wish I could see you more clearly," he said presently. His voice +as well as his words expressed profound regret, but there was no hint +of despair or heartbreak now. + +Bryce, who up to this moment had refrained from discussing his +father's misfortunes, drew the old man a little closer to his side. + +"What's wrong with your eyes, pal?" he queried. He did not often +address his parent, after the fashion of most sons, as "Father," +"Dad" or "Pop." They were closer to each other than that, and a rare +sense of perfect comradeship found expression, on Bryce's part, in +such salutations as "pal," "partner" and, infrequently, "old sport." +When arguing with his father, protesting with him or affectionately +scolding him, Bryce, with mock seriousness, sometimes called the old +man John Cardigan. + +"Cataracts, son," his father answered. "Merely the penalty of old +age." + +"But can't something be done about it?" demanded Bryce. "Can't they +be cured somehow or other?" + +"Certainly they can. But I shall have to wait until they are +completely matured and I have become completely blind; then a +specialist will perform an operation on my eyes, and in all +probability my sight will be restored for a few years. However, I +haven't given the matter a great deal of consideration. At my age one +doesn't find very much difficulty in making the best of everything. +And I am about ready to quit now. I'd like to, in fact; I'm tired." + +"Oh, but you can't quit until you've seen your redwoods again," Bryce +reminded him. "I suppose it's been a long time since you've visited +the Valley of the Giants; your long exile from the wood-goblins has +made you a trifle gloomy, I'm afraid." + +John Cardigan nodded. "I haven't seen them in a year and a half, +Bryce. Last time I was up, I slipped between the logs on the old +skid-road and like to broke my old fool neck. But even that wasn't +warning enough for me. I cracked right on into the timber and got +lost." + +"Lost? Poor old partner! And what did you do about it?" + +"The sensible thing, my boy. I just sat down under a tree and waited +for George Sea Otter to trail me and bring me home." + +"And did he find you? Or did you have to spend the night in the +woods?" + +John Cardigan smiled humorously. "I did not. Along about sunset +George found me. Seems he'd been following me all the time, and when +I sat down he waited to make certain whether I was lost or just +taking a rest where I could be quiet and think." + +"I've been leaving to an Indian the fulfillment of my duty," Bryce +murmured bitterly. + +"No, no, son. You have never been deficient in that," the old man +protested. + +"Why didn't you have the old skid-road planked with refuse lumber so +you wouldn't fall through? And you might have had the woods-boss +swamp a new trail into the timber and fence it on both sides, in +order that you might feel your way along." + +"Yes, quite true," admitted the old man. "But then, I don't spend +money quite as freely as I used to, Bryce. I consider carefully now +before I part with a dollar." + +"Pal, it wasn't fair of you to make me stay away so long. If I had +only known--if I had remotely suspected--" + +"You'd have spoiled everything--of course. Don't scold me, son. +You're all I have now, and I couldn't bear to send for you until +you'd had your fling." His trembling old hand crept over and closed +upon his boy's hand, so firm but free from signs of toil. "It was my +pleasure, Bryce," he continued, "and you wouldn't deny me my choice +of sport, would you? Remember, lad, I never had a boyhood; I never +had a college education, and the only real travel I have ever had was +when I worked my way around Cape Horn as a foremast hand, and all I +saw then was water and hardships; all I've seen since is my little +world here in Sequoia and in San Francisco." + +"You've sacrificed enough--too much--for me, Dad." + +"It pleased me to give you all the advantages I wanted and couldn't +afford until I was too old and too busy to consider them. Besides, it +was your mother's wish. We made plans for you before you were born, +and I promised her--ah, well, why be a cry-baby? I knew I could +manage until you were ready to settle down to business. And you HAVE +enjoyed your little run, haven't you?" he concluded wistfully. + +"I have, Dad." Bryce's great hand closed over the back of his +father's neck; he shook the old man with mock ferocity. "Stubborn old +lumberjack!" he chided. + +John Cardigan shook with an inward chuckle, for the loving abuse his +boy had formed a habit of heaping on him never failed to thrill him. +Instinctively Bryce had realized that to-night obvious sympathy +copiously expressed was not the medicine for his father's bruised +spirit; hence he elected to regard the latter's blindness as a mere +temporary annoyance, something to be considered lightly, if at all; +and it was typical of him now that the subject had been discussed +briefly, to resolve never to refer to it again. He released his hold +on the old man's neck and tapped the latter's gray head lightly, +while with his tongue he made hollow-sounding noises against the roof +of his mouth. + +"Ha! I thought so," he declared. "After your fifty-odd years in the +lumber business your head has become packed with sawdust--" + +"Be serious and talk to me, Bryce." + +"I ought to send you to bed without your supper. Talk to you? You bet +I'll talk to you, John Cardigan; and I'll tell you things, too, you +scandalous bunko-steerer. To-morrow morning I'm going to put a pair +of overalls on you, arm you with a tin can and a swab, and set you to +greasing the skidways. Partner, you've deceived me." + +"Oh, nonsense. If I had whimpered, that would only have spoiled +everything." + +"Nevertheless, you were forced to cable me to hurry home." + +"I summoned you the instant I realized I was going to need you." + +"No, you didn't, John Cardigan. You summoned me because, for the +first time in your life, you were panicky and let yourself get out of +hand." + +His father nodded slowly. "And you aren't over it yet," Bryee +continued, his voice no longer bantering but lowered affectionately. +"What's the trouble, Dad? Trot out your old panic and let me inspect +it. Trouble must be very real when it gets my father on the run." + +"It is, Bryce, very real indeed. As I remarked before, I've lost your +heritage for you." He sighed. "I waited till you would be able to +come home and settle down to business; now you're home, and there +isn't any business to settle down to." + +Bryce chuckled, for he was indeed far from being worried over +business matters, his consideration now being entirely for his +father's peace of mind. "All right," he retorted, "Father has lost +his money and we'll have to let the servants go and give up the old +home. That part of it is settled; and weak, anemic, tenderly nurtured +little Bryce Cardigan must put his turkey on his back and go into the +woods looking for a job as lumberjack ... Busted, eh? Did I or did I +not hear the six o'clock whistle blow at the mill? Bet you a dollar I +did." + +"Oh, I have title to everything--yet." + +"How I do have to dig for good news! Then it appears we still have a +business; indeed, we may always have a business, for the very fact +that it is going but not quite gone implies a doubt as to its +ultimate departure, and perhaps we may yet scheme a way to retain +it." + +"Oh, my boy, when I think of my years of toil and scheming, of the +big dreams I dreamed--" + +"Belay all! If we can save enough out of the wreck to insure you your +customary home comforts, I shan't cry, partner. I have a profession +to fall back on. Yes, sirree. I own a sheep-skin, and it says I'm an +electrical and civil engineer." + +"What!" + +"I said it. An electrical and civil engineer. Slipped one over on you +at college, John Cardigan, when all the time you thought I was having +a good time. Thought I'd come home and surprise you." + +"Bu-bu-but--" + +"It drives me wild to have a man sputter at me. I'm an electrical and +civil engineer, I tell you, and my two years of travel have been +spent studying the installation and construction of big plants +abroad." He commenced to chuckle softly. "I've known for years that +our sawmill was a debilitated old coffee-grinder and would have to be +rebuilt, so I wanted to know how to rebuild it. And I've known for +years that some day I might have to build a logging railroad--" + +"My dear boy! And you've got your degree?" + +"Partner, I have a string of letters after my name like the tail of a +comet." + +"You comfort me," the old man answered simply. "I have reproached +myself with the thought that I reared you with the sole thought of +making a lumberman out of you--and when I saw your lumber business +slipping through my fingers--" + +"You were sorry I didn't have a profession to fall back on, eh? Or +were you fearful lest you had raised the usual rich man's son? If the +latter, you did not compliment me, pal. I've never forgotten how hard +you always strove to impress me with a sense of the exact weight of +my responsibility as your successor." + +"How big are you now?" his father queried suddenly. + +"Well, sir," Bryce answered, for his father's pleasure putting aside +his normal modesty, "I'm six feet two inches tall, and I weigh two +hundred pounds in the pink of condition. I have a forty-eight-inch +chest, with five and a half inches chest-expansion, and a reach as +long as a gorilla's. My underpinning is good, too; I'm not one of +these fellows with spidery legs and a barrel-chest. I can do a +hundred yards in ten seconds; I'm no slouch of a swimmer; and at +Princeton they say I made football history. And in spite of it all, I +haven't an athletic heart." + +"That is very encouraging, my boy--very. Ever do any boxing?" "Quite +a little. I'm fairly up in the manly art of self-defence." + +"That's good. And I suppose you did some wrestling at your college +gymnasium, did you not?" + +"Naturally. I went in for everything my big carcass could stand." + +The old man wagged his head approvingly, and they had reached the +gate of the Cardigan home before he spoke again. "There's a big buck +woods-boss up in Pennington's camp," he remarked irrelevantly. "He's +a French Canadian imported from northern Michigan by Colonel +Pennington. I dare say he's the only man in this country who measures +up to you physically. He can fight with his fists and wrestle right +cleverly, I'm told. His name is Jules Rondeau, and he's top dog among +the lumberjacks. They say he's the strongest man in the county." He +unlatched the gate. "Folks used to say that about me once," he +continued wistfully. "Ah, if I could have my eyes to see you meet +Jules Rondeau!" + +The front portal of the quaint old Cardigan residence opened, and a +silver-haired lady came out on the porch and hailed Bryce. She was +Mrs. Tully, John Cardigan's old housekeeper, and almost a mother to +Bryce. "Oh, here's my boy!" she cried, and a moment later found +herself encircled by Bryce's arms and saluted with a hearty kiss. + +As he stepped into the familiar entrance-hall, Bryce paused, raised +his head and sniffed suspiciously, like a bird-dog. Mrs. Tully, arms +akimbo, watched him pleasurably. "I smell something," he declared, +and advanced a step down the hall for another sniff; then, in exact +imitation of a foxhound, he gave tongue and started for the kitchen. +Mrs. Tully, waddling after, found him "pointing" two hot blackberry +pies which had but a few minutes previous been taken from the oven. +He was baying lugubriously. + +"They're wild blackberries, too," Mrs. Tully announced pridefully. "I +remembered how fond you used to be of wild-blackberry pie--so I +phoned up to the logging-camp and had the woods-boss send a man out +to pick them." + +"I'm still a pie-hound, Mrs. Tully, and you're still the same dear, +thoughtful soul. I'm so glad now that I had sense enough to think of +you before I turned my footsteps toward the setting sun." He patted +her gray head. "Mrs. T.," he declared, "I've brought you a nice big +collar of Irish lace--bought it in Belfast, b'gosh. It comes down +around your neck and buckles right here with an old ivory cameo I +picked up in Burma and which formerly was the property of a Hindu +queen." + +Mrs. Tully simpered with pleasure and protested that her boy was too +kind. "You haven't changed a single speck," she concluded proudly. + +"Has the pie?" + +"I should say not." + +"How many did you make?" + +"Two." + +"May I have one all for myself, Mrs. Tully?" + +"Indeed you may, my dear." + +"Thank you, but I do not want it for myself. Mrs. Tully, will you +please wrap one of those wonderful pies in a napkin and the instant +George Sea Otter comes in with the car, tell him to take the pie over +to Colonel Pennington's house and deliver it to Miss Sumner? There's +a girl who doubtless thinks she has tasted pie in her day, and I want +to prove to her that she hasn't." He selected a card from his card- +case, sat down, and wrote: + +Dear Miss Sumner: + +Here is a priceless hot wild-blackberry pie, especially manufactured +in my honour. It is so good I wanted you to have some. In all your +life you have never tasted anything like it. + +Sincerely, BRYCE CARDIGAN. + +He handed the card to Mrs. Tully and repaired to his old room to +remove the stains of travel before joining his father at dinner. + +Some twenty minutes later his unusual votive offering was delivered +by George Sea Otter to Colonel Pennington's Swedish maid, who +promptly brought it in to the Colonel and Shirley Sumner, who were +even then at dinner in the Colonel's fine burl-redwood-panelled +dining room. Miss Sumner's amazement was so profound that for fully a +minute she was mute, contenting herself with scrutinizing alternately +the pie and the card that accompanied it. Presently she handed the +card to her uncle, who affixed his pince-nez and read the epistle +with deliberation. + +"Isn't this young Cardigan a truly remarkable young man, Shirley?" he +declared. "Why, I have never heard of anything like his astounding +action. If he had sent you over an armful of American Beauty roses +from his father's old-fashioned garden, I could understand it, but an +infernal blackberry pie! Good heavens!" + +"I told you he was different," she replied. To the Colonel's +amazement she did not appear at all amused. + +Colonel Pennington poked a fork through the delicate brown crust. "I +wonder if it is really as good as he says it is, Shirley." + +"Of course. If it wasn't, he wouldn't have sent it." + +"How do you know?" + +"By intuition," she replied. And she cut into the pie and helped the +Colonel to a quadrant of it. + +"That was a genuine hayseed faux-pas," announced the Colonel a few +moments later as Shirley was pouring coffee from a samovar-shaped +percolator in the library. "The idea of anybody who has enjoyed the +advantages that fellow has, sending a hot blackberry pie to a girl he +has just met!" + +"Yes, the idea!" she echoed. "I find it rather charming." + +"You mean amusing." + +"I said 'charming.' Bryce Cardigan is a man with the heart and soul +of a boy, and I think it was mighty sweet of him to share his pie +with me. If he had sent roses, I should have suspected him of trying +to 'rush' me, but the fact that he sent a blackberry pie proves that +he's just a natural, simple, sane, original citizen--just the kind of +person a girl can have for a dear friend without incurring the risk +of having to marry him." + +"I repeat that this is most extraordinary." + +"Only because it is an unusual thing for a young man to do, although, +after all, why shouldn't he send me a blackberry pie if he thought a +blackberry pie would please me more than an armful of roses? Besides, +he may send the roses to-morrow." + +"Most extraordinary!" the Colonel reiterated. + +"What should one expect from such an extraordinary creature? He's an +extraordinary fine-looking young man, with an extraordinary scowl and +an extraordinary crinkly smile that is friendly and generous and free +from masculine guile. Why, I think he's just the kind of man who +WOULD send a girl a blackberry pie." + +The Colonel noticed a calm little smile fringing her generous mouth. +He wished he could tell, by intuition, what she was thinking about-- +and what effect a hot wild-blackberry pie was ultimately to have upon +the value of his minority holding in the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Not until dinner was finished and father and son had repaired to the +library for their coffee and cigars did Bryce Cardigan advert to the +subject of his father's business affairs. + +"Well, John Cardigan," he declared comfortably, "to-day is Friday. +I'll spend Saturday and Sunday in sinful sloth and the renewal of old +acquaintance, and on Monday I'll sit in at your desk and give you a +long-deferred vacation. How about that programme, pard?" + +"Our affairs are in such shape that they could not possibly be hurt +or bettered, no matter who takes charge of them now," Cardigan +replied bitterly. "We're about through. I waited too long and trusted +too far; and now--well, in a year we'll be out of business." + +"Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything right to +the end. George Sea Otter informed me that you've been having trouble +with this Johnny-come-lately, Colonel Pennington. Is he the man who +has us where the hair is short?" + +The old man nodded. + +"The Squaw Creek timber deal, eh?" Bryce suggested. + +Again the old man nodded. "You wrote me all about that," Bryce +continued. "You had him blocked whichever way he turned--so +effectually blocked, in fact, that the only pleasure he has derived +from his investment since is the knowledge that he owns two thousand +acres of timber with the exclusive right to pay taxes on it, walk in +it, look at it and admire it--in fact, do everything except log it, +mill it, and realize on his investment. It must make him feel like a +bally jackass." + +"On the other hand," his father reminded him, "no matter what the +Colonel's feeling on that score may be, misery loves company, and not +until I had pulled out of the Squaw Creek country and started logging +in the San Hedrin watershed, did I realize that I had been +considerable of a jackass myself." + +"Yes," Bryce admitted, "there can be no doubt but that you cut off +your nose to spite your face." + +There was silence between them for several minutes. Bryce's thoughts +harked back to that first season of logging in the San Hedrin, when +the cloud-burst had caught the river filled with Cardigan logs and +whirled them down to the bay, to crash through the log-boom at +tidewater and continue out to the open sea. In his mind's eye he +could still see the red-ink figures on the profit-and-loss statement +Sinclair, his father's manager, had presented at the end of that +year. + +The old man appeared to divine the trend of his son's thoughts. "Yes, +Bryce, that was a disastrous year," he declared. "The mere loss of +the logs was a severe blow, but in addition I had to pay out quite a +little money to settle with my customers. I was loaded up with low- +priced orders that year, although I didn't expect to make any money. +The orders were merely taken to keep the men employed. You +understand, Bryce! I had a good crew, the finest in the country; and +if I had shut down, my men would have scattered and--well, you know +how hard it is to get that kind of a crew together again. Besides, I +had never failed my boys before, and I couldn't bear the thought of +failing them then. Half the mills in the country were shut down at +the time, and there was a lot of distress among the unemployed. I +couldn't do it, Bryce." + +Bryce nodded. "And when you lost the logs, you couldn't fill those +low-priced orders. Then the market commenced to jump and advanced +three dollars in three months--" + +"Exactly, my son. And my customers began to crowd me to fill those +old orders. Praise be, my regular customers knew I wasn't the kind of +lumberman who tries to crawl out of filling low-priced orders after +the market has gone up. Nevertheless I couldn't expect them to suffer +with me; my failure to perform my contracts, while unavoidable, +nevertheless would have caused them a severe loss, and when they were +forced to buy elsewhere, I paid them the difference between the price +they paid my competitors and the price at which they originally +placed their orders with me. And the delay in delivery caused them +further loss." + +"How much?" + +"Nearly a hundred thousand--to settle for losses to my local +customers alone. Among my orders I had three million feet of clear +lumber for shipment to the United Kingdom, and these foreign +customers, thinking I was trying to crawfish on my contracts, sued me +and got judgment for actual and exemplary damages for my failure to +perform, while the demurrage on the ships they sent to freight the +lumber sent me hustling to the bank to borrow money." + +He smoked meditatively for a minute. "I've always been land-poor," he +explained apologetically. "Never kept much of a reserve working- +capital for emergencies, you know. Whenever I had idle money, I put +it into timber in the San Hedrin watershed, because I realized that +some day the railroad would build in from the south, tap that timber, +and double its value. I've not as yet found reason to doubt the +wisdom of my course; but"--he sighed--"the railroad is a long time +coming!" + +John Cardigan here spoke of a most important factor in the situation. +The crying need of the country was a feeder to some transcontinental +railroad. By reason of natural barriers, Humboldt County was not +easily accessible to the outside world except from the sea, and even +this avenue of ingress and egress would be closed for days at a +stretch when the harbour bar was on a rampage. With the exception of +a strip of level, fertile land, perhaps five miles wide and thirty +miles long and contiguous to the seacoast, the heavily timbered +mountains to the north, east, and south rendered the building of a +railroad that would connect Humboldt County with the outside world a +profoundly difficult and expensive task. The Northwestern Pacific, +indeed, had been slowly building from San Francisco Bay up through +Marin and Sonoma counties to Willits in Mendocino County. But there +it had stuck to await that indefinite day when its finances and the +courage of its board of directors should prove equal to the colossal +task of continuing the road two hundred miles through the mountains +to Sequoia on Humboldt Bay. For twenty years the Humboldt pioneers +had lived in hope of this; but eventually they had died in despair or +were in process of doing so. + +"Don't worry, Dad. It will come," Bryce assured his father. "It's +bound to." + +"Yes, but not in my day. And when it comes, a stranger may own your +San Hedrin timber and reap the reward of my lifetime of labour." + +Again a silence fell between them, broken presently by the old man. +"That was a mistake--logging in the San Hedrin," he observed. "I had +my lesson that first year, but I didn't heed it. If I had abandoned +my camps there, pocketed my pride, paid Colonel Pennington two +dollars for his Squaw Creek timber, and rebuilt my old logging-road, +I would have been safe to-day. But I was stubborn; I'd played the +game so long, you know--I didn't want to let that man Pennington +outgame me. So I tackled the San Hedrin again. We put thirty million +feet of logs into the river that year, and when the freshet came, +McTavish managed to make a fairly successful drive. But he was all +winter on the job, and when spring came and the men went into the +woods again, they had to leave nearly a million feet of heavy butt +logs permanently stranded in the slack water along the banks, while +perhaps another million feet of lighter logs had been lifted out of +the channel by the overflow and left high and dry when the water +receded. There they were, Bryce, scattered up and down the river, far +from the cables and logging-donkeys, the only power we could use to +get those monsters back into the river again, and I was forced to +decide whether they should be abandoned or split during the summer +into railroad ties, posts, pickets, and shakes--commodities for which +there was very little call at the time and in which, even when sold, +there could be no profit after deducting the cost of the twenty-mile +wagon haul to Sequoia, and the water freight from Sequoia to market. +So I abandoned them." + +"I remember that phase of it, partner." + +"To log it the third year only meant that more of those heavy logs +would jam and spell more loss. Besides, there was always danger of +another cloud-burst which would put me out of business completely, +and I couldn't afford the risk." + +"That was the time you should have offered Colonel Pennington a +handsome profit on his Squaw Creek timber, pal." + +"If my hindsight was as good as my foresight, and I had my eyesight, +I wouldn't be in this dilemma at all," the old man retorted briskly. +"It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and besides, I was +obsessed with the need of protecting your heritage from attack in any +direction." + +John Cardigan straightened up in his chair and laid the tip of his +right index finger in the centre of the palm of his left hand. "Here +was the situation, Bryce: The centre of my palm represents Sequoia; +the end of my fingers represents the San Hedrin timber twenty miles +south. Now, if the railroad built in from the south, you would win. +But if it built in from Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the north from the +base of my hand, the terminus of the line would be Sequoia, twenty +miles from your timber in the San Hedrin watershed!" + +Bryce nodded. "In which event," he replied, "we, would be in much the +same position with our San Hedrin timber as Colonel Pennington is +with his Squaw Creek timber. We would have the comforting knowledge +that we owned it and paid taxes on it but couldn't do a dad-burned +thing with it!" + +"Right you are! The thing to do, then, as I viewed the situation, +Bryce, was to acquire a body of timber NORTH of Sequoia and be +prepared for either eventuality. And this I did." + +Silence again descended upon them; and Bryce, gazing into the open +fireplace, recalled an event in that period of his father's +activities: Old Bill Henderson had come up to their house to dinner +one night, and quite suddenly, in the midst of his soup, the old fox +had glared across at his host and bellowed: + +"John, I hear you've bought six thousand acres up in Township Nine." + +John Cardigan had merely nodded, and Henderson had continued: + +"Going to log it or hold it for investment?" + +"It was a good buy," Cardigan had replied enigmatically; "so I +thought I'd better take it at the price. I suppose Bryce will log it +some day." + +"Then I wish Bryce wasn't such a boy, John. See here, now, neighbour. +I'll 'fess up. I took that money Pennington gave me for my Squaw +Creek timber and put it back into redwood in Township Nine, slam-bang +up against your holdings there. John, I'd build a mill on tidewater +if you'd sell me a site, and I'd log my timber if--" + +"I'll sell you a mill-site, Bill, and I won't stab you to the heart, +either. Consider that settled." + +"That's bully, John; but still, you only dispose of part of my +troubles. There's twelve miles of logging-road to build to get my +logs to the mill, and I haven't enough ready money to make the grade. +Better throw in with me, John, and we'll build the road and operate +it for our joint interest." + +"I'll not throw in with you, Bill, at my time of life, I don't want +to have the worry of building, maintaining, and operating twelve +miles of private railroad. But I'll loan you, without security--" + +"You'll have to take an unsecured note, John. Everything I've got is +hocked." + +"--the money you need to build and equip the road," finished +Cardigan. "In return you are to shoulder all the grief and worry of +the road and give me a ten-year contract at a dollar and a half per +thousand feet, to haul my logs down to tidewater with your own. My +minimum haul will be twenty-five million feet annually, and my +maximum fifty million--" + +"Sold!" cried Henderson. And it was even so. + +Bryce came out of his reverie. "And now?" he queried of his father. + +"I mortgaged the San Hedrin timber in the south to buy the timber in +the north, my son; then after I commenced logging in my new holdings, +came several long, lean years of famine. I stuck it out, hoping for a +change for the better; I couldn't bear to close down my mill and +logging-camps, for the reason that I could stand the loss far more +readily than the men who worked for me and depended upon me. But the +market dragged in the doldrums, and Bill Henderson died, and his boys +got discouraged, and--" + +A sudden flash of inspiration illumined Bryce Cardigan's brain. "And +they sold out to Colonel Pennington," he cried. + +"Exactly. The Colonel took over my contract with Henderson's company, +along with the other assets, and it was incumbent upon him, as +assignee, to fulfill the contract. For the past two years the market +for redwood has been most gratifying, and if I could only have gotten +a maximum supply of logs over Pennington's road, I'd have worked out +of the hole, but--" + +"He manages to hold you to a minimum annual haul of twenty-five +million feet, eh?" + +John Cardigan nodded. "He claims he's short of rolling-stock--that +wrecks and fires have embarrassed the road. He can always find +excuses for failing to spot in logging-trucks for Cardigan's logs. +Bill Henderson never played the game that way. He gave me what I +wanted and never held me to the minimum haulage when I was prepared +to give him the maximum." + +"What does Colonel Pennington want, pard?" + +"He wants," said John Cardigan slowly, "my Valley of the Giants and a +right of way through my land from the valley to a log-dump on deep +water." + +"And you refused him?" + +"Naturally. You know my ideas on that big timber." His old head sank +low on his breast. "Folks call them Cardigan's Redwoods now," he +murmured. "Cardigan's Redwoods--and Pennington would cut them! Oh, +Bryce, the man hasn't a soul!" + +"But I fail to see what the loss of Cardigan's Redwoods has to do +with the impending ruin of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company," his +son reminded him. "We have all the timber we want." + +"My ten-year contract has but one more year to run, and recently I +tried to get Pennington to renew it. He was very nice and sociable, +but--he named me a freight-rate, for a renewal of the contract for +five years, of three dollars per thousand feet. That rate is +prohibitive and puts us out of business." + +"Not necessarily," Bryce returned evenly. "How about the State +railroad commission? Hasn't it got something to say about rates?" + +"Yes--on common carriers. But Pennington's load is a private logging- +road; my contract will expire next year, and it is not incumbent upon +Pennington to renew it. And one can't operate a sawmill without logs, +you know." + +"Then," said Bryce calmly, "we'll shut the mill down when the log- +hauling contract expires, hold our timber as an investment, and live +the simple life until we can sell it or a transcontinental road +builds into Humboldt County and enables us to start up the mill +again." + +John Cardigan shook his head. "I'm mortgaged to the last penny," he +confessed, "and Pennington has been buying Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company first-mortgage bonds until he is in control of the issue. +He'll buy in the San Hedrin timber at the foreclosure sale, and in +order to get it back and save something for you out of the wreckage, +I'll have to make an unprofitable trade with him. I'll have to give +him my timber adjoining his north of Sequoia, together with my Valley +of the Giants, in return for the San Hedrin timber, to which he'll +have a sheriff's deed. But the mill, all my old employees, with their +numerous dependents--gone, with you left land-poor and without a +dollar to pay your taxes. Smashed--like that!" And he drove his fist +into the palm of his hand. + +"Perhaps--but not without a fight," Bryce answered, although he knew +their plight was well-nigh hopeless. "I'll give that man Pennington a +run for his money, or I'll know the reason." + +The telephone on the table beside him tinkled, and he took down the +receiver and said "Hello!" + +"Mercy!" came the clear, sweet voice of Shirley Sumner over the wire. +"Do you feel as savage as all that, Mr. Cardigan?" + +For the second time in his life the thrill that was akin to pain came +to Bryce Cardigan. He laughed. "If I had known you were calling, Miss +Sumner," he said, "I shouldn't have growled so." + +"Well, you're forgiven--for several reasons, but principally for +sending me that delicious blackberry pie. Of course, it discoloured +my teeth temporarily, but I don't care. The pie was worth it, and you +were awfully dear to think of sending it. Thank you so much." + +"Glad you liked it, Miss Sumner. I dare to hope that I may have the +privilege of seeing you soon again." + +"Of course. One good pie deserves another. Some evening next week, +when that dear old daddy of yours can spare his boy, you might be +interested to see our burl-redwood-panelled dining room Uncle Seth is +so proud of. I'm too recent an arrival to know the hour at which +Uncle Seth dines, but I'll let you know later and name a definite +date. Would Thursday night be convenient?" + +"Perfectly. Thank you a thousand times." + +She bade him good-night. As he turned from the telephone, his father +looked up. "What are you going to do to-morrow, lad?" he queried. + +"I have to do some thinking to-morrow," Bryce answered. "So I'm going +up into Cardigan's Redwoods to do it. Up there a fellow can get set, +as it were, to put over a thought with a punch in it." + +"The dogwoods and rhododendron are blooming now," the old man +murmured wistfully. Bryce knew what he was thinking of. "I'll attend +to the flowers for Mother," he assured Cardigan, and he added +fiercely: "And I'll attend to the battle for Father. We may lose, but +that man Pennington will know he's been in a fight before we fin---" + +He broke off abruptly, for he had just remembered that he was to dine +at the Pennington house the following Thursday--and he was not the +sort of man who smilingly breaks bread with his enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +For many years there had been installed in Cardigan's mill a clock +set to United States observatory time and corrected hourly by the +telegraph company. It was the only clock of its kind in Sequoia; +hence folk set their watches by it, or rather by the whistle on +Cardigan's mill. With a due appreciation of the important function of +this clock toward his fellow-citizens, old Zeb Curry, the chief +engineer and a stickler for being on time, was most meticulous in his +whistle-blowing. With a sage and prophetic eye fixed upon the face of +the clock, and a particularly greasy hand grasping the whistle-cord, +Zeb would wait until the clock registered exactly six-fifty-nine and +a half--whereupon the seven o'clock whistle would commence blowing, +to cease instantly upon the stroke of the hour. It was old Zeb's +pride and boast that with a single exception, during the sixteen +years the clock had been in service, no man could say that Zeb had +been more than a second late or early with his whistle-blowing. That +exception occurred when Bryce Cardigan, invading the engine room +while Zeb was at luncheon, looped the whistle-cord until the end +dangled seven feet above ground. As a consequence Zeb, who was a +short, fat little man, was forced to leap at it several times before +success crowned his efforts and the whistle blew. Thereafter for the +remainder of the day his reason tottered on its throne, due to the +fact that Bryce induced every mill employee to call upon the engineer +and remind him that he must be growing old, since he was no longer +dependable! + +On the morning following Bryce Cardigan's return to Sequoia, Zeb +Curry, as per custom, started his engine at six-fifty-eight. That +gave the huge bandsaws two minutes in which to attain their proper +speed and afforded Dan Kenyon, the head sawyer, ample time to run his +steam log-carriage out to the end of the track; for Daniel, too, was +a reliable man in the matter of starting his daily uproar on time. + +At precisely six fifty-nine and a half, therefore, the engineer's +hand closed over the handle of the whistle-cord, and Dan Kenyon, +standing on the steam-carriage with his hand on the lever, took a +thirty-second squint through a rather grimy window that gave upon the +drying-yard and the mill-office at the head of it. + +The whistle ceased blowing, but still Dan Kenyon stood at his post, +oblivious of the hungry saws. Ten seconds passed; then Zeb Curry, +immeasurably scandalized at Daniel's tardiness, tooted the whistle +sharply twice; whereupon Dan woke up, threw over the lever, and +walked his log up to the saw. + +For the next five hours Zeb Curry had no opportunity to discuss the +matter with the head sawyer. After blowing the twelve o'clock +whistle, however, he hurried over to the dining-hall, where the mill +hands already lined the benches, shovelling food into their mouths as +only a lumberman or a miner can. Dan Kenyon sat at the head of the +table in the place of honour sacred to the head sawyer, and when his +mouth would permit of some activity other than mastication, Zeb Curry +caught his eye. + +"Hey, you, Dan Kenyon," he shouted across the table, "what happened +to you this mornin'? It was sixteen seconds between the tail end o' +my whistle an' the front end o' your whinin'. First thing you know, +you'll be gettin' so slack an' careless-like some other man'll be +ridin' that log-carriage o' yourn." + +"I was struck dumb," Dan Kenyon replied. "I just stood there like one +o' these here graven images. Last night on my way home from work I +heerd the young feller was back--he got in just as we was knockin' +off for the day; an' this mornin' just as you cut loose, Zeb, I'll be +danged if he didn't show up in front o' the office door, fumblin' for +the keyhole. Yes, sirree! That boy gets in at six o'clock last night +an' turns to on his paw's job when the whistle blows this mornin' at +seven." + +"You mean young Bryce Cardigan?" Zeb queried incredulously. + +"I shore do." + +"'Tain't possible," Zeb declared. "You seen a new bookkeeper, mebbe, +but you didn't see Bryce. He aint no such hog for labour as his daddy +before him, I'm tellin' you. Not that there's a lazy bone in his +body, for there ain't, but because that there boy's got too much +sense to come bollin' down to work at seven o'clock the very first +mornin' he's back from Yurrup." + +"I'm layin' you ten to one I seen him," Dan replied defiantly, "an' +what's more, I'll bet a good cigar--a ten-center straight--the boy +don't leave till six o'clock to-night." + +"You're on," answered the chief engineer. "Them's lumberjack hours, +man. From seven till six means work--an' only fools an' hosses keeps +them hours." + +The head sawyer leaned across the table and pounded with the handle +of his knife until he had the attention of all present. "I'm a-goin' +to tell you young fellers somethin'," he announced. "Ever since the +old boss got so he couldn't look after his business with his own +eyes, things has been goin' to blazes round this sawmill, but they +ain't a-goin' no more. How do I know? Well, I'll tell you. All this +forenoon I kept my eye on the office door--I can see it through a +mill winder; an' I'm tellin' you the old boss didn't show up till ten +o'clock, which the old man ain't never been a ten o'clock business +man at no time. Don't that prove the boy's took his place?" + +Confused murmurs of affirmation and negation ran up and down the long +table. Dan tapped with his knife again. "You hear me," he warned. +"Thirty year I've been ridin' John Cardigan's log-carriages; thirty +year I've been gettin' everythin' out of a log it's possible to git +out, which is more'n you fellers at the trimmers can git out of a +board after I've sawed it off the cant. There's a lot o' you young +fellers that've been takin' John Cardigan's money under false +pretenses, so if I was you I'd keep both eyes on my job hereafter. +For a year I've been claimin' that good No. 2 stock has been chucked +into the slab-fire as refuge lumber." (Dan meant refuse lumber.) "But +it won't be done no more. The raftsman tells me he seen Bryce down at +the end o' the conveyin' belt givin' that refuge the once-over--so +step easy." + +"What does young Cardigan know about runnin' a sawmill?" a planer-man +demanded bluntly. "They tell me he's been away to college an' +travellin' the past six years." + +"Wa-ll," drawled the head sawyer, "you git to talkin' with him some +day an' see how much he knows about runnin' a sawmill. What he knows +will surprise you. Yes, indeed, you'll find he knows considerable. +He's picked up loose shingles around the yard an' bundled 'em in +vacation times, an' I want to see the shingle-weaver that can teach +him some tricks. Also, I've had him come up on the steam carriage +more'n once an' saw up logs, while at times I've seen him put in a +week or two on the sortin' table. In a pinch, with a lot o' vessels +loadin' here at the dock an' the skippers raisin' Cain because they +wasn't gettin' their cargo fast enough, I've seen him work nights an' +Sundays tallyin' with the best o' them. Believe me that boy can grade +lumber." + +"An' I'll tell you somethin' else," Zeb Curry cut in. "If the new +boss ever tells you to do a thing his way, you do it an' don't argue +none as to whether he knows more about it than you do or not." + +"A whole lot o' dagos an' bohunks that's come into the woods since +the blue-noses an' canucks an' wild Irish went out had better keep +your eyes open," Dan Kenyon warned sagely. "There ain't none o' you +any better'n you ought to be, an' things have been pretty durned +slack around Cardigan's mill since the old man went blind, but--you +watch out. There's a change due. Bryce Cardigan is his father's son. +He'll do things." + +"Which he's big enough to throw a bear uphill by the tail," Zeb Curry +added, "an' you fellers all know how much tail a bear has." + +"Every mornin' for thirty years, 'ceptin' when we was shut down for +repairs," Dan continued, "I've looked through that winder, when John +Cardigan wasn't away from Sequoia, to watch him git to his office on +time. He's there when the whistle blows, clear up to the time his +eyes go back on him, an' then he arrives late once or twice on +account o' havin' to go careful. This mornin', for the first time in +fifty year, he stays in bed; but--his son has the key in the office +door when the whistle blows, an'--" + +Dan Kenyon paused abruptly; the hum of conversation ceased, and +silence fell upon the room as Bryce Cardigan strolled in the door, +nodded to the men, and slid in on the bench to a seat beside the head +sawyer. + +"Hello, Dan--hello, Zeb," he said and shook hands with each. "I'm +mighty glad to see you both again. Hello, everybody. I'm the new +boss, so I suppose I'd better introduce myself--there are so many new +faces here. I'm Bryce Cardigan." + +"Yes," Zeb Curry volunteered, "an' he's like his daddy. He ain't +ashamed to work with his men, an' he ain't ashamed to eat with his +men, nuther. Glad you're back with us again, boy--mighty glad. Dan, +here, he's gittin' slacker'n an old squaw with his work an' needs +somebody to jerk him up, while the rest o' these here--" + +"I noticed that about Dan," Bryce interrupted craftily. "He's slowing +up, Zeb. He must have been fifteen seconds late this morning--or +perhaps," he added "you were fifteen seconds earlier than the clock." + +Dan grinned, and Bryce went on seriously: "I'm afraid you're getting +too old to ride the log-carriage, Dan. You've been at it a long time; +so, with the utmost good will in the world toward you, you're fired. +I might as well tell you now. You know me, Dan. I always did dislike +beating about the bush." + +"Fired!" Dan Kenyon's eyes popped with amazement and horror. "Fired-- +after thirty years!" he croaked. + +"Fired!" There was unmistakable finality in Bryce's tones. "You're +hired again, however, at a higher salary, as mill-superintendent. You +can get away with that job, can't you, Dan? In fact," he added +without waiting for the overjoyed Dan to answer him, "you've got to +get away with it, because I discharged the mill-superintendent I +found on the job when I got down here this morning. He's been letting +too many profits go into the slab-fire. In fact, the entire plant has +gone to glory. Fire-hose old and rotten--couldn't stand a hundred- +pound pressure; fire-buckets and water-barrels empty, axes not in +their proper places, fire-extinguishers filled with stale chemical-- +why, the smallest kind of a fire here would get beyond our control +with that man on the job. Besides, he's changed the grading-rules. I +found the men putting clear boards with hard-grained streaks in them +in with the No. 1 clear. The customer may not kick at a small +percentage of No. 2 in his No. 1 but it's only fair to give it to him +at two dollars a thousand less." + +"Well," purred Zeb Curry, "they don't grade lumber as strict nowadays +as they used to before you went away. Colonel Pennington says we're a +lot o' back numbers out this way an' too generous with our grades. +First thing he did was to call a meetin' of all the Humboldt lumber +manufacturers an' organize 'em into an association. Then he had the +gradin'-rules changed. The retailers hollered for a while, but bimeby +they got used to it." + +"Did my father join that association?" Bryce demanded quickly. + +"Yes. He told Pennington he wasn't goin' to be no obstructionist in +the trade, but he did kick like a bay steer on them new gradin'-rules +an' refused to conform to 'em. Said he was too old an' had been too +long in business to start gougin' his customers at his time o' life. +So he got out o' the association." + +"Bully for John Cardigan!" Bryce declared. "I suppose we could make a +little more money by cheapening our grade, but the quality of our +lumber is so well known that it sells itself and saves us the expense +of maintaining a corps of salesmen." + +"From what I hear tell o' the Colonel," Dan observed sagely, "the +least he ever wants is a hundred and fifty per cent. the best of it." + +"Yes," old Zeb observed gravely, "an' so fur as I can see, he ain't +none too perticular how he gets it." He helped himself to a +toothpick, and followed by the head sawyer, abruptly left the room-- +after the fashion of sawmill men and woodsmen, who eat as much as +they can as quickly as they can and eventually die of old age rather +than indigestion. Bryce ate his noonday meal in more leisurely +fashion and at its conclusion stepped into the kitchen. + +"Where do you live, cook?" he demanded of that functionary; and upon +being informed, he retired to the office and called up the Sequoia +meat-market. + +"Bryce Cardigan speaking," he informed the butcher. "Do you ever buy +any pigs from our mill cook?" + +"Not any more," the butcher answered. "He stung me once with a dozen +fine shoats. They looked great, but after I had slaughtered them and +had them dressed, they turned out to be swill-fed hogs--swill and +alfalfa." + +"Thank you." Bryce hung up. "I knew that cook was wasteful," he +declared, turning to his father's old manager, one Thomas Sinclair. +"He wastes food in order to take the swill home to his hogs--and +nobody watches him. Things have certainly gone to the devil," he +continued. + +"No fault of mine," Sinclair protested. "I've never paid any +attention to matters outside the office. Your father looked after +everything else." + +Bryce looked at Sinclair. The latter was a thin, spare, nervous man +in the late fifties, and though generally credited with being John +Cardigan's manager, Bryce knew that Sinclair was in reality little +more than a glorified bookkeeper--and a very excellent bookkeeper +indeed. Bryce realized that in the colossal task that confronted him +he could expect no real help from Sinclair. + +"Yes," he replied, "my father looked after everything else--while he +could." + +"Oh, you'll soon get the business straightened out and running +smoothly again," Sinclair declared confidently. + +"Well, I'm glad I started on the job to-day, rather than next Monday, +as I planned to do last night." + +He stepped to the window and looked out. At the mill-dock a big steam +schooner and a wind-jammer lay; in the lee of the piles of lumber, +sailors and long-shoremen, tallymen and timekeeper lounged, enjoying +the brief period of the noon hour still theirs before the driving +mates of the lumber-vessels should turn them to on the job once more. +To his right and left stretched the drying yard, gangway on gangway +formed by the serried rows of lumber-piles, the hoop-horses placidly +feeding from their nosebags while the strong-armed fellows who piled +the lumber sat about in little groups conversing with the mill-hands. + +As Bryce looked, a puff of white steam appeared over the roof of the +old sawmill, and the one o'clock whistle blew. Instantly that scene +of indolence and ease turned to one of activity. The mill-hands +lounging in the gangways scurried for their stations in the mill; men +climbed to the tops of the lumber-piles, while other men passed +boards and scantlings up to them; the donkey-engines aboard the +vessels rattled; the cargo-gaffs of the steam schooner swung outward, +and a moment later two great sling-loads of newly sawed lumber rose +in the air, swung inward, and descended to the steamer's decks. + +All about Bryce were scenes of activity, of human endeavour; and to +him in that moment came the thought: "My father brought all this to +pass--and now the task of continuing it is mine! All those men who +earn a living in Cardigan's mill and on Cardigan's dock--those +sailors who sail the ships that carry Cardigan's lumber into the +distant marts of men--are dependent upon me; and my father used to +tell me not to fail them. Must my father have wrought all this in +vain? And must I stand by and see all this go to satisfy the +overwhelming ambition of a stranger?" His big hands clenched. "No!" +he growled savagely. + +"If I stick around this office a minute longer, I'll go crazy," Bryce +snarled then. "Give me your last five annual statements, Mr. +Sinclair, please." + +The old servitor brought forth the documents in question. Bryce +stuffed them into his pocket and left the office. Three quarters of +an hour later he entered the little amphitheatre in the Valley of the +Giants and paused with an expression of dismay. One of the giants had +fallen and lay stretched across the little clearing. In its descent +it had demolished the little white stone over his mother's grave and +had driven the fragments of the stone deep into the earth. + +The tremendous brown butt quite ruined the appearance of the +amphitheatre by reason of the fact that it constituted a barrier some +fifteen feet high and of equal thickness athwart the centre of the +clearing, with fully three quarters of the length of the tree lost to +sight where the fallen monarch had wedged between its more fortunate +fellows. The fact that the tree was down, however, was secondary to +the fact that neither wind nor lightning had brought it low, but +rather the impious hand of man; for the great jagged stump showed all +too plainly the marks of cross-cut saw and axe; a pile of chips four +feet deep littered the ground. + +For fully a minute Bryce stood dumbly gazing upon the sacrilege +before his rage and horror found vent in words. "An enemy has done +this thing," he cried aloud to the wood-goblins. "And over her +grave!" + +Presently, smothering his emotion, he walked the length of the dead +giant, and where the top tapered off to a size that would permit of +his stepping across it, he retraced his steps on the other side of +the tree until he had reached a point some fifty feet from the butt-- +when the vandal's reason for felling the monster became apparent. + +It was a burl tree. At the point where Bryce paused a malignant +growth had developed on the trunk of the tree, for all the world like +a tremendous wart. This was the burl, so prized for table-tops and +panelling because of the fact that the twisted, wavy, helter-skelter +grain lends to the wood an extraordinary beauty when polished. Bryee +noted that the work of removing this excrescence had been +accomplished very neatly. With a cross-cut saw the growth, perhaps +ten feet in diameter, had been neatly sliced off much as a housewife +cuts slice after slice from a loaf of bread. He guessed that these +slices, practically circular in shape, had been rolled out of the +woods to some conveyance waiting to receive them. + +What Bryce could not understand, however, was the stupid brutality of +the raiders in felling the tree merely for that section of burl. By +permitting the tree to stand and merely building a staging up to the +burl, the latter could have been removed without vital injury to the +tree--whereas by destroying the tree the wretches had evidenced all +too clearly to Bryce a wanton desire to add insult to injury. + +Bryce inspected the scars on the stump carefully. They were weather- +stained to such an extent that to his experienced eye it was evident +the outrage had been committed more than a year previously; and the +winter rains, not to mention the spring growth of grasses and +underbrush, had effectually destroyed all trace of the trail taken by +the vandals with their booty. + +"Poor old Dad!" he murmured. "I'm glad now he has been unable to get +up here and see this. It would have broken his heart. I'll have this +tree made into fence-posts and the stump dynamited and removed this +summer. After he is operated on and gets back his sight, he will come +up here--and he must never know. Perhaps he will have forgotten how +many trees stood in this circle. And I'll fill in the hole left by +the stump and plant some manzanita there to hide the--" + +He paused. Peeping out from under a chip among the litter at his feet +was the moldy corner of a white envelope. In an instant Bryce had it +in his hand. The envelope was dirty and weather-beaten, but to a +certain extent the redwood chips under which it had lain hidden had +served to protect it, and the writing on the face was still legible. +The envelope was empty and addressed to Jules Rondeau, care of the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company, Sequoia, California. + +Bryce read and reread that address. "Rondeau!" he muttered. "Jules +Rondeau! I've heard that name before--ah, yes! Dad spoke of him last +night. He's Pennington's woods-boss--" + +He paused. An enemy had done this thing--and in all the world John +Cardigan had but one enemy--Colonel Seth Pennington. Had Pennington +sent his woods-boss to do this dirty work out of sheer spite? Hardly. +The section of burl was gone, and this argued that the question of +spite had been purely a matter of secondary consideration. + +Evidently, Bryce reasoned, someone had desired that burl redwood +greatly, and that someone had not been Jules Rondeau, since a woods- +boss would not be likely to spend five minutes of his leisure time in +consideration of the beauties of a burl table-top or panel. Hence, if +Rondeau had superintended the task of felling the tree, it must have +been at the behest of a superior; and since a woods-boss acknowledges +no superior save the creator of the pay-roll, the recipient of that +stolen burl must have been Colonel Pennington. + +Suddenly he thrilled. If Jules Rondeau had stolen that burl to +present it to Colonel Pennington, his employer, then the finished +article must be in Pennington's home! And Bryce had been invited to +that home for dinner the following Thursday by the Colonel's niece. + +"I'll go, after all," he told himself. "I'll go--and I'll see what I +shall see." + +He was too wrought up now to sit calmly down in the peace and +quietude of the giants, and digest the annual reports Sinclair had +given him. He hastened back to the mill-office and sought Sinclair. + +"At what hour does the logging-train leave the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company's yard for our log-landing in Township Nine?" he demanded. + +"Eight a.m. and one p.m. daily, Bryce." + +"Have you any maps of the holdings of Pennington and ourselves in +that district?" + +"Yes." + +"Let me have them, please. I know the topography of that district +perfectly, but I am not familiar with the holdings in and around +ours." + +Sinclair gave him the maps, and Bryce retired to his father's private +office and gave himself up to a study of them. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +When Shirley Sumner descended to the breakfast room on the morning +following her arrival in Sequoia, the first glance at her uncle's +stately countenance informed her that during the night something had +occurred to irritate Colonel Seth Pennington and startle him out of +his customary bland composure. He greeted her politely but coldly, +and without even the perfunctory formality of inquiring how she had +passed the night, he came directly to the issue, + +"Shirley," he began, "did I hear you calling young Cardigan on the +telephone after dinner last night or did my ears deceive me?" + +"Your ears are all right, Uncle Seth. I called Mr. Cardigan up to +thank him for the pie he sent over, and incidentally to invite him +over here to dinner on Thursday night." + +"I thought I heard you asking somebody to dinner, and as you don't +know a soul in Sequoia except young Cardigan, naturally I opined that +he was to be the object of our hospitality." + +The Colonel coughed slightly. From the manner in which he approached +the task of buttering his hot cakes Shirley knew he had something +more to say and was merely formulating a polite set of phrases in +which to express himself. She resolved to help him along. + +"I dare say it's quite all right to have invited him; isn't it, Uncle +Seth?" + +"Certainly, certainly, my dear. Quite all right, but er--ah, slightly +inconvenient." + +"Oh, I'm so sorry. If I had known--Perhaps some other night--" + +"I am expecting other company Thursday night--unfortunately, Brayton, +the president of the Bank of Sequoia, is coming up to dine and +discuss some business affairs with me afterward; so if you don't +mind, my dear, suppose you call young Cardigan up and ask him to +defer his visit until some later date." + +"Certainly, Uncle. There is no particular reason why I should have +Mr. Cardigan on Thursday if his presence would mean the slightest +interference with your plans. What perfectly marvellous roses! How +did you succeed in growing them, Uncle Seth?" + +He smiled sourly. "I didn't raise them," he replied. "That half-breed +Indian that drives John Cardigan's car brought them around about an +hour ago, along with a card. There it is, beside your plate." + +She blushed ever so slightly. "I suppose Bryce Cardigan is +vindicating himself," she murmured as she withdrew the card from the +envelope. As she had surmised, it was Bryce Cardigan's. Colonel +Pennington was the proprietor of a similar surmise. + +"Fast work, Shirley," he murmured banteringly. "I wonder what he'll +send you for luncheon. Some dill pickles, probably." + +She pretended to be very busy with the roses, and not to have heard +him. Her uncle's sneer was not lost on her, however; she resented it +but chose to ignore it for the present; and when at length she had +finished arranging the flowers, she changed the conversation adroitly +by questioning her relative anent the opportunities for shopping in +Sequoia. The Colonel, who could assimilate a hint quicker than most +ordinary mortals, saw that he had annoyed her, and he promptly +hastened to make amends by permitting himself to be led readily into +this new conversational channel. As soon as he could do so, however, +he excused himself on the plea of urgent business at the office, and +left the room. + +Shirley, left alone at the breakfast-table, picked idly at the +preserved figs the owlish butler set before her. Vaguely she wondered +at her uncle's apparent hostility to the Cardigans; she was as +vaguely troubled in the knowledge that until she should succeed in +eradicating this hostility, it must inevitably act as a bar to the +further progress of her friendship with Bryce Cardigan. And she told +herself she did not want to lose that friendship. She wasn't the +least bit in love with him albeit she realized he was rather lovable. +The delight which she had experienced in his society lay in the fact +that he was absolutely different from any other man she had met. His +simplicity, his utter lack of "swank," his directness, his good +nature, and dry sense of humour made him shine luminously in +comparison with the worldly, rather artificial young men she had +previously met--young men who said and did only those things which +time, tradition, and hallowed memory assured them were done by the +right sort of people. Shirley had a suspicion that Bryce Cardigan +could--and would--swear like a pirate should his temper be aroused +and the circumstances appear to warrant letting off steam. Also she +liked him because he was imaginative--because he saw and sensed and +properly understood without a diagram or a blueprint. And lastly, he +was a good, devoted son and was susceptible of development into a +congenial and wholly acceptable comrade to a young lady absolutely +lacking in other means of amusement. + +She finished her breakfast in thoughtful silence; then she went to +the telephone and called up Bryce at his home. Mrs. Tully, all +aflutter with curiosity, was quite insistent that Shirley should +leave her name and telephone number, but failing to carry her point, +consented to inform the latter that Mr. Bryce was at the office. She +gave Shirley the telephone number. + +When the girl called the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, Bryce +answered. He recognized her voice instantly and called her name +before she had opportunity to announce her identity. + +"Thank you so much for the beautiful roses, Mr. Cardigan," she began. + +"I'm glad you liked them. Nobody picks flowers out of our garden, you +know. I used to, but I'll be too busy hereafter to bother with the +garden." + +"Very well. Then I am not to expect any more roses?" + +"I'm a stupid clodhopper. Of course you may. By the way, Miss Sumner, +does your uncle own a car?" + +"I believe he does--a little old rattletrap which he drives himself." + +"Then I'll send George over with the Napier this afternoon. You might +care to take a spin out into the surrounding country. By the way, +Miss Sumner, you are to consider George and that car as your personal +property. I fear you're going to find Sequoia a dull place; so +whenever you wish to go for a ride, just call me up, and I'll have +George report to you." + +"But think of all the expensive gasoline and tires!" + +"Oh, but you mustn't look at things from that angle after you cross +the Rocky Mountains on your way west. Moreover, mine is the only real +car in the country, and I know you like it. What are you going to do +this afternoon?" + +"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead." + +"For some real sport I would suggest that you motor up to Laguna +Grande. That's Spanish for Big Lagoon, you know. Take a rod with you. +There are some land-locked salmon in the lagoon--that is, there used +to be; and if you hook one you'll get a thrill." + +"But I haven't any rod." + +"I'll send you over a good one." + +"But I have nobody to teach me how to use it," she hinted daringly. + +"I appreciate that compliment," he flashed back at her, "but +unfortunately my holidays are over for a long, long time. I took my +father's place in the business this morning." + +"So soon?" + +"Yes. Things have been happening while I was away. However, speaking +of fishing, George Sea Otter will prove an invaluable instructor. He +is a good boy and you may trust him implicitly. On Thursday evening +you can tell me what success you had with the salmon." + +"Oh, that reminds me, Mr. Cardigan. You can't come Thursday evening, +after all." And she explained the reason. + +"By Jove," he replied, "I'm mighty glad you tipped me off about that. +I couldn't possibly remain at ease in the presence of a banker- +particularly one who will not lend me money." + +"Suppose you come Wednesday night instead." + +"We'll call that a bet. Thank you." + +She chuckled at his frank good humour. "Thank YOU, Mr Cardigan, for +all your kindness and thoughtfulness; and if you WILL persist in +being nice to me, you might send George Sea Otter and the car at one- +thirty. I'll be glad to avail myself of both until I can get a car of +my own sent up from San Francisco. Till Wednesday night, then. Good- +bye." + +As Bryce Cardigan hung up, he heaved a slight sigh, and a parody on a +quatrain from "Lalla Rookh" ran through his mind: + +I never loved a dear gazelle, To glad me with its limpid eye, But +when I learned to love it well, The gol-darned thing was sure to die! + +It was difficult to get out of the habit of playing; he found himself +the possessor of a very great desire to close down the desk, call on +Shirley Sumner, and spend the remainder of the day basking in the +sunlight of her presence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The days passed swiftly, as they have a habit of passing after one +has discovered one's allotted task in life and has proceeded to +perform it. Following his discovery of the outrage committed on his +father's sanctuary, Bryce wasted considerable valuable time and +effort in a futile endeavour to gather some further hint of the +identity of the vandals; but despairing at last, he dismissed the +matter from his mind, resolving only that on Thursday he would go up +into Pennington's woods and interview the redoubtable Jules Rondeau. +Bryce's natural inclination was to wait upon M. Rondeau immediately, +if not sooner, but the recollection of his dinner engagement at the +Pennington home warned him to proceed cautiously; for while +harbouring no apprehensions as to the outcome of a possible clash +with Rondeau, Bryce was not so optimistic as to believe he would +escape unscathed from an encounter. Experience had impressed upon him +the fact that in a rough-and-tumble battle nobody is quite so +thoroughly at home as a lumberjack; once in a clinch with such a man, +even a champion gladiator of the prize ring may well feel +apprehensive of the outcome. + +Wednesday evening at five o'clock Mr. Sinclair, the manager, came +into Bryce's office with a handful of folded papers. "I have here," +he announced in his clerky voice with a touch of solemnity to it, "a +trial balance. I have not had time to make an exact inventory; but in +order to give you some idea of the condition of your father's +affairs, I have used approximate figures and prepared a profit-and- +loss account." + +Bryce reached for the papers. + +"You will note the amount charged off to profit and loss under the +head of 'Pensions,' Sinclair continued. "It amounts approximately to +two thousand dollars a month, and this sum represents payments to +crippled employees and the dependent families of men killed in the +employ of the Company. + +"In addition to these payments, your father owns thirty-two thirty- +acre farms which he has cleared from his logged-over lands. These +little farms are equipped with bungalows and outbuildings built by +your father and represent a considerable investment. As you know, +these farms are wonderfully rich, and are planted in apples and +berries. Other lands contiguous to them sell readily at two hundred +dollars an acre, and so you will see that your father has +approximately two hundred thousand dollars tied up in these little +farms." + +"But he has given a life-lease at nothing a year for each farm to +former employees who have been smashed beyond the possibility of +doing the hard work of the mill and woods," Bryce reminded the +manager. "Hence you must not figure those farms among our assets." + +"Why not?" Sinclair replied evenly. "Formal leases have never been +executed, and the tenants occupy the property at your father's +pleasure." + +"I think that will be about as far as the discussion on that point +need proceed," Bryce replied smilingly. "My father's word has always +been considered sufficient in this country; his verbal promise to pay +has always been collateral enough for those who know him." + +"But my dear boy," Sinclair protested, "while that sort of +philanthropy is very delightful when one can afford the luxury, it is +scarcely practical when one is teetering on the verge of financial +ruin. After all, Bryce, self-preservation is the first law of human +nature, and the sale of those farms would go a long way toward +helping the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company out of the hole it is in +at present." + +"And we're really teetering on the edge of financial ruin, eh?" Bryce +queried calmly. + +"That is expressing your condition mildly. The semi-annual payment of +interest on the bonded indebtedness falls due on July first--and +we're going to default on it, sure as death and taxes. Colonel +Pennington holds a majority of our bonds, and that means prompt suit +for foreclosure." + +"Well, then, Sinclair," Bryce retorted, carefully pigeon-holing the +documents the manager had handed him, "I'll tell you what we'll do. +For fifty years my father has played the game in this community like +a sport and a gentleman, and I'll be damned if his son will dog it +now, at the finish. I gather from your remarks that we could find +ready sale for those thirty-two little farms?" + +"I am continually receiving offers for them." + +"Then they were not included in the list of properties covered by our +bonded indebtedness?" + +"No, your father refused to include them. He said he would take a +chance on the financial future of himself and his boy, but not on his +helpless dependents." + +"Good old John Cardigan! Well, Sinclair, I'll not take a chance on +them either; so to-morrow morning you will instruct our attorney to +draw up formal life-leases on those farms, and to make certain they +are absolutely unassailable. Colonel Pennington may have the lands +sold to satisfy a deficiency judgment against us, but while those +life-leases from the former owner are in force, my father's proteges +cannot be dispossessed. After they are dead, of course, Pennington +may take the farms--and be damned to him." + +Sinclair stared in frank amazement at his youthful superior. "You are +throwing away two hundred thousand dollars," he said distinctly. + +"I haven't thrown it away--yet. You forget, Sinclair, that we're +going to fight first--and fight like fiends; then if we lose--well, +the tail goes with the hide, By the way, Sinclair, are any of those +farms untenanted at the present time?" + +"Yes. Old Bill Tarpey, who lost his three boys in a forest fire over +on the San Hedrin, passed out last week. The Tarpey boys died in the +Cardigan employ, and so your father gave Bill the use of a farm out +near Freshwater." + +"Well, you'd better be his successor, Sinclair. You're no longer a +young man, and you've been thirty years in this office. Play safe, +Sinclair, and include yourself in one of those life-leases." + +"My dear boy--" + +"Nonsense! United we stand, divided we fall, Sinclair; and let there +be no moaning of the bar when a Cardigan puts out to sea." + +Smiling, he rose from his desk, patted the bewildered Sinclair on the +latter's grizzled head, and then reached for his hat. "I'm dining out +to-night, Sinclair, and I wouldn't be a kill-joy at the feast, for a +ripe peach. Your confounded figures might make me gloomy; so we'll +just reserve discussion of them till to-morrow morning. Be a sport, +Sinclair, and for once in your life beat the six o'clock whistle. In +other words, I suggest that you go home and rest for once." + +He left Sinclair staring at him rather stupidly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Colonel Pennington's imported British butler showed Bryce into the +Pennington living room at six-thirty, announcing him with due +ceremony. Shirley rose from the piano where she had been idly +fingering the keys and greeted him with every appearance of pleasure +--following which, she turned to present her visitor to Colonel +Pennington, who was standing in his favourite position with his back +to the fireplace. + +"Uncle Seth, this is Mr. Cardigan, who was so very nice to me the day +I landed in Red Bluff." + +The Colonel bowed. "I have to thank you, sir, for your courtesy to my +niece." He had assumed an air of reserve, of distinct aloofness, +despite his studied politeness. Bryce stepped forward with extended +hand, which the Colonel grasped in a manner vaguely suggestive of +that clammy-palmed creation of Charles Dickens--Uriah Heep. Bryce was +tempted to squeeze the lax fingers until the Colonel should bellow +with pain; but resisting the ungenerous impulse, he replied instead: + +"Your niece, Colonel, is one of those fortunate beings the world will +always clamour to serve." + +"Quite true, Mr. Cardigan. When she was quite a little girl I came +under her spell myself." + +"So did I, Colonel. Miss Sumner has doubtless told you of our first +meeting some twelve years ago?" + +"Quite so. May I offer you a cocktail, Mr. Cardigan?" + +"Thank you, certainly. Dad and I have been pinning one on about this +time every night since my return." + +"Shirley belongs to the Band of Hope," the Colonel explained. "She's +ready at any time to break a lance with the Demon Rum. Back in +Michigan, where we used to live, she saw too many woodsmen around +after the spring drive. So we'll have to drink her share, Mr. +Cardigan. Pray be seated." + +Bryce seated himself. "Well, we lumbermen are a low lot and naturally +fond of dissipation," he agreed. "I fear Miss Sumner's Prohibition +tendencies will be still further strengthened after she has seen the +mad-train." + +"What is that?" Shirley queried. + +"The mad-train runs over your uncle's logging railroad up into +Township Nine, where his timber and ours is located. It is the only +train operated on Sunday, and it leaves Sequoia at five p.m. to carry +the Pennington and Cardigan crews back to the woods after their +Saturday-night celebration in town. As a usual thing, all hands, with +the exception of the brakeman, engineers, and fireman, are singing, +weeping or fighting drunk." + +"But why do you provide transportation for them to come to town +Saturday nights?" Shirley protested. + +"They ride in on the last trainload of logs, and if we didn't let +them do it, they'd ask for their time. It's the way of the gentle +lumberjack. And of course, once they get in, we have to round them up +on Sunday afternoon and get them back on the job. Hence the mad- +train." + +"Do they fight, Mr. Cardigan?" + +"Frequently. I might say usually. It's quite an inspiring sight to +see a couple of lumberjacks going to it on a flat-car travelling +thirty miles an hour." + +"But aren't they liable to fall off and get killed?" + +"No. You see, they're used to fighting that way. Moreover, the +engineer looks back, and if he sees any signs of Donnybrook Fair, he +slows down." + +"How horrible!" + +"Yes, indeed. The right of way is lined with empty whiskey bottles." + +Colonel Pennington spoke up. "We don't have any fighting on the mad- +train any more," he said blandly. + +"Indeed! How do you prevent it?" Bryce asked. + +"My woods-boss, Jules Rondeau, makes them keep the peace," Pennington +replied with a small smile. "If there's any fighting to be done, he +does it." + +"You mean among his own crew, of course," Bryce suggested. + +"No, he's in charge of the mad-train, and whether a fight starts +among your men or ours, he takes a hand. He's had them all behaving +mildly for quite a while, because he can whip any man in the country, +and everybody realizes it. I don't know what I'd do without Rondeau. +He certainly makes those bohunks of mine step lively." + +"Oh-h-h! Do you employ bohunks, Colonel?" + +"Certainly. They cost less; they are far less independent than most +men and more readily handled. And you don't have to pamper them-- +particularly in the matter of food. Why, Mr Cardigan, with all due +respect to your father, the way he feeds his men is simply +ridiculous! Cake and pie and doughnuts at the same meal!" The Colonel +snorted virtuously. + +"Well, Dad started in to feed his men the same food he fed himself, +and I suppose the habits one forms in youth are not readily changed +in old age, Colonel." + +"But that makes it hard for other manufacturers," the Colonel +protested. "I feed my men good plain food and plenty of it--quite +better food than they were used to before they came to this country; +but I cannot seem to satisfy them. I am continuously being reminded, +when I do a thing thus and so, that John Cardigan does it otherwise. +Your respected parent is the basis for comparison in this country, +Cardigan, and I find it devilish inconvenient." He laughed +indulgently and passed his cigarette-case to Bryce. + +"Uncle Seth always grows restless when some other man is the leader," +Shirley volunteered with a mischievous glance at Pennington. "He was +the Great Pooh-Bah of the lumber-trade back in Michigan, but out here +he has to play second fiddle. Don't you, Nunky-dunk?" + +"I'm afraid I do, my dear," the Colonel admitted with his best air of +hearty expansiveness. "I'm afraid I do. However, Mr. Cardigan, now +that you have--at least, I have been so informed--taken over your +father's business, I am hoping we will be enabled to get together on +many little details and work them out on a common basis to our mutual +advantage. We lumbermen should stand together and not make it hard +for each other. For instance, your scale of wages is totally +disproportionate to the present high cost of manufacture and the +mediocre market; yet just because you pay it, you set a precedent +which we are all forced to follow. However," he concluded, "let's not +talk shop. I imagine we have enough of that during the day. Besides, +here are the cocktails." + +With the disposal of the cocktails, the conversation drifted into a +discussion of Shirley's adventures with a salmon in Big Lagoon. The +Colonel discoursed learnedly on the superior sport of muskellunge- +fishing, which prompted Bryce to enter into a description of going +after swordfish among the islands of the Santa Barbara channel. +"Trout-fishing when the fish gets into white water is good sport; +salmon-fishing is fine, and the steel-head in Eel River are hard to +beat; muskellunge are a delight, and tarpon are not so bad if you're +looking for thrills; but for genuine inspiration give me a sixteen- +foot swordfish that will leap out of the water from three to six +feet, and do it three or four hundred times--all on a line and rod so +light one dares not state the exact weight if he values his +reputation for veracity. Once I was fishing at San--" + +The butler appeared in the doorway and bowed to Shirley, at the time +announcing that dinner was served. The girl rose and gave her arm to +Bryce; with her other arm linked through her uncle's she turned +toward the dining room. + +Just inside the entrance Bryce paused. The soft glow of the candles +in the old-fashioned silver candlesticks upon the table was reflected +in the polished walls of the room-walls formed of panels of the most +exquisitely patterned redwood burl Bryce Cardigan had ever seen. Also +the panels were unusually large. + +Shirley Sumner's alert glance followed Bryce's as it swept around the +room. "This dining room is Uncle Seth's particular delight, Mr. +Cardigan," she explained. + +"It is very beautiful, Miss Sumner. And your uncle has worked wonders +in the matter of having it polished. Those panels are positively the +largest and most beautiful specimens of redwood burl ever turned out +in this country. The grain is not merely wavy; it is not merely +curly; it is actually so contrary that you have here, Colonel +Pennington, a room absolutely unique, in that it is formed of bird's- +eye burl. Mark the deep shadows in it. And how it does reflect those +candles!" + +"It is beautiful," the Colonel declared. "And I must confess to a +pardonable pride in it, although the task of keeping these walls from +being marred by the furniture knocking against them requires the +utmost care." + +Bryce turned and his brown eyes blazed into the Colonel's. "Where DID +you succeed in finding such a marvellous tree?" he queried pointedly. +"I know of but one tree in Humboldt County that could have produced +such beautiful burl." + +For about a second Colonel Pennington met Bryce's glance +unwaveringly; then he read something in his guest's eyes, and his +glance shifted, while over his benign countenance a flush spread +quickly. Bryce noted it, and his quickly roused suspicions were as +quickly kindled into certainty. "Where did you find that tree?" he +repeated innocently. + +"Rondeau, my woods-boss, knew I was on the lookout for something +special--something nobody else could get; so he kept his eyes open." + +"Indeed!" There was just a trace of irony in Bryce's tones as he drew +Shirley's chair and held it for her. "As you say, Colonel, it is +difficult to keep such soft wood from being marred by contact with +the furniture. And you are fortunate to have such a woods-boss in +your employ. Such loyal fellows are usually too good to be true, and +quite frequently they put their blankets on their backs and get out +of the country when you least expect it. I dare say it would be a +shock to you if Rondeau did that." + +There was no mistaking the veiled threat behind that apparently +innocent observation, and the Colonel, being a man of more than +ordinary astuteness, realized that at last he must place his cards on +the table. His glance, as he rested it on Bryce now, was baleful, +ophidian. "Yes," he said, "I would be rather disappointed. However, I +pay Rondeau rather more than it is customary to pay woods-bosses; so +I imagine he'll stay--unless, of course, somebody takes a notion to +run him out of the county. And when that happens, I want to be on +hand to view the spectacle." + +Bryce sprinkled a modicum of salt in his soup. "I'm going up into +Township Nine to-morrow afternoon," he remarked casually. "I think I +shall go over to your camp and pay the incomparable Jules a brief +visit. Really, I have heard so much about that woods-boss of yours, +Colonel, that I ache to take him apart and see what makes him go." + +Again the Colonel assimilated the hint, but preferred to dissemble. +"Oh, you can't steal him from me, Cardigan," he laughed. "I warn you +in advance--so spare yourself the effort." + +"I'll try anything once," Bryce retorted with equal good nature. +"However, I don't want to steal him from you. I want to ascertain +from him where he procured this burl. There may be more of the same +in the neighbourhood where he got this." + +"He wouldn't tell you." + +"He might. I'm a persuasive little cuss when I choose to exert +myself." + +"Rondeau is not communicative. He requires lots of persuading." + +"What delicious soup!" Bryce murmured blandly. "Miss Sumner, may I +have a cracker?" + +The dinner passed pleasantly; the challenge and defiance between +guest and host had been so skillfully and gracefully exchanged that +Shirley hadn't the slightest suspicion that these two well-groomed +men had, under her very nose, as it were, agreed to be enemies and +then, for the time being, turned their attention to other and more +trifling matters. Coffee was served in the living room, and through +the fragrant smoke of Pennington's fifty-cent perfectos a sprightly +three-cornered conversation continued for an hour. Then the Colonel, +secretly enraged at the calm, mocking, contemplative glances which +Bryce ever and anon bestowed upon him, and unable longer to convince +himself that he was too apprehensive--that this cool young man knew +nothing and would do nothing even if he knew something--rose, pleaded +the necessity for looking over some papers, and bade Bryce good- +night. Foolishly he proffered Bryce a limp hand; and a demon of +deviltry taking possession of the latter, this time he squeezed with +a simple, hearty earnestness, the while he said: + +"Colonel Pennington, I hope I do not have to assure you that my visit +here this evening has not only been delightful but--er--instructive. +Good-night, sir, and pleasant dreams." + +With difficulty the Colonel suppressed a groan. However, he was not +the sort of man who suffers in silence; for a minute later the +butler, leaning over the banisters as his master climbed the stairs +to his library, heard the latter curse with an eloquence that was +singularly appealing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Colonel Seth Pennington looked up sourly as a clerk entered his +private office. "Well?" he demanded brusquely. When addressing his +employees, the Colonel seldom bothered to assume his pontifical +manner. + +"Mr. Bryce Cardigan is waiting to see you, sir." + +"Very well. Show him in." + +Bryce entered. "Good morning, Colonel," he said pleasantly and +brazenly thrust out his hand. + +"Not for me, my boy," the Colonel assured him. "I had enough of that +last night. We'll just consider the hand-shaking all attended to, if +you please. Have a chair; sit down and tell me what I can do to make +you happy." + +"I'm delighted to find you in such a generous frame of mind, Colonel. +You can make me genuinely happy by renewing, for ten years on the +same terms as the original contract, your arrangement to freight the +logs of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company from the woods to +tidewater." + +Colonel Pennington cleared his throat with a propitiatory "Ahem-m-m!" +Then he removed his gold spectacles and carefully wiped them with a +silk handkerchief, as carefully replaced them upon his aristocratic +nose, and then gazed curiously at Bryce. + +"Upon my soul!" he breathed. + +"I realized, of course, that this is reopening an issue which you +have been pleased to regard as having been settled in the last letter +my father had from you, and wherein you named terms that were +absolutely prohibitive." + +"My dear young friend! My very dear young friend! I must protest at +being asked to discuss this matter. Your father and I have been over +it in detail; we failed to agree, and that settles it. As a matter of +fact, I am not in position to handle your logs with my limited +rolling-stock, and that old hauling contract which I took over when I +bought the mills, timber-lands, and logging railroad from the late +Mr. Henderson and incorporated into the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, +has been an embarrassment I have longed to rid myself of. Under those +circumstances you could scarcely expect me to saddle myself with it +again, at your mere request and solely to oblige you." + +"I did not expect you to agree to my request. I am not quite that +optimistic," Bryce replied evenly. + +"Then why did you ask me?" + +"I thought that possibly, if I reopened negotiations, you might have +a reasonable counter-proposition to suggest." + +"I haven't thought of any." + +"I suppose if I agreed to sell you that quarter-section of timber in +the little valley over yonder" (he pointed to the east) "and the +natural outlet for your Squaw Creek timber, you'd quickly think of +one," Bryce suggested pointedly. + +"No, I am not in the market for that Valley of the Giants, as your +idealistic father prefers to call it. Once I would have purchased it +for double its value, but at present I am not interested." + +"Nevertheless it would be an advantage for you to possess it." + +"My dear boy, the possession of that big timber is an advantage I +expect to enjoy before I acquire many more gray hairs. But I do not +expect to pay for it." + +"Do you expect me to offer it to you as a bonus for renewing our +hauling contract?" + +The Colonel snapped his fingers. "By George," he declared, "that's a +bright idea, and a few months ago I would have been inclined to +consider it very seriously. But now--" + +"You figure you've got us winging, eh?" Bryce was smiling pleasantly. + +"I am making no admissions," Pennington responded enigmatically "-- +nor any hauling contracts for my neighbour's logs," he added. + +"You may change your mind." + +"Never." + +"I suppose I'll have to abandon logging in Township Nine and go back +to the San Hedrin," Bryce sighed resignedly. + +"If you do, you'll go broke. You can't afford it. You're on the verge +of insolvency this minute." + +"I suppose, since you decline to haul our logs, after the expiration +of our present contract, and in view of the fact that we are not +financially able to build our own logging railroad, that the wisest +course my father and I could pursue would be to sell our timber in +Township Nine to you. It adjoins your holdings in the same township" + +"I had a notion the situation would begin to dawn upon you." The +Colonel was smiling now; his handsome face was gradually assuming the +expression pontifical. "I'll give you a dollar a thousand feet +stumpage for it." + +"On whose cruise?" + +"Oh, my own cruisers will estimate it." + +"I'm afraid I can't accept that offer. We paid a dollar and a half +for it, you know, and if we sold it to you at a dollar, the sale +would not bring us sufficient money to take up our bonded +indebtedness; we'd only have the San Hedrin timber and the Valley of +the Giants left, and since we cannot log either of these at present, +naturally we'd be out of business." + +"That's the way I figured it, my boy." + +"Well--we're not going out of business." + +"Pardon me for disagreeing with you. I think you are." + +"Not much! We can't afford it." + +The Colonel smiled benignantly. "My dear boy, my very dear young +friend, listen to me. Your paternal ancestor is the only human being +who has ever succeeded in making a perfect monkey of me. When I +wanted to purchase from him a right of way through his absurd Valley +of the Giants, in order that I might log my Squaw Creek timber, he +refused me. And to add insult to injury, he spouted a lot of rot +about his big trees, how much they meant to him, and the utter +artistic horror of running a logging-train through the grove-- +particularly since he planned to bequeath it to Sequoia as a public +park. He expects the city to grow up to it during the next twenty +years. + +"My boy, that was the first bad break your father made. His second +break was his refusal to sell me a mill-site. He was the first man in +this county, and he had been shrewd enough to hog all the water-front +real estate and hold onto it. I remember he called himself a +progressive citizen, and when I asked him why he was so assiduously +blocking the wheels of progress, he replied that the railroad would +build in from the south some day, but that when it did, its builders +would have to be assured of terminal facilities on Humboldt Bay. 'By +holding intact the spot where rail and water are bound to meet,' he +told me, 'I insure the terminal on tidewater which the railroad must +have before consenting to build. But if I sell it to Tom, Dick, and +Harry, they will be certain to gouge the railroad when the latter +tries to buy it from them. They may scare the railroad away.'" + +"Naturally!" Bryce replied. "The average human being is a hog, and +merciless when he has the upper hand. He figures that a bird in the +hand is worth two in the bush. My father, on the contrary, has always +planned for the future. He didn't want that railroad blocked by land- +speculators and its building delayed. The country needed rail +connection with the outside world, and moreover his San Hedrin timber +isn't worth a hoot until that feeder to a transcontinental road shall +be built to tap it." + +"But he sold Bill Henderson the mill-site on tidewater that he +refused to sell me, and later I had to pay Henderson's heirs a +whooping price for it. And I haven't half the land I need." + +"But he needed Henderson then. They had a deal on together. You must +remember, Colonel, that while Bill Henderson held that Squaw Creek +timber he later sold you, my father would never sell him a mill-site. +Can't you see the sporting point of view involved? My father and Bill +Henderson were good-natured rivals; for thirty years they had tried +to outgame each other on that Squaw Creek timber. Henderson thought +he could force my father to buy at a certain price, and my father +thought he could force Henderson to sell at a lesser price; they were +perfectly frank about it with each other and held no grudges. Of +course, after you bought Henderson out, you foolishly took over his +job of trying to outgame my father. That's why you bought Henderson +out, isn't it? You had a vision of my father's paying you a nice +profit on your investment, but he fooled you, and now you're peeved +and won't play." + +Bryce hitched his chair farther toward the Colonel. "Why shouldn't my +dad be nice to Bill Henderson after the feud ended?" he continued. +"They could play the game together then, and they did. Colonel, why +can't you be as sporty as Henderson and my father? They fought each +other, but they fought fairly and in the open, and they never lost +the respect and liking each had for the other." + +"I will not renew your logging contract. That is final, young man. No +man can ride me with spurs and get away with it." + +"Oh, I knew that yesterday." + +"Then why have you called on me to-day, taking up my time on a dead +issue?" + +"I wanted to give you one final chance to repent. I know your plan. +You have it in your power to smash the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company, acquire it at fifty per cent. of its value, and merge its +assets with your Laguna Grande Lumber Company. You are an ambitious +man. You want to be the greatest redwood manufacturer in California, +and in order to achieve your ambitions, you are willing to ruin a +competitor: you decline to play the game like a thoroughbred." + +"I play the game of business according to the rules of the game; I do +nothing illegal, sir." + +"And nothing generous or chivalrous. Colonel, you know your plea of a +shortage of rolling-stock is that the contract for hauling our logs +has been very profitable and will be more profitable in the future if +you will accept a fifty-cent-per-thousand increase on the freight- +rate and renew the contract for ten years." + +"Nothing doing, young man. Remember, you are not in a position to ask +favours." + +"Then I suppose we'll have to go down fighting?" + +"I do not anticipate much of a fight." + +"You'll get as much as I can give you." + +"I'm not at all apprehensive." + +"And I'll begin by running your woods-boss out of the country." + +"Ah-h!" + +"You know why, of course--those burl panels in your dining room. +Rondeau felled a tree in our Valley of the Giants to get that burl +for you, Colonel Pennington." + +Pennington flushed. "I defy you to prove that," he almost shouted. + +"Very well. I'll make Rondeau confess; perhaps he'll even tell me who +sent him after the burl. Upon my word, I think you inspired that +dastardly raid. At any rate, I know Rondeau is guilty, and you, as +his employer and the beneficiary of his crime, must accept the +odium." + +The Colonel's face went white. "I do not admit anything except that +you appear to have lost your head, young man. However, for the sake +of argument: granting that Rondeau felled that tree, he did it under +the apprehension that your Valley of the Giants is a part of my Squaw +Creek timber adjoining." + +"I do not believe that. There was malice in the act--brutality even; +for my mother's grave identified the land as ours, and Rondeau felled +the tree on her tombstone." + +"If that is so, and Rondeau felled that tree--I do not believe he +did--I am sincerely sorry, Cardigan, Name your price and I will pay +you for the tree. I do not desire any trouble to develop over this +affair." + +"You can't pay for that tree," Bryce burst forth. "No pitiful human +being can pay in dollars and cents for the wanton destruction of +God's handiwork. You wanted that burl and when my father was blind +and could no longer make his Sunday pilgrimage up to that grove, your +woods-boss went up and stole that which you knew you could not buy." + +"That will be about all from you, young man. Get out of my office. +And by the way, forget that you have met my niece." + +"It's your office--so I'll get out. As for your second command"--he +snapped his fingers in Pennington's face--"fooey!" + +When Bryce had gone, the Colonel hurriedly called his logging-camp on +the telephone and asked for Jules Rondeau, only to be informed, by +the timekeeper who answered the telephone, that Rondeau was up in the +green timber with the choppers and could not be gotten to the +telephone in less than two hours. + +"Do not send for him, then," Pennington commanded. "I'm coming up on +the eleven-fifteen train and will talk to him when he comes in for +his lunch." + +At eleven o'clock, and just as the Colonel was leaving to board the +eleven-fifteen logging-train bound empty for the woods, Shirley +Sumner made her appearance in his office. + +"Uncle Seth," she complained, "I'm lonesome. The bookkeeper tells me +you're going up to the logging-camp. May I go with you?" + +"By all means. Usually I ride in the cab with the engineer and +fireman; but if you're coming, I'll have them hook on the caboose. +Step lively, my dear, or they'll be holding the train for us and +upsetting our schedule." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +By virtue of their logging-contract with Pennington, the Cardigans +and their employees were transported free over Pennington's logging +railroad; hence, when Bryce Cardigan resolved to wait upon Jules +Rondeau in the matter of that murdered Giant, it was characteristic +of him to choose the shortest and most direct route to his quarry, +and as the long string of empty logging-trucks came crawling off the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company's log-dump, he swung over the side, +quite ignorant of the fact that Shirley and her precious relative +were riding in the little caboose in the rear. + +At twelve-ten the train slid in on the log landing of the Laguna +Grande Lumber Company's main camp, and Bryce dropped off and +approached the engineer of the little donkey-engine used for loading +the logs. + +"Where's Rondeau?" he asked. + +The engineer pointed to a huge, swarthy man approaching across the +clearing in which the camp was situated. "That's him," he replied. +And without further ado, Bryce strode to meet his man. + +"Are you Jules Rondeau?" he demanded as he came up to the woods-boss. +The latter nodded. "I'm Bryce Cardigan," his interrogator announced, +"and I'm here to thrash you for chopping that big redwood tree over +in that little valley where my mother is buried." + +"Oh!" Rondeau smiled. "Wiz pleasure, M'sieur." And without a moment's +hesitation he rushed. Bryce backed away from him warily, and they +circled. + +"When I get through with you, Rondeau," Bryce said distinctly, "it'll +take a good man to lead you to your meals. This country isn't big +enough for both of us, and since you came here last, you've got to go +first." + +Bryce stepped in, feinted for Rondeau's jaw with his right, and when +the woods-boss quickly covered, ripped a sizzling left into the +latter's midriff. Rondeau grunted and dropped his guard, with the +result that Bryce's great fists played a devil's tattoo on his +countenance before he could crouch and cover. + +"This is a tough one," thought Bryce. His blows had not, apparently, +had the slightest effect on the woods-boss. Crouched low and with his +arms wrapped around his head, Rondeau still came on unfalteringly, +and Bryce was forced to give way before him; to save his hands, he +avoided the risk of battering Rondeau's hard head and sinewy arms. + +Already word that the woods-boss was battling with a stranger had +been shouted into the camp dining room, and the entire crew of that +camp, abandoning their half-finished meal, came pouring forth to view +the contest. Out of the tail of his eye Bryce saw them coming, but he +was not apprehensive, for he knew the code of the woodsman: "Let +every man roll his own hoop." It would be a fight to a finish, for no +man would interfere; striking, kicking, gouging, biting, or choking +would not be looked upon as unsportsmanlike; and as Bryce backed +cautiously away from the huge, lithe, active, and powerful man before +him, he realized that Jules Rondeau was, as his father had stated, +"top dog among the lumberjacks." + +Rondeau, it was apparent, had no stomach for Bryce's style of combat. +He wanted a rough-and-tumble fight and kept rushing, hoping to +clinch; if he could but get his great hands on Bryce, he would +wrestle him down, climb him, and finish the fight in jig-time. But a +rough-and-tumble was exactly what Bryce was striving to avoid; hence +when Rondeau rushed, Bryce side-stepped and peppered the woodsman's +ribs. But the woods-crew, which by now was ringed around them, began +to voice disapproval of this style of battle. + +"Clinch with him, dancing-master," a voice roared. + +"Tie into him, Rondeau," another shouted. + +"It's a fair match," cried another, "and the red one picked on the +main push. He was looking for a fight, an' he ought to get it; but +these fancy fights don't suit me. Flop him, stranger, flop him." + +"Rondeau can't catch him," a fourth man jeered. "He's a foot-racer, +not a fighter." + +Suddenly two powerful hands were placed between Bryce's shoulders, +effectually halting his backward progress; then he was propelled +violently forward until he collided with Rondeau. With a bellow of +triumph, the woods-boss's gorilla-like arms were around Bryce, +swinging him until he faced the man who had forced him into that +terrible grip. This was no less a personage than Colonel Seth +Pennington, and it was obvious he had taken charge of what he +considered the obsequies. + +"Stand back, you men, and give them room," he shouted. "Rondeau will +take care of him now. Stand back, I say. I'll discharge the man that +interferes." + +With a heave and a grunt Rondeau lifted his antagonist, and the pair +went crashing to the earth together, Bryce underneath. And then +something happened. With a howl of pain, Rondeau rolled over on his +back and lay clasping his left wrist in his right hand, while Bryce +scrambled to his feet. + +"The good old wrist-lock does the trick," he announced; and stooping, +he grasped the woods-boss by the collar with his left hand, lifted +him, and struck him a terrible blow in the face with his right. But +for the arm that upheld him, Rondeau would have fallen. To have him +fall, however, was not part of Bryce's plan. Jerking the fellow +toward him, he passed his arm around Rondeau's neck, holding the +latter's head as in a vise with the crook of his elbow. And then the +battering started. When it was finished, Bryce let his man go, and +Rondeau, bloody, sobbing, and semi-conscious, sprawled on the ground. + +Bryce bent over him. "Now, damn you," he roared, "who felled that +tree in Cardigan's Redwoods?" + +"I did, M'sieur. Enough--I confess!" The words were a whisper. + +"Did Colonel Pennington suggest it to you?" + +"He want ze burl. By gar, I do not want to fell zat tree--" + +"That's all I want to know." Stooping, Bryce seized Rondeau by the +nape of the neck and the slack of his overalls, lifted him shoulder- +high and threw him, as one throws a sack of meal, full at Colonel +Pennington. + +"You threw me at him. Now I throw him at you. You damned, thieving, +greedy, hypocritical scoundrel, if it weren't for your years and your +gray hair, I'd kill you." + +The helpless hulk of the woods-boss descended upon the Colonel's +expansive chest and sent him crashing earthward. Then Bryce, war-mad, +turned to face the ring of Laguna Grande employees about him. + +"Next!" he roared. "Singly, in pairs, or the whole damned pack!" + +"Mr. Cardigan!" + +He turned. Colonel Pennington's breath had been knocked out of his +body by the impact of his semi-conscious woods-boss, and he lay +inert, gasping like a hooked fish. Beside him Shirley Sumner was +kneeling, her hands clasping her uncle's, but with her violet eyes +blazing fiercely on Bryce Cardigan. + +"How dare you?" she cried. "You coward! To hurt my uncle!" + +He gazed at her a moment, fiercely, defiantly, his chest rising and +falling from his recent exertions, his knotted fists gory with the +blood of his enemy. Then the light of battle died, and he hung his +head. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "not for his sake, but yours. I +didn't know you were here. I forgot--myself." + +"I'll never speak to you again so long as I live," she burst out +passionately. + +He advanced a step and stood gazing down upon her. Her angry glance +met his unflinchingly; and presently for him the light went out of +the world. + +"Very well," he murmured. "Good-bye." And with bowed head he turned +and made off through the green timber toward his own logging-camp +five miles distant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +With the descent upon his breast of the limp body of his big woods- +bully, Colonel Pennington had been struck to earth as effectively as +if a fair-sized tree had fallen on him. Indeed, with such force did +his proud head collide with terra firma that had it not been for the +soft cushion of ferns and tiny redwood twigs, his neck must have been +broken by the shock. To complete his withdrawal from active service, +the last whiff of breath had been driven from his lungs; and for the +space of a minute, during which Jules Rondeau lay heavily across his +midriff, the Colonel was quite unable to get it back. Pale, gasping, +and jarred from soul to suspenders, he was merely aware that +something unexpected and disconcerting had occurred. + +While the Colonel fought for his breath, his woodsmen remained in the +offing, paralyzed into inactivity by reason of the swiftness and +thoroughness of Bryce Cardigan's work; then Shirley motioned to them +to remove the wreckage, and they hastened to obey. + +Freed from the weight on the geometric centre of his being, Colonel +Pennington stretched his legs, rolled his head from side to side, and +snorted violently several times like a buck. After the sixth snort he +felt so much better that a clear understanding of the exact nature of +the catastrophe came to him; he struggled and sat up, looking around +a little wildly. + +"Where--did--Cardigan--go?" he gasped. + +One of his men pointed to the timber into which the enemy had just +disappeared. + +"Surround him--take him," Pennington ordered. "I'll give--a month's +pay--to each of--the six men that bring--that scoundrel to me. Get +him--quickly! Understand?" + +Not a man moved. Pennington shook with fury. "Get him," he croaked. +"There are enough of you to do--the job. Close in on him--everybody. +I'll give a month's pay to--everybody." + +A man of that indiscriminate mixture of Spaniard and Indian known in +California as cholo swept the circle of men with an alert and knowing +glance. His name was Flavio Artelan, but his straight black hair, +dark russet complexion, beady eyes, and hawk nose gave him such a +resemblance to a fowl that he was known among his fellows as the +Black Minorca, regardless of the fact that this sobriquet was +scarcely fair to a very excellent breed of chicken. "That offer's +good enough for me," he remarked in businesslike tones. "Come on-- +everybody. A month's pay for five minutes' work. I wouldn't tackle +the job with six men, but there are twenty of us here." + +"Hurry," the Colonel urged them. + +Shirley Sumner's flashing glance rested upon the Black Minorca. +"Don't you dare!" she cried. "Twenty to one! For shame!" + +"For a month's pay," he replied impudently, and grinned evilly. "And +I'm takin' orders from my boss." He started on a dog-trot for the +timber, and a dozen men trailed after him. + +Shirley turned helplessly on her uncle, seized his arm and shook it +frantically. "Call them back! Call them back!" she pleaded. + +Her uncle got uncertainly to his feet. "Not on your life!" he +growled, and in his cold gray eyes there danced the lights of a +thousand devils. "I told you the fellow was a ruffian. Now, perhaps, +you'll believe me. We'll hold him until Rondeau revives, and then--" + +Shirley guessed the rest, and she realized that it was useless to +plead--that she was only wasting time. "Bryce! Bryce!" she called. +"Run! They're after you. Twenty of them! Run, run--for my sake!" + +His voice answered her from the timber: "Run? From those cattle? Not +from man or devil." A silence. Then: "So you've changed your mind, +have you? You've spoken to me again!" There was triumph, exultation +in his voice. "The timber's too thick, Shirley. I couldn't get away +anyhow--so I'm coming back." + +She saw him burst through a thicket of alder saplings into the +clearing, saw half a dozen of her uncle's men close in around him +like wolves around a sick steer; and at the shock of their contact, +she moaned and hid her face in her trembling hands. + +Half man and half tiger that he was, the Black Minorca, as self- +appointed leader, reached Bryce first. The cholo was a squat, +powerful little man, with more bounce to him than a rubber ball; +leading his men by a dozen yards, he hesitated not an instant but +dodged under the blow Bryce lashed out at him and came up inside the +latter's guard, feeling for Bryce's throat. Instead he met Bryce's +knee in his abdomen, and forthwith he folded up like an accordion. + +The next instant Bryce had stooped, caught him by the slack of the +trousers and the scruff of the neck and thrown him, as he had thrown +Rondeau, into the midst of the men advancing to his aid. Three of +them went down backward; and Bryce, charging over them, stretched two +more with well-placed blows from left and right, and continued on +across the clearing, running at top speed, for he realized that for +all the desperation of his fight and the losses already inflicted on +his assailants, the odds against him were insurmountable. + +Seeing him running away, the Laguna Grande woods-men took heart and +hope and pursued him. Straight for the loading donkey at the log- +landing Bryce ran. Beside the donkey stood a neat tier of firewood; +in the chopping block, where the donkey-fireman had driven it prior +to abandoning his post to view the contest between Bryce and Jules +Rondeau, was a double-bitted axe. Bryce jerked it loose, swung it, +whirled on his pursuers, and rushed them. Like turkeys scattering +before the raid of a coyote they fled in divers directions and from a +safe distance turned to gaze apprehensively upon this demon they had +been ordered to bring in. + +Bryce lowered the axe, removed his hat, and mopped his moist brow. +From the centre of the clearing men were crawling or staggering to +safety--with the exception of the Black Minorca, who lay moaning +softly. Colonel Pennington, seeing his fondest hopes expire, lost his +head completely. + +"Get off my property, you savage," he shrilled. + +"Don't be a nut, Colonel," Bryce returned soothingly. "I'll get off-- +when I get good and ready, and not a second sooner. In fact, I was +trying to get off as rapidly as I could when you sent your men to +bring me back. Prithee why, old thing? Didst crave more conversation +with me, or didst want thy camp cleaned out?" + +He started toward Pennington, who backed hastily away. Shirley stood +her ground, bending upon Bryce, as he approached her, a cold and +disapproving glance. "I'll get you yet," the Colonel declared from +the shelter of an old stump behind which he had taken refuge. + +"Barking dogs never bite, Colonel. And that reminds me: I've heard +enough from you. One more cheep out of you, my friend, and I'll go up +to my own logging-camp, return here with a crew of bluenoses and wild +Irish and run your wops, bohunks, and cholos out of the county. I +don't fancy the class of labour you're importing into this county, +anyhow." + +The Colonel, evidently deciding that discretion was the better part +of valour, promptly subsided, although Bryce could see that he was +mumbling threats to himself, though not in an audible voice. + +The demon Cardigan halted beside Shirley and stood gazing down at +her. He was smiling at her whimsically. She met his glance for a few +seconds; then her lids were lowered and she bit her lip with +vexation. + +"Shirley," he said. + +"You are presumptuous," she quavered. + +"You set me an example in presumption," he retorted good humouredly. +"Did you not call ME by MY first name a minute ago?" He glanced +toward Colonel Pennington and observed the latter with his neck +craned across his protecting stump. He was all ears. Bryce pointed +sternly across the clearing, and the Colonel promptly abandoned his +refuge and retreated hastily in the direction indicated. + +The heir to Cardigan's Redwoods bent over the girl. "You spoke to me +--after your promise not to, Shirley," he said gently. "You will +always speak to me." + +She commenced to cry softly. "I loathe you," she sobbed. + +"For you I have the utmost respect and admiration," he replied. + +"No, you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't hurt my uncle--the only +human being in all this world who is dear to me." + +"Gosh!" he murmured plaintively. "I'm jealous of that man. However, +I'm sorry I hurt him. He is no longer young, while I--well, I forgot +the chivalry my daddy taught me. I give you my word I came here to +fight fairly--" + +"He merely tried to stop you from fighting." + +"No, he didn't, Shirley. He interfered and fouled me. Still, despite +that, if I had known you were a spectator I think I should have +controlled myself and refrained from pulling off my vengeance in your +presence. I shall never cease to regret that I subjected you to such +a distressing spectacle. I do hope, however, that you will believe me +when I tell you I am not a bully, although when there is a fight +worth while, I never dodge it. And this time I fought for the honour +of the House of Cardigan." + +"If you want me to believe that, you will beg my uncle's pardon." + +"I can't do that. He is my enemy and I shall hate him forever; I +shall fight him and his way of doing business until he reforms or I +am exhausted." + +She looked up at him, showing a face in which resentment, outrage, +and wistfulness were mirrored. + +"You realize, of course, what your insistence on that plan means, Mr. +Cardigan?" + +"Call me Bryce," he pleaded. "You're going to call me that some day +anyhow, so why not start now?" + +"You are altogether insufferable, sir. Please go away and never +presume to address me again. You are quite impossible." + +He shook his head. "I do not give up that readily, Shirley. I didn't +know how dear--what your friendship meant to me, until you sent me +away; I didn't think there was any hope until you warned me those +dogs were hunting me--and called me Bryce." He held out his hand. +"'God gave us our relations,'" he quoted, "'but thank God, we can +choose our friends.' And I'll be a good friend to you, Shirley +Sumner, until I have earned the right to be something more. Won't you +shake hands with me? Remember, this fight to-day is only the first +skirmish in a war to the finish--and I am leading a forlorn hope. If +I lose--well, this will be good-bye." + +"I hate you," she answered drearily. "All our fine friendship-- +smashed--and you growing stupidly sentimental. I didn't think it of +you. Please go away. You are distressing me." + +He smiled at her tenderly, forgivingly, wistfully, but she did not +see it. "Then it is really good-by," he murmured with mock +dolorousness. + +She nodded her bowed head. "Yes," she whispered. "After all, I have +some pride, you know. You mustn't presume to be the butterfly +preaching contentment to the toad in the dust." + +"As you will it, Shirley." He turned away. "I'll send your axe back +with the first trainload of logs from my camp, Colonel," he called to +Pennington. + +Once more he strode away into the timber. Shirley watched him pass +out of her life, and gloried in what she conceived to be his agony, +for she had both temper and spirit, and Bryce Cardigan calmly, +blunderingly, rather stupidly (she thought) had presumed flagrantly +on brief acquaintance. Her uncle was right. He was not of their kind +of people, and it was well she had discovered this before permitting +herself to develop a livelier feeling of friendship for him. It was +true he possessed certain manly virtues, but his crudities by far +outweighed these. + +The Colonel's voice broke in upon her bitter reflections. "That +fellow Cardigan is a hard nut to crack--I'll say that for him." He +had crossed the clearing to her side and was addressing her with his +customary air of expansiveness. "I think, my dear, you had better go +back into the caboose, away from the prying eyes of these rough +fellows. I'm sorry you came, Shirley. I'll never forgive myself for +bringing you. If I had thought--but how could I know that scoundrel +was coming here to raise a disturbance? And only last night he was at +our house for dinner!" + +"That's just what makes it so terrible, Uncle Seth," she quavered. + +"It IS hard to believe that a man of young Cardigan's evident +intelligence and advantages could be such a boor, Shirley. However, +I, for one, am not surprised. You will recall that I warned you he +might be his father's son. The best course to pursue now is to forget +that you have ever met the fellow." + +"I wonder what could have occurred to make such a madman of him?" the +girl queried wonderingly. "He acted more like a demon than a human +being." + +"Just like his old father," the Colonel purred benevolently. "When he +can't get what he wants, he sulks. I'll tell you what got on his +confounded nerves. I've been freighting logs for the senior Cardigan +over my railroad; the contract for hauling them was a heritage from +old Bill Henderson, from whom I bought the mill and timber-lands; and +of course as his assignee it was incumbent upon me to fulfill +Henderson's contract with Cardigan, even though the freight-rate was +ruinous. + +"Well, this morning young Cardigan came to my office, reminded me +that the contract would expire by limitation next year and asked me +to renew it, and at the same freight-rate. I offered to renew the +contract but at a higher freight-rate, and explained to him that I +could not possibly continue to haul his logs at a loss. Well, right +away he flew into a rage and called me a robber; whereupon I informed +him that since he thought me a robber, perhaps we had better not +attempt to have any business dealings with each other--that I really +didn't want his contract at any price, having scarcely sufficient +rolling-stock to handle my own logs. That made him calm down, but in +a little while he lost his head again and grew snarly and abusive--to +such an extent, indeed, that finally I was forced to ask him to leave +my office." + +"Nevertheless, Uncle Seth, I cannot understand why he should make +such a furious attack upon your employee." + +The Colonel laughed with a fair imitation of sincerity and tolerant +amusement. "My dear, that is no mystery to me. There are men who, +finding it impossible or inadvisable to make a physical attack upon +their enemy, find ample satisfaction in poisoning his favourite dog, +burning his house, or beating up one of his faithful employees. +Cardigan picked on Rondeau for the reason that a few days ago he +tried to hire Rondeau away from me--offered him twenty-five dollars a +month more than I was paying him, by George! Of course when Rondeau +came to me with Cardigan's proposition, I promptly met Cardigan's bid +and retained Rondeau; consequently Cardigan hates us both and took +the earliest opportunity to vent his spite on us." + +The Colonel sighed and brushed the dirt and leaves from his tweeds. +"Thunder," he continued philosophically, "it's all in the game, so +why worry over it? And why continue to discuss an unpleasant topic, +my dear?" + +A groan from the Black Minorca challenged her attention. "I think +that man is badly hurt, Uncle," she suggested. + +"Serves him right," he returned coldly. "He tackled that cyclone full +twenty feet in advance of the others; if they'd all closed in +together, they would have pulled him down. I'll have that cholo and +Rondeau sent down with the next trainload of logs to the company +hospital. They're a poor lot and deserve manhandling--" + +They paused, facing toward the timber, from which came a voice, +powerful, sweetly resonant, raised in song. Shirley knew that half- +trained baritone, for she had heard it the night before when Bryce +Cardigan, faking his own accompaniment at the piano, had sung for her +a number of carefully expurgated lumberjack ballads, the lunatic +humour of which had delighted her exceedingly. She marvelled now at +his choice of minstrelsy, for the melody was hauntingly plaintive-- +the words Eugene Field's poem of childhood, "Little Boy Blue." + + "The little toy dog is covered with dust, + But sturdy and stanch he stands; + And the little toy soldier is red with rust, + And his musket molds in his hands. + Time was when the little toy dog was new, + And the soldier was passing fair; + And that was the time when our little boy blue, + Kissed them and put them there." + +"Light-hearted devil, isn't he?" the Colonel commented approvingly. +"And his voice isn't half bad. Just singing to be defiant, I +suppose." + +Shirley did not answer. But a few minutes previously she had seen the +singer a raging fury, brandishing an axe and driving men before him. +She could not understand. And presently the song grew faint among the +timber and died away entirely. + +Her uncle took her gently by the arm and steered her toward the +caboose. "Well, what do you think of your company now?" he demanded +gayly. + +"I think," she answered soberly, "that you have gained an enemy worth +while and that it behooves you not to underestimate him." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Through the green timber Bryce Cardigan strode, and there was a lilt +in his heart now. Already he had forgotten the desperate situation +from which he had just escaped; he thought only of Shirley Sumner's +face, tear-stained with terror; and because he knew that at least +some of those tears had been inspired by the gravest apprehensions as +to his physical well-being, because in his ears there still resounded +her frantic warning, he realized that however stern her decree of +banishment had been, she was nevertheless not indifferent to him. And +it was this knowledge that had thrilled him into song and which when +his song was done had brought to his firm mouth a mobility that +presaged his old whimsical smile--to his brown eyes a beaming light +of confidence and pride. + +The climax had been reached--and passed; and the result had been far +from the disaster he had painted in his mind's eye ever since the +knowledge had come to him that he was doomed to battle to a knockout +with Colonel Pennington, and that one of the earliest fruits of +hostilities would doubtless be the loss of Shirley Sumner's prized +friendship. Well, he had lost her friendship, but a still small voice +whispered to him that the loss was not irreparable--whereat he swung +his axe as a bandmaster swings his baton; he was glad that he had +started the war and was now free to fight it out unhampered. + +Up hill and down dale he went. Because of the tremendous trees he +could not see the sun; yet with the instinct of the woodsman, an +instinct as infallible as that of a homing pigeon, he was not puzzled +as to direction. Within two hours his long, tireless stride brought +him out into a clearing in the valley where his own logging-camp +stood. He went directly to the log-landing, where in a listless and +half-hearted manner the loading crew were piling logs on Pennington's +logging-trucks. + +Bryce looked at his watch. It was two o'clock; at two-fifteen +Pennington's locomotive would appear, to back in and couple to the +long line of trucks. And the train was only half loaded. + +"Where's McTavish?" Bryce demanded of the donkey-driver. + +The man mouthed his quid, spat copiously, wiped his mouth with the +back of his hand, and pointed. "Up at his shanty," he made answer, +and grinned at Bryce knowingly. + +Up through the camp's single short street, flanked on each side with +the woodsmen's shanties, Bryce went. Dogs barked at him, for he was a +stranger in his own camp; children, playing in the dust, gazed upon +him owlishly. At the most pretentious shanty on the street Bryce +turned in. He had never seen it before, but he knew it to be the +woods-boss's home, for unlike its neighbours the house was painted +with the coarse red paint that is used on box-cars, while a fence, +made of fancy pointed pickets painted white, inclosed a tiny garden +in front of the house. As Bryce came through the gate, a young girl +rose from where she knelt in a bed of freshly transplanted pansies. + +Bryce lifted his hat. "Is Mr. McTavish at home?" he asked. + +She nodded. "He cannot see anybody," she hastened to add. "He's +sick." + +"I think he'll see me. And I wonder if you're Moira McTavish." + +"Yes, I'm Moira." + +"I'm Bryce Cardigan." + +A look of fright crept into the girl's eyes. "Are you--Bryce +Cardigan?" she faltered, and looked at him more closely. "Yes, you're +Mr. Bryce. You've changed--but then it's been six years since we saw +you last, Mr. Bryce." + +He came toward her with outstretched hand. "And you were a little +girl when I saw you last. Now--you're a woman." She grasped his hand +with the frank heartiness of a man. "I'm mighty glad to meet you +again, Moira. I just guessed who you were, for of course I should +never have recognized you. When I saw you last, you wore your hair in +a braid down your back." + +"I'm twenty years old," she informed him. + +"Stand right where you are until I have looked at you," he commanded, +and backed off a few feet, the better to contemplate her. + +He saw a girl slightly above medium height, tanned, robust, simply +gowned in a gingham dress. Her hands were soiled from her recent +labours in the pansy-bed, and her shoes were heavy and coarse; yet +neither hands nor feet were large or ungraceful. Her head was well +formed; her hair, jet black and of unusual lustre and abundance, was +parted in the middle and held in an old-fashioned coil at the nape of +a neck the beauty of which was revealed by the low cut of her simple +frock. Moira was a decided brunette, with that wonderful quality of +skin to be seen only among brunettes who have roses in their cheeks; +her brow was broad and spiritual; in her eyes, large, black, and +listrous, there was a brooding tenderness not untouched with sorrow-- +some such expression, indeed, as da Vinci put in the eyes of his Mona +Lisa. Her nose was patrician, her face oval; her lips, full and red, +were slightly parted in the adorable Cupid's bow which is the +inevitable heritage of a short upper lip; her teeth were white as +Parian marble; and her full breast was rising and falling swiftly, as +if she laboured under suppressed excitement. + +So delightful a picture did Moira McTavish make that Bryce forgot all +his troubles in her sweet presence. "By the gods, Moira," he declared +earnestly, "you're a peach! When I saw you last, you were awkward and +leggy, like a colt. I'm sure you weren't a bit good-looking. And now +you're the most ravishing young lady in seventeen counties. By jingo, +Moira, you're a stunner and no mistake. Are you married?" + +She shook her head, blushing pleasurably at his unpolished but +sincere compliments. + +"What? Not married. Why, what the deuce can be the matter with the +eligible young fellows hereabouts?" + +"There aren't any eligible young fellows hereabouts, Mr. Bryce. And +I've lived in these woods all my life." + +"That's why you haven't been discovered." + +"And I don't intend to marry a lumberjack and continue to live in +these woods," she went on earnestly, as if she found pleasure in this +opportunity to announce her rebellion. Despite her defiance, however, +there was a note of sad resignation in her voice. + +"You don't know a thing about it, Moira. Some bright day your Prince +Charming will come by, riding the log-train, and after that it will +always be autumn in the woods for you. Everything will just naturally +turn to crimson and gold." + +"How do you know, Mr Bryce?" + +He laughed. "I read about it in a book." + +"I prefer spring in the woods, I think. It seems--It's so foolish of +me, I know; I ought to be contented, but it's hard to be contented +when it is always winter in one's heart. That frieze of timber on the +skyline limits my world, Mr Bryce. Hills and timber, timber and +hills, and the thunder of falling redwoods. And when the trees have +been logged off so we can see the world, we move back into green +timber again." She sighed. + +"Are you lonely, Moira?" + +She nodded. + +"Poor Moira!" he murmured absently. + +The thought that he so readily understood touched her; a glint of +tears was in her sad eyes. He saw them and placed his arm fraternally +around her shoulders. "Tut-tut, Moira! Don't cry," he soothed her. "I +understand perfectly, and of course we'll have to do something about +it. You're too fine for this. "With a sweep of his hand he indicated +the camp. He had led her to the low stoop in front of the shanty. +"Sit down on the steps, Moira, and we'll talk it over. I really +called to see your father, but I guess I don't want to see him after +all--if he's sick." + +She looked at him bravely. "I didn't know you at first, Mr. Bryce. I +fibbed. Father isn't sick. He's drunk." + +"I thought so when I saw the loading-crew taking it easy at the log- +landing. I'm terribly sorry." + +"I loathe it--and I cannot leave it," she burst out vehemently. "I'm +chained to my degradation. I dream dreams, and they'll never come +true. I--I--oh Mr. Bryce, Mr. Bryce, I'm so unhappy." + +"So am I," he retorted. "We all get our dose of it, you know, and +just at present I'm having an extra helping, it seems. You're cursed +with too much imagination, Moira. I'm sorry about your father. He's +been with us a long time, and my father has borne a lot from him for +old sake's sake; he told me the other night that he has discharged +Mac fourteen times during the past ten years, but to date he hasn't +been able to make it stick. For all his sixty years, Moira, your +confounded parent can still manhandle any man on the pay-roll, and as +fast as Dad put in a new woods-boss old Mac drove him off the job. He +simply declines to be fired, and Dad's worn out and too tired to +bother about his old woods-boss any more. He's been waiting until I +should get back." + +"I know," said Moira wearily. "Nobody wants to be Cardigan's woods- +boss and have to fight my father to hold his job. I realize what a +nuisance he has become." + +Bryce chuckled. "I asked Father why he didn't stand pat and let Mac +work for nothing; having discharged him, my father was under no +obligation to give him his salary just because he insisted on being +woods-boss. Dad might have starved your father out of these woods, +but the trouble was that old Mac would always come and promise reform +and end up by borrowing a couple of hundred dollars, and then Dad had +to hire him again to get it back! Of course the matter simmers down +to this: Dad is so fond of your father that he just hasn't got the +moral courage to work him over--and now that job is up to me. Moira, +I'm not going to beat about the bush with you. They tell me your +father is a hopeless inebriate." + +"I'm afraid he is, Mr. Bryce." + +"How long has he been drinking to excess?" + +"About ten years, I think. Of course, he would always take a few +drinks with the men around pay-day, but after Mother died, he began +taking his drinks between pay-days. Then he took to going down to +Sequoia on Saturday nights and coming back on the mad-train, the +maddest of the lot. I suppose he was lonely, too. He didn't get real +bad, however, till about two years ago." + +"Just about the time my father's eyes began to fail him and he ceased +coming up into the woods to jack Mac up? So he let the brakes go and +started to coast, and now he's reached the bottom! I couldn't get him +on the telephone to-day or yesterday. I suppose he was down in +Arcata, liquoring up." + +She nodded miserably. + +"Well, we have to get logs to the mill, and we can't get them with +old John Barleycorn for a woods-boss, Moira. So we're going to change +woods-bosses, and the new woods-boss will not be driven off the job, +because I'm going to stay up here a couple of weeks and break him in +myself. By the way, is Mac ugly in his cups?" + +"Thank God, no," she answered fervently. "Drunk or sober, he has +never said an unkind word to me." + +"But how do you manage to get money to clothe yourself? Sinclair +tells me Mac needs every cent of his two hundred and fifty dollars a +month to enjoy himself." + +"I used to steal from him," the girl admitted. "Then I grew ashamed +of that, and for the past six months I've been earning my own living. +Mr. Sinclair was very kind. He gave me a job waiting on table in the +camp dining room. You see, I had to have something here. I couldn't +leave my father. He had to have somebody to take care of him. Don't +you see, Mr. Bryce?" + +"Sinclair is a fuzzy old fool," Bryce declared with emphasis. "The +idea of our woods-boss's daughter slinging hash to lumberjacks. Poor +Moira!" + +He took one of her hands in his, noting the callous spots on the +plump palm, the thick finger-joints that hinted so of toil, the nails +that had never been manicured save by Moira herself. "Do you remember +when I was a boy, Moira, how I used to come up to the logging-camps +to hunt and fish? I always lived with the McTavishes then. And in +September, when the huckleberries were ripe, we used to go out and +pick them together. Poor Moira! Why, we're old pals, and I'll be shot +if I'm going to see you suffer." + +She glanced at him shyly, with beaming eyes. "You haven't changed a +bit, Mr. Bryce. Not one little bit!" + +"Let's talk about you, Moira. You went to school in Sequoia, didn't +you?" + +"Yes, I was graduated from the high school there. I used to ride the +log-trains into town and back again." + +"Good news! Listen, Moira. I'm going to fire your father, as I've +said, because he's working for old J.B. now, not the Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company. I really ought to pension him after his long years in +the Cardigan service, but I'll be hanged if we can afford pensions +any more--particularly to keep a man in booze; so the best our old +woods-boss gets from me is this shanty, or another like it when we +move to new cuttings, and a perpetual meal-ticket for our camp dining +room while the Cardigans remain in business. I'd finance him for a +trip to some State institution where they sometimes reclaim such +wreckage, if I didn't think he's too old a dog to be taught new +tricks." + +"Perhaps," she suggested sadly, "you had better talk the matter over +with him." + +"No, I'd rather not. I'm fond of your father, Moira. He was a man +when I saw him last--such a man as these woods will never see again-- +and I don't want to see him again until he's cold sober. I'll write +him a letter. As for you, Moira, you're fired, too. I'll not have you +waiting on table in my logging-camp--not by a jugful! You're to come +down to Sequoia and go to work in our office. We can use you on the +books, helping Sinclair, and relieve him of the task of billing, +checking tallies, and looking after the pay-roll. I'll pay you a +hundred dollars a month, Moira. Can you get along on that?" + +Her hard hand closed over his tightly, but she did not speak. + +"All right, Moira. It's a go, then. Hills and timber--timber and +hills--and I'm going to set you free. Perhaps in Sequoia you'll find +your Prince Charming. There, there, girl, don't cry. We Cardigans had +twenty-five years of faithful service from Donald McTavish before he +commenced slipping; after all, we owe him something, I think." + +She drew his hand suddenly to her lips and kissed it; her hot tears +of joy fell on it, but her heart was too full for mere words. + +"Fiddle-de-dee, Moira! Buck up," he protested, hugely pleased, but +embarrassed withal. "The way you take this, one would think you had +expected me to go back on an old pal and had been pleasantly +surprised when I didn't. Cheer up, Moira! Cherries are ripe, or at +any rate they soon will be; and if you'll just cease shedding the +scalding and listen to me, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll advance +you two months' salary for--well, you'll need a lot of clothes and +things in Sequoia that you don't need here. And I'm glad I've managed +to settle the McTavish hash without kicking up a row and hurting your +feelings. Poor old Mac! I'm sorry I can't bear with him, but we +simply have to have the logs, you know." + +He rose, stooped, and pinched her ear; for had he not known her since +childhood, and had they not gathered huckleberries together in the +long ago? She was sister to him--just another one of his problems-- +and nothing more. "Report on the job as soon as possible, Moira," he +called to her from the gate. Then the gate banged behind him, and +with a smile and a debonair wave of his hand, he was striding down +the little camp street where the dogs and the children played in the +dust. + +After a while Moira walked to the gate and leaning upon it, looked +down the street toward the log-landing where Bryce was ragging the +laggard crew into some thing like their old-time speed. Presently the +locomotive backed in and coupled to the log tram, and when she saw +Bryce leap aboard and seat himself on a top log in such a position +that he could not fail to see her at the gate, she waved to him. He +threw her a careless kiss, and the train pulled out. + +Presently, when Moira lifted her Madonna glance to the frieze of +timber on the skyline, there was a new glory in her eyes; and lo, it +was autumn in the woods, for over that hill Prince Charming had come +to her, and life was all crimson and gold! + +When the train loaded with Cardigan logs crawled in on the main track +and stopped at the log-landing in Pennington's camp, the locomotive +uncoupled and backed in on the siding for the purpose of kicking the +caboose, in which Shirley and Colonel Pennington had ridden to the +woods, out onto the main line again--where, owing to a slight +downhill grade, the caboose, controlled by the brakeman, could coast +gently forward and be hooked on to the end of the log-train for the +return journey to Sequoia. + +Throughout the afternoon Shirley, following the battle royal between +Bryce and the Pennington retainers, had sat dismally in the caboose. +She was prey to many conflicting emotions; but having had what her +sex term "a good cry," she had to a great extent recovered her +customary poise--and was busily speculating on the rapidity with +which she could leave Sequoia and forget she had ever met Bryce +Cardigan--when the log-train rumbled into the landing and the last of +the long string of trucks came to a stop directly opposite the +caboose. + +Shirley happened to be looking through the grimy caboose window at +that moment. On the top log of the load the object of her unhappy +speculations was seated, apparently quite oblivious of the fact that +he was back once more in the haunt of his enemies, although knowledge +that the double-bitted axe he had so unceremoniously borrowed of +Colonel Pennington was driven deep into the log beside him, with the +haft convenient to his hand, probably had much to do with Bryce's air +of detached indifference. He was sitting with his elbows on his +knees, his chin in his cupped hands, and a pipe thrust aggressively +out the corner of his mouth, the while he stared moodily at his feet. + +Shirley suspected she knew what he was thinking of; he was less than +six feet from her, and a morbid fascination moved her to remain at +the window and watch the play of emotions over his strong, stern +face. She told herself that should he move, should he show the +slightest disposition to raise his head and bring his eyes on a level +with hers, she would dodge away from the window in time to escape his +scrutiny. + +She reckoned without the engine. With a smart bump it struck the +caboose and shunted it briskly up the siding; at the sound of the +impact Bryce raised his troubled glance just in time to see Shirley's +body, yielding to the shock, sway into full view at the window. + +With difficulty he suppressed a grin. "I'll bet my immortal soul she +was peeking at me," he soliloquized. "Confound the luck! Another +meeting this afternoon would be embarrassing." Tactfully he resumed +his study of his feet, not even looking up when the caboose, after +gaining the main track, slid gently down the slight grade and was +coupled to the rear logging-truck. Out of the tail of his eye he +caught a glimpse of Colonel Pennington passing alongside the log- +train and entering the caboose; he heard the engineer shout to the +brakeman--who had ridden down from the head of the train to unlock +the siding switch and couple the caboose--to hurry up, lock the +switch, and get back aboard the engine. + +"Can't get this danged key to turn in the lock," the brakeman shouted +presently. "Lock's rusty, and something's gone bust inside." + +Minutes passed. Bryce's assumed abstraction became real, for he had +many matters to occupy his busy brain, and it was impossible for him +to sit idle without adverting to some of them. Presently he was +subconsciously aware that the train was moving gently forward; almost +immediately, it seemed to him, the long string of trucks had gathered +their customary speed; and then suddenly it dawned upon Bryce that +the train had started off without a single jerk--and that it was +gathering headway rapidly. + +He looked ahead--and his hair grew creepy at the roots. There was no +locomotive attached to the train! It was running away down a two per +cent. grade, and because of the tremendous weight of the train, it +was gathering momentum at a fearful rate. + +The reason for the runaway dawned on Bryce instantly. The road, being +privately owned, was, like most logging-roads, neglected as to +roadbed and rolling-stock; also it was undermanned, and the brake- +man, who also acted as switchman, had failed to set the hand-brakes +on the leading truck after the engineer had locked the air-brakes. As +a result, during the five or six minutes required to "spot in" the +caboose, and an extra minute or two lost while the brakeman struggled +with the recalcitrant lock on the switch, the air had leaked away +through the worn valves and rubber tubing, and the brakes had been +released--so that the train, without warning, had quietly and almost +noiselessly slid out of the log-landing and started on its mad +career. Before the engineer could beat it to the other switch with +the locomotive, run out on the main track, let the runaway gradually +catch up with him and hold it--no matter how or what happened to him +or his engine--the first logging-truck had cleared the switch and +blocked pursuit. There was nothing to do now save watch the wild +runaway and pray, for of all the mad runaways in a mad world, a +loaded logging-train is by far the worst. + +For an instant after realizing his predicament, Bryce Cardigan was +tempted to jump and take his chance on a few broken bones, before the +train could reach a greater speed than twenty miles an hour. His +impulse was to run forward and set the handbrake on the leading +truck, but a glance showed him that even with the train standing +still he could not hope to leap from truck to truck and land on the +round, freshly peeled surface of the logs without slipping for he had +no calks in his boots. And to slip now meant swift and horrible +death. + +"Too late!" he muttered. "Even if I could get to the head of the +train, I couldn't stop her with the hand-brake; should I succeed in +locking the wheels, the brute would be doing fifty miles an hour by +that time--the front truck would slide and skid, leave the tracks and +pile up with me at the bottom of a mess of wrecked rolling-stock and +redwood logs." + +Then he remembered. In the wildly rolling caboose Shirley Sumner rode +with her uncle, while less than two miles ahead, the track swung in a +sharp curve high up along the hillside above Mad River. Bryce knew +the leading truck would never take that curve at high speed, even if +the ancient rolling-stock should hold together until the curve was +reached, but would shoot off at a tangent into the canyon, carrying +trucks, logs, and caboose with it, rolling over and over down the +hillside to the river. + +"The caboose must be cut out of this runaway," Bryce soliloquized, +"and it must be cut out in a devil of a hurry. Here goes nothing in +particular, and may God be good to my dear old man." + +He jerked his axe out of the log, drove it deep into the top log +toward the end, and by using the haft to cling to, crawled toward the +rear of the load and looked down at the caboose coupling. The top log +was a sixteen-foot butt; the two bottom logs were eighteen footers. +With a silent prayer of thanks to Providence, Bryce slid down to the +landing thus formed. He was still five feet above the coupling, +however; but by leaning over the swaying, bumping edge and swinging +the axe with one hand, he managed to cut through the rubber hose on +the air connection. "The blamed thing might hold and drag the caboose +along after I've pulled out the coupling-pin," he reflected. "And I +can't afford to take chances now." + +Nevertheless he took them. Axe in hand, he leaped down to the narrow +ledge formed by the bumper in front of the cabooses--driving his face +into the front of the caboose; and he only grasped the steel rod +leading from the brake-chains to the wheel on the roof in time to +avoid falling half stunned between the front of the caboose and the +rear of the logging-truck. The caboose had once been a box-car; hence +there was no railed front platform to which Bryce might have leaped +in safety. Clinging perilously on the bumper, he reached with his +foot, got his toe under the lever on the side, jerked it upward, and +threw the pin out of the coupling; then with his free hand he swung +the axe and drove the great steel jaws of the coupling apart. + +The caboose was cut out! But already the deadly curve was in sight; +in two minutes the first truck would reach it; and the caboose, +though cut loose, had to be stopped, else with the headway it had +gathered, it, too, would follow the logging-trucks to glory. + +For a moment Bryce clung to the brake-rod, weak and dizzy from the +effects of the blow when, leaping down from the loaded truck to the +caboose bumper, his face had smashed into the front of the caboose. +His chin was bruised, skinned, and bloody; his nose had been broken, +and twin rivulets of blood ran from his nostrils. He wiped it away, +swung his axe, drove the blade deep into the bumper and left it there +with the haft quivering; turning, he climbed swiftly up the narrow +iron ladder beside the brake-rod until he reached the roof; then, +still standing on the ladder, he reached the brake-wheel and drew it +promptly but gradually around until the wheel-blocks began to bite, +when he exerted his tremendous strength to the utmost and with his +knees braced doggedly against the front of the caboose, held the +wheel. + +The brake screamed, but the speed of the caboose was not appreciably +slackened. "It's had too good a start!" Bryce moaned. "The momentum +is more than I can overcome. Oh, Shirley, my love! God help you!" + +He cast a sudden despairing look over his shoulder downward at the +coupling. He was winning, after all, for a space of six feet now +yawned between the end of the logging-truck and the bumper of the +caboose. If he could but hold that tremendous strain on the wheel for +a quarter of a mile, he might get the demon caboose under control! +Again he dug his knees into the front of the car and twisted on the +wheel until it seemed that his muscles must crack. + +After what seemed an eon of waiting, he ventured another look ahead. +The rear logging-truck was a hundred yards in front of him now, and +from the wheels of the caboose an odour of something burning drifted +up to him. "I've got your wheels locked!" he half sobbed. "I'll hold +you yet, you brute. Slide! That's it! Slide, and flatten your +infernal wheels. Hah! You're quitting--quitting. I'll have you in +control before we reach the curve. Burn, curse you, burn!" + +With a shriek of metal scraping metal, the head of the Juggernaut +ahead took the curve, clung there an instant, and was catapulted out +into space. Logs weighing twenty tons were flung about like kindling; +one instant, Bryce could see them in the air; the next they had +disappeared down the hillside. A deafening crash, a splash, a cloud +of dust-- + +With a protesting squeal, the caboose came to the point where the +logging-train had left the right of way, carrying rails and ties with +it. The wheels on the side nearest the bank slid into the dirt first +and plowed deep into the soil; the caboose came to an abrupt stop, +trembled and rattled, overtopped its centre of gravity, and fell over +against the cut-bank, wearily, like a drunken hag. + +Bryce, still clinging to the brake, was fully braced for the shock +and was not flung off. Calmly he descended the ladder, recovered the +axe from the bumper, climbed back to the roof, tiptoed off the roof +to the top of the bank and sat calmly down under a manzanita bush to +await results, for he was quite confident that none of the occupants +of the confounded caboose had been treated to anything worse than a +wild ride and a rare fright, and he was curious to see how Shirley +Sumner would behave in an emergency. + +Colonel Pennington was first to emerge at the rear of the caboose. He +leaped lightly down the steps, ran to the front of the car, looked +down the track, and swore feelingly. Then he darted back to the rear +of the caboose. + +"All clear and snug as a bug under a chip, my dear," he called to +Shirley. "Thank God, the caboose became uncoupled--guess that fool +brakeman forgot to drop the pin; it was the last car, and when it +jumped the track and plowed into the dirt, it just naturally quit and +toppled over against the bank. Come out, my dear." + +Shirley came out, dry-eyed, but white and trembling. The Colonel +placed his arm around her, and she hid her face on his shoulder and +shuddered. "There, there!" he soothed her affectionately. "It's all +over, my dear. All's well that ends well." + +"The train," she cried in a choking voice. "Where is it?" + +"In little pieces--down in Mad River." He laughed happily. "And the +logs weren't even mine! As for the trucks, they were a lot of ratty +antiques and only fit to haul Cardigan's logs. About a hundred yards +of roadbed ruined--that's the extent of my loss, for I'd charged off +the trucks to profit and loss two years ago." + +"Bryce Cardigan," she sobbed. "I saw him--he was riding a top log on +the train. He--ah, God help him!" + +The Colonel shook her with sudden ferocity. "Young Cardigan," he +cried sharply. "Riding the logs? Are you certain?" + +She nodded, and her shoulders shook piteously. + +"Then Bryce Cardigan is gone!" Pennington's pronouncement was solemn, +deadly with its flat finality. "No man could have rolled down into +Mad River with a trainload of logs and survived. The devil himself +couldn't." He heaved a great sigh, and added: "Well, that clears the +atmosphere considerably, although for all his faults, I regret, for +his father's sake, that this dreadful affair has happened. Well, it +can't be helped, Shirley. Don't cry, my dear. I know it's terrible, +but--there, there my love. Do brace up. Poor devil! For all his +damnable treatment of me, I wouldn't have had this happen for a +million dollars." + +Shirley burst into wild weeping. Bryce's heart leaped, for he +understood the reason for her grief. She had sent him away in anger, +and he had gone to his death; ergo it would be long before Shirley +would forgive herself. Bryce had not intended presenting himself +before her in his battered and bloody condition, but the sight of her +distress now was more than he could bear. He coughed slightly, and +the alert Colonel glanced up at him instantly. + +"Well, I'll be hanged!" The words fell from Pennington's lips with a +heartiness that was almost touching. "I thought you'd gone with the +train." + +"Sorry to have disappointed you, old top," Bryce replied blithely, +"but I'm just naturally stubborn. Too bad about the atmosphere you +thought cleared a moment ago! It's clogged worse than ever now." + +At the sound of Bryce's voice, Shirley raised her head, whirled and +looked up at him. He held his handkerchief over his gory face that +the sight might not distress her; he could have whooped with delight +at the joy that flashed through her wet lids. + +"Bryce Cardigan," she commanded sternly, "come down here this +instant." + +"I'm not a pretty sight, Shirley. Better let me go about my +business." + +She stamped her foot. "Come here!" + +"Well, since you insist," he replied, and he slid down the bank. + +"How did you get up there--and what do you mean by hiding there +spying on me, you--you--oh, YOU!" + +"Cuss a little, if it will help any," he suggested. "I had to get out +of your way--out of your sight--and up there was the best place. I +was on the roof of the caboose when it toppled over, so all I had to +do was step ashore and sit down." + +"Then why didn't you stay there?" she demanded furiously. + +"You wouldn't let me," he answered demurely. "And when I saw you +weeping because I was supposed to be with the angels, I couldn't help +coughing to let you know I was still hanging around, ornery as a +book-agent." + +"How did you ruin your face, Mr. Cardigan?" + +"Tried to take a cast of the front end of the caboose in my classic +countenance--that's all." + +"But you were riding the top log on the last truck--" + +"Certainly, but I wasn't hayseed enough to stay there until we struck +this curve. I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I climbed +down to the bumper of the caboose, uncoupled it from the truck, +climbed up on the roof, and managed to get the old thing under +control with the hand-brake; then I skedaddled up into the brush +because I knew you were inside, and---By the way, Colonel Pennington, +here is your axe, which I borrowed this afternoon. Much obliged for +its use. The last up-train is probably waiting on the siding at +Freshwater to pass the late lamented; consequently a walk of about a +mile will bring you a means of transportation back to Sequoia. Walk +leisurely--you have lots of time. As for myself, I'm in a hurry, and +my room is more greatly to be desired than my company, so I'll start +now." + +He lifted his hat, turned, and walked briskly down the ruined track. + +Shirley made a little gesture of dissent, half opened her lips to +call him back, thought better of it, and let him go. When he was out +of sight, it dawned on her that he had risked his life to save hers. + +"Uncle Seth," she said soberly, "what would have happened to us if +Bryce Cardigan had not come up here to-day to thrash your woods- +boss?" + +"We'd both be in Kingdom Come now," he answered truthfully. + +"Under the circumstances, then," Shirley continued, "suppose we all +agree to forget that anything unusual happened to-day--" + +"I bear the young man no ill will, Shirley, but before you permit +yourself to be carried away by the splendour of his action in cutting +out the caboose and getting it under control, it might be well to +remember that his own precious hide was at stake also. He would have +cut the caboose out even if you and I had not been in it." + +"No, he would not," she insisted, for the thought that he had done it +for her sake was very sweet to her and would persist. "Cooped up in +the caboose, we did not know the train was running away until it was +too late for us to jump, while Bryce Cardigan, riding out on the +logs, must have known it almost immediately. He would have had time +to jump before the runaway gathered too much headway--and he would +have jumped, Uncle Seth, for his father's sake." + +"Well, he certainly didn't stay for mine, Shirley." + +She dried her moist eyes and blushed furiously. "Uncle Seth," she +pleaded, taking him lovingly by the arm, "let's be friends with Bryce +Cardigan; let's get together and agree on an equitable contract for +freighting his logs over our road." + +"You are now," he replied severely, "mixing sentiment and business; +if you persist, the result will be chaos. Cardigan has in a large +measure squared himself for his ruffianly conduct earlier in the day, +and I'll forgive him and treat him with courtesy hereafter; but I +want you to understand, Shirley, that such treatment by me does not +constitute a license for that fellow to crawl up in my lap and be +petted. He is practically a pauper now, which makes him a poor +business risk, and you'll please me greatly by leaving him severely +alone--by making him keep his distance." + +"I'll not do that," she answered with a quiet finality that caused +her uncle to favour her with a quick, searching glance. + +He need not have worried, however, for Bryce Cardigan was too well +aware of his own financial condition to risk the humiliation of +asking Shirley Sumner to share it with him. Moreover, he had embarked +upon a war--a war which he meant to fight to a finish. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +George Sea Otter, summoned by telephone, came out to Freshwater, the +station nearest the wreck, and transported his battered young master +back to Sequoia. Here Bryce sought the doctor in the Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company's little hospital and had his wrecked nose reorganized +and his cuts bandaged. It was characteristic of his father's son that +when this detail had been attended to, he should go to the office and +work until the six o'clock whistle blew. + +Old Cardigan was waiting for him at the gate when he reached home. +George Sea Otter had already given the old man a more or less garbled +account of the runaway log-train, and Cardigan eagerly awaited his +son's arrival in order to ascertain the details of this new disaster +which had come upon them. For disaster it was, in truth. The loss of +the logs was trifling--perhaps three or four thousand dollars; the +destruction of the rolling-stock was the crowning misfortune. Both +Cardigans knew that Pennington would eagerly seize upon this point to +stint his competitor still further on logging-equipment, that there +would be delays--purposeful but apparently unavoidable--before this +lost rolling-stock would be replaced. And in the interim the Cardigan +mill, unable to get a sufficient supply of logs to fill orders in +hand, would be forced to close down. Full well Pennington knew that +anything which, tends to bring about a shortage of raw material for +any manufacturing plant will result inevitably in the loss of +customers. + +"Well, son," said John Cardigan mildly as Bryce unlatched the gate, +"another bump, eh?" + +"Yes, sir--right on the nose." + +"I meant another bump to your heritage, my son." + +"I'm worrying more about my nose, partner. In fact, I'm not worrying +about my heritage at all. I've come to a decision on that point: +We're going to fight and fight to the last; we're going down +fighting. And by the way, I started the fight this afternoon. I +whaled the wadding out of that bucko woods-boss of Pennington's, and +as a special compliment to you, John Cardigan, I did an almighty fine +job of cleaning. Even went so far as to muss the Colonel up a +little." + +"Wow, wow, Bryce! Bully for you! I wanted that man Rondeau taken +apart. He has terrorized our woods-men for a long time. He's king of +the mad-train, you know." + +Bryce was relieved. His father did not know, then, of the act of +vandalism in the Valley of the Giants. This fact strengthened Bryce's +resolve not to tell him--also to get the fallen monarch sawed up and +the stump blasted out before an operation should restore his father's +sight and reveal to him the crowning cruelty of his enemy. + +Arm in arm they walked up the garden path together. + +Just as they entered the house, the telephone in the hall tinkled, +and Bryce answered. + +"Mr. Cardigan," came Shirley Sumner's voice over the wire. + +"Bryce," he corrected her. + +She ignored the correction, + +"I--I don't know what to say to you," she faltered. + +"There is no necessity for saying anything, Shirley." + +"But you saved our lives, and at least have a right to expect due and +grateful acknowledgment of our debt. I rang up to tell you how +splendid and heroic your action was--" + +"I had my own life to save, Shirley." + +"You did not think of that at the time." + +"Well--I didn't think of your uncle's, either," he replied without +enthusiasm. + +"I'm sure we never can hope to catch even with you, Mr. Cardigan." + +"Don't try. Your revered relative will not; so why should you?" + +"You are making it somewhat hard for me to--to--rehabilitate our +friendship, Mr. Cardigan. We have just passed through a most +extraordinary day, and if at evening I can feel as I do now, I think +you ought to do your share--and help." + +"Bless your heart," he murmured. "The very fact that you bothered to +ring me up at all makes me your debtor. Shirley, can you stand some +plain speaking--between friends, I mean?" + +"I think so, Mr. Cardigan." + +"Well, then," said Bryce, "listen to this: I am your uncle's enemy +until death do us part. Neither he nor I expect to ask or to give +quarter, and I'm going to smash him if I can." + +"If you do, you smash me," she warned him. + +"Likewise our friendship. I'm sorry, but it's got to be done if I can +do it. Shall--shall we say good-bye, Shirley?" + +"Yes-s-s!" There was a break in her voice. "Good-bye, Mr Cardigan. I +wanted you to know." + +"Good-bye! Well, that's cutting the mustard," he murmured sotto voce, +"and there goes another bright day-dream." Unknown to himself, he +spoke directly into the transmitter, and Shirley, clinging half +hopefully to the receiver at the other end of the wire, heard him-- +caught every inflection of the words, commonplace enough, but +freighted with the pathos of Bryce's first real tragedy. + +"Oh, Bryce!" she cried sharply. But he did not hear her; he had hung +up his receiver now. + +The week that ensued was remarkable for the amount of work Bryce +accomplished in the investigation of his father's affairs--also for a +visit from Donald McTavish, the woods-boss. Bryce found him sitting +in the private office one morning at seven o'clock. + +"Hello, McTavish," he saluted the woods-boss cheerfully and extended +his hand for a cordial greeting. His wayward employee stood up, took +the proffered hand in both of his huge and callous ones, and held it +rather childishly. + +"Weel! 'Tis the wee laddie hissel," he boomed. "I'm glad to see ye, +boy." + +"You'd have seen me the day before yesterday--if you had been +seeable," Bryce reminded him with a bright smile. "Mac, old man, they +tell me you've gotten to be a regular go-to-hell." + +"I'll nae deny I take a wee drappie now an' then," the woods-boss +admitted frankly, albeit there was a harried, hangdog look in his +eyes. + +Bryce sat down at his desk, lighted his pipe, and looked McTavish +over soberly. The woods-boss was a big, raw-boned Scotsman, with a +plentiful sprinkling of silver in his thick mane of red hair, which +fell far down on his shoulders. A tremendous nose rose majestically +out of a face so strong and rugged one searched in vain for aught of +manly beauty in it; his long arms hung gorilla-like, almost to his +knees, and he was slightly stooped, as if from bearing heavy burdens. +Though in the late fifties, his years had touched him lightly; but +John Barleycorn had not been so considerate. Bryce noted that +McTavish was carrying some thirty pounds of whiskey fat and that the +pupils of his fierce blue eyes were permanently distended, showing +that alcohol had begun to affect his brain. His hands trembled as he +stood before Bryce, smiling fatuously and plucking at the cuffs of +his mackinaw. The latter realized that McTavish was waiting for him +to broach the object of the visit; so with an effort he decided to +begin the disagreeable task. + +"Mac, did Moira give you my message?" + +"Aye." + +"Well, I guess we understand each other, Mac. Was there something +else you wanted to see me about?" + +McTavish sidled up to the desk. "Ye'll no be firin' auld Mac oot o' +hand?" he pleaded hopefully. "Mon, ha ye the heart to do it--after a' +these years?" + +Bryce nodded. "If you have the heart--after all these years--to draw +pay you do not earn, then I have the heart to put a better man in +your place." + +"Ye was ever a laddie to hae your bit joke." + +"It's no good arguing, Mac. You're off the pay-roll onto the pension- +roll--your shanty in the woods, your meals at the camp kitchen, your +clothing and tobacco that I send out to you. Neither more nor less!" +He reached into his desk and drew forth a check. "Here's your wages +to the fifteenth. It's the last Cardigan check you'll ever finger. +I'm terribly sorry, but I'm terribly in earnest." + +"Who will ye pit in ma place?" + +"I don't know. However, it won't be a difficult task to find a better +man than you." + +"I'll nae let him work." McTavish's voice deepened to a growl. "You +worked that racket on my father. Try it on me, and you'll answer to +me--personally. Lay the weight of your finger on your successor, Mac, +and you'll die in the county poor-farm. No threats, old man! You know +the Cardigans; they never bluff." + +McTavish's glance met the youthful master's for several seconds; then +the woods-boss trembled, and his gaze sought the office floor. Bryce +knew he had his man whipped at last, and McTavish realized it, too, +for quite suddenly he burst into tears. + +"Dinna fire me, lad," he pleaded. "I'll gae back on the job an' leave +whusky alone." + +"Nothing doing, Mac. Leave whiskey alone for a year and I'll +discharge your successor to give you back your job. For the present +however, my verdict stands. You're discharged." + +"Who kens the Cardigan woods as I ken them?" McTavish blubbered. +"Who'll swamp a road into timber sixty per cent. clear when the +mill's runnin' on foreign orders an' the owd man's calling for clear +logs? Who'll fell trees wi' the least amount o' breakage? Who'll get +the work out o' the men? Who'll--" + +"Don't plead, Mac," Bryce interrupted gently. "You're quite through, +and I can't waste any more time on you." + +"Ye dinna mean it, lad. Ye canna mean it." + +"On your way, Mac. I loathe arguments. And don't forget your check." + +"I maun see yer faither aboot this. He'll nae stand for sic treatment +o' an auld employee." + +Bryce's temper flared up. "You keep away from my father. You've +worried him enough in the past, you drunkard. If you go up to the +house to annoy my father with your pleadings, McTavish, I'll +manhandle you." He glanced at his watch. "The next train leaves for +the woods in twenty minutes. If you do not go back on it and behave +yourself, you can never go back to Cardigan woods." + +"I will nae take charity from any man," McTavish thundered. "I'll nae +bother the owd man, an' I'll nae go back to yon woods to live on yer +bounty." + +"Well, go somewhere, Mac, and be quick about it. Only--when you've +reformed, please come back. You'll be mighty welcome. Until then, +however, you're as popular with me--that is, in a business way--as a +wet dog." + +"Ye're nae the man yer faither was," the woods-boss half sobbed. "Ye +hae a heart o' stone." + +"You've been drunk for fifteen days--and I'm paying you for it, Mac," +Bryce reminded him gently. "Don't leave your check behind. You'll +need it." + +With a fine show of contempt and rage, McTavish tore the check into +strips and threw them at Bryce. "I was never a mon to take charity," +he roared furiously, and left the office. Bryce called after him a +cheerful good-bye, but he did not answer. And he did not remain in +town; neither did he return to his shanty in the woods. For a month +his whereabouts remained a mystery; then one day Moira received a +letter from him informing her that he had a job knee-bolting in a +shingle mill in Mendocino County. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +In the interim Bryce had not been idle. From his woods-crew he picked +an old, experienced hand--one Jabez Curtis--to take the place of the +vanished McTavish. Colonel Pennington, having repaired in three days +the gap in his railroad, wrote a letter to the Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company, informing Bryce that until more equipment could be +purchased and delivered to take the place of the rolling-stock +destroyed in the wreck, the latter would have to be content with +half-deliveries; whereupon Bryce irritated the Colonel profoundly by +purchasing a lot of second-hand trucks from a bankrupt sugar-pine +mill in Lassen County and delivering them to the Colonel's road via +the deck of a steam schooner. + +"That will insure delivery of sufficient logs to get out our orders +on file," Bryce informed his father. "While we are morally certain +our mill will run but one year longer, I intend that it shall run +full capacity for that year. In fact, I'm going to saw in that one +year remaining to us as much lumber as we would ordinarily saw in two +years. To be exact, I'm going to run a night-shift." + +The sightless old man raised both hands in deprecation. "The market +won't absorb it," he protested. + +"Then we'll stack it in piles to air-dry and wait until the market is +brisk enough to absorb it," Bryce replied. + +"Our finances won't stand the overhead of that night-shift, I tell +you," his father warned. + +"I know we haven't sufficient cash on hand to attempt it, Dad, but-- +I'm going to borrow some." + +"From whom? No bank in Sequoia will lend us a penny, and long before +you came home I had sounded every possible source of a private loan." + +"Did you sound the Sequoia Bank of Commerce?" + +"Certainly not. Pennington owns the controlling interest in that +bank, and I was never a man to waste my time." + +Bryce chuckled. "I don't care where the money comes from so long as I +get it, partner. Pennington's money may be tainted; in fact, I'd risk +a bet that it is; but our employees will accept it for wages +nevertheless. Desperate circumstances require desperate measures you +know, and the day before yesterday, when I was quite ignorant of the +fact that Colonel Pennington controls the Sequoia Bank of Commerce, I +drifted in on the president and casually struck him for a loan of one +hundred thousand dollars." + +"Well, I'll be shot, Bryce! What did he say?" + +"Said he'd take the matter under consideration and give me an answer +this morning. He asked me, of course, what I wanted that much money +for, and I told him I was going to run a night-shift, double my force +of men in the woods, and buy some more logging-trucks, which I can +get rather cheap. Well, this morning I called for my answer--and got. +it. The Sequoia Bank of Commerce will loan me up to a hundred +thousand, but it won't give me the cash in a lump sum. I can have +enough to buy the logging-trucks now, and on the first of each month, +when I present my pay-roll, the bank will advance me the money to +meet it." + +"Bryce, I am amazed." + +"I am not--since you tell me Colonel Pennington controls that bank. +That the bank should accommodate us is the most natural procedure +imaginable. Pennington is only playing safe--which is why the bank +declined to give me the money in a lump sum. If we run a night-shift, +Pennington knows that we can't dispose of our excess output under +present market conditions. The redwood trade is in the doldrums and +will remain in them to a greater or less degree until the principal +redwood centres secure a rail outlet to the markets of the country. +It's a safe bet our lumber is going to pile up on the mill dock; +hence, when the smash comes and the Sequoia Bank of Commerce calls +our loan and we cannot possibly meet it, the lumber on hand will +prove security for the loan, will it not? In fact, it will be worth +two or three dollars per thousand more then than it is now, because +it will be air-dried. And inasmuch as all the signs point to +Pennington's gobbling us anyhow, it strikes me as a rather good +business on his part to give us sufficient rope to insure a thorough +job of hanging." + +"But what idea have you got back of such a procedure, Bryce?" + +"Merely a forlorn hope, Dad. Something might turn up. The market may +take a sudden spurt and go up three or four dollars." + +"Yes--and it may take a sudden spurt and drop three or four dollars," +his father reminded him. + +Bryce laughed. "That would be Pennington's funeral, Dad. And whether +the market goes up or comes down, it costs us nothing to make the +experiment." + +"Quite true." his father agreed. + +"Then, if you'll come down to the office to-morrow morning, Dad, +we'll hold a meeting of our board of directors and authorize me, as +president of the company, to sign the note to the bank. We're +borrowing this without collateral, you know." + +John Cardigan sighed. Such daring financial acrobatics were not usual +with him, but as Bryce had remarked there was no reason why, in their +present predicament, they should not gamble. Hence he entered no +further objection, and the following day the agreement was entered +into with the bank. Bryce closed by wire for the extra logging- +equipment and immediately set about rounding up a crew for the woods +and for the night-shift in the mill. + +For a month Bryce was as busy as the proverbial one-armed paper- +hanger with the itch, and during all that time he did not see Shirley +Sumner or hear of her, directly or indirectly. Only at infrequent +intervals did he permit himself to think of her, for he was striving +to forget, and the memory of his brief glimpse of paradise was always +provocative of pain. + +Moira McTavish, in the meantime, had come down from the woods and +entered upon her duties in the mill office. The change from her dull, +drab life, giving her, as it did, an opportunity for companionship +with people of greater mentality and refinement than she had been +used to, quickly brought about a swift transition in the girl's +nature. With the passing of the coarse shoes and calico dresses and +the substitution of the kind of clothing all women of Moira's +instinctive refinement and natural beauty long for, the girl became +cheerful, animated, and imbued with the optimism of her years. At +first old Sinclair resented the advent of a woman in the office; then +he discovered that Moira's efforts lightened his own labours in exact +proportion to the knowledge of the business which she assimilated +from day to day. + +Moira worked in the general office, and except upon occasions when +Bryce desired to look at the books or Moira brought some document +into the private office for his perusal, there were days during which +his pleasant "Good morning, Moira," constituted the extent of their +conversation. To John Cardigan, however, Moira was a ministering +angel. Gradually she relieved Bryce of the care of the old man. She +made a cushion for his easy-chair in the office; she read the papers +to him, and the correspondence, and discussed with him the receipt +and delivery of orders, the movements of the lumber-fleet, the +comedies and tragedies of his people, which had become to him matters +of the utmost importance. She brushed his hair, dusted his hat, and +crowned him with it when he left the office at nightfall, and +whenever Bryce was absent in the woods or in San Francisco, it fell +to her lot to lead the old man to and from the house on the hill. To +his starved heart her sweet womanly attentions were tremendously +welcome, and gradually he formed the habit of speaking of her, half +tenderly, half jokingly, as "my girl." + +Bryce had been absent in San Francisco for ten days. He had planned +to stay three weeks, but finding his business consummated in less +time, he returned to Sequoia unexpectedly. Moira was standing at the +tall bookkeeping desk, her beautiful dark head bent over the ledger, +when he entered the office and set his suitcase in the corner. + +"Is that you, Mr. Bryce?" she queried. + +"The identical individual, Moira. How did you guess it was I?" + +She looked up at him then, and her wonderful dark eyes lighted with a +flame Bryce had not seen in them heretofore. "I knew you were +coming," she replied simply. + +"But how could you know? I didn't telegraph because I wanted to +surprise my father, and the instant the boat touched the dock, I went +overside and came directly here. I didn't even wait for the crew to +run out the gangplank--so I know nobody could have told you I was +due." + +"That is quite right, Mr. Bryce. Nobody told me you were coming, but +I just knew, when I heard the Noyo whistling as she made the dock, +that you were aboard, and I didn't look up when you entered the +office because I wanted to verify my--my suspicion." + +"You had a hunch, Moira. Do you get those telepathic messages very +often?" He was crossing the office to shake her hand. + +"I've never noticed particularly--that is, until I came to work here. +But I always know when you are returning after a considerable +absence." She gave him her hand. "I'm so glad you're back." + +"Why?" he demanded bluntly. + +She flushed. "I--I really don't know, Mr. Bryce." + +"Well, then," he persisted, "what do you think makes you glad?" + +"I had been thinking how nice it would be to have you back, Mr. +Bryce. When you enter the office, it's like a breeze rustling the +tops of the Redwoods. And your father misses you so; he talks to me a +great deal about you. Why, of course we miss you; anybody would." + +As he held her hand, he glanced down at it and noted how greatly it +had changed during the past few months. The skin was no longer rough +and brown, and the fingers, formerly stiff and swollen from hard +work, were growing more shapely. From her hand his glance roved over +the girl, noting the improvements in her dress, and the way the +thick, wavy black hair was piled on top of her shapely head. + +"It hadn't occurred to me before, Moira," he said with a bright +impersonal smile that robbed his remark of all suggestion of +masculine flattery, "but it seems to me I'm unusually glad to see +you, also. You've been fixing your hair different." + +The soft lambent glow leaped again into Moira's eyes. He had noticed +her--particularly. "Do you like my hair done that way?" she inquired +eagerly. + +"I don't know whether I do or not. It's unusual--for you. You look +mighty sweetly old-fashioned with it coiled in back--somewhat like an +old-fashioned daguerreotype of my mother. Is this new style the +latest in hairdressing in Sequoia?" + +"I think so, Mr. Bryce. I copied it from Colonel Pennington's niece, +Miss Sumner." + +"Oh," he replied briefly. "You've met her, have you? I didn't know +she was in Sequoia still." + +"She's been away, but she came back last week. I went to the Valley +of the Giants last Saturday afternoon--" + +Bryce interrupted. "You didn't tell my father about the tree that was +cut, did you?" he demanded sharply. + +"No." + +"Good girl! He mustn't know. Go on, Moira. I interrupted you." + +"I met Miss Sumner up there. She was lost; she'd followed the old +trail into the timber, and when the trees shut out the sun, she lost +all sense of direction. She was terribly frightened and crying when I +found her and brought her home" + +"Well, I swan, Moira! What was she doing in our timber?" + +"She told me that once, when she was a little girl, you had taken her +for a ride on your pony up to your mother's grave. And it seems she +had a great curiosity to see that spot again and started out without +saying a word to any one. Poor dear! She was in a sad state when I +found her." + +"How fortunate you found her! I've met Miss Sumner three or four +times. That was when she first came to Sequoia. She's a stunning +girl, isn't she?" + +"Perfectly, Mr. Bryce. She's the first lady I've ever met. She's +different." + +"No doubt! Her kind are not a product of homely little communities +like Sequoia. And for that matter, neither is her wolf of an uncle. +What did Miss Sumner have to say to you, Moira?" + +"She told me all about herself--and she said a lot of nice things +about you, Mr. Bryce, after I told her I worked for you. And when I +showed her the way home, she insisted that I should walk home with +her. So I did--and the butler served us with tea and toast and +marmalade. Then she showed me all her wonderful things--and gave me +some of them. Oh, Mr. Bryce, she's so sweet. She had her maid dress +my hair in half a dozen different styles until they could decide on +the right style, and--" + +"And that's it--eh, Moira?" + +She nodded brightly. + +"I can see that you and Miss Sumner evidently hit it off just right +with each other. Are you going to call on her again?" + +"Oh, yes! She begged me to. She says she's lonesome." + +"I dare say she is, Moira. Well, her choice of a pal is a tribute to +the brains I suspected her of possessing, and I'm glad you've gotten +to know each other. I've no doubt you find life a little lonely +sometimes." + +"Sometimes, Mr. Bryce." + +"How's my father?" + +"Splendid. I've taken good care of him for you." + +"Moira, you're a sweetheart of a girl. I don't know how we ever +managed to wiggle along without you." Fraternally--almost paternally +--he gave her radiant cheek three light little pats as he strode past +her to the private office. He was in a hurry to get to his desk, upon +which he could see through the open door a pile of letters and +orders, and a moment later he was deep in a perusal of them, +oblivious to the fact that ever and anon the girl turned upon him her +brooding, Madonna-like glance. + +That night Bryce and his father, as was their custom after dinner, +repaired to the library, where the bustling and motherly Mrs. Tully +served their coffee. This good soul, after the democratic fashion in +vogue in many Western communities, had never been regarded as a +servant; neither did she so regard herself. She was John Cardigan's +housekeeper, and as such she had for a quarter of a century served +father and son their meals and then seated herself at the table with +them. This arrangement had but one drawback, although this did not +present itself until after Bryce's return to Sequoia and his +assumption of the direction of the Cardigan destinies. For Mrs. Tully +had a failing common to many of her sex: she possessed for other +people's business an interest absolutely incapable of satisfaction-- +and she was, in addition, garrulous beyond belief. The library was +the one spot in the house which at the beginning of her employment +John Cardigan had indicated to Mrs. Tully as sanctuary for him and +his; hence, having served the coffee this evening, the amiable +creature withdrew, although not without a pang as she reflected upon +the probable nature of their conversation and the void which must +inevitably result by reason of the absence of her advice and friendly +cooperation and sympathy. + +No sooner had Mrs. Tully departed than Bryce rose and closed the door +behind her. John Cardigan opened the conversation with a contented +grunt: + +"Plug the keyhole, son," he continued. "I believe you have something +on your mind--and you know how Mrs. Tully resents the closing of that +door. Estimable soul that she is, I have known her to eavesdrop. She +can't help it, poor thing! She was born that way." + +Bryce clipped a cigar and held a lighted match while his father +"smoked up." Then he slipped into the easy-chair beside the old man. + +"Well, John Cardigan," he began eagerly, "fate ripped a big hole in +our dark cloud the other day and showed me some of the silver lining. +I've been making bad medicine for Colonel Pennington. Partner, the +pill I'm rolling for that scheming scoundrel will surely nauseate him +when he swallows it." + +"What's in the wind, boy?" + +"We're going to parallel Pennington's logging-road." + +"Inasmuch as that will cost close to three quarters of a million +dollars, I'm of the opinion that we're not going to do anything of +the sort." + +"Perhaps. Nevertheless, if I can demonstrate to a certain party that +it will not cost more than three quarters of a million, he'll loan me +the money." + +The old man shook his head. "I don't believe it, Bryce. Who's the +crazy man?" + +"His name is Gregory. He's Scotch." + +"Now I know he's crazy. When he hands you the money, you'll find he's +talking real money but thinking of Confederate greenbacks. For a sane +Scotchman to loan that much money without collateral security would +be equivalent to exposing his spinal cord and tickling it with a rat- +tail file." + +Bryce laughed. "Pal," he declared, "if you and I have any brains, +they must roll around in our skulls like buckshot in a tin pan. Here +we've been sitting for three months, and twiddling our thumbs, or +lying awake nights trying to scheme a way out of our difficulties, +when if we'd had the sense that God gives geese we would have solved +the problem long ago and ceased worrying. Listen, now, with all your +ears. When Bill Henderson wanted to build the logging railroad which +he afterward sold to Pennington, and which Pennington is now using as +a club to beat our brains out, did he have the money to build it?" + +"No." + +"Where did he get it?" + +"I loaned it to him. He only had about eight miles of road to build +then, so I could afford to accommodate him." + +"How did he pay you back?" + +"Why, he gave me a ten-year contract for hauling our logs at a dollar +and a half a thousand feet, and I merely credited his account with +the amount of the freight-bills he sent me until he'd squared up the +loan, principal and interest." + +"Well, if Bill Henderson financed himself on that plan, why didn't we +think of using the same time-honoured plan for financing a road to +parallel Pennington's?" + +John Cardigan sat up with a jerk. "By thunder!" he murmured. That was +as close as he ever came to uttering an oath. "By thunder!" he +repeated. "I never thought of that! But then," he added, "I'm not so +young as I used to be, and there are any number of ideas which would +have occurred to me twenty years ago but do not occur to me now." + +"All right, John Cardigan. I forgive you. Now, then, continue to +listen: to the north of that great block of timber held by you and +Pennington lie the redwood holdings of the Trinidad Redwood Timber +Company." + +"Never heard of them before." + +"Well, timber away in there in back of beyond has never been well +advertised, because it is regarded as practically inaccessible. By +extending his logging-road and adding to his rolling-stock, +Pennington could make it accessible, but he will not. He figures on +buying all that back timber rather cheap when he gets around to it, +for the reason that the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company cannot +possibly mill its timber until a railroad connects its holdings with +the outside world. They can hold it until their corporation franchise +expires, and it will not increase sufficiently in value to pay +taxes." + +"I wonder why the blamed fools ever bought in there, Bryce." + +"When they bought, it looked like a good buy. You will remember that +some ten years ago a company was incorporated with the idea of +building a railroad from Grant's Pass, Oregon, on the line of the +Southern Pacific, down the Oregon and California coast to tap the +redwood belt." + +"I remember. There was a big whoop and hurrah and then the +proposition died abornin'. The engineers found that the cost of +construction through that mountainous country was prohibitive." + +"Well, before the project died, Gregory and his associates believed +that it was going to survive. They decided to climb in on the ground +floor--had some advance, inside information that the road was to be +built; go they quietly gathered together thirty thousand acres of +good stuff and then sat down to wait for the railroad, And they are +still waiting. Gregory, by the way, is the president of the Trinidad +Redwood Timber Company. He's an Edinburgh man, and the fly American +promoters got him to put up the price of the timber and then +mortgaged their interests to him as security for the advance. He +foreclosed on their notes five years ago." + +"And there he is with his useless timber!" John Cardigan murmured +thoughtfully. "The poor Scotch sucker!" + +"He isn't poor. The purchase of that timber didn't even dent his +bank-roll. He's what they call in England a tinned-goods +manufacturer--purveyor to His Majesty the King, and all that. But he +would like to sell his timber, and being Scotch, naturally he desires +to sell it at a profit. In order to create a market for it, however, +he has to have an outlet to that market. We supply the outlet--with +his help; and what happens? Why, timber that cost him fifty and +seventy-five cents per thousand feet stumpage--and the actual timber +will overrun the cruiser's estimate every time--will be worth two +dollars and fifty cents--perhaps more." + +The elder Cardigan turned slowly in his chair and bent his sightless +gaze upon his son. "Well, well," he cried impatiently. + +"He loans us the money to build our road. We build it--on through our +timber and into his. The collateral security which we put up will be +a twenty-five-years contract to haul his logs to tidewater on +Humboldt Bay, at a base freight-rate of one dollar and fifty cents, +with an increase of twenty-five cents per thousand every five years +thereafter, and an option for a renewal of the contract upon +expiration, at the rate of freight last paid. We also grant him +perpetual booming-space for his logs in the slough which we own and +where we now store our logs until needed at the mill. In addition we +sell him, at a reasonable figure, sufficient land fronting on +tidewater to enable him to erect a sawmill, lay out his yards, and +build a dock out into the deep water. + +"Thus Gregory will have that which he hasn't got now--an outlet to +his market by water; and when the railroad to Sequoia builds in from +the south, it will connect with the road which we have built from +Sequoia up into Township Nine to the north; hence Gregory will also +have an outlet to his market by rail. He can easily get a good +manager to run his lumber business until he finds a customer for it, +and in the meantime we will be charging his account with our freight- +bills against him and gradually pay off the loan without pinching +ourselves." + +"Have you talked with Gregory?" + +"Yes. I met him while I was in San Francisco. Somebody brought him up +to a meeting of the Redwood Lumber Manufacturers' Association, and I +pounced on him like an owl on a mouse." + +John Cardigan's old hand came gropingly forth and rested +affectionately upon his boy's. "What a wonderful scheme it would have +been a year ago," he murmured sadly. "You forget, my son, that we +cannot last in business long enough to get that road built though +Gregory should agree to finance the building of it. The interest on +our bonded indebtedness is payable on the first--" + +"We can meet it, sir." + +"Aye, but we can't meet the fifty thousand dollars which, under the +terms of our deed of trust, we are required to pay in on July first +of each year as a sinking fund toward the retirement of our bonds. By +super-human efforts--by sacrificing a dozen cargoes, raising hob with +the market, and getting ourselves disliked by our neighbours--we +managed to meet half of it this year and procure an extension of six +months on the balance due. + +"That is Pennington's way. He plays with us as a cat does with a +mouse, knowing, like the cat, that when he is weary of playing, he +will devour us. And now, when we are deeper in debt than ever, when +the market is lower and more sluggish than it has been in fifteen +years, to hope to meet the interest and the next payment to the +sinking fund taxes my optimism. Bryce, it just can't be done. We'd +have our road about half completed when we'd bust up in business; +indeed, the minute Pennington suspected we were paralleling his line, +he'd choke off our wind. I tell you it can't be done." + +But Bryce contradicted him earnestly. "It can be done," he said. +"Gregory knows nothing of our financial condition. Our rating in the +reports of the commercial agencies is as good as it ever was, and a +man's never broke till somebody finds it out." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that if we can start building our road and have it half +completed before Pennington jumps on us, GREGORY WILL SIMPLY HAVE TO +COME TO OUR AID IN SELF-DEFENSE. Once he ties up with us, he's +committed to the task of seeing us through. If we fall, he must pick +us up and carry us, whether he wants to or not; and I will so arrange +the deal that he will have to. I can do it, I tell you." + +John Cardigan raised his hand. "No," he said firmly, "I will not +allow you to do this. That way--that is the Pennington method. If we +fall, my son, we pass out like gentlemen, not blackguards. We will +not take advantage of this man Gregory's faith. If he joins forces +with us, we lay our hand on the table and let him look." + +"Then he'll never join hands with us, partner. We're done." + +"We're not done, my son. We have one alternative, and I'm going to +take it. I've got to--for your sake. Moreover, your mother would have +wished it so." + +"You don't mean--" + +"Yes, I do. I'm going to sell Pennington my Valley of the Giants. +Thank God, that quarter-section does not belong to the Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company. It is my personal property, and it is not +mortgaged. Pennington can never foreclose on it--and until he gets +it, twenty-five hundred acres of virgin timber on Squaw Creek are +valueless--nay, a source of expense to him. Bryce, he has to have it; +and he'll pay the price, when he knows I mean business." + +With a sweeping gesture he waved aside the arguments that rose to his +son's lips. "Lead me to the telephone," he commanded; and Bryce, +recognizing his sire's unalterable determination, obeyed. + +"Find Pennington's number in the telephone-book," John Cardigan +commanded next. + +Bryce found it, and his father proceeded to get the Colonel on the +wire. "Pennington," he said hoarsely, "this is John Cardigan +speaking. I've decided to sell you that quarter-section that blocks +your timber on Squaw Creek." + +"Indeed," the Colonel purred. "I had an idea you were going to +present it to the city for a natural park." + +"I've changed my mind. I've decided to sell at your last offer." + +"I've changed my mind, too. I've decided not to buy--at my last +offer. Good-night." + +Slowly John Cardigan hung the receiver on the hook, turned and groped +for his son. When he found him, the old man held him for a moment in +his arms. "Lead me upstairs, son," he murmured presently. "I'm tired. +I'm going to bed." + +When Colonel Seth Pennington turned from the telephone and faced his +niece, Shirley read his triumph in his face. "Old Cardigan has +capitulated at last," he cried exultingly. "We've played a waiting +game and I've won; he just telephoned to say he'd accept my last +offer for his Valley of the Giants, as the sentimental old fool calls +that quarter-section of huge redwoods that blocks the outlet to our +Squaw Creek timber." + +"But you're not going to buy it. You told him so, Uncle Seth." + +"Of course I'm not going to buy it--at my last offer. It's worth five +thousand dollars in the open market, and once I offered him fifty +thousand for it. Now I'll give him five." + +"I wonder why he wants to sell," Shirley mused. "From what Bryce +Cardigan told me once, his father attaches a sentimental value to +that strip of woods; his wife is buried there; it's--or rather, it +used to be--a sort of shrine to the old gentleman." + +"He's selling it because he's desperate. If he wasn't teetering on +the verge of bankruptcy, he'd never let me outgame him," Pennington +replied gayly. "I'll say this for the old fellow: he's no bluffer. +However, since I know his financial condition almost to a dollar, I +do not think it would be good business to buy his Valley of the +Giants now. I'll wait until he has gone bust--and save twenty-five or +thirty thousand dollars." + +"I think you're biting off your nose to spite your face, Uncle Seth. +The Laguna Grande Lumber Company needs that outlet. In dollars and +cents, what is it worth to the Company?" + +"If I thought I couldn't get it from Cardigan a few months from now, +I'd go as high as a hundred thousand for it to-night," he answered +coolly. + +"In that event, I advise you to take it for fifty thousand. It's +terribly hard on old Mr. Cardigan to have to sell it, even at that +price." + +"You do not understand these matters, Shirley. Don't try. And don't +waste your sympathy on that old humbug. He has to dig up fifty +thousand dollars to pay on his bonded indebtedness, and he's finding +it a difficult job. He's just sparring for time, but he'll lose out." + +As if to indicate that he considered the matter closed, the Colonel +drew his chair toward the fire, picked up a magazine, and commenced +idly to slit the pages. Shirley studied the back of his head for some +time, then got out some fancy work and commenced plying her needle. +And as she plied it, a thought, nebulous at first, gradually took +form in her head until eventually she murmured loud enough for the +Colonel to hear: + +"I'll do it." + +"Do what?" Pennington queried. + +"Something nice for somebody who did something nice for me," she +answered. + +"That McTavish girl?" he suggested. + +"Poor Moira! Isn't she sweet, Uncle Seth? I'm going to give her that +black suit of mine. I've scarcely worn it--" + +"I thought so," he interrupted with an indulgent yawn. "Well, do +whatever makes for your happiness, my dear. That's all money is for." + +About two o'clock the following afternoon old Judge Moore, of the +Superior Court of Humboldt County, drifted into Bryce Cardigan's +office, sat down uninvited, and lifted his long legs to the top of an +adjacent chair. + +"Well, Bryce, my boy," he began, "a little bird tells me your daddy +is considering the sale of Cardigan's Redwoods, or the Valley of the +Giants, as your paternal ancestor prefers to refer to that little old +quarter-section out yonder on the edge of town. How about it?" + +Bryce stared at him a moment questioningly. "Yes, Judge," he replied, +"we'll sell, if we get our price." + +"Well," his visitor drawled, "I have a client who might be persuaded. +I'm here to talk turkey. What's your price?" + +"Before we talk price," Bryce parried, "I want you to answer a +question." + +"Let her fly," said Judge Moore. + +"Are you, directly or indirectly, acting for Colonel Pennington?" + +"That's none of your business, young man--at least, it would be none +of your business if I were, directly or indirectly, acting for that +unconvicted thief. To the best of my information and belief, Colonel +Pennington doesn't figure in this deal in any way, shape, or manner; +and as you know, I've been your daddy's friend for thirty years." + +Still Bryce was not convinced, notwithstanding the fact that he would +have staked his honour on the Judge's veracity. Nobody knew better +than he in what devious ways the Colonel worked, his wonders to +perform. + +"Well," he said, "your query is rather sudden, Judge, but still I can +name you a price. I will state frankly, however, that I believe it to +be over your head. We have several times refused to sell to Colonel +Pennington for a hundred thousand dollars." + +"Naturally that little dab of timber is worth more to Pennington than +to anybody else. However, my client has given me instructions to go +as high as a hundred thousand if necessary to get the property." + +"What!" + +"I said it. One hundred thousand dollars of the present standard +weight and fineness." + +Judge Moore's last statement swept away Bryce's suspicions. He +required now no further evidence that, regardless of the identity of +the Judge's client, that client could not possibly be Colonel Seth +Pennington or any one acting for him, since only the night before +Pennington had curtly refused to buy the property for fifty thousand +dollars. For a moment Bryce stared stupidly at his visitor. Then he +recovered his wits. + +"Sold!" he almost shouted, and after the fashion of the West extended +his hand to clinch the bargain. The Judge shook it solemnly. "The +Lord loveth a quick trader," he declared, and reached into the +capacious breast pocket of his Prince Albert coat. "Here's the deed +already made out in favour of myself, as trustee." He winked +knowingly. + +"Client's a bit modest, I take it," Bryce suggested. + +"Oh, very. Of course I'm only hazarding a guess, but that guess is +that my client can afford the gamble and is figuring on giving +Pennington a pain where he never knew it to ache him before. In plain +English, I believe the Colonel is in for a razooing at the hands of +somebody with a small grouch against him." + +"May the Lord strengthen that somebody's arm," Bryce breathed +fervently. "If your client can afford to hold out long enough, he'll +be able to buy Pennington's Squaw Creek timber at a bargain." + +"My understanding is that such is the programme." + +Bryce reached for the deed, then reached for his hat. "If you'll be +good enough to wait here, Judge Moore, I'll run up to the house and +get my father to sign this deed. The Valley of the Giants is his +personal property, you know. He didn't include it in his assets when +incorporating the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company." + +A quarter of an hour later he returned with the deed duly signed by +John Cardigan and witnessed by Bryce; whereupon the Judge carelessly +tossed his certified check for a hundred thousand dollars on Bryce's +desk and departed whistling "Turkey in the Straw." Bryce reached for +the telephone and called up Colonel Pennington. + +"Bryce Cardigan speaking," he began, but the Colonel cut him short. + +"My dear, impulsive young friend," he interrupted in oleaginous +tones, "how often do you have to be told that I am not quite ready to +buy that quarter-section?" + +"Oh," Bryce retorted, "I merely called up to tell you that every +dollar and every asset you have in the world, including your heart's +blood, isn't sufficient to buy the Valley of the Giants from us now." + +"Eh? What's that? Why?" + +"Because, my dear, overcautious, and thoroughly unprincipled enemy, +it was sold five minutes ago for the tidy sum of one hundred thousand +dollars, and if you don't believe me, come over to my office and I'll +let you feast your eyes on the certified check." + +He could hear a distinct gasp. After an interval of five seconds, +however, the Colonel recovered his poise. "I congratulate you," he +purred. "I suppose I'll have to wait a little longer now, won't I? +Well--patience is my middle name. Au revoir." + +The Colonel hung up. His hard face was ashen with rage, and he stared +at a calendar on the wall with his cold, phidian stare. However, he +was not without a generous stock of optimism. "Somebody has learned +of the low state of the Cardigan fortune," he mused, "and taken +advantage of it to induce the old man to sell at last. They're +figuring on selling to me at a neat profit. And I certainly did +overplay my hand last night. However, there's nothing to do now +except sit tight and wait for the new owner's next move." + +Meanwhile, in the general office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company, joy was rampant. Bryce Cardigan was doing a buck and wing +dance around the room, while Moira McTavish, with her back to her +tall desk, watched him, in her eyes a tremendous joy and a sweet, +yearning glow of adoration that Bryce was too happy and excited to +notice. + +Suddenly he paused before her. "Moira, you're a lucky girl," he +declared. "I thought this morning you were going back to a kitchen in +a logging-camp. It almost broke my heart to think of fate's swindling +you like that." He put his arm around her and gave her a brotherly +hug. "It's autumn in the woods, Moira, and all the underbrush is +golden." + +She smiled, though it was winter in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Not the least of the traits which formed Shirley Sumner's character +was pride. Proud people quite usually are fiercely independent and +meticulously honest--and Shirley's pride was monumental. Hers was the +pride of lineage, of womanhood, of an assured station in life, +combined with that other pride which is rather difficult of +definition without verbosity and is perhaps better expressed in the +terse and illuminating phrase "a dead-game sport." Unlike her +precious relative, unlike the majority of her sex, Shirley had a +wonderfully balanced sense of the eternal fitness of things; her code +of honour resembled that of a very gallant gentleman. She could love +well and hate well. + +A careful analysis of Shirley's feelings toward Bryce Cardigan +immediately following the incident in Pennington's woods, had showed +her that under more propitious circumstances she might have fallen in +love with that tempestuous young man in sheer recognition of the many +lovable and manly qualities she had discerned in him. As an offset to +the credit side of Bryce's account with her, however, there appeared +certain debits in the consideration of which Shirley always lost her +temper and was immediately quite certain she loathed the unfortunate +man. + +He had been an honoured and (for aught Shirley knew to the contrary) +welcome guest in the Penninton home one night, and the following day +had assaulted his host, committed great bodily injuries upon the +latter's employees for little or no reason save the satisfaction of +an abominable temper, made threats of further violence, declared his +unfaltering enmity to her nearest and best-loved relative, and in the +next breath had had the insolence to prate of his respect and +admiration for her. Indeed, in cogitating on this latter incongruity, +Shirley recalled that the extraordinary fellow had been forced rather +abruptly to check himself in order to avoid a fervid declaration of +love! And all of this under the protection of a double-bitted axe, +one eye on her and the other on his enemies. + +However, all of these grave crimes and misdemeanors were really +insignificant compared with his crowning offense. What had infuriated +Shirley was the fact that she had been at some pains to inform Bryce +Cardigan that she loathed him--whereat he had looked her over coolly, +grinned a little, and declined to believe her! Then, seemingly as if +fate had decreed that her futility should be impressed upon her still +further, Bryce Cardigan had been granted an opportunity to save, in a +strikingly calm, heroic, and painful manner, her and her uncle from +certain and horrible death, thus placing upon Shirley an obligation +that was as irritating to acknowledge as it was futile to attempt to +reciprocate. + +That was where the shoe pinched. Before that day was over she had +been forced to do one of two things--acknowledge in no uncertain +terms her indebtedness to him, or remain silent and be convicted of +having been, in plain language, a rotter. So she had telephoned him +and purposely left ajar the door to their former friendly relations. + +Monstrous! He had seen the open door and deliberately slammed it in +her face. Luckily for them both she had heard, all unsuspected by him +as he slowly hung the receiver on the hook, the soliloquy wherein he +gave her a pointed hint of the distress with which he abdicated-- +which knowledge was all that deterred her from despising him with the +fervour of a woman scorned. + +Resolutely Shirley set herself to the task of forgetting Bryce when, +after the passage of a few weeks, she realized that he was quite +sincere in his determination to forget her. Frequent glimpses of him +on the streets of Sequoia, the occasional mention of his name in the +Sequoia Sentinel, the very whistle of Cardigan's mill, made her task +a difficult one; and presently in desperation she packed up and +departed for an indefinite stay in the southern part of the State. At +the end of six weeks, however, she discovered that absence had had +the traditional effect upon her heart and found herself possessed of +a great curiosity to study the villain at short range and discover, +if possible, what new rascality he might be meditating. About this +time, a providential attack of that aristocratic ailment, gout, +having laid Colonel Pennington low, she told herself her duty lay in +Sequoia, that she had Shirley Sumner in hand at last and that the +danger was over. In consequence, she returned to Sequoia. + +The fascination which a lighted candle holds for a moth is too well +known to require further elucidation here. In yielding one day to a +desire to visit the Valley of the Giants, Shirley told herself that +she was going there to gather wild blackberries. She had been +thinking of a certain blackberry pie, which thought naturally induced +reflection on Bryce Cardigan and reminded Shirley of her first visit +to the Giants under the escort of a boy in knickerbockers. She had a +very vivid remembrance of that little amphitheatre with the sunbeams +falling like a halo on the plain tombstone; she wondered if the years +had changed it all and decided that there could not possibly be any +harm in indulging a very natural curiosity to visit and investigate. + +Her meeting with Moira McTavish that day, and the subsequent +friendship formed with the woods-boss's daughter, renewed all her old +apprehensions. On the assumption that Shirley and Bryce were +practically strangers to each other (an assumption which Shirley, for +obvious reasons, did not attempt to dissipate), Moira did not +hesitate to mention Bryce very frequently. To her he was the one +human being in the world utterly worth while, and it is natural for +women to discuss, frequently and at great length, the subject nearest +their hearts. In the three stock subjects of the admirable sex--man, +dress, and the ills that flesh is heir to--man readily holds the +ascendancy; and by degrees Moira--discovering that Shirley, having +all the dresses she required (several dozen more, in fact) and being +neither subnormal mentally nor fragile physically, gave the last two +topics scant attention--formed the habit of expatiating at great +length on the latter. Moira described Bryce in minute detail and +related to her eager auditor little unconscious daily acts of +kindness, thoughtfulness, or humour performed by Bryce--his devotion +to his father, his idealistic attitude toward the Cardigan employees, +his ability, his industry, the wonderful care he bestowed upon his +fingernails, his marvellous taste in neckwear, the boyishness of his +lighter and the mannishness of his serious moments. And presently, +little by little, Shirley's resentment against him faded, and in her +heart was born a great wistfulness bred of the hope that some day she +would meet Bryce Cardigan on the street and that he would pause, lift +his hat, smile at her his compelling smile and, forthwith proceed to +bully her into being friendly and forgiving--browbeat her into +admitting her change of heart and glorying in it. + +To this remarkable state of mind had Shirley Sumner attained at the +time old John Cardigan, leading his last little trump in a vain hope +that it would enable him to take the odd trick in the huge game he +had played for fifty years, decided to sell his Valley of the Giants. + +Shortly after joining her uncle in Sequoia, Shirley had learned from +the Colonel the history of old man Cardigan and his Valley of the +Giants, or as the townspeople called it, Cardigan's Redwoods. +Therefore she was familiar with its importance to the assets of the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company, since, while that quarter-section +remained the property of John Cardigan, two thousand five hundred +acres of splendid timber owned by the former were rendered +inaccessible. Her uncle had explained to her that ultimately this +would mean the tying up of some two million dollars, and inasmuch as +the Colonel never figured less than five per cent. return on +anything, he was in this instance facing a net loss of one hundred +thousand dollars for each year obstinate John Cardigan persisted in +retaining that quarter-section. + +"I'd gladly give him a hundred thousand for that miserable little dab +of timber and let him keep a couple of acres surrounding his wife's +grave, if the old fool would only listen to reason," the Colonel had +complained bitterly to her. "I've offered him that price a score of +times, and he tells me blandly the property isn't for sale. Well, he +who laughs last laughs best, and if I can't get that quarter-section +by paying more than ten times what it's worth in the open market, +I'll get it some other way, if it costs me a million." + +"How?" Shirley had queried at the time. + +"Never mind, my dear," he had answered darkly. "You wouldn't +understand the procedure if I told you. I'll have to run all around +Robin Hood's barn and put up a deal of money, one way or another, but +in the end I'll get it all back with interest--and Cardigan's +Redwoods! The old man can't last forever, and what with his fool +methods of doing business, he's about broke, anyhow. I expect to do +business with his executor or his receiver within a year." + +Shirley, as explained in a preceding chapter, had been present the +night John Cardigan, desperate and brought to bay at last, had +telephoned Pennington at the latter's home, accepting Pennington's +last offer for the Valley of the Giants. The cruel triumph in the +Colonel's handsome face as he curtly rebuffed old Cardigan had been +too apparent for the girl to mistake; recalling her conversation with +him anent the impending possibility of his doing business with John +Cardigan's receiver or executor, she realized now that a crisis had +come in the affairs of the Cardigans, and across her vision there +flashed again the vision of Bryce Cardigan's homecoming--of a tall +old man with his trembling arms clasped around his boy, with grizzled +cheek laid against his son's, as one who, seeking comfort through +bitter years, at length had found it. + +Presently another thought came to Shirley. She knew Bryce Cardigan +was far from being indifferent to her; she had given him his +opportunity to be friendly with her again, and he had chosen to +ignore her though sorely against his will. For weeks Shirley had +pondered this mysterious action, and now she thought she caught a +glimpse of the reason underlying it all. In Sequoia, Bryce Cardigan +was regarded as the heir to the throne of Humboldt's first timber- +king, but Shirley knew now that as a timber-king, Bryce Cardigan bade +fair to wear a tinsel crown. Was it this knowledge that had led him +to avoid her? + +"I wonder," she mused. "He's proud. Perhaps the realization that he +will soon be penniless and shorn of his high estate has made him +chary of acquiring new friends in his old circle. Perhaps if he were +secure in his business affairs--Ah, yes! Poor boy! He was desperate +for fifty thousand dollars!" Her heart swelled. "Oh, Bryce, Bryce," +she murmured, "I think I'm beginning to understand some of your fury +that day in the woods. It's all a great mystery, but I'm sure you +didn't intend to be so--so terrible. Oh, my dear, if we had only +continued to be the good friends we started out to be, perhaps you'd +let me help you now. For what good is money if one cannot help one's +dear friends in distress. Still, I know you wouldn't let me help you, +for men of your stamp cannot borrow from a woman, no matter how +desperate their need. And yet--you only need a paltry fifty thousand +dollars!" + +Shirley carried to bed with her that night the woes of the Cardigans, +and in the morning she telephoned Moira McTavish and invited the +latter to lunch with her at home that noon. It was in her mind to +question Moira with a view to acquiring additional information. When +Moira came, Shirley saw that she had been weeping. + +"My poor Moira!" she said, putting her arms around her visitor. "What +has happened to distress you? Has your father come back to Sequoia? +Forgive me for asking. You never mentioned him, but I have heard-- +There, there, dear! Tell me all about it." + +Moira laid her head on Shirley's shoulder and sobbed for several +minutes. Then, "It's Mr. Bryce," she wailed. "He's so unhappy. +Something's happened; they're going to sell Cardigan's Redwoods; and +they--don't want to. Old Mr. Cardigan is home--ill; and just before I +left the office, Mr. Bryce came in--and stood a moment looking--at +me--so tragically I--I asked him what had happened. Then he patted my +cheek--oh, I know I'm just one of his responsibilities--and said +'Poor Moira! Never any luck!' and went into his--private office. I +waited a little, and then I went in too; and--oh, Miss Sumner, he had +his head down on his desk, and when I touched his head, he reached up +and took my hand and held it--and laid his cheek against it a little +while--and oh, his cheek was wet. It's cruel of God--to make him-- +unhappy, He's good--too good. And--oh, I love him so, Miss Shirley, I +love him so--and he'll never, never know. I'm just one of his-- +responsibilities, you know; and I shouldn't presume. But nobody--has +ever been kind to me but Mr. Bryce--and you. And I can't help loving +people who are kind--and gentle to nobodies." + +The hysterical outburst over, Shirley led the girl to her cozy +sitting-room upstairs and prevailed upon the girl to put on one of +her own beautiful negligees. Moira's story--her confession of love, +so tragic because so hopeless--had stirred Shirley deeply. She seated +herself in front of Moira and cupped her chin in her palm. + +"Of course, dear," she said, "you couldn't possibly see anybody you +loved suffer so and not feel dreadfully about it. And when a man like +Bryce Cardigan is struck down, he's apt to present rather a tragic +and helpless figure. He wanted sympathy, Moira--woman's sympathy, and +it was dear of you to give it to him." + +"I'd gladly die for him," Moira answered simply. "Oh, Miss Shirley, +you don't know him the way we who work for him do. If you did, you'd +love him, too. You couldn't help it, Miss Shirley." + +"Perhaps he loves you, too, Moira." The words came with difficulty. + +Moira shook her head hopelessly. "No, Miss Shirley. I'm only one of +his many human problems, and he just won't go back on me, for old +sake's sake. We played together ten years ago, when he used to spend +his vacations at our house in Cardigan's woods, when my father was +woods-boss. He's Bryce Cardigan--and I--I used to work in the kitchen +of his logging-camp." + +"Never mind, Moira. He may love you, even though you do not suspect +it. You mustn't be so despairing. Providence has a way of working out +these things. Tell me about his trouble, Moira." + +"I think it's money. He's been terribly worried for a long time, and +I'm afraid things aren't going right with the business. I've felt +ever since I've been there that there's something that puts a cloud +over Mr. Bryce's smile. It hurts them terribly to have to sell the +Valley of the Giants, but they have to; Colonel Pennington is the +only one who would consider buying it; they don't want him to have +it--and still they have to sell to him." + +"I happen to know, Moira, that he isn't going to buy it." + +"Yes, he is--but not at a price that will do them any good. They have +always thought he would be eager to buy whenever they decided to +sell, and now he says he doesn't want it, and old Mr. Cardigan is ill +over it all. Mr. Bryce says his father has lost his courage at last; +and oh, dear, things are in such a mess. Mr. Bryce started to tell me +all about it--and then he stopped suddenly and wouldn't say another +word." + +Shirley smiled. She thought she understood the reason for that. +However, she did not pause to speculate on it, since the crying need +of the present was the distribution of a ray of sunshine to broken- +hearted Moira. + +"Silly," she chided, "how needlessly you are grieving! You say my +uncle has declined to buy the Valley of the Giants?" + +Moira nodded. + +"My uncle doesn't know what he's talking about, Moira. I'll see that +he does buy it. What price are the Cardigans asking for it now?" + +"Well, Colonel Pennington has offered them a hundred thousand dollars +for it time and again, but last night he withdrew that offer. Then +they named a price of fifty thousand, and he said he didn't want it +at all." + +"He needs it, and it's worth every cent of a hundred thousand to him, +Moira. Don't worry, dear. He'll buy it, because I'll make him, and +he'll buy it immediately; only you must promise me not to mention a +single word of what I'm telling you to Bryce Cardigan, or in fact, to +anybody. Do you promise?" + +Moira seized Shirley's hand and kissed it impulsively. "Very well, +then," Shirley continued. "That matter is adjusted, and now we'll all +be happy. Here comes Thelma with luncheon. Cheer up, dear, and +remember that sometime this afternoon you're going to see Mr. Bryce +smile again, and perhaps there won't be so much of a cloud over his +smile this time." + +When Moira returned to the office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber +Company, Shirley rang for her maid. "Bring me my motor-coat and hat, +Thelma," she ordered, "and telephone for the limousine." She seated +herself before the mirror at her dressing-table and dusted her +adorable nose with a powder-puff. "Mr. Smarty Cardigan," she murmured +happily, "you walked rough-shod over my pride, didn't you! Placed me +under an obligation I could never hope to meet--and then ignored me-- +didn't you? Very well, old boy. We all have our innings sooner or +later, you know, and I'm going to make a substantial payment on that +huge obligation as sure as my name is Shirley Sumner. Then, some day +when the sun is shining for you again, you'll come to me and be very, +very humble. You're entirely too independent, Mr. Cardigan, but, oh, +my dear, I do hope you will not need so much money. I'll be put to my +wit's end to get it to you without letting you know, because if your +affairs go to smash, you'll be perfectly intolerable. And yet you +deserve it. You're such an idiot for not loving Moira. She's an +angel, and I gravely fear I'm just an interfering, mischievous, +resentful little devil seeking vengeance on--" + +She paused suddenly. "No, I'll not do that, either," she +soliloquized. "I'll keep it myself--for an investment. I'll show +Uncle Seth I'm a business woman, after all. He has had his fair +chance at the Valley of the Giants, after waiting years for it, and +now he has deliberately sacrificed that chance to be mean and +vindictive. I'm afraid Uncle Seth isn't very sporty--after what Bryce +Cardigan did for us that day the log-train ran away. I'll have to +teach him not to hit an old man when he's down and begging for mercy. +_I_'LL buy the Valley but keep my identity secret from everybody; +then, when Uncle Seth finds a stranger in possession, he'll have a +fit, and perhaps, before he recovers, he'll sell me all his Squaw +Creek timber--only he'll never know I'm the buyer. And when I control +the outlet--well, I think that Squaw Creek timber will make an +excellent investment if it's held for a few years. Shirley, my dear, +I'm pleased with you. Really, I never knew until now why men could be +so devoted to business. Won't it be jolly to step in between Uncle +Seth and Bryce Cardigan, hold up my hand like a policeman, and say: +'Stop it, boys. No fighting, IF you please. And if anybody wants to +know who's boss around here, start something.'" + +And Shirley laid her head upon the dressing-table and laughed +heartily. She had suddenly bethought herself of Aesop's fable of the +lion and the mouse! + +When her uncle came home that night, Shirley observed that he was +preoccupied and disinclined to conversation. + +"I noticed in this evening's paper," she remarked presently, "that +Mr. Cardigan has sold his Valley of the Giants. So you bought it, +after all?" + +"No such luck!" he almost barked. "I'm an idiot. I should be placed +in charge of a keeper. Now, for heaven's sake, Shirley, don't discuss +that timber with me, for if you do, I'll go plain, lunatic crazy. +I've had a very trying day." + +"Poor Uncle Seth!" she purred sweetly. Her apparent sympathy soothed +his rasped soul. He continued: + +"Oh, I'll get the infernal property, and it will be worth what I have +to pay for it, only it certainly does gravel me to realize that I am +about to be held up, with no help in sight. I'll see Judge Moore to- +morrow and offer him a quick profit for his client. That's the game, +you know." + +"I do hope the new owner exhibits some common sense, Uncle dear," she +replied, and turned back to the piano. "But I greatly fear," she +added to herself, "that the new owner is going to prove a most +obstinate creature and frightfully hard to discover." + +True to his promise, the Colonel called on Judge Moore bright and +early the following morning. "Act Three of that little business drama +entitled 'The Valley of the Giants,' my dear Judge," he announced +pleasantly. "I play the lead in this act. You remember me, I hope. I +played a bit in Act Two." + +"In so far as my information goes, sir, you've been cut out of the +cast in Act Three. I don't seem to find any lines for you to speak." + +"One line, Judge, one little line. What profit does your client want +on that quarter-section?" + +"That quarter-section is not in the market, Colonel. When it is, I'll +send for you, since you're the only logical prospect should my client +decide to sell. And remembering how you butted in on politics in this +county last fall and provided a slush-fund to beat me and place a +crook on the Superior Court bench, in order to give you an edge in +the many suits you are always filing or having filed against you, I +rise to remark that you have about ten split seconds in which to +disappear from my office. If you linger longer, I'll start throwing +paper-weights." And as if to emphasize his remark, the Judge's hand +closed over one of the articles in question. + +The Colonel withdrew with what dignity he could muster. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Upon his return from the office that night, Bryce Cardigan found his +father had left his bed and was seated before the library fire. + +"Feeling a whole lot better to-day, eh, pal?" his son queried. + +John Cardigan smiled. "Yes, son," he replied plaintively. "I guess +I'll manage to live till next spring." + +"Oh, I knew there was nothing wrong with you, John Cardigan, that a +healthy check wouldn't cure. Pennington rather jolted you, though, +didn't he?" + +"He did, Bryce. It was jolt enough to be forced to sell that quarter-- +I never expected we'd have to do it; but when I realize that it was +a case of sacrificing you or my Giants, of course you won. And I +didn't feel so badly about it as I used to think I would. I suppose +that's because there is a certain morbid pleasure in a real sacrifice +for those we love. And I never doubted but that Pennington would snap +up the property the instant I offered to sell. Hence his refusal--in +the face of our desperate need for money to carry on until conditions +improve--almost floored your old man." + +"Well, we can afford to draw our breath now, and that gives us a +fighting chance, partner. And right after dinner you and I will sit +down and start brewing a pot of powerful bad medicine for the +Colonel." + +"Son, I've been sitting here simmering all day." There was a note of +the old dominant fighting John Cardigan in his voice now. "And it has +occurred to me that even if I must sit on the bench and root, I've +not reached the point where my years have begun to affect my thinking +ability." He touched his leonine head." I'm as right as a fox +upstairs, Bryce." + +"Right-o, Johnny. We'll buck the line together. After dinner you trot +out your plan of campaign and I'll trot out mine; then we'll tear +them apart, select the best pieces of each and weld them into a +perfect whole." + +Accordingly, dinner disposed of, father and son sat down together to +prepare the plan of campaign. For the space of several minutes a +silence settled between them, the while they puffed meditatively upon +their cigars. Then the old man spoke. + +"We'll have to fight him in the dark." + +"Why?" + +"Because if Pennington knows, or even suspects the identity of the +man who is going to parallel his logging railroad, he will throw all +the weight of his truly capable mind, his wealth and his ruthlessness +against you--and you will be smashed. To beat that man, you must do +more than spend money. You will have to outthink him, outwork him, +outgame him, and when eventually you have won, you'll know you've +been in the fight of your career. You have one advantage starting +out. The Colonel doesn't think you have the courage to parallel his +road in the first place; in the second place, he knows you haven't +the money; and in the third place he is morally certain you cannot +borrow it, because you haven't any collateral to secure your note. + +"We are mortgaged now to the limit, and our floating indebtedness is +very large; on the face of things and according to the Colonel's very +correct inside information, we're helpless; and unless the lumber- +market stiffens very materially this year, by the time our hauling- +contract with Pennington's road expires, we'll be back where we were +yesterday before we sold the Giants. Pennington regards that hundred +thousand as get-away money for us. So, all things considered, the +Colonel, will be slow to suspect us of having an ace in the hole; but +by jinks we have it, and we're going to play it." + +"No," said Bryce, "we're going to let somebody else play it for us. +The point you make--to wit, that we must remain absolutely in the +background--is well taken." + +"Very well," agreed the old man. "Now let us proceed to the next +point. You must engage some reliable engineer to look over the +proposed route of the road and give us an estimate of the cost of +construction." + +"For the sake of argument we will consider that done, and that the +estimate comes within the scope of the sum Gregory is willing to +advance us." + +"Your third step, then, will be to incorporate a railroad company +under the laws of the State of California." + +"I think I'll favour the fair State of New Jersey with our trade," +Bryce suggested dryly. "I notice that when Pennington bought out the +Henderson interests and reorganized that property, he incorporated +the Laguna Grande Lumber Company under the laws of the State of New +Jersey, home of the trusts. There must be some advantage connected +with such a course." + +"Have it your own way, boy. What's good enough for the Colonel is +good enough for us. Now, then, you are going to incorporate a company +to build a road twelve miles long--and a private road, at that. That +would be a fatal step. Pennington would know somebody was going to +build a logging-road, and regardless of who the builders were, he +would have to fight them in self-protection. How are you going to +cover your trail, my son?" + +Bryce pondered. "I will, to begin, have a dummy board of directors. +Also, my road cannot be private; it must be a common carrier, and +that's where the shoe pinches. Common carriers are subject to the +rules and regulations of the Railroad Commission." + +"They are wise and just rules," commented the old man, "expensive to +obey at times, but quite necessary. We can obey and still be happy. +Objection overruled." + +"Well, then, since we must be a common carrier, we might as well +carry our deception still further and incorporate for the purpose of +building a road from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, there to +connect with the Southern Pacific." + +John Cardigan smiled. "The old dream revived, eh? Well, the old jokes +always bring a hearty laugh. People will laugh at your company, +because folks up this way realize that the construction cost of such +a road is prohibitive, not to mention the cost of maintenance, which +would be tremendous and out of all proportion to the freight area +tapped." + +"Well, since we're not going to build more than twelve miles of our +road during the next year, and probably not more than ten miles +additional during the present century, we won't worry over it. It +doesn't cost a cent more to procure a franchise to build a road from +here to the moon. If we fail to build to Grant's Pass, our franchise +to build the uncompleted portion of the road merely lapses and we +hold only that portion which we have constructed. That's all we want +to hold." + +"How about rights of way?" + +"They will cost us very little, if anything. Most or the landowners +along the proposed route will give us rights of way free gratis and +for nothing, just to encourage the lunatics. Without a railroad the +land is valueless; and as a common carrier they know we can condemn +rights of way capriciously withheld--something we cannot do as a +private road. Moreover, deeds to rights of way can be drawn with a +time-limit, after which they revert to the original owners." + +"Good strategy, my son! And certainly as a common carrier we will be +welcomed by the farmers and cattlemen along our short line. We can +handle their freight without much annoyance and perhaps at a slight +profit." + +"Well, that about completes the rough outline of our plan. The next +thing to do is to start and keep right on moving, for as old Omar has +it, 'The bird of time hath but a little way to flutter,' and the +birdshot is catching up with him. We have a year in which to build +our road; if we do not hurry, the mill will have to shut down for +lack of logs, when our contract with Pennington expires." + +"You forget the manager for our new corporation--the vice-president +and general manager. The man we engage must be the fastest and most +convincing talker in California; not only must he be able to tell a +lie with a straight face, but he must be able to believe his own +lies. And he must talk in millions, look millions, and act as if a +million dollars were equivalent in value to a redwood stump. In +addition, he must be a man of real ability and a person you can trust +implicitly." + +"I have the very man you mention. His name is Buck Ogilvy and only +this very day I received a letter from him begging me for a small +loan. I have Buck on ice in a fifth-class San Francisco hotel." + +"Tell me about him, Bryce." + +"Don't have to. You've just told me about him, However, I'll read you +his letter. I claim there is more character in a letter than in a +face." + +Here Bryce read aloud: + +Golden Gate Hotel--Rooms fifty cents--and up. San Francisco, +California, August fifteenth, 1916. + +MY DEAR CARDIGAN: Hark to the voice of one crying in the wilderness; +then picture to yourself the unlovely spectacle of a strong man +crying. + +Let us assume that you have duly considered. Now wind up your wrist +and send me a rectangular piece of white, blue, green, or pink paper +bearing in the lower right-hand corner, in your clear, bold +chirography, the magic words "Bryce Cardigan"--with the little up- +and-down hook and flourish which identifies your signature given in +your serious moods and lends value to otherwise worthless paper. Five +dollars would make me chirk up; ten would start a slight smile; +twenty would put a beam in mine eye; fifty would cause me to utter +shrill cries of unadulterated joys and a hundred would inspire me to +actions like unto those of a whirling dervish. + +I am so flat busted my arches make hollow sounds as I tread the hard +pavements of a great city, seeking a job. Pausing on the brink of +despair, that destiny which shapes our ends inspired me to think of +old times and happier days and particularly of that pink-and-white +midget of a girl who tended the soda-fountain just back of the +railroad station at Princeton. You stole that damsel from me, and I +never thanked you. Then I remembered you were a timber-king with a +kind heart and that you lived somewhere in California; so I looked in +the telephone book and found the address of the San Francisco office +of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. You have a mean man in charge +there. I called on him, told him I was an old college pal of yours, +and tried to borrow a dollar. He spurned me with contumely--so much +of it, in fact, that I imagine you have a number of such friends. +While he was abusing me, I stole from his desk the stamped envelope +which bears to you these tidings of great woe; and while awaiting +your reply, be advised that I subsist on the bitter cud of +reflection, fresh air, and water, all of which, thank God, cost +nothing. + +My tale is soon told. When you knew me last, I was a prosperous young +contractor. Alas! I put all my eggs in one basket and produced an +omelet. Took a contract to build a railroad in Honduras. Honduras got +to fighting with Nicaragua; the government I had done business with +went out of business; and the Nicaraguan army recruited all my +labourers and mounted them on my mules and horses, swiped all my +grub, and told me to go home. I went. Why stay? Moreover, I had an +incentive consisting of about an inch of bayonet--fortunately not +applied in a vital spot--which accelerated rather than decreased my +speed. + +Hurry, my dear Cardigan. Tempest fidgets; remember Moriarity--which, +if you still remember your Latin, means: "Time flies. Remember to- +morrow!" I finished eating my overcoat the day before yesterday. + +Make it a hundred, and God will bless you. When I get it, I'll come +to Sequoia and kiss you. I'll pay you back sometime--of course. + +Wistfully thine--Buck Ogilvy + +P.S.--Delays are dangerous, and procrastination is the thief of +time.--B. + +John Cardigan chuckled. "I'd take Buck Ogilvy, Bryce. He'll do. Is he +honest?" + +"I don't know. He was, the last time I saw him." + +"Then wire him a hundred. Don't wait for the mail. The steamer that +carries your letter might be wrecked and your friend Ogilvy forced to +steal." + +"I have already wired him the hundred. In all probability he is now +out whirling like a dervish." + +"Good boy! Well, I think we've planned sufficient for the present, +Bryce. You'd better leave for San Francisco to-morrow and close your +deal with Gregory. Arrange with him to leave his own representative +with Ogilvy to keep tab on the job, check the bills, and pay them as +they fall due; and above all things, insist that Gregory shall place +the money in a San Francisco bank, subject to the joint check of his +representative and ours. Hire a good lawyer to draw up the agreement +between you; be sure you're right, and then go ahead--full speed. +When you return to Sequoia, I'll have a few more points to give you. +I'll mull them over in the meantime." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +When Bryce Cardigan walked down the gang-plank at the steamship-dock +in San Francisco, the first face he saw among the waiting crowd was +Buck Ogilvy's. Mr. Ogilvy wore his over-coat and a joyous smile, +proving that in so far as he was concerned all was well with the +world; he pressed forward and thrust forth a great speckled paw for +Bryce to shake. Bryce ignored it. + +"Why, don't you remember me?" Ogilvy demanded. "I'm Buck Ogilvy." + +Bryce looked him fairly in the eye and favoured him with a lightning +wink. "I have never heard of you, Mr. Ogilvy. You are mistaking me +for someone else." + +"Sorry," Ogilvy murmured. "My mistake! Thought you were Bill Kerrick, +who used to be a partner of mine. I'm expecting him on this boat, and +he's the speaking image of you." + +Bryce nodded and passed on, hailed a taxicab, and was driven to the +San Francisco office of his company. Five minutes later the door +opened and Buck Ogilvy entered. + +"I was a bit puzzled at the dock, Bryce," he explained as they shook +hands, "but decided to play safe and then follow you to your office. +What's up? Have you killed somebody, and are the detectives on your +trail? If so, 'fess up and I'll assume the responsibility for your +crime, just to show you how grateful I am for that hundred." + +"No, I wasn't being shadowed, Buck, but my principal enemy was coming +down the gangplank right behind me, and--" + +"So was my principal enemy," Ogilvy interrupted. "What does our enemy +look like?" + +"Like ready money. And if he had seen me shaking hands with you, he'd +have suspected a connection between us later on. Buck, you have a +good job--about five hundred a month." + +"Thanks, old man. I'd work for you for nothing. What are we going to +do?" + +"Build twelve miles of logging railroad and parallel the line of the +old wolf I spoke of a moment ago." + +"Good news! We'll do it. How soon do you want it done?" + +"As soon as possible. You're the vice-president and general manager." + +"I accept the nomination. What do I do first?" + +"Listen carefully to my story, analyze my plan for possible weak +spots, and then get busy, because after I have provided the funds and +given the word 'Go!' the rest is up to you. I must not be known in +the transaction at all, because that would be fatal. And I miss my +guess if, once we start building or advertising the building of the +road, you and I and everybody connected with the enterprise will not +be shadowed day and night by an army of Pinkertons." + +"I listen," said Buck Ogilvy, and he inclined a large speckled ear in +Bryce's direction, the while his large speckled hand drew a scratch- +pad toward him. + +Three hours later Ogilvy was in possession of the most minute details +of the situation in Sequoia, had tabulated, indexed, and cross- +indexed them in his ingenious brain and was ready for business--and +so announced himself. "And inasmuch as that hundred you sent me has +been pretty well shattered," he concluded, "suppose you call in your +cold-hearted manager who refused me alms on your credit, and give him +orders to honour my sight-drafts. If I'm to light in Sequoia looking +like ready money, I've got to have some high-class, tailor-made +clothes, and a shine and a shave and a shampoo and a trunk and a +private secretary. If there was a railroad running into Sequoia, I'd +insist on a private car." + +This final detail having been attended to, Mr. Ogilvy promptly +proceeded to forget business and launched forth into a recital of his +manifold adventures since leaving Princeton; and when at length all +of their classmates had been accounted for and listed as dead, +married, prosperous, or pauperized, the amiable and highly +entertaining Buck took his departure with the announcement that he +would look around a little and try to buy some good second-hand +grading equipment and a locomotive, in addition to casting an eye +over the labour situation and sending a few wires East for the +purpose of sounding the market on steel rails. Always an enthusiast +in all things, in his mind's eye Mr. Ogilvy could already see a long +trainload of logs coming down the Northern California & Oregon +Railroad, as he and Bryce had decided to christen the venture. + +"N. C. & O.," Mr. Ogilvy murmured. "Sounds brisk and snappy. I like +it. Hope that old hunks Pennington likes it, too. He'll probably feel +that N. C. & O. stands for Northern California Outrage" + +When Bryce Cardigan returned to Sequoia, his labours, insofar as the +building of the road were concerned, had been completed. His +agreement with Gregory of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company had +been signed, sealed, and delivered; the money to build the road had +been deposited in bank; and Buck Ogilvy was already spending it like +a drunken sailor. From now on, Bryce could only watch, wait, and +pray. + +On the next steamer a surveying party with complete camping-equipment +arrived in Sequoia, purchased a wagon and two horses, piled their +dunnage into the wagon, and disappeared up-country. Hard on their +heels came Mr. Buck Ogilvy, and occupied the bridal suite in the +Hotel Sequoia, arrangements for which had previously been made by +wire. In the sitting room of the suite Mr. Ogilvy installed a new +desk, a filing-cabinet, and a brisk young male secretary. + +He had been in town less than an hour when the editor of the Sequoia +Sentinel sent up his card. The announcement of the incorporation of +the Northern California Outrage (for so had Mr. Ogilvy, in huge +enjoyment of the misery he was about to create, dubbed the road) had +previously been flashed to the Sentinel by the United Press +Association, as a local feature story, and already speculation was +rife in Sequoia as to the identity of the harebrained individuals who +dared to back an enterprise as nebulous as the millennium. Mr. Ogilvy +was expecting the visit--in fact, impatiently awaiting it; and since +the easiest thing he did was to speak for publication, naturally the +editor of the Sentinel got a story which, to that individual's simple +soul, seemed to warrant a seven-column head--which it received. +Having boned up on the literature of the Redwood Manufacturers' +Association, what Buck Ogilvy didn't know about redwood timber, +redwood lumber, the remaining redwood acreage and market conditions, +past and present, might have been secreted in the editorial eye +without seriously hampering the editorial sight. He stated that the +capital behind the project was foreign, that he believed in the +success of the project and that his entire fortune was dependent upon +the completion of it. In glowing terms he spoke of the billions of +tons of timber-products to be hauled out of this wonderfully fertile +and little-known country, and confidently predicted for the county a +future commercial supremacy that would be simply staggering to +contemplate. + +When Colonel Seth Pennington read this outburst he smiled. "That's a +bright scheme on the part of that Trinidad Redwood Timber Company +gang to start a railroad excitement and unload their white elephant," +he declared. "A scheme like that stuck them with their timber, and I +suppose they figure there's a sucker born every minute and that the +same old gag might work again. Chances are they have a prospect in +tow already." + +When Bryce Cardigan read it, he laughed. The interview was so like +Buck Ogilvy! In the morning the latter's automobile was brought up +from the steamship-dock, and accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Ogilvy +disappeared into the north following the bright new stakes of his +surveying-gang, and for three weeks was seen no more. As for Bryce +Cardigan, that young man buckled down to business, and whenever +questioned about the new railroad was careful to hoot at the idea. + +On a day when Bryce's mind happened to be occupied with thoughts of +Shirley Sumner, he bumped into her on the main street of Sequoia, and +to her great relief but profound surprise, he paused in his tracks, +lifted his hat, smiled, and opened his mouth to say something-- +thought better of it, changed his mind, and continued on about his +business. As Shirley passed him, she looked him squarely in the face, +and in her glance there was neither coldness nor malice. + +Bryce felt himself afire from heels to hair one instant, and cold and +clammy the next, for Shirley spoke to him. + +"Good morning, Mr. Cardigan." + +He paused, turned, and approached her. "Good morning, Shirley," he +replied. "How have you been?" + +"I might have been dead, for all the interest you took in me," she +replied sharply. "As matters stand, I'm exceedingly well--thank you. +By the way, are you still belligerent?" + +He nodded. "I have to be." + +"Still peeved at my uncle?" + +Again he nodded. + +"I think you're a great big grouch, Bryce Cardigan," she flared at +him suddenly. "You make me unutterably weary." + +"I'm. sorry," he answered, "but just at present I am forced to +subject you to the strain. Say a year from now, when things are +different with me, I'll strive not to offend." + +"I'll not be here a year from now," she warned him. He bowed. "Then +I'll go wherever you are--and bring you back." And with a mocking +little grin, he lifted his hat and passed on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Though Buck Ogilvy was gone from Sequoia for a period of three weeks, +he was by no means forgotten. His secretary proved to be an +industrious press-agent who by mail, telegraph, and long-distance +telephone managed daily to keep the editor of the Sequoia Sentinel +fully apprised of all developments in the matter of the Northern +California Oregon Railroad Company--including some that had not as +yet developed! The result was copious and persistent publicity for +the new railroad company, and the arousing in the public mind of a +genuine interest in this railroad which was to do so much for the +town of Sequoia. + +Colonel Seth Pennington was among those who, skeptical at first and +inclined to ridicule the project into an early grave, eventually +found himself swayed by the publicity and gradually coerced into +serious consideration of the results attendant upon the building of +the road. The Colonel was naturally as suspicious as a rattlesnake in +August; hence he had no sooner emerged from the ranks of the frank +scoffers than his alert mind framed the question: + +"How is this new road--improbable as I know it to be--going to affect +the interests of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, if the unexpected +should happen and those bunco-steerers should actually build a road +from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, and thus construct a feeder to +a transcontinental line?" + +Five minutes of serious reflection sufficed to bring the Colonel to +the verge of panic, notwithstanding the fact that he was ashamed of +himself for yielding to fright despite his firm belief that there was +no reason why he should be frightened. Similar considerations occur +to a small boy who is walking home in the dark past a cemetery. + +The vital aspects of his predicament dawned on the Colonel one night +at dinner, midway between the soup and the fish. So forcibly did they +occur to him, in fact, that for the nonce he forgot that his niece +was seated opposite him. + +"Confound them," the Colonel murmured distinctly, "I must look into +this immediately." + +"Look into what, Uncle dear?" Shirley asked innocently. + +"This new railroad that man Ogilvy talks of building--which means, +Shirley, that with Sequoia as his starting point, he is going to +build a hundred and fifty miles north to connect with the main line +of the Southern Pacific in Oregon." + +"But wouldn't that be the finest thing that could possibly happen to +Humboldt County?" she demanded of him. + +"Undoubtedly it would--to Humboldt County; but to the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company, in which you have something more than a sentimental +interest, my dear, it would be a blow. A large part of the estate +left by your father is invested in Laguna Grande stock, and as you +know, all of my efforts are devoted to appreciating that stock and to +fighting against anything that has a tendency to depreciate it." + +"Which reminds me, Uncle Seth, that you never discuss with me any of +the matters pertaining to my business interests," she suggested. + +He beamed upon her with his patronizing and indulgent smile. "There +is no reason why you should puzzle that pretty head of yours with +business affairs while I am alive and on the job," he answered. +"However, since you have expressed a desire to have this railroad +situation explained to you, I will do so. I am not interested in +seeing a feeder built from Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, and +connecting with the Southern Pacific, but I am tremendously +interested in seeing a feeder built south from Sequoia toward San +Francisco, to connect with the Northwestern Pacific." + +"Why?" + +"For cold, calculating business reasons, my dear." He hesitated a +moment and then resumed: "A few months ago I would not have told you +the things I am about to tell you, Shirley, for the reason that a few +months ago it seemed to me you were destined to become rather +friendly with young Cardigan. When that fellow desires to be +agreeable, he can be rather a likable boy--lovable, even. You are +both young; with young people who have many things in common and are +thrown together in a community like Sequoia, a lively friendship may +develop into an ardent love; and it has been my experience that +ardent love not infrequently leads to the altar." + +Shirley blushed, and her uncle chuckled good-naturedly. +"Fortunately," he continued, "Bryce Cardigan had the misfortune to +show himself to you in his true colours, and you had the good sense +to dismiss him. Consequently I see no reason why I should not explain +to you now what I considered it the part of wisdom to withhold from +you at that time--provided, of course, that all this does not bore +you to extinction." + +"Do go on, Uncle Seth. I'm tremendously interested," averred Shirley. + +"Shortly after I launched the Laguna Grande Lumber Company--in which, +as your guardian and executor of your father's estate, I deemed it +wise to invest part of your inheritance--I found myself forced to +seek further for sound investments for your surplus funds. Now, good +timber, bought cheap, inevitably will be sold dear. At least, such +has been my observation during a quarter of a century--and old John +Cardigan had some twenty thousand acres of the finest redwood timber +in the State--timber which had cost him an average price of less than +fifty cents per thousand. + +"Well, in this instance the old man had overreached himself, and +finding it necessary to increase his working capital, he incorporated +his holdings into the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company and floated a +bond-issue of a million dollars. They were twenty-year six per cent. +certificates; the security was ample, and I invested for you three +hundred thousand dollars in Cardigan bonds. I bought them at eighty, +and they were worth two hundred; at least, they would have been worth +two hundred under my management--" + +"How did you manage to buy them so cheap?" she interrupted. + +"Old Cardigan had had a long run of bad luck--due to bad management +and bad judgment, my dear--and when a corporation is bonded, the +bondholders have access to its financial statements. From time to +time I discovered bondholders who needed money and hence unloaded at +a sacrifice; but by far the majority of the bonds I purchased for +your account were owned by local people who had lost confidence in +John Cardigan and the future of the redwood lumber industry +hereabouts. You understand, do you not?" + +"I do not understand what all this has to do with a railroad." + +"Very well--I shall proceed to explain." He held up his index finger. +"Item one: For years old John Cardigan has rendered valueless, +because inaccessible, twenty-five hundred acres of Laguna Grande +timber on Squaw Creek. His absurd Valley of the Giants blocks the +outlet, and of course he persisted in refusing me a right of way +through that little dab of timber in order to discourage me and force +me to sell him that Squaw Creek timber at his price." + +"Yes," Shirley agreed, "I dare say that was his object. Was it +reprehensible of him, Uncle Seth?" + +"Not a bit, my dear. He was simply playing the cold game of business. +I would have done the same thing to Cardigan had the situation been +reversed. We played a game together--and I admit that he won, fairly +and squarely." + +"Then why is it that you feel such resentment against him?" + +"Oh, I don't resent the old fool, Shirley. He merely annoys me. I +suppose I feel a certain natural chagrin at having been beaten, and +in consequence cherish an equally natural desire to pay the old +schemer back in his own coin. Under the rules as we play the game, +such action on my part is perfectly permissible, is it not?" + +"Yes," she agreed frankly, "I think it is, Uncle Seth. Certainly, if +he blocked you and rendered your timber valueless, there is no reason +why, if you have the opportunity, you should not block him--and +render his timber valueless." + +The Colonel banged the table with his fist so heartily that the +silver fairly leaped. "Spoken like a man!" he declared. "I HAVE the +opportunity and am proceeding to impress the Cardigans with the truth +of the old saying that every dog must have his day. When Cardigan's +contract with our road for the hauling of his logs expires by +limitation next year, I am not going to renew it--at least not until +I have forced him to make me the concessions I desire, and certainly +not at the present ruinous freight-rate." + +"Then," said Shirley eagerly, "if you got a right of way through his +Valley of the Giants, you would renew the contract he has with you +for the hauling of his logs, would you not?" + +"I would have, before young Cardigan raised such Hades that day in +the logging-camp, before old Cardigan sold his Valley of the Giants +to another burglar--and before I had gathered indubitable evidence +that neither of the Cardigans knows enough about managing a sawmill +and selling lumber to guarantee a reasonable profit on the capital +they have invested and still pay the interest on their bonded and +floating indebtedness. Shirley, I bought those Cardigan bonds for you +because I thought old Cardigan knew his business and would make the +bonds valuable--make them worth par. Instead, the Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company is tottering on the verge of bankruptcy; the bonds I +purchased for you are now worth less than I paid for them, and by +next year the Cardigans will default on the interest. + +"So I'm going to sit tight and decline to have any more business +dealings with the Cardigans. When their hauling contract expires, I +shall not renew it under any circumstances; that will prevent them +from getting logs, and so they will automatically go out of the +lumber business and into the hands of a receiver; and since you are +the largest individual stockholder, I, representing you and a number +of minor bondholders, will dominate the executive committee of the +bondholders when they meet to consider what shall be done when the +Cardigans default on their interest and the payment due the sinking +fund. I shall then have myself appointed receiver for the Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company, investigate its affairs thoroughly, and see +for myself whether or no there is a possibility of working it out of +the jam it is in and saving you a loss on your bonds. + +"I MUST pursue this course, my dear, in justice to you and the other +bondholders. If, on the other hand, I find the situation hopeless or +conclude that a period of several years must ensue before the +Cardigans work out of debt, I shall recommend to the bank which holds +the deed of trust and acts as trustee, that the property be sold at +public auction to the highest bidder to reimburse the bondholders. Of +course," he hastened to add, "if the property sells for more than the +corporation owes such excess will then in due course be turned over +to the Cardigans." + +"Is it likely to sell at a price in excess of the indebtedness?" +Shirley queried anxiously. + +"It is possible, but scarcely probable," he answered dryly. "I have +in mind, under those circumstances, bidding the property in for the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company and merging it with our holdings, paying +part of the purchase-price of the Cardigan property in Cardigan +bonds, and the remainder in cash." + +"But what will the Cardigans do then, Uncle Seth?" + +"Well, long before the necessity for such a contingency arises, the +old man will have been gathered to the bosom of Abraham; and after +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company has ceased to exist, young +Cardigan can go to work for a living." + +"Would you give him employment, Uncle Seth?" + +"I would not. Do you think I'm crazy, Shirley? Remember, my dear, +there is no sentiment in business. If there was, we wouldn't have any +business." + +"I think I understand, Uncle Seth--with the exception of what effect +the building of the N. C. O. has upon your plans." + +"Item two," he challenged, and ticked it off on his middle finger. +"The Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company owns two fine bodies of redwood +timber widely separated--one to the south of Sequoia in the San +Hedrin watershed and at present practically valueless because +inaccessible, and the other to the north of Sequoia, immediately +adjoining our holdings in Township Nine and valuable because of its +accessibility." He paused a moment and looked at her smilingly, "The +logging railroad of our corporation, the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company, makes it accessible. Now, while the building of the N.C.O. +would be a grand thing for the county in general, we can get along +without it because it doesn't help us out particularly. We already +have a railroad running from our timber to tidewater, and we can +reach the markets of the world with our ships." + +"I think I understand, Uncle Seth. When Cardigan's hauling contract +with our road expires, his timber in Township Nine will depreciate in +value because it will no longer be accessible, while our timber, +being still accessible, retains its value." + +"Exactly. And to be perfectly frank with you, Shirley, I do not want +Cardigan's timber in Township Nine given back its value through +accessibility provided by the N.C.O. If that road is not built, +Cardigan's timber in Township Nine will be valuable to us, but not to +another living soul. Moreover, the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company +has a raft of fine timber still farther north and adjoining the +holdings of our company and Cardigan's, and if this infernal N.C.O. +isn't built, we'll be enabled to buy that Trinidad timber pretty +cheap one of these bright days, too." + +"All of which appears to me to constitute sound business logic, Uncle +Seth." + +He nodded. "Item three," he continued, and ticked it off on his third +finger: "I want to see the feeder for a transcontinental line built +into Sequoia from the south, for the reason that it will tap the +Cardigan holdings in the San Hedrin watershed and give a tremendous +value to timber which at the present time is rather a negative asset; +consequently I would prefer to have that value created after +Cardigan's San Hedrin timber has been merged with the assets of the +Laguna Grande Lumber Company." + +"And so--" + +"I must investigate this N.C.O. outfit and block it if possible--and +it should be possible." + +"How, for instance?" + +"I haven't considered the means, my dear. Those come later. For the +present I am convinced that the N.C.O. is a corporate joke, sprung on +the dear public by the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company to get the +said dear public excited, create a real-estate boom, and boost +timber-values. Before the boom collapses--a condition which will +follow the collapse of the N.C.O.--the Trinidad people hope to sell +their holdings and get from under." + +"Really," said Shirley, demurely, "the more I see of business, the +more fascinating I find it." + +"Shirley, it's the grandest game in the world." + +"And yet," she added musingly, "old Mr. Cardigan is so blind and +helpless." + +"They'll be saying that about me some day if I live to be as old as +John Cardigan." + +"Nevertheless, I feel sorry for him, Uncle Seth." + +"Well, if you'll continue to waste your sympathy on him rather than +on his son, I'll not object," he retorted laughingly. + +"Oh, Bryce Cardigan is able to take care of himself." + +"Yes, and mean enough." + +"He saved our lives, Uncle Seth." + +"He had to--in order to save his own. Don't forget that, my dear." +Carefully he dissected a sand-dab and removed the backbone. "I'd give +a ripe peach to learn the identity of the scheming buttinsky who +bought old Cardigan's Valley of the Giants," he said presently. "I'll +be hanged if that doesn't complicate matters a little." + +"You should have bought it when the opportunity offered," she +reminded him. "You could have had it then for fifty thousand dollars +less than you would have paid for it a year ago--and I'm sure that +should have been sufficient indication to you that the game you and +the Cardigans had been playing so long had come to an end. He was +beaten and acknowledged it, and I think you might have been a little +more generous to your fallen enemy, Uncle Seth." + +"I dare say," he admitted lightly. "However, I wasn't, and now I'm +going to be punished for it, my dear: so don't roast me any more. By +the way, that speckled hot-air fellow Ogilvy, who is promoting the +Northern California Oregon Railroad, is back in town again. Somehow, +I haven't much confidence in that fellow. I think I'll wire the San +Francisco office to look him up in Dun's and Bradstreet's. Folks up +this way are taking too much for granted on that fellow's mere say-- +so, but I for one intend to delve for facts--particularly with regard +to the N.C.O. bank-roll and Ogilvy's associates. I'd sleep a whole +lot more soundly to-night if I knew the answer to two very important +questions." + +"What are they, Uncle Seth?" + +"Well, I'd like to know whether the N.C.O. is genuine or a screen to +hide the operations of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company." + +"It might," said Shirley, with one of those sudden flashes of +intuition peculiar to women, "be a screen to hide the operations of +Bryce Cardigan. Now that he knows you aren't going to renew his +hauling contract, he may have decided to build his own logging +railroad." + +After a pause the Colonel made answer: "No, I have no fear of that. +It would cost five hundred thousand dollars to build that twelve-mile +line and bridge Mad River, and the Cardigans haven't got that amount +of money. What's more, they can't get it." + +"But suppose," she persisted, "that the real builder of the road +should prove to be Bryce Cardigan, after all. What would you do?" + +Colonel Pennington's eyes twinkled. "I greatly fear, my dear, I +should make a noise like something doing." + +"Suppose you lost the battle." + +"In that event the Laguna Grande Lumber Company wouldn't be any worse +off than it is at present. The principal loser, as I view the +situation, would be Miss Shirley Sumner, who has the misfortune to be +loaded up with Cardigan bonds. And as for Bryce Cardigan--well, that +young man would certainly know he'd been through a fight." + +"I wonder if he'll fight to the last, Uncle Seth." + +"Why, I believe he will," Pennington replied soberly. + +"I'd love to see you beat him." + +"Shirley! Why, my dear, you're growing ferocious." Her uncle's tones +were laden with banter, but his countenance could not conceal the +pleasure her last remark had given him. + +"Why not? I have something at stake, have I not?" + +"Then you really want me to smash him?" The Colonel's voice +proclaimed his incredulity. + +"You got me into this fight by buying Cardigan bonds for me," she +replied meaningly, "and I look to you to save the investment or as +much of it as possible; for certainly, if it should develop that the +Cardigans are the real promoters of the N.C.O., to permit them to go +another half-million dollars into debt in a forlorn hope of saving a +company already top-heavy with indebtedness wouldn't savor of common +business sense. Would it?" + +The Colonel rose hastily, came around the table, and kissed her +paternally. "My dear," he murmured, "you're such a comfort to me. +Upon my word, you are." + +"I'm so glad you have explained the situation to me, Uncle Seth." + +"I would have explained it long ago had I not cherished a sneaking +suspicion that--er--well, that despite everything, young Cardigan +might--er--influence you against your better judgment and--er--mine." + +"You silly man!" + +He shrugged. "One must figure every angle of a possible situation, my +dear, and I should hesitate to start something with the Cardigans, +and have you, because of foolish sentiment, call off my dogs." + +Shirley thrust out her adorable chin aggressively. "Sick 'em. Tige!" +she answered. "Shake 'em up, boy!" + +"You bet I'll shake 'em up," the Colonel declared joyously. He paused +with a morsel of food on his fork and waved the fork at her +aggressively. "You stimulate me into activity, Shirley. My mind has +been singularly dull of late; I have worried unnecessarily, but now +that I know you are with me, I am inspired. I'll tell you how we'll +fix this new railroad, if it exhibits signs of being dangerous." +Again he smote the table. "We'll sew 'em up tighter than a new +buttonhole." + +"Do tell me how," she pleaded eagerly. + +"I'll block them on their franchise to run over the city streets of +Sequoia." + +"How?" + +"By making the mayor and the city council see things my way," he +answered dryly. "Furthermore, in order to enter Sequoia, the N. C. O. +will have to cross the tracks of the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's +line on Water Street--make a jump-crossing--and I'll enjoin them and +hold them up in the courts till the cows come home." + +"Uncle Seth, you're a wizard." + +"Well, at least I'm no slouch at looking after my own interests--and +yours, Shirley. In the midst of peace we should be prepared for war. +You've met Mayor Poundstone and his lady, haven't you?" + +"I had tea at her house last week." + +"Good news. Suppose you invite her and Poundstone here for dinner +some night this week. Just a quiet little family dinner, Shirley, and +after dinner you can take Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, on some pretext +or other, while I sound Poundstone out on his attitude toward the N. +C. O. They haven't asked for a franchise yet; at least, the Sentinel +hasn't printed a word about it;--but when they do, of course the +franchise will be advertised for sale to the highest bidder. +Naturally, I don't want to bid against them; they might run the price +up on me and leave me with a franchise on my hands--something I do +not want, because I have no use for the blamed thing myself. I feel +certain, however, I can find some less expensive means of keeping +them out of it--say by convincing Poundstone and a majority of the +city council that the N. C. O. is not such a public asset as its +promoters claim for it. Hence I think it wise to sound the situation +out in advance, don't you, my dear?" + +She nodded. "I shall attend to the matter, Uncle Seth." + +Five minutes after dinner was over, Shirley joined her uncle in the +library and announced that His Honor, the Mayor, and Mrs. Poundstone, +would be delighted to dine with them on the following Thursday night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +To return to Bryce Cardigan: Having completed his preliminary plans +to build the N. C. O., Bryce had returned to Sequoia, prepared to sit +quietly on the side-lines and watch his peppery henchman Buck Ogilvy +go into action. The more Bryce considered that young man's fitness +for the position he occupied, the more satisfied did he become with +his decision. While he had not been in touch with Ogilvy for several +years, he had known him intimately at Princeton. + +In his last year at college Ogilvy's father, a well-known railroad +magnate, had come a disastrous cropper in the stock market, thus +throwing Buck upon his own resources and cutting short his college +career--which was probably the very best thing that could happen to +his father's son. For a brief period--perhaps five minutes--Buck had +staggered under the blow; then his tremendous optimism had asserted +itself, and while he packed his trunk, he had planned for the future. +As to how that future had developed, the reader will have gleaned +some slight idea from the information imparted in his letter to Bryce +Cardigan, already quoted. In a word, Mr. Ogilvy had had his ups and +downs. + +Ogilvy's return to Sequoia following his three-weeks tour in search +of rights of way for the N. C. O. was heralded by a visit from him to +Bryce Cardigan at the latter's office. As he breasted the counter in +the general office, Moira McTavish left her desk and came over to see +what the visitor desired. + +"I should like to see Mr. Bryce Cardigan," Buck began in crisp +businesslike accents. He was fumbling in his card-case and did not +look up until about to hand his card to Moira--when his mouth flew +half open, the while he stared at her with consummate frankness. The +girl's glance met his momentarily, then was lowered modestly; she +took the card and carried it to Bryce. + +"Hum-m-m!" Bryce grunted. "That noisy fellow Ogilvy, eh?" + +"His clothes are simply wonderful--and so is his voice. He's very +refined. But he's carroty red and has freckled hands, Mr. Bryce." + +Bryce rose and sauntered into the general office. + +"Mr. Bryce Cardigan?" Buck queried politely, with an interrogative +lift of his blond eyebrows. + +"At your service, Mr. Ogilvy. Please come in." + +"Thank you so much, sir." He followed Bryce to the latter's private +office, closed the door carefully behind him, and stood with his +broad back against it. + +"Buck, are you losing your mind?" Bryce demanded. + +"Losing it? I should say not. I've just lost it." + +"I believe you. If you were quite sane, you wouldn't run the risk of +being seen entering my office." + +"Tut-tut, old dear! None of that! Am I not the main-spring of the +Northern California Oregon Railroad and privileged to run the +destinies of that soulless corporation as I see fit?" He sat down, +crossed his long legs, and jerked a speckled thumb toward the outer +office. "I was sane when I came in here, but the eyes of the girl +outside--oh, yow, them eyes! I must be introduced to her. And you're +scolding me for coming around here in broad daylight. Why, you +duffer, if I come at night, d'ye suppose I'd have met her? Be +sensible." + +"You like Moira's eyes, eh?" + +"I've never seen anything like them. Zounds, I'm afire. I have little +prickly sensations, like ants running over me. How can you be +insensate enough to descend to labour with an houri like that around? +Oh, man! To think of an angel like that WORKING--to think of a brute +like you making her work!" + +"Love at first sight, eh, Buck?" + +"I don't know what it is, but it's nice. Who is she?" + +"She's Moira McTavish, and you're not to make love to her. +Understand? I can't have you snooping around this office after to- +day." + +Mr. Ogilvy's eyes popped with interest. "Oh," he breathed. "You have +an eye to the main chance yourself have you? Have you proposed to the +lady as yet?" + +"No, you idiot." + +"Then I'll match you for her--or rather for the chance to propose +first." Buck produced a dollar and spun it in the air. + +"Nothing doing, Buck. Spare yourself these agonizing suspicions. The +fact of the matter is that you give me a wonderful inspiration. I've +always been afraid Moira would fall in love with some ordinary fellow +around Sequoia--propinquity, you know--" + +"You bet. Propinquity's the stuff. I'll stick around." + +"--and I we been on the lookout for a fine man to marry her off to. +She's too wonderful for you, Buck, but in time you might learn to +live up to her." + +"Duck! I'm liable to kiss you." + +"Don't be too precipitate. Her father used to be our woods-boss. I +fired him for boozing." + +"I wouldn't care two hoots if her dad was old Nick himself. I'm going +to marry her--if she'll have me. Ah, the glorious creature!" He waved +his long arms despairingly. "O Lord, send me a cure for freckles. +Bryce, you'll speak a kind word for me, won't you--sort of boom my +stock, eh? Be a good fellow." + +"Certainly. Now come down to earth and render a report on your +stewardship." + +"I'll try. To begin, I've secured rights of way, at a total cost of +twelve thousand, one hundred and three dollars and nine cents, from +the city limits of Sequoia to the southern boundary of your timber in +Township Nine. I've got my line surveyed, and so far as the building +of the road is concerned, I know exactly what I'm going to do, and +how and when I'm going to do it, once I get my material on the +ground." + +"What steps have you taken toward securing your material?" + +"Well, I can close a favourable contract for steel rails with the +Colorado Steel Products Company. Their schedule of deliveries is O. +K. as far as San Francisco, but it's up to you to provide water +transportation from there to Sequoia." + +"We can handle the rails on our steam schooners. Next?" + +"I have an option of a rattling good second-hand locomotive down at +the Santa Fe shops, and the Hawkins & Barnes Construction Company +have offered me a steam shovel, half a dozen flat-cars, and a lot of +fresnos and scrapers at ruinous prices. This equipment is pretty well +worn, and they want to get rid of it before buying new stuff for +their contract to build the Arizona and Sonora Central. However, it +is first-rate equipment for us, because it will last until we're +through with it; then we can scrap it for junk. We can buy or rent +teams from local citizens and get half of our labour locally. San +Francisco employment bureaus will readily supply the remainder, and I +have half a dozen fine boys on tap to boss the steam shovel, pile- +driver, bridge-building gang, track-layer and construction gang. And +as soon as you tell me how I'm to get my material ashore and out on +the job, I'll order it and get busy." + +"That's exactly where the shoe begins to pinch, Pennington's main- +line tracks enter the city along Water Street, with one spur into his +log-dump and another out on his mill-dock. From the main-line tracks +we also have built a spur through our drying-yard out to our log-dump +and a switch-line out on to our milldock. We can unload our +locomotive, steam shovel, and flat-cars on our own wharf, but unless +Pennington gives us permission to use his main-line tracks out to a +point beyond the city limits--where a Y will lead off to the point +where our construction begins--we're up a stump." + +"Suppose he refuses, Bryce. What then?" + +"Why, we'll simply have to enter the city down Front Street, +paralleling Pennington's tracks on Water Street, turning down B +Street, make a jump-crossing of Pennington's line on Water Street, +and connecting with the spur into our yard." + +"Can't have an elbow turn at Front and B streets?" + +"Don't have to. We own a square block on that corner, and we'll build +across it, making a gradual turn." + +"See here, my son," Buck said solemnly, "is this your first adventure +in railroad building?" + +Bryce nodded. + +"I thought so; otherwise you wouldn't talk so confidently of running +your line over city streets and making jump-crossings on your +competitor's road. If your competitor regards you as a menace to his +pocketbook, he can give you a nice little run for your money and +delay you indefinitely." + +"I realize that, Buck. That's why I'm not appearing in this railroad +deal at all. If Pennington suspected I was back of it, he'd fight me +before the city council and move heaven and earth to keep me out of a +franchise to use the city streets and cross his line. Of course, +since his main line runs on city property, under a franchise granted +by the city, the city has a perfect right to grant me the privilege +of making a jump-crossing of his line---" + +"Will they do it? That's the problem. If they will not, you're +licked, my son, and I'm out of a job." + +"We can sue and condemn a right of way." + +"Yes, but if the city council puts up a plea that it is against the +best interests of the city to grant the franchise, you'll find that +except in most extraordinary cases, the courts regard it as against +public policy to give judgment against a municipality, the State or +the Government of the United States. At any rate, they'll hang you up +in the courts till you die of old age; and as I understand the +matter, you have to have this line running in less than a year, or go +out of business." + +Bryce hung his head thoughtfully. "I've been too cocksure," he +muttered presently. "I shouldn't have spent that twelve thousand for +rights of way until I had settled the matter of the franchise." + +"Oh, I didn't buy any rights of way--yet," Ogilvy hastened to assure +him. "I've only signed the land-owners up on an agreement to give or +sell me a right of way at the stipulated figures any time within one +year from date. The cost of the surveying gang and my salary and +expenses are all that you are out to date." + +"Buck, you're a wonder." + +"Not at all. I've merely been through all this before and have +profited by my experience. Now, then, to get back to our muttons. +Will the city council grant you a franchise to enter the city and +jump Pennington's tracks?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, Buck. You'll have to ask them--sound them +out. The city council meets Saturday morning." + +"They'll meet this evening--in the private diningroom of the Hotel +Sequoia, if I can arrange it," Buck Ogilvy declared emphatically. +"I'm going to have them all up for dinner and talk the matter over. +I'm not exactly aged, Bryce, but I've handled about fifteen city +councils and county boards of supervisors, not to mention Mexican and +Central American governors and presidents, in my day, and I know the +breed from cover to cover. Following a preliminary conference, I'll +let you know whether you're going to get that franchise without +difficulty or whether somebody's itchy palm will have to be crossed +with silver first. Honest men never temporize. You know where they +stand, but a grafter temporizes and plays a waiting game, hoping to +wear your patience down to the point where you'll ask him bluntly to +name his figure. By the way, what do you know about your blighted old +city council, anyway?" + +"Two of the five councilmen are for sale; two are honest men--and one +is an uncertain quantity. The mayor is a politician. I've known them +all since boyhood, and if I dared come out in the open, I think that +even the crooks have sentiment enough for what the Cardigans stand +for in this county to decline to hold me up." + +"Then why not come out in the open and save trouble and expense?" + +"I am not ready to have a lot of notes called on me," Bryce replied +dryly. "Neither am I desirous of having the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company start a riot in the redwood lumber market by cutting prices +to a point where I would have to sell my lumber at a loss in order to +get hold of a little ready money. Neither do I desire to have trees +felled across the right of way of Pennington's road after his +trainloads of logs have gone through and before mine have started +from the woods. I don't want my log-landings jammed until I can't +move, and I don't want Pennington's engineer to take a curve in such +a hurry that he'll whip my loaded logging-trucks off into a canon and +leave me hung up for lack of rolling-stock. I tell you, the man has +me under his thumb, and the only way I can escape is to slip out when +he isn't looking. He can do too many things to block the delivery of +my logs and then dub them acts of God, in order to avoid a judgment +against him on suit for non-performance of his hauling contract with +this company." + +"Hum-m-m! Slimy old beggar, isn't he? I dare say he wouldn't hesitate +to buy the city council to block you, would he?" + +"I know he'll lie and steal. I dare say he'd corrupt a public +official." + +Buck Ogilvy rose and stretched himself. "I've got my work cut out for +me, haven't I?" he declared with a yawn. "However, it'll be a fight +worth while, and that at least will make it interesting. Well?" + +Bryce pressed the buzzer on his desk, and a moment later Moira +entered. "Permit me, Moira, to present Mr. Ogilvy. Mr. Ogilvy, Miss +McTavish." The introduction having been acknowledged by both parties, +Bryce continued: "Mr. Ogilvy will have frequent need to interview me +at this office, Moira, but it is our joint desire that his visits +here shall remain a profound secret to everybody with the exception +of ourselves. To that end he will hereafter call at night, when this +portion of the town is absolutely deserted. You have an extra key to +the office, Moira. I wish you would give it to Mr. Ogilvy." + +The girl nodded. "Mr. Ogilvy will have to take pains to avoid our +watchman," she suggested. + +"That is a point well taken, Moira. Buck, when you call, make it a +point to arrive here promptly on the hour. The watchman will be down +in the mill then, punching the time-clock." + +Again Moira inclined her dark head and withdrew. Mr. Buck Ogilvy +groaned. "God speed the day when you can come out from under and I'll +be permitted to call during office hours," he murmured. He picked up +his hat and withdrew, via the general office. Half an hour later, +Bryce looked out and saw him draped over the counter, engaged in +animated conversation with Moira McTavish. Before Ogilvy left, he had +managed to impress Moira with a sense of the disadvantage under which +he laboured through being forced, because of circumstances Mr. +Cardigan would doubtless relate to her in due course, to abandon all +hope of seeing her at the office--at least for some time to come. +Then he spoke feelingly of the unmitigated horror of being a stranger +in a strange town, forced to sit around hotel lobbies with drummers +and other lost souls, and drew from Moira the assurance that it +wasn't more distressing than having to sit around a boardinghouse +night after night watching old women tat and tattle. + +This was the opening Buck Ogilvy had sparred for. Fixing Moira with +his bright blue eyes, he grinned boldly and said: "Suppose, Miss +McTavish, we start a league for the dispersion of gloom. You be the +president, and I'll be the financial secretary." + +"How would the league operate?" Moira demanded cautiously. + +"Well, it might begin by giving a dinner to all the members, followed +by a little motor-trip into the country next Saturday afternoon," +Buck suggested. + +Moira's Madonna glance appraised him steadily. "I haven't known you +very long, Mr. Ogilvy," she reminded him. + +"Oh, I'm easy to get acquainted with," he retorted lightly. "Besides, +don't I come well recommended?" He pondered for a moment. Then: "I'll +tell you what, Miss McTavish. Suppose we put it up to Bryce Cardigan. +If he says it's all right we'll pull off the party. If he says it's +all wrong, I'll go out and drown myself--and fairer words than them +has no man spoke." + +"I'll think it over," said Moira. + +"By all means. Never decide such an important matter in a hurry. Just +tell me your home telephone number, and I'll ring up at seven this +evening for your decision." + +Reluctantly Moira gave him the number. She was not at all prejudiced +against this carroty stranger--in fact, she had a vague suspicion +that he was a sure cure for the blues, an ailment which she suffered +from all too frequently; and, moreover, his voice, his respectful +manner, his alert eyes, and his wonderful clothing were all rather +alluring. Womanlike, she was flattered at being noticed--particularly +by a man like Ogilvy, whom it was plain to be seen was vastly +superior to any male even in Sequoia, with the sole exception of +Bryce Cardigan. The flutter of a great adventure was in Moira's +heart, and the flush of a thousand roses in her cheeks when, Buck +Ogilvy having at length departed, she went into Bryce's private +office to get his opinion as to the propriety of accepting the +invitation. + +Bryce listened to her gravely as with all the sweet innocence of her +years and unworldliness she laid the Ogilvy proposition before him. + +"By all means, accept," he counselled her. "Buck Ogilvy is one of the +finest gentlemen you'll ever meet. I'll stake my reputation on him. +You'll find him vastly amusing, Moira. He'd make Niobe forget her +troubles, and he DOES know how to order a dinner." + +"Don't you think I ought to have a chaperon?" + +"Well, it isn't necessary, although it's good form in a small town +like Sequoia, where everybody knows everybody else." + +"I thought so," Moira murmured thoughtfully. "I'll ask Miss Sumner to +come with us. Mr. Ogilvy won't mind the extra expense, I'm sure." + +"He'll be delighted," Bryce assured her maliciously. "Ask Miss +Sumner, by all means." + +When Moira had left him, Bryce sighed. "Gosh!" he murmured. "I wish I +could go, too." + +He was roused from his bitter introspections presently by the ringing +of the telephone. To his amazement Shirley Sumner was calling him! + +"You're a wee bit surprised, aren't you, Mr. Cardigan?" she said +teasingly. + +"I am," he answered honestly. "I had a notion I was quite persona non +grata with you." + +"Are you relieved to find you are not? You aren't, you know." + +"Thank you. I am relieved." + +"I suppose you're wondering why I have telephoned to you?" + +"No, I haven't had time. The suddenness of it all has left me more or +less dumb. Why did you ring up?" + +"I wanted some advice. Suppose you wanted very, very much to know +what two people were talking about, but found yourself in a position +where you couldn't eavesdrop. What would you do?" + +"I wouldn't eavesdrop," he told her severely. "That isn't a nice +thing to do, and I didn't think you would contemplate anything that +isn't nice." + +"I wouldn't ordinarily. But I have every moral, ethical, and +financial right to be a party to that conversation, only--well--" + +"With you present there would be no conversation--is that it?" + +"Exactly, Mr. Cardigan." + +"And it is of the utmost importance that you should know what is +said?" + +"Yes." + +"And you do not intend to use your knowledge of this conversation, +when gained, for an illegal or unethical purpose?" + +"I do not. On the contrary, if I am aware of what is being planned, I +can prevent others from doing something illegal and unethical." "In +that event, Shirley, I should say you are quite justified in +eavesdropping." + +"But how can I do it? I can't hide in a closet and listen." + +"Buy a dictograph and have it hidden in the room where the +conversation takes place. It will record every word of it." + +"Where can I buy one?" + +"In San Francisco." + +"Will you telephone to your San Francisco office and have them buy +one for me and ship it to you, together with directions for using. +George Sea Otter can bring it over to me when it arrives." + +"Shirley, this is most extraordinary." + +"I quite realize that. May I depend upon you to oblige me in this +matter?" + +"Certainly. But why pick on me, of all persons, to perform such a +mission for you?" + +"I can trust you to forget that you have performed it." + +"Thank you. I think you may safely trust me. And I shall attend to +the matter immediately." + +"You are very kind, Mr. Cardigan. How is your dear old father? Moira +told me sometime ago that he was ill." + +"He's quite well again, thank you. By the way, Moira doesn't know +that you and I have ever met. Why don't you tell her?" + +"I can't answer that question--now. Perhaps some day I may be in a +position to do so." + +"It's too bad the circumstances are such that we, who started out to +be such agreeable friends, see so little of each other, Shirley." + +"Indeed, it is. However, it's all your fault. I have told you once +how you can obviate that distressing situation. But you're so +stubborn, Mr. Cardigan." + +"I haven't got to the point where I like crawling on my hands and +knees," he flared back at her. + +"Even for your sake, I decline to simulate friendship or tolerance +for your uncle; hence I must be content to let matters stand as they +are between us." + +She laughed lightly. "So you are still uncompromisingly belligerent-- +still after Uncle Seth's scalp?" + +"Yes; and I think I'm going to get it. At any rate, he isn't going to +get mine." + +"Don't you think you're rather unjust to make me suffer for the sins +of my relative, Bryce?" she demanded. + +She had called him by his first name. He thrilled. "I'm lost in a +quagmire of debts--I'm helpless now," he murmured. "I'm not fighting +for myself alone, but for a thousand dependents--for a principle--for +an ancient sentiment that was my father's and is now mine. You do not +understand." + +"I understand more than you give me credit for, and some day you'll +realize it. I understand just enough to make me feel sorry for you. I +understand what even my uncle doesn't suspect at present, and that is +that you're the directing genius of the Northern California Oregon +Railroad and hiding behind your friend Ogilvy. Now, listen to me, +Bryce Cardigan: You're never going to build that road. Do you +understand?" + +The suddenness of her attack amazed him to such an extent that he did +not take the trouble to contradict her. Instead he blurted out, +angrily and defiantly: "I'll build that road if it costs me my life-- +if it costs me you. Understand! I'm in this fight to win." + +"You will not build that road," she reiterated. + +"Why?" + +"Because I shall not permit you to. I have some financial interest in +the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, and it is not to that financial +interest that you should build the N.C.O." + +"How did you find out I was behind Ogilvy?" + +"Intuition. Then I accused you of it, and you admitted it." + +"I suppose you're going to tell your uncle now," he retorted +witheringly. + +"On the contrary, I am not. I greatly fear I was born with a touch of +sporting blood, Mr. Cardigan, so I'm going to let you two fight until +you're exhausted, and then I'm going to step in and decide the issue. +You can save money by surrendering now. I hold the whip hand." + +"I prefer to fight. With your permission this bout will go to a +knockout." "I'm not so certain I do not like you all the more for +that decision. And if it will comfort you the least bit, you have my +word of honour that I shall not reveal to my uncle the identity of +the man behind the N. C. O. I'm not a tattletale, you know, and +moreover I have a great curiosity to get to the end of the story. The +fact is, both you and Uncle Seth annoy me exceedingly. How lovely +everything would have been if you two hadn't started this feud and +forced upon me the task of trying to be fair and impartial to you +both." + +"Can you remain fair and impartial?" + +"I think I can--even up to the point of deciding whether or not you +are going to build that road. Then I shall act independently of you +both. Forgive my slang, but--I'm going to hand you each a poke then." + +"Shirley," he told her earnestly, "listen carefully to what I am +about to say: I love you. I've loved you from the day I first met +you. I shall always love you; and when I get around to it, I'm going +to ask you to marry me. At present, however, that is a right I do not +possess. However, the day I acquire the right I shall exercise it." + +"And when will that day be?" Very softly, in awesome tones! + +"The day I drive the last spike in the N. C. O." + +Fell a silence. Then: "I'm glad, Bryce Cardigan, you're not a +quitter. Good-bye, good luck--and don't forget my errand." She hung +up and sat at the telephone for a moment, dimpled chin in dimpled +hand, her glance wandering through the window and far away across the +roofs of the town to where the smoke-stack of Cardigan's mill cut the +sky-line. "How I'd hate you if I could handle you!" she murmured. + +Following this exasperating but illuminating conversation with +Shirley Sumner over the telephone, Bryce Cardigan was a distressed +and badly worried man. However, Bryce was a communicant of a very +simple faith--to wit, that one is never whipped till one is counted +out, and the first shock of Shirley's discovery having passed, he +wasted no time in vain repinings but straightway set himself to +scheme a way out of his dilemma. + +For an hour he sat slouched in his chair, chin on breast, the while +he reviewed every angle of the situation. + +He found it impossible, however, to dissociate the business from the +personal aspects of his relations with Shirley, and he recalled that +she had the very best of reasons for placing their relations on a +business basis rather than a sentimental one. He had played a part in +their little drama which he knew must have baffled and infuriated +her. More, had she, in those delightful few days of their early +acquaintance, formed for him a sentiment somewhat stronger than +friendship (he did not flatter himself that this was so), he could +understand her attitude toward him as that of the woman scorned. For +the present, however, it was all a profound and disturbing mystery, +and after an hour of futile concentration there came to Bryce the old +childish impulse to go to his father with his troubles. That sturdy +old soul, freed from the hot passions of youth, its impetuosity and +its proneness to consider cause rather than effect, had weathered too +many storms in his day to permit the present one to benumb his brain +as it had his son's. + +"He will be able to think without having his thoughts blotted out by +a woman's face," Bryce soliloquized. "He's like one of his own big +redwood trees; his head is always above the storm." + +Straightway Bryce left the office and went home to the old house on +the knoll. John Cardigan was sitting on the veranda, and from a stand +beside him George Sea Otter entertained him with a phonograph +selection--"The Suwanee River," sung by a male quartet. As the gate +clicked, John raised his head; then as Bryce's quick step spurned the +cement walk up the little old-fashioned garden, he rose and stood +with one hand outstretched and trembling a little. He could not see, +but with the intuition of the blind, he knew. + +"What is it, son?" he demanded gently as Bryce came up the low steps. +"George, choke that contraption off," + +Bryce took his father's hand. "I'm in trouble, John Cardigan," he +said simply, "and I'm not big enough to handle it alone." + +The leonine old man smiled, and his smile had all the sweetness of a +benediction. His boy was in trouble and had come to him. Good! Then +he would not fail him. "Sit down, son, and tell the old man all about +it. Begin at the beginning and let me have all the angles of the +angle." + +Bryce obeyed, and for the first time John Cardigan learned of his +son's acquaintance with Shirley Sumner and the fact that she had been +present in Pennington's woods the day Bryce had gone there to settle +the score with Jules Rondeau. In the wonderful first flush of his +love a sense of embarrassment, following his discovery of the fact +that his father and Colonel Pennington were implacable enemies, had +decided Bryce not to mention the matter of the girl to John Cardigan +until the ENTENTE CORDIALE between Pennington and his father could be +reestablished, for Bryce had, with the optimism of his years, +entertained for a few days a thought that he could bring about this +desirable condition of affairs. The discovery that he could not, +together with his renunciation of his love until he should succeed in +protecting his heritage and eliminating the despair that had come +upon his father in the latter's old age, had further operated to +render unnecessary any discussion of the girl with the old man. + +With the patience and gentleness of a confessor John Cardigan heard +the story now, and though Bryce gave no hint in words that his +affections were involved in the fight for the Cardigan acres, yet did +his father know It, for he was a parent. And his great heart went out +in sympathy for his boy. + +"I understand, sonny, I understand. This young lady is only one +additional reason why you must win, for of course you understand she +is not indifferent to you." + +"I do not know that she feels for me anything stronger than a vagrant +sympathy, Dad, for while she is eternally feminine, nevertheless she +has a masculine way of looking at many things. She is a good comrade +with a bully sense of sportsmanship, and unlike her skunk of an +uncle, she fights in the open. Under the circumstances, however, her +first loyalty is to him; in fact, she owes none to me. And I dare say +he has given her some extremely plausible reason why we should be +eliminated; while I think she is sorry that it must be done, +nevertheless, in a mistaken impulse of self-protection she is likely +to let him do it." + +"Perhaps, perhaps. One never knows why a woman does things, although +it is a safe bet that if they're with you at all, they're with you +all the way. Eliminate the girl, my boy. She's trying to play fair to +you and her relative. Let us concentrate on Pennington." + +"The entire situation hinges on that jump-crossing of his tracks on +Water Street." + +"He doesn't know you plan to cross them, does he?" + +"No." + +"Then, lad, your job is to get your crossing in before he finds out, +isn't it?" + +"Yes, but it is an impossible task, partner. I'm not Aladdin, you +know. I have to have a franchise from the city council, and I have to +have rails." + +"Both are procurable, my son. Induce the city council to grant you a +temporary franchise to-morrow, and buy your rails from Pennington. He +has a mile of track running up Laurel Creek, and Laurel Creek was +logged out three years ago. I believe that spur is useless to +Pennington, and the ninety-pound rails are rusting there." + +"But will he sell them to me?" + +"Not if you tell him why you want them." + +"But he hates me, old pal." + +"The Colonel never permits sentiment to interfere with business, my +son. He doesn't need the rails, and he does desire your money. +Consider the rail-problem settled." + +"How do you stand with the Mayor and the council?" + +"I do not stand at all. I opposed Poundstone for the office; Dobbs, +who was appointed to fill a vacancy caused by the death of a +regularly elected councilman, was once a bookkeeper in our office, +you will remember. I discharged him for looting the petty-cash +drawer. Andrews and Mullin are professional politicians and not to be +trusted. In fact, Poundstone, Dobbs, Andrews, and Mullin are known as +the Solid Four. Yates and Thatcher, the remaining members of the city +council, are the result of the reform ticket last fall, but since +they are in the minority, they are helpless." + +"That makes it bad." + +"Not at all. The Cardigans are not known to be connected with the N. +C. O. Send your bright friend Ogilvy after that franchise. He's the +only man who can land it. Give him a free hand and tell him to +deliver the goods by any means short of bribery. I imagine he's had +experience with city councils and will know exactly how to proceed. I +KNOW you can procure the rails and have them at the intersection of B +and Water streets Thursday night. If Ogilvy can procure the temporary +franchise and have it in his pocket by six o'clock Thursday night, +you should have that crossing in by sunup Friday morning. Then let +Pennington rave. He cannot procure an injunction to restrain us from +cutting his tracks, thus throwing the matter into the courts and +holding us up indefinitely, because by the time he wakes up, the +tracks will have been cut. The best he can do then will be to fight +us before the city council when we apply for our permanent franchise. +Thank God, however, the name of Cardigan carries weight in this +county, and with the pressure of public sympathy and opinion back of +us, we may venture, my boy, to break a lance with the Solid Four, +should they stand with Pennington." + +"Partner, it looks like a forlorn hope," said Bryce. + +"Well, you're the boy to lead it. And it will cost but little to put +in the crossing and take a chance. Remember, Bryce, once we have that +crossing in, it stands like a spite-fence between Pennington and the +law which he knows so well how to pervert to suit his ignoble +purposes." He turned earnestly to Bryce and waved a trembling +admonitory finger. "Your job is to keep out of court. Once Pennington +gets the law on us, the issue will not be settled in our favour for +years; and in the meantime--you perish. Run along now and hunt up +Ogilvy. George, play that 'Suwannee River' quartet again. It sort o' +soothes me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +It was with a considerably lighter heart that Bryce returned to the +mill-office, from which he lost no time in summoning Buck Ogilvy by +telephone. + +"Thanks so much for the invitation," Ogilvy murmured gratefully. +"I'll be down in a pig's whisper." And he was. "Bryce, you look like +the devil," he declared the moment he entered the latter's private +office. + +"I ought to, Buck. I've just raised the devil and spilled the beans +on the N. C. O." + +"To whom, when, and where?" + +"To Pennington's niece, over the telephone about two hours ago." + +Buck Ogilvy smote his left palm with his right fist. "And you've +waited two hours to confess your crime? Zounds, man, this is bad." + +"I know. Curse me, Buck. I've probably talked you out of a good job." + +"Oh, say not so, old settler. We may still have an out. How did you +let the cat out of the bag?" + +"That remarkable girl called me up, and accused you of being a mere +screen for me and amazed me so I admitted it." + +Ogilvy dropped his red head in simulated agony and moaned. Presently +he raised it and said: "Well, it might have been worse. Think of what +might have happened had she called in person. She would have picked +your pocket for the corporate seal, the combination of the safe, and +the list of stockholders, and probably ended up by gagging you and +binding you in your own swivel-chair." + +"Don't, Buck. Comfort and not abuse is what I need now." + +"All right. I'll conclude my remarks by stating that I regard you as +a lovable fat-head devoid of sufficient mental energy to pound the +proverbial sand into the proverbial rat-hole. Now, then, what do you +want me to do to save the day?" + +"Deliver to me by six o'clock Thursday night a temporary franchise +from the city council, granting the N. C. O. the right to run a +railroad from our drying-yard across Water Street at its intersection +with B Street and out Front Street." + +"Certainly. By all means! Easiest thing I do! Sure you don't want me +to arrange to borrow a star or two to make a ta-ra-ra for the lady +that's made a monkey out of you? No? All right, old dear! I'm on my +way to do my damnedest, which angels can't do no more. Nevertheless, +for your sins, you shall do me a favour before my heart breaks after +falling down on this contract you've just given me." + +"Granted, Buck. Name it." + +"I'm giving a nice little private, specially cooked dinner to Miss +McTavish to-night. We're going to pull it off in one of those private +screened corrals in that highly decorated Chink restauraw on Third +Street. Moira--that is, Miss McTavish--is bringing a chaperon, one +Miss Shirley Sumner. Your job is to be my chaperon and entertain Miss +Sumner, who from all accounts is most brilliant and fascinating." + +"Nothing doing!" Bryce almost roared. "Why, she's the girl that +bluffed the secret of the N. C. O. out of me!" + +"Do you hate her for it?" + +"No, I hate myself." + +"Then you'll come. You promised in advance, and no excuses go now. +The news will be all over town by Friday morning; so why bother to +keep up appearances any longer. Meet me at the Canton at seven and +check dull care at the entrance." + +And before Bryce could protest, Ogilvy had thrown open the office +door and called the glad tidings to Moira, who was working in the +next room; whereupon Moira's wonderful eyes shone with that strange +lambent flame. She clasped her hands joyously. "Oh, how wonderful!" +she exclaimed "I've always wanted Miss Shirley to meet Mr. Bryce." + +Again Bryce was moved to protest, but Buck Ogilvy reached around the +half-opened door and kicked him in the shins. "Don't crab my game, +you miserable snarley-yow. Detract one speck from that girl's +pleasure, and you'll never see that temporary franchise," he +threatened. "I will not work for a quitter--so, there!" And with his +bright smile he set out immediately upon the trail of the city +council, leaving Bryce Cardigan a prey to many conflicting emotions, +the chief of which, for all that he strove to suppress it, was +riotous joy in the knowledge that while he had fought against it, +fate had decreed that he should bask once more in the radiance of +Shirley Sumner's adorable presence. Presently, for the first time in +many weeks, Moira heard him whistling "Turkey in the Straw." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Fortunately for the situation which had so suddenly confronted him, +Bryce Cardigan had Mr. Buck Ogilvy; and out of the experiences gained +in other railroad-building enterprises, the said Ogilvy, while +startled, was not stunned by the suddenness and immensity of the +order so casually given him by his youthful employer, for he had +already devoted to the matter of that crossing the better part of the +preceding night. Also he had investigated, indexed, and cross-indexed +the city council with a view to ascertaining how great or how little +would be the effort he must devote to obtaining from it the coveted +franchise. + +"Got to run a sandy on the Mayor," Buck soliloquized as he walked +rapidly uptown. "And I'll have to be mighty slick about it, too, or +I'll get my fingers in the jam. If I get the Mayor on my side--if I +get him to the point where he thinks well of me and would like to +oblige me without prejudicing himself financially or politically--I +can get that temporary franchise. Now, how shall I proceed to sneak +up on that oily old cuss's blind side?" + +Two blocks farther on, Mr. Ogilvy paused and snapped his fingers +vigorously. "Eureka!" he murmured. "I've got Poundstone by the tail +on a downhill haul. Is it a cinch? Well, I just guess I should tell a +man!" + +He hurried to the telephone building and put in a long-distance call +for the San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. +When the manager came on the line, Ogilvy dictated to him a message +which he instructed the manager to telegraph back to him at the Hotel +Sequoia one hour later; this mysterious detail attended to, he +continued on to the Mayor's office in the city hall. + +Mayor Poundstone's bushy eyebrows arched with interest when his +secretary laid upon his desk the card of Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, vice- +president and general manager of the Northern California Oregon +Railroad. "Ah-h-h!" he breathed with an unpleasant resemblance to a +bon vivant who sees before him his favourite vintage. "I have been +expecting Mr. Ogilvy to call for quite a while. At last we shall see +what we shall see. Show him in." + +The visitor was accordingly admitted to the great man's presence and +favoured with an official handshake of great heartiness. "I've been +hoping to have this pleasure for quite some time, Mr. Poundstone," +Buck announced easily as he disposed of his hat and overcoat on an +adjacent chair. "But unfortunately I have had so much preliminary +detail to attend to before making an official call that at last I +grew discouraged and concluded I'd just drop in informally and get +acquainted." Buck's alert blue eyes opened wide in sympathy with his +genial mouth, to deluge Mayor Poundstone with a smile that was +friendly, guileless, confidential, and singularly delightful. Mr. +Ogilvy was a man possessed of tremendous personal magnetism when he +chose to exert it, and that smile was ever the opening gun of his +magnetic bombardment, for it was a smile that always had the effect +of making the observer desire to behold it again--of disarming +suspicion and establishing confidence. + +"Glad you did--mighty glad," the Mayor cried heartily. "We have all, +of course, heard of your great plans and are naturally anxious to +hear more of them, in the hope that we can do all that anybody +reasonably and legally can to promote your enterprise and +incidentally our own, since we are not insensible to the advantages +which will accrue to this county when it is connected by rail with +the outside world." + +"That extremely broad view is most encouraging," Buck chirped, and he +showered the Mayor with another smile. "Reciprocity is the watchword +of progress. I might state, however, that while you Humboldters are +fully alive to the benefits to be derived from a feeder to a +transcontinental road, my associates and myself are not insensible of +the fact that the success of our enterprise depends to a great extent +upon the enthusiasm with which the city of Sequoia shall cooperate +with us; and since you are the chief executive of the city, naturally +I have come to you to explain our plans fully." + +"I have read your articles of incorporation, Mr. Ogilvy," Mayor +Poundstone boomed paternally. "You will recall that they were +published in the Sequoia SENTINEL. It strikes me---" + +"Then you know exactly what we purpose doing, and any further +explanation would be superfluous," Buck interrupted amiably, glad to +dispose of the matter so promptly. Again he favoured the Mayor with +his bright smile, and the latter, now fully convinced that here was a +young man of vast emprise whom it behooved him to receive in a whole- +hearted and public-spirited manner, nodded vigorous approval. + +"Well, that being the case, Mr. Ogilvy," he continued, "what can we +Sequoians do to make you happy?" + +"Why, to begin with, Mr. Poundstone, you might accept my solemn +assurances that despite the skepticism which, for some unknown +reason, appears to shroud our enterprise in the minds of some people, +we have incorporated a railroad company for the purpose of building a +railroad. We purpose commencing grading operations in the very near +future, and the only thing that can possibly interfere with the +project will be the declination of the city council to grant us a +franchise to run our line through the city to tidewater." + +He handed his cigar-case to Mayor Poundstone and continued lightly: +"And I am glad to have your assurance that the city council will not +drop a cold chisel in the cogs of the wheels of progress." + +Mr. Poundstone had given no such assurance, but for some reason he +did not feel equal to the task of contradicting this pleasant fellow. +Ogilvy continued: "At the proper time we shall apply for the +franchise. It will then be time enough to discuss it. In the meantime +the N. C. O. plans a public dedicatory ceremony at the first breaking +of ground, and I would be greatly honoured, Mr. Mayor, if you would +consent to turn the first shovelful of earth and deliver the address +of welcome upon that occasion." + +The Mayor swelled like a Thanksgiving turkey. "The honour will be +mine," he corrected his visitor. + +"Thank you so much, sir. Well, that's another worry off my mind." +With the tact of a prime minister Buck then proceeded deliberately to +shift the conversation to the weather and asked a number of questions +anent the annual rainfall. Then he turned to crops, finance, and +national politics and gradually veered around to an artistic word- +picture of the vast expansion of the redwood-lumber industry when the +redwood-belt should be connected by rail with the markets of the +entire country. He spoke of the magic effect the building of such a +line would have upon the growth of Sequoia. Sequoia, he felt +convinced, was destined to become a city of at least a hundred +thousand inhabitants; he rhapsodized over the progressive spirit of +the community and with a wave of his hand studded the waters of +Humboldt Bay with the masts of the world's shipping. Suddenly he +checked himself, glanced at his watch, apologized for consuming so +much of His Honour's valuable time, expressed himself felicitated at +knowing the Mayor, gracefully expressed his appreciation for the +encouragement given his enterprise, and departed. When he had gone, +Mayor Poundstone declared to his secretary that without doubt Ogilvy +was the livest, keenest fellow that had struck Sequoia since the +advent of old John Cardigan. + +Half an hour later the Mayor's telephone-bell rang. Buck Ogilvy was +on the line. "I beg your pardon for bothering you with my affairs +twice in the same day, Mr. Mayor," he announced deprecatingly, "but +the fact is, a condition has just arisen which necessitates the +immediate employment of an attorney. The job is not a very important +one and almost any lawyer would do, but in view of the fact that we +must, sooner or later, employ an attorney to look after our interests +locally, it occurred to me that I might as well make the selection of +a permanent attorney now. I am a stranger in this city Mr. +Poundstone. Would it be imposing on your consideration if I asked you +to recommend such a person?" + +"Why, not at all, not at all! Delighted to help you, Mr. Ogilvy. Let +me see, now. There are several attorneys in Sequoia, all men of +excellent ability and unimpeachable integrity, whom I can recommend +with the utmost pleasure. Cadman look up the relatives of a public +official! Well! Forward, men, follow me--to Henry's office." + +Henry Poundstone, Junior, proved to be the sole inhabitant of one +rather bare office in the Cardigan Block. Buck had fully resolved to +give him a retainer of a thousand dollars, or even more, if he asked +for it, but after one look at Henry he cut the appropriation to two +hundred and fifty dollars. Young Mr. Poundstone was blonde and frail, +with large round spectacles, rabbit teeth, and the swiftly receding +chin of the terrapin. Moreover, he was in such a flutter of +anticipation over the arrival of his client that Buck deduced two +things--to wit, that the Mayor had telephoned Henry he was apt to +have a client, and that as a result of this miracle, Henry was in no +fit state to discuss the sordid subject of fees and retainers. Ergo, +Mr. Ogilvy decided to obviate such discussion now or in the future. +He handed Henry a check for two hundred and fifty dollars, which he +wrote out on the spot, and with his bright winning smile remarked: +"Now, Mr. Poundstone, we will proceed to business. That retainer +isn't a large one, I admit, but neither is the job I have for you to- +day. Later, if need of your services on a larger scale should +develop, we shall of course expect to make a new arrangement whereby +you will receive the customary retainer of all of our corporation +attorneys I trust that is quite satisfactory." + +"Eminently so," gasped the young disciple of Blackstone. + +"Very well, then; let us proceed to business." Buck removed from a +small leather bag a bale of legal-looking documents. "I have here," +he announced, "agreements from landowners along the proposed right of +way of the N. C. O. to give to that company, on demand, within one +year from date, satisfactory deeds covering rights of way which are +minutely described in the said agreements. I wish these deeds +prepared for signing and recording at the earliest possible moment." + +"You shall have them at this time to-morrow," Henry promised. + +The head of Henry Poundstone, Junior, was held high for the first +time since he had flung forth his modest shingle to the breezes of +Sequoia six months before, and there was an unaccustomed gleam of +importance in his pale eyes as he rushed into big father's office in +the city hall. + +"By jinks, Dad!" he exulted. "I've hooked a fish at last--and he's a +whopper." + +"Omit the cheers, my boy. Remember I sent that fish to you," his +father answered with a bland and indulgent smile. "What are you doing +for Ogilvy, and how large a retainer did he give you?" + +"I'm making out deeds to his rights of way. Ordinarily it's about a +fifty-dollar job, but without waiting to discuss finances he handed +me out two hundred and fifty dollars. Why, Dad, that's more than you +make in a month from your job as Mayor." + +"Well, that isn't a bad retainer. It's an opening wedge. However, it +would be mere chicken-feed in San Francisco." + +"Read this," Henry urged, and thrust a yellow telegraph-form under +the Mayor's nose. The latter adjusted his glasses and read: + +Imperative building operations commence immediately. Local skepticism +injurious and delays dangerous. We must show good faith to our New +York friends. J. P. M. insists upon knowing promptly where we stand +with Sequoia city council. See them immediately and secure temporary +franchise, if possible, to enable us to cross Water Street at B +Street and build out Front Street. Your arrangement with Cardigan for +use of his mill-dock and spur for unloading material from steamer +ratified by board but regarded as hold-up. If your judgment indicates +no hold-up on permanent franchise, commence active operations +immediately upon acquisition of permanent franchise. Engage local +labour as far as possible. Cannot impress upon you too fully +necessity for getting busy, as road must be completed in three years +if our plans are to bear fruit and time is all too short. Impress +this upon city council and wire answer to-morrow. + +HOCKLEY. + +This telegram, as the Mayor observed, was dated that day and +addressed to Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy, Hotel Sequoia, Sequoia, Calif. +Also, with a keen eye to minor details, lie noted that it had been +filed at San Francisco SUBSEQUENT to Ogilvy's visit to him that +afternoon. + +"Ah-h-h!" breathed His Honour. "That accounts for his failure to +bring the matter up at our interview. Upon his return to the hotel he +found this telegram and got busy at once. By Jupiter, this looks like +business. Henry, how did you come into possession of this telegram?" + +"It must have been mixed up in the documents Ogilvy left with me. I +found it on my desk when I was sorting out the papers, and in my +capacity of attorney for the N.C.O. I had no hesitancy in reading +it." + +"Well, I do declare! Wonder who Hockley is. Never heard of that +fellow in connection with the N.C.O." + +"Hockley doesn't matter," young Henry declared triumphantly, +"although I'd bet a hat he's one of those heavy-weight Wall Street +fellows and one of J.P.M's vice-presidents, probably. J.P.M., of +course, is the man behind." + +"Who the devil is J.P.M.?" + +Henry smiled tolerantly upon his ignorant and guileless parent. +"Well, how would J. Pierpont Morgan do for a guess?" he queried. + +"Hell's bells and panther-tracks!" Mayor Poundstone started as if +snake-bitten. "I should say you have hooked a big fish. Boy, you've +landed a whale!" And the Mayor whistled softly in his amazement and +delight. "By golly, to think of you getting in with that bunch! +Tremendyous! Per-fect-ly tree-mend-yous! Did Ogilvy say anything +about future business?" + +"He did. Said if I proved satisfactory, he would probably take me on +and pay the customary retainer given all of their corporation +attorneys." + +"Well, by golly, he'd better take you on! I had a notion that chap +Ogilvy was smart enough to know which side his bread is buttered on +and who does the buttering." + +"If I could guarantee Mr. Ogilvy that temporary franchise mentioned +in his telegram, it might help me to get in right with J.P.M, at the +start," his hopeful suggested. "I guess it would be kind of poor to +be taken on as one of the regular staff of attorneys for a Morgan +corporation, eh? Say, they pay those chaps as high as fifty thousand +dollars a year retainer!" + +"Guarantee it!" his father shouted. "Guarantee it! Well, I should +snicker! We'll just show J. P. M. and his crowd that they made no +mistake when they picked you as their Sequoia legal representative. +I'll call a special meeting of that little old city council of mine +and jam that temporary franchise through while you'd be saying 'Jack +Robinson!'" + +"I'll tell you what let's do," Henry suggested. "I'll draw up the +temporary franchise to-night, and we'll put it through to-morrow at, +say, ten o'clock without saying a word to Mr. Ogilvy about it. Then +when the city clerk has signed and attested it and put the seal of +the city on it, I'll just casually take it over to Mr. Ogilvy. Of +course he'll be surprised and ask me how I came to get it, and--" + +"And you LOOK surprised," his father cautioned. "--sort of as if you +failed to comprehend what he's driving at. Make him repeat. Then you +say: 'Oh, that! Why, that's nothing, Mr. Ogilvy. I found the telegram +in those papers you left with me, read it, and concluded you'd left +it there to give me the dope so I could go ahead and get the +franchise for you. Up here, whenever anybody wants a franchise from +the city, they always hire an attorney to get it for them, so I +didn't think anything about this but just naturally went and got it +for you. If it ain't right, why, say so and I'll have it made +right.'" Old Poundstone nudged his son in the short ribs and winked +drolly. "Let him get the idea you're a fly bird and on to your job." + +"Leave it to yours truly," said Henry. + +His father carefully made a copy of the telegram. + +"H'm!" he grunted. "Wants to cross Water Street at B and build out +Front Street. Well, I dare say nobody will kick over the traces at +that. Nothing but warehouses and lumber-drying yards along there, +anyhow. Still, come to think of it, Pennington will probably raise a +howl about sparks from the engines of the N. C. O. setting his lumber +piles afire. And he won't relish the idea of that crossing, because +that means a watchman and safety-gates, and he'll have to stand half +the cost of that." + +"He'll be dead against it," Henry declared. "I know, because at the +Wednesday meeting of the Lumber Manufacturers' Association the +subject of the N. C. O. came up, and Pennington made a talk against +it. He said the N. C. O. ought to be discouraged, if it was a +legitimate enterprise, which he doubted, because the most feasible +and natural route for a road would be from Willits, Mendocino County, +north to Sequoia. He said the N. C. O. didn't tap the main body of +the redwood-belt and that his own road could be extended to act as a +feeder to a line that would build in from the south. I tell you he's +dead set against it." + +"Then we won't tell him anything about it, Henry. We'll just pull off +this special session of the council and forget to invite the +reporters; after the job has been put over, Pennington can come +around and howl all he wants. We're not letting a chance like this +slip by us without grabbing a handful of the tail-feathers, Henry. +No, sir--not if we know it." + +"You bet!" said Henry earnestly. + +And it was even so. The entire council was present with the exception +of Thatcher, who was home ill. His running mate Yates was heartily in +favour of doing all and sundry of those things which would aid and +encourage the building of the much-to-be-desired railroad and offered +no objection to the motion to grant a sixty-day temporary franchise. +However, he always played ball with the absent Thatcher and he was +fairly well acquainted with his other colleagues on the council; +where they were concerned he was as suspicious as a rattlesnake in +August--in consequence of which he considered it policy to play safe +pending Thatcher's recovery. Rising in his place, he pointed out to +the board the fact that many prominent citizens who yearned for such +a road as the N. C. O. had warned him of the danger of lending +official aid and comfort to a passel of professional promoters and +fly-by-nights; that after all, the N. C. O. might merely be the +stalking-horse to a real-estate boom planned to unload the +undesirable timber holdings of the Trinidad Redwood Lumber Company, +in which event it might be well for the council to proceed with +caution. It was Mr. Yates' opinion that for the present a temporary +franchise for thirty days only should be given; if during that thirty +days the N. C. O. exhibited indubitable signs of activity, he would +gladly vote for a thirty-day extension to enable the matter of a +permanent franchise to be taken up in regular order. + +This amendment to the original motion met with the unqualified +approval of the Mayor, as he was careful to announce for the benefit +of the other members of the Solid Four. The fact of the matter was, +however, that he was afraid to oppose Yates in such a simple matter +through fear that Yates might grow cantankerous and carry his +troubles to the Sequoia Sentinel--a base trick he had been known to +do in the past. After explaining the advisability of keeping secret +for the present the fact that a thirty-day franchise had been +granted, His Honour, with the consent of the maker of the original +motion and the second thereof, submitted the amended motion to a +vote, which was carried unanimously. + +At eleven-thirty Thursday morning, therefore, young Henry Poundstone, +having worked the greater part of the previous night preparing the +deeds, delivered both deeds and franchise to Buck Ogilvy at the +latter's hotel. It was with difficulty that the latter could conceal +his tremendous amazement when Henry casually handed him the +franchise. True, he had slipped that fake telegram among the +contracts as bait for Henry and his father, but in his wildest +flights of fancy had not looked for them to swallow hook, line, and +sinker. His fondest hope, at the time he conceived the brilliant +idea, was that Henry would show the telegram to his father and thus +inculcate in the old gentleman a friendly feeling toward the N. C. O. +not unmixed with pleasurable anticipations of the day when Henry +Poundstone, Junior, should be one of the most highly prized members +of the legal staff of a public-service corporation. + +When he could control his emotions, Mr. Ogilvy gazed approvingly upon +Henry Poundstone. "Mr. Poundstone," he said solemnly, "I have met +some meteoric young attorneys in my day, but you're the first genuine +comet I have seen in the legal firmament. Do you mind telling me +exactly how you procured this franchise--and why you procured it +without explicit orders from me?" + +Henry did his best to look puzzled. "Why," he said, "you left that +telegram with me, and I concluded that you regarded it as self- +explanatory or else had forgotten to mention it. I knew you were +busy, and I didn't want to bother you with details, so I just went +ahead and filled the order for you. Anything wrong about that?" + +"Certainly not. It's perfectly wonderful. But how did you put it +over?" + +Henry smirked. "My dad's the engineer," he said bluntly. "If thirty +days ain't enough time, see me and I'll get you thirty days more. And +in the meantime nobody knows a thing about this little deal. What's +more, they won't know. I figured Colonel Pennington might try to +block you at that crossing so I--" + +Buck Ogilvy extended his hand in benediction and let it drop lightly +on Henry Poundstone's thin shoulder. Henry quivered with anticipation +under that gentle accolade and swallowed his heart while the great +Ogilvy made a portentous announcement. + +"My dear Poundstone," he said earnestly, "I am not a man to forget +clever work. At the proper time I shall--" He smiled his radiant +smile. "You understand, of course, that I am speaking for and can +make you no firm promises. However--" He smiled again. "All I have to +say is that you'll do!" + +"Thank you," said Henry Poundstone, Junior. "Thank you ever so much." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +An experience extending over a very active business career of thirty +years had convinced Colonel Seth Pennington of the futility of +wracking his brains in vain speculation over mysteries. In his day he +had been interested in some small public-service corporations, which +is tantamount to saying that he knew peanut politics and had learned +that the very best way to fight the devil is with fire. Frequently he +had found it of great interest and profit to him to know exactly how +certain men spent their time and his money, and since he was a very +busy man himself, naturally he had to delegate somebody else, to +procure this information for him. When, therefore, the Northern +California Oregon Railroad commenced to encroach on the Colonel's +time-appropriation for sleep, he realized that there was but one way +in which to conserve his rest and that was by engaging to fathom the +mystery for him a specialist in the unravelling of mysteries. In +times gone by, the Colonel had found a certain national detective- +agency an extremely efficient aid to well-known commercial agencies, +and to these tried and true subordinates he turned now for explicit +and satisfying information anent the Northern California Outrage! + +The information forthcoming from Dun's and Bradstreet's was vague and +unsatisfying. Neither of these two commercial agencies could +ascertain anything of interest regarding the finances of the N. C. O. +For the present the corporation had no office, its destinies in San +Francisco being guarded by a well-known attorney who had declined to +make any statement regarding the company but promised one at an early +date. The board of directors consisted of this attorney, his two +assistants, his stenographer, and Mr. Buchanan Ogilvy. The company +had been incorporated for five million dollars, divided into five +million shares of par value of one dollar each, and five shares had +been subscribed! Both agencies forwarded copies of the articles of +incorporation, but since the Colonel had already read this document +in the Sequoia Sentinel, he was not further interested. + +"It looks fishy to me," the Colonel commented to his manager, "and +I'm more than ever convinced it's a scheme of that Trinidad Redwood +Timber Company to start a timber-boom and unload. And that is +something the Laguna Grande Lumber Company does not view with favour, +for the reason that one of these bright days those Trinidad people +will come to their senses and sell cheap to us. A slight extension of +our logging-road will make that Trinidad timber accessible; hence we +are the only logical customers and should control the situation. +However, to be sure is to be satisfied. Telephone the San Francisco +office to have the detective-agency that handled the longshoremen's +strike job for us send a couple of their best operatives up on the +next steamer, with instructions to report to me on arrival." + +When the operatives reported, the Colonel's orders were brief and +explicit. "I want to know all about a man named Buchanan Ogilvy, who +is up north somewhere procuring rights of way for the Northern +California Oregon Railroad. Find him. Get up with him in the morning +and put him to bed at night. Report to me daily." + +Buck was readily located in the country north of Arcata, and one of +the operatives actually procured a job as chainman with his surveying +gang, while the other kept Ogilvy and his secretary under +surveillance. Their reports, however, yielded the Colonel nothing +until the first day of Buck's return to Sequoia, when the following +written report caused the Colonel to sit up and take notice. It was +headed: "Report of Operative No. 41," and it read: + +Ogilvy in his room until 12 o'clock noon. At 12:05 entered dining +room, leaving at 1 P. M. and proceeding direct to office of Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company. Operative took post behind a lumber-pile at +side of office so as to command view of interior of office. From +manner of greeting accorded Ogilvy by Bryce Cardigan, operative is of +opinion they had not met before. Ogilvy remained in Cardigan's +private office half an hour, spent another half-hour conversing with +young lady in general office. Young lady a brunette. O. then returned +to Hotel Sequoia, where he wrote several letters in writing-room. At +3 p. M. called to telephone. At 3:02 p. M. left hurriedly for +Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company's office. Entered private office +without waiting to be announced. Emerged at 3:12, walking slowly and +in deep thought. At B and Cedar streets stopped suddenly, snapped his +fingers and started walking rapidly, in the manner of one who has +arrived at a decision. At 3:24 entered the telephone building and +placed a long-distance call. Operative standing at counter close by +heard him place call with the girl on duty. He asked for the Cardigan +Redwood Lumber Company in San Francisco. + +Concluded his conversation at 3:32 and proceeded to the city hall, +entering the Mayor's office at 3:43 and emerging at 4:10. He then +returned to the Hotel Sequoia and sat in the lobby until handed a +telegram at 4:40; whereupon he entered the telephone-booth and talked +to someone, emerging at 4:43 to go to his room. He returned at 4:46 +and hurried to the law-office of Henry Poundstone, Junior, in the +Cardigan Block. He was with Poundstone until 4:59, when he returned +leisurely to the Hotel Sequoia, carrying a small leather grip. He +also had this grip when he entered Poundstone's office. + +Arrived at the hotel at 5:03 and went to his room. At 6:45 he entered +a public automobile in front of the hotel and was driven to No. 846 +Elm Street. The brunette young lady who works m the Cardigan Redwood +Lumber Company's office emerged presently and entered the car, which +then proceeded to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, where the brunette young +lady alighted and entered the house. She returned at 7 sharp, +accompanied by a young lady whom she introduced to O. All three were +then driven to the Canyon restaurant at 432 Third Street and escorted +to a reserved table in one of the screened-off semi-private rooms +along the right side of the dining room. At 7:15 Bryce Cardigan +entered the restaurant and was escorted by the waiter to the table +occupied by O. and party. + +At 9:30 entire party left restaurant and entered a Napier car driven +by a half-breed Indian whom the second young lady hailed as George. +O. and the brunette young lady were dropped at 846 Elm Street while +Cardigan and the other young lady proceeded directly to No. 38 +Redwood Boulevard. After aiding the lady to alight, Cardigan talked +with her a few minutes at the gate, then bade her good-night and +after waiting until she had disappeared inside the front door, +returned to the automobile and was driven to his home, while the +chauffeur George ran the car into the Cardigan garage. + +Upon returning to Hotel Sequoia, found O. in hotel bar. Saw him to +bed at 10 sharp. + +Needless to relate, this report had a most amazing effect upon +Colonel Pennington, and when at length he could recover his mental +equilibrium, he set about quite calmly to analyze the report, word by +word and sentence by sentence, with the result that he promptly +arrived at the following conclusion: + +(1) His niece Shirley Sumner was not to be trusted in so far as young +Bryce Cardigan was concerned. Despite her assumption of hostility +toward the fellow since that memorable day in Pennington's woods, the +Colonel was now fully convinced that she had made her peace with him +and had been the recipient of his secret attentions right along. The +Colonel was on the verge of calling his niece up to demand an +explanation, but on second thought decided to wait a few days and see +what his gum-shoe men might have to report further. + +(2) The N. C. O. was still a mystery, but a mystery in which Bryce +Cardigan was interested. Moreover, he was anxious to aid the N. C. O. +in every way possible. However, the Colonel could understand this. +Cardigan would aid anything that might possibly tend to lift the +Cardigan lumber interests out from under the iron heel of Colonel +Pennington and he was just young enough and unsophisticated enough to +be fooled by that Trinidad Redwood Timber gang. + +(3) The N. C. O. was going to make a mighty bluff, even to the extent +of applying for a franchise to run over the city streets of Sequoia. +Hence Ogilvy's visit to Mayor Poundstone--doubtless on the advice of +Bryce Cardigan. Hence, also, his visit to young Henry Poundstone, +whom he had doubtless engaged as his legal representative in order to +ingratiate himself with the young man's father. Coarse work! + +(4) Ogilvy had carried a small leather bag to and from Henry +Poundstone's office. That bag was readily explained. It had contained +a bribe in gold coin and young Henry had been selected as the go- +between. That meant that Mayor Poundstone had agreed to deliver the +franchise--for a consideration; and like the smooth scoundrel he was, +he wanted his bit in gold coin, which could not be marked without the +marks being discovered! Ogilvy had called first on the Mayor to +arrange the details; then he had called on the Mayor's son to +complete the transaction. + +(5) If a franchise had been arranged for and the bribe already +delivered, that meant the prompt and unadvertised commencement of +operations. Where (the Colonel asked himself) would these operations +begin? Why, close to the waterfront, where materials could be landed +from the steamer that brought them to Sequoia. At whose mill-dock +would those materials be discharged? Why, Cardigan's dock, of course. +Ogilvy had probably called first on Cardigan to arrange that detail. +Yes, the N. C. O. was going to carry its monumental bluff to the +point of building a mile of track through town. ... No--no, they +wouldn't spend that much money on a bluff; they wouldn't bribe +Poundstone unless the road was meant. And was it a common carrier, +after all? Had Cardigan in some mysterious manner managed to borrow +enough money to parallel the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's logging- +road, and was he disguising it as a common carrier? + +The trail was growing hot; the Colonel mopped his brow and +concentrated further. If the N. C. O. was really going to start +operations, in order to move its material from the Cardigan dock to +the scene of operations it would have to cut his (the Colonel's) +tracks somewhere on Water Street. Damnation! That was it. They were +trying to slip one over on him. They were planning to get a jump- +crossing in before he should awake to the situation; they were +planning, too, to have the city council slip through the franchise +when nobody was looking, and once the crossing should be in, they +could laugh at Colonel Pennington! + +"The scoundrels!" he murmured. "I'm on to them! Cardigan is playing +the game with them. That's why he bought those rails from the old +Laurel Creek spur! Oh, the sly young fox--quoting that portion of our +hauling contract which stipulates that all spurs and extensions of my +road, once it enters Cardigan's lands, must be made at Cardigan's +expense! And all to fool me into thinking he wanted those rails for +an extension of his logging-system. Oh, what a blithering idiot I +have been! However, it's not too late yet. Poundstone is coming over +to dinner Thursday night, and I'll wring the swine dry before he +leaves the house. And as for those rails Cardigan managed to +hornswoggle me out of--" + +He seized the telephone and fairly shouted to his exchange operator +to get his woods-foreman Jules Rondeau on the line. + +"That you, Rondeau?" he shouted when the big French Canadian +responded. "Pennington talking. What has young Cardigan done about +those rails I sold him from the abandoned spur up Laurel Creek?" + +"He have two flat-cars upon ze spur now. Dose woods-gang of hees she +tear up dose rails from ze head of ze spur and load in ze flat-cars." + +"The ears haven't left the Laurel Creek spur, then?" + +"No, she don't leave yet." + +"See to it, Rondeau, that they do not leave until I give the word. +Understand? Cardigan's woods-boss will call you up and ask you to +send a switch-engine tip to snake them out late this afternoon or to- +morrow afternoon. Tell him the switch-engine is in the shop for +repairs or is busy at other work--anything that will stall him off +and delay delivery." + +"Suppose Bryce Cardigan, he comes around and say 'Why?'" Rondeau +queried cautiously. + +"Kill him," the Colonel retorted coolly. "It strikes me you and the +Black Minorca are rather slow playing even with young Cardigan." + +Rondeau grunted. "I theenk mebbe so you kill heem yourself, boss," he +replied enigmatically, and hung up. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The dictograph which Shirley had asked Bryce to obtain for her in San +Francisco arrived on the regular passenger-steamer on Thursday +morning and Bryce called her up to ask when she desired it sent over. + +"Good morning, Mr. Cardigan," she greeted him cheerily. "How do you +feel this morning? Any the worse for having permitted yourself to be +a human being last night?" + +"Why, I feel pretty fine, Shirley. I think it did me a lot of good to +crawl out of my shell last night." + +"You feel encouraged to go on living, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"And fighting?" + +"By all means." + +"Then, something has occurred of late to give you new courage?" + +"Oh, many things. Didn't I give an exhibition of my courage in +accepting Ogilvy's invitation to dinner, knowing you were going to be +there?" + +She did not like that. "You carry your frankness to extremes, my +friend," she retorted. "I'm sure I've always been much nicer to you +than you deserve." + +"Nevertheless there wasn't any valid reason why I should tantalize +myself last night." + +"Then why did you come?" He had a suspicion that she was laughing +silently at him. + +"Partly to please Ogilvy, who has fallen head over heels in love with +Moira; partly to please Moira, who wanted me to meet you, but mostly +to please myself, because, while I dreaded it, nevertheless I wanted +to see you again. I comforted myself with the thought that for the +sake of appearances we dared not quarrel in the presence of Moira and +my friend Ogilvy, and I dare say you felt the same way. At any rate, +I have seldom had more enjoyment when partaking of a meal with an +enemy." + +"Please do not say that," she answered. "I am your opponent, but not +your enemy." + +"That's nice of you. By the way, Shirley, you may inform your uncle +at breakfast Friday morning about my connection with the N. C. O. In +fact, I think it would be far better for you if you made it a point +to do so." + +"Why?" + +"Because both Ogilvy and myself have a very strong suspicion that +your uncle has a detective or two on our trails. There was a strange +man rather prevalent around him all day yesterday and I noticed a +fellow following my car last night. He was on a bicycle and followed +me home. I communicated my suspicions to Ogilvy, and this morning he +spent two hours trying to shake the same man off his trail--and +couldn't. So I judge your uncle will learn to-day that you dined with +Ogilvy, Moira, and me last night." + +"Oh, dear! That's terrible." He could sense her distress. + +"Ashamed of having been seen in my company, eh?" + +"Please don't. Are you quite serious in this matter?" + +"Quite." + +"Uncle Seth will think it so--so strange." + +"He'll probably tell you about it. Better beat him to the issue by +'fessing up, Shirley. Doubtless his suspicions are already aroused, +and if you inform him that you know I am the real builder of the N. +C. O., he'll think you're a smart woman and that you've been doing a +little private gum-shoe work of your own on behalf of the Laguna +Grande Lumber Company." + +"Which is exactly what I have been doing," she reminded him. + +"I know. But then, I'm not afraid of you, Shirley--that is, any more. +And after Friday morning I'll not be afraid of your uncle. Do tell +him at breakfast. Then watch to see if it affects his appetite." + +"Oh, dear! I feel as if I were a conspirator." + +"I believe you are one. Your dictograph has arrived. Shall I send +George Sea Otter over with it? And have you somebody to install it?" + +"Oh, bother! Does it have to be installed?" + +"It does. You place the contraption--hide it, rather--in the room +where the conspirators conspire; then you run wires from it into +another room where the detectives listen in on the receivers." + +"Could George Sea Otter install it?" + +"I think he could. There is a printed card of instructions, and I +dare say George would find the job no more baffling than the +ignition-system on the Napier." + +"Will he tell anybody?" + +"Not if you ask him not to." + +"Not even you?" + +"Not even a whisper to himself, Shirley." + +"Very well, then. Please send him over. Thank you so much, Bryce +Cardigan. You're an awful good old sort, after all. Really, it hurts +me to have to oppose you. It would be so much nicer if we didn't have +all those redwood trees to protect, wouldn't it?" + +"Let us not argue the question, Shirley. I think I have my redwood +trees protected. Good-bye." + +He had scarcely finished telephoning his home to instruct George Sea +Otter to report with the express package to Shirley when Buck Ogilvy +strolled into the office and tossed a document on his desk. "There's +your little old temporary franchise, old thing," he announced; and +with many a hearty laugh he related to Bryce the ingenious means by +which he had obtained it. "And now if you will phone up to your +logging-camp and instruct the woods-boss to lay off about fifty men +to rest for the day, pending a hard night's work, and arrange to send +them down on the last log-train to-day, I'll drop around after dinner +and we'll fly to that jump-crossing. Here's a list of the tools we'll +need." + +"I'll telephone Colonel Pennington's manager and ask him to kick a +switch-engine in on the Laurel Creek spur and snake those flat-cars +with my rails aboard out to the junction with the main line," Bryce +replied. And he called up the Laguna Grande Lumber Company--only to +be informed by no less a person than Colonel Pennington himself that +it would be impossible to send the switch-engine in until the +following afternoon. The Colonel was sorry, but the switch-engine was +in the shop having the brick in her fire-box renewed, while the mogul +that hauled the log trams would not have time to attend to the +matter, since the flats would have to be spotted on the sidetrack at +Cardigan's log-landing in the woods, and this could not be done until +the last loaded log-train for the day had been hauled out to make +room. + +"Why not switch back with the mogul after the logtrain has been +hauled out on the main line?" Bryce demanded pointedly. + +Pennington, however, was not trapped. "My dear fellow," he replied +patronizingly, "quite impossible, I assure you. That old trestle +across the creek, my boy--it hasn't been looked at for years. While +I'd send the light switch-engine over it and have no fears--" + +"I happen to know, Colonel, that the big mogul kicked those flats in +to load the rails!" + +"I know it. And what happened? Why, that old trestle squeaked and +shook and gave every evidence of being about to buckle in the centre. +My engineer threatened to quit if I sent him in again." + +"Very well. I suppose I'll have to wait until the switch-engine comes +out of the shop," Bryce replied resignedly, and hung up. He turned a +troubled face to Ogilvy. "Checkmated!" he announced. "Whipped to a +frazzle. The Colonel is lying, Buck, and I've caught him at it. As a +matter of fact, the mogul didn't kick those flats in at all. The +switch-engine did--and I know it. Now I'm going to send a man over to +snoop around Pennington's roundhouse and verify his report about the +switch-engine being in the shop." + +He did so. Half an hour later the messenger returned with the +information that not only was the switch-engine not in the shop but +her fire-box had been overhauled the week before and was reported to +be in excellent condition. + +"That settles it," Buck Ogilvy mourned. "He had gum-shoe men on my +trail, after all; they have reported, and the Colonel is as +suspicious as a rhino. He doesn't know anything, but he smells danger +just the same." + +"Exactly, Buck. So he is delaying the game until he can learn +something definite." He drummed idly on his desk for several minutes. +Then: + +"Buck, can you run a locomotive?" + +"With one hand, old man." + +"Fine business! Well, I guess we'll put in that crossing to-morrow +night. The switch-engine will be in the roundhouse at Pennington's +mill to-morrow night so we can't steal that; but we can steal the +mogul. I'll just send word up to my woods-boss not to have his train +loaded when the mogul comes up late to-morrow afternoon to haul it +down to our log-landing. He will explain to the engineer and fireman +that our big bull donkey went out and we couldn't get our logs down +to the landing in time to get them loaded that day. Of course, the +engine-crew won't bother to run down to Sequoia for the night--that +is, they won't run the mogul down. They'll just leave her at our log- +landing all night and put up for the night at our camp. However, if +they should be forced, because of their private affairs, to return to +Sequoia, they'll borrow my trackwalker's velocipede. I have one that +is driven with a small gasolene engine--I use it in running back and +forth to the logging-camp in case I fail to connect with a log- +train." + +"But how do you know they will put up at your camp all night, Bryce?" + +"My men will make them comfortable, and it means they can lie abed +until seven o'clock instead of having to roll out at five o'clock, +which would be the case if they spent the night at this end of the +line. If they do not stay at our logging-camp, the mogul will stay +there, provided my woods-foreman lends them my velocipede. The +fireman would prefer that to firing that big mogul all the way back +to Sequoia." + +"Yes," Buck agreed, "I think he would." + +"There is a slight grade at our log-landing. I know that, because the +air leaked out of the brakes on a log-train I was on a short time +ago, and the train ran away with me. Now, the engine-crew will set +the airbrakes on the mogul and leave her with steam up to throb all +night; they'll not blow her down, for that would mean work firing her +in the morning. Our task, Buck, will be to throw off the airbrakes +and let her glide silently out of our log-landing. About a mile down +the road we'll stop, get up steam, run down to the junction with the +main line, back in on the Laurel Creek spur, couple on to those flat- +cars and breeze merrily down to Sequoia with them. They'll be loaded +waiting for us; our men will be congregated in our dry-yard just off +Water Street near B, waiting for us to arrive with the rails--and +bingo--we go to it. After we drop the flats, we'll run the engine +back to the woods, leave it where we found it, return a-flying on the +velocipede, if it's there, or in my automobile, if it isn't there. +You can get back in ample time to superintend the cutting of the +crossing!" + +"Spoken like a man!" quoth Buck Ogilvy. "You're the one man in this +world for whom I'd steal a locomotive. 'At-a boy!" + +Had either of the conspirators known of Pennington's plans to +entertain Mayor Poundstone at dinner on Thursday night, it is +probable they would not have cheered until those flat-cars were out +of the woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Mayor Poundstone and his wife arrived at the Pennington home in +Redwood Boulevard at six forty-five Thursday evening. It was with a +profound feeling of relief that His Honour lifted the lady from their +modest little "flivver," for once inside the Pennington house, he +felt, he would be free from a peculiarly devilish brand of +persecution inaugurated by his wife about three months previously. +Mrs. Poundstone wanted a new automobile. And she had entered upon a +campaign of nagging and complaint; hoping to wear Poundstone's +resistance down to the point where he would be willing to barter his +hope of salvation in return for a guarantee of peace on earth. + +"I feel like a perfect fool, calling upon these people in this filthy +little rattletrap," Mrs. Poundstone protested as they passed up the +cement walk toward the Pennington portal. + +Mayor Poundstone paused. Had he been Medusa, the glance he bent upon +his spouse would have transformed her instantly into a not +particularly symmetrical statue of concrete. He had reached the +breaking-point. + +"In pity's name, woman," he growled, "talk about something else. Give +me one night of peace. Let me enjoy my dinner and this visit." + +"I can't help it," Mrs. P. retorted with asperity. She pointed to +Shirley Sumner's car parked under the porte-cochere. "If I had a +sedan like that, I could die happy. And it only cost thirty-two +hundred and fifty dollars." + +"I paid six hundred and fifty for the rattletrap, and I couldn't +afford that," he almost whimpered. "You were happy with it until I +was elected mayor." + +"You forget our social position, my dear," she purred sweetly. + +He could have struck her. "Hang your social position," he gritted +savagely. "Shut up, will you? Social position in a sawmill town! +Rats!" + +"Sh--sh! Control yourself, Henry!" She plucked gently at his arm; +with her other hand she lifted the huge knocker on the front door. + +"Dammit, you'll drive me crazy yet," Poundstone gurgled, and +subsided. + +The Pennington butler, a very superior person, opened the door and +swept them with a faintly disapproving glance. It is possible that he +found Mayor Poundstone, who was adorned with a white string tie, a +soft slouch hat, a Prince Albert coat, and horseshoe cut vest, mildly +amusing. + +The Poundstones entered. At the entrance to the living room the +butler announced sonorously: "Mayor Poundstone and Mrs. Poundstone." + +"Glad to see you aboard the ship," Colonel Pennington boomed with his +best air of hearty expansiveness. "Well, well," he continued, leading +Mrs. Poundstone to a divan in front of the fire, "this is certainly +delightful. My niece will be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. +Have a cigarette, Mr. Poundstone." + +In the midst of the commonplace chatter incident to such occasions, +Shirley entered the room; and the Colonel, leaving her to entertain +the guests, went to a small sideboard in one corner and brought forth +the "materials," as he jocularly termed them. James appeared like +magic with a tray, glasses, and tiny serviettes, and the Colonel's +elixir was passed to the company. + +"To your beautiful eyes, Mrs. Poundstone," was Pennington's debonair +toast as he fixed Mrs. P.'s green orbs with his own. "Poundstone, +your very good health, sir." + +"Dee-licious," murmured Mrs. Poundstone. "Perfectly dee-licious. And +not a bit strong!" + +"Have another," her hospitable host suggested, and he poured it, +quite oblivious of the frightened wink which the mayor telegraphed +his wife. + +"I will, if Miss Sumner will join me," Mrs. P. acquiesced. + +"Thanks. I seldom drink a cocktail, and one is always my limit," +Shirley replied smilingly. + +"Oh, well," the Colonel retorted agreeably, "we'll make it a three- +cornered festival. Poundstone, smoke up." + +They "smoked up," and Poundstone prayed to his rather nebulous gods +that Mrs. P. would not discuss automobiles during the dinner. + +Alas! The Colonel's cocktails were not unduly fortified, but for all +that, the two which Mrs. Poundstone had assimilated contained just +sufficient "kick" to loosen the lady's tongue without thickening it. +Consequently, about the time the piece de resistance made its +appearance, she threw caution to the winds and adverted to the +subject closest to her heart. + +"I was telling Henry as we came up the walk how greatly I envied you +that beautiful sedan, Miss Sumner," she gushed. "Isn't it a perfectly +stunning car?" + +Poundstone made one futile attempt to head her off. "And I was +telling Mrs. Poundstone," he struck in with a pathetic attempt to +appear humorous and condescending, "that a little jitney was our +gait, and that she might as well abandon her passionate yearning for +a closed car. Angelina, my dear, something tells me I'm going to +enjoy this dinner a whole lot more if you'll just make up your mind +to be real nice and resign yourself to the inevitable." + +"Never, my dear, never." She shook a coy finger at him. "You dear old +tightie," she cooed, "you don't realize what a closed car means to a +woman." She turned to Shirley. "How an open car does blow one around, +my dear!" + +"Yes, indeed," said Shirley innocently. + +"Heard the McKinnon people had a man killed up in their woods +yesterday, Colonel," Poundstone remarked, hoping against hope to +divert the conversation. + +"Yes. The fellow's own fault," Pennington replied. "He was one of +those employees who held to the opinion that every man is the captain +of his own soul and the sole proprietor of his own body--hence that +it behooved him to look after both, in view of the high cost of +safety-appliances. He was warned that the logging-cable was weak at +that old splice and liable to pull out of the becket--and sure enough +it did. The free end of the cable snapped back like a whip, and--" + +"I hold to the opinion," Mrs. Poundstone interrupted, "that if one +wishes for a thing hard enough and just keeps on wishing, one is +bound to get it." + +"My dear," said Mr. Poundstone impressively, "if you would only +confine yourself to wishing, I assure you your chances for success +would be infinitely brighter." + +There was no mistaking this rebuke; even two cocktails were powerless +to render Mrs. Poundstone oblivious to it. Shirley and her uncle saw +the Mayor's lady flush slightly; they caught the glint of murder in +His Honour's eye; and the keen intelligence of each warned them that +closed cars should be a closed topic of conversation with the +Poundstones. With the nicest tact in the world, Shirley adroitly +changed the subject to some tailored shirt-waists she had observed in +the window of a local dry-goods emporium that day, and Mrs. +Poundstone subsided. + +About nine o'clock, Shirley, in response to a meaning glance from her +relative, tactfully convoyed Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, leaving her +uncle alone with his prey. Instantly Pennington got down to business. + +"Well," he queried, apropos of nothing, "what do you hear with +reference to the Northern-California-Gregon Railroad?" + +"Oh, the usual amount of wind, Colonel. Nobody knows what to make of +that outfit." + +Pennington studied the end of his cigar a moment. "Well, I don't know +what to think of that project either," he admitted presently, "But +while it looks like a fake, I have a suspicion that where there's so +much smoke, one is likely to discover a little fire. I've been +waiting to see whether or not they will apply for a franchise to +enter the city, but they seem to be taking their time about it." + +"They certainly are a deliberate crowd," the Mayor murmured. + +"Have they made any move to get a franchise?" Pennington asked +bluntly. "If they have, I suppose you would be the first man to hear +about it. I don't mean to be impertinent," he added with a gracious +smile, "but the fact is I noticed that windbag Ogilvy entering your +office in the city hall the other afternoon, and I couldn't help +wondering whether his visit was social or official." + +"Social--so far as I could observe," Poundstone replied truthfully, +wondering just how much Pennington knew, and rather apprehensive that +he might get caught in a lie before the evening was over. + +"Preliminary to the official visit, I dare say." + +The Colonel puffed thoughtfully for a while--for which the Mayor was +grateful, since it provided time in which to organize himself. +Suddenly, however, Pennington turned toward his guest and fixed the +latter with a serious glance. + +"I hadn't anticipated discussing this matter with you, Poundstone, +and you must forgive me for it; but the fact is--I might as well be +frank with you--I am very greatly interested in the operation of this +proposed railroad." + +"Indeed! Financially?" + +"Yes, but not in the financial way you think. If that railroad is +built, it will have a very distinct effect on my finances." + +"In just what way?" + +"Disastrous." + +"I am amazed, Colonel." + +"You wouldn't if you had given the subject very close consideration. +The logical route for this railroad is from Willits north to Sequoia, +not from Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, Oregon. Such a road as the +N.C.O. contemplates will tap about one third of the redwood belt +only, while a line built in from the south will tap two thirds of it. +The remaining third can be tapped by an extension of my own logging- +road; when my own timber is logged out, I will want other business +for my road, and if the N.C.O. parallels it, I will be left with two +streaks of rust on my hands." + +"Ah, I perceive. So it will, so it will!" + +"You agree with me, then, Poundstone, that the N.C.O. is not designed +to foster the best interests of the community. Of course you do." + +"Well, I hadn't given the subject very mature thought, Colonel, but +in the light of your observations it would appear that you are quite +right." + +"Of course I am right. I take it, therefore, that when the N.C.O. +applies for its franchise to run through Sequoia, neither you nor +your city council will consider the proposition at all." + +"I cannot, of course, speak for the city council--" Poundstone began, +but Pennington's cold, amused smile froze further utterance. + +"Be frank with me, Poundstone. I am not a child. What I would like to +know is this: will you exert every effort to block that franchise in +the firm conviction that by so doing you will accomplish a laudable +public service?" + +Poundstone squirmed. "I should not care, at this time, to go on +record," he replied evasively. "When I have had time to look into the +matter more thoroughly--" + +"Tut-tut, my dear man! Let us not straddle the fence. Business is a +game, and so is politics. Neither knows any sentiment. Suppose you +should favour this N.C.O. crowd in a mistaken idea that you were +doing the right thing, and that subsequently numberless fellow- +citizens developed the idea that you had not done your public duty? +Would some of them not be likely to invoke a recall election and +retire you and your city council--in disgrace?" + +"I doubt if they could defeat me, Colonel." + +"I have no such doubt," Pennington replied pointedly. + +Poundstone looked up at him from under lowered lids. "Is that a +threat?" he demanded tremulously. + +"My dear fellow! Threaten my guest!" Pennington laughed +patronizingly. "I am giving you advice, Poundstone--and rather good +advice, it strikes me. However, while we're on the subject, I have no +hesitancy in telling you that in the event of a disastrous decision +on your part, I should not feel justified in supporting you." + +He might, with equal frankness, have said: "I would smash you." To +his guest his meaning was not obscure. Poundstone studied the pattern +of the rug, and Pennington, watching him sharply, saw that the man +was distressed. Then suddenly one of those brilliant inspirations, or +flashes of rare intuition, which had helped so materially to fashion +Pennington into a captain of industry, came to him. He resolved on a +bold stroke. + +"Let's not beat about the bush, Poundstone," he said with the air of +a father patiently striving to induce his child to recant a lie, tell +the truth, and save himself from the parental wrath. "You've been +doing business with Ogilvy; I know it for a fact, and you might as +well admit it." + +Poundstone looked up, red and embarrassed. "If I had known--" he +began. + +"Certainly, certainly! I realize you acted in perfect good faith. +You're like the majority of people in Sequoia. You're all so crazy +for rail-connection with the outside world that you jump at the first +plan that seems to promise you one. Now, I'm as eager as the others, +but if we are going to have a railroad, I, for one, desire the right +kind of railroad; and the N.C.O. isn't the right kind--that is, not +for the interests I represent. Have you promised Ogilvy a franchise?" + +There was no dodging that question. A denial, under the present +circumstances, would be tantamount to an admission; Poundstone could +not guess just how much the Colonel really knew, and it would not do +to lie to him, since eventually the lie must be discovered. Caught +between the horns of a dilemma, Poundstone only knew that Ogilvy +could never be to him such a powerful enemy as Colonel Seth +Pennington; so, after the fashion of his kind, he chose the lesser of +two evils. He resolved to "come clean." + +"The city council has already granted the N.C.O. a temporary +franchise," he confessed. + +Pennington sprang furiously to his feet. "Dammit." he snarled, "why +did you do that without consulting me?" + +"Didn't know you were remotely interested." Now that the ice was +broken, Poundstone felt relieved and was prepared to defend his act +vigorously. "And we did not commit ourselves irrevocably," he +continued. "The temporary franchise will expire in twenty-eight days +--and in that short time the N.C.O. cannot even get started." + +"Have you any understanding as to an extension of that temporary +franchise, in case the N.C.O. desires it?" + +"Well, yes--not in writing, however. I gave Ogilvy to understand that +if he was not ready in thirty days, an extension could readily be +arranged." + +"Any witnesses?" + +"I am not such a fool, sir," Poundstone declared with asperity. "I +had a notion--I might as well admit it--that you would have serious +objection to having your tracks cut by a jump-crossing at B and Water +streets." And for no reason in life except to justify himself and +inculcate in Pennington an impression that the latter was dealing +with a crafty and far-seeing mayor, Poundstone smiled boldly and +knowingly. "I repeat," he said, "that I did not put it in writing." +He leaned back nonchalantly and blew smoke at the ceiling. + +"You oily rascal!" Pennington soliloquized. "You're a smarter man +than I thought. You're trying to play both ends against the middle." +He recalled the report of his private detective and the incident of +Ogilvy's visit to young Henry Poundstone's office with a small +leather bag; he was more than ever convinced that this bag had +contained the bribe, in gold coin, which had been productive of that +temporary franchise and the verbal understanding for its possible +extension. + +"Ogilvy did business with you through your son Henry," he challenged. +Poundstone started violently. "How much did Henry get out of it?" +Pennington continued brutally. + +"Two hundred and fifty dollars retainer, and not a cent more," +Poundstone protested virtuously--and truthfully. + +"You're not so good a business man as I gave you credit for being," +the Colonel retorted mirthfully "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Oh, +Lord! Poundstone, you're funny. Upon my word, you're a scream." And +the Colonel gave himself up to a sincerely hearty laugh. "You call it +a retainer," he continued presently, "but a grand jury might call it +something else. However," he went on after a slight pause, "you're +not in politics for your health; so let's get down to brass tacks. +How much do you want to deny the N.C.O. not only an extension of that +temporary franchise but also a permanent franchise when they apply +for it?" + +Poundstone rose with great dignity. "Colonel Pennington, sir," he +said, "you insult me." + +"Sit down. You've been insulted that way before now. Shall we say one +thousand dollars per each for your three good councilmen and true, +and for yourself that sedan of my niece's? It's a good car. Last +year's model, but only run about four thousand miles and in tiptop +condition. It's always had the best of care, and I imagine it will +please Mrs. P. immensely and grant you surcease from sorrow. Of +course, I will not give it to you. I'll sell it to you--five hundred +down upon the signing of the agreement, and in lieu of the cash, I +will take over that jitney Mrs. Poundstone finds so distasteful. Then +I will employ your son Henry as the attorney for the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company and give him a retainer of twenty-five hundred dollars +for one year. I will leave it to you to get this twenty-five hundred +dollars from Henry and pay my niece cash for the car. Doesn't that +strike you as a perfectly safe and sane proposition?" + +Had a vista of paradise opened up before Mr. Poundstone, he could not +have been more thrilled. He had been absolutely honest in his plea to +Mrs. Poundstone that he could not afford a thirty-two-hundred-and- +fifty-dollar sedan, much as he longed to oblige her and gain a +greatly to be desired peace. And now the price was dangling before +his eyes, so to speak. At any rate it was parked in the porte-cochere +not fifty feet distant! + +For the space of a minute the Mayor weighed his son's future as a +corporation attorney against his own future as mayor of Sequoia--and +Henry lost. + +"It might be arranged, Colonel," he murmured in a low voice--the +voice of shame. + +"It is already arranged," the Colonel replied cheerfully. "Leave your +jit at the front gate and drive home in Shirley's car. I'll arrange +matters with her." He laughed shortly. "It means, of course, that +I'll have to telegraph to San Francisco to-morrow and buy her a later +model. Thank goodness, she has a birthday to-morrow! Have a fresh +cigar, Mayor." + +Riding home that night in Shirley Sumner's car Mrs. Poundstone leaned +suddenly toward her husband, threw a fat arm around his neck and +kissed him. "Oh, Henry, you darling!" she purred. "What did I tell +you? If a person only wishes hard enough--" + +"Oh, go to the devil!" he roared angrily. "You've nagged me into it. +Shut up and take your arm away. Do you want me to wreck the car +before we've had it an hour?" + +As for Colonel Pennington, he had little difficulty in explaining the +deal to Shirley, who was sleepy and not at all interested. The +Poundstones had bored her to extinction, and upon her uncle's +assurance that she would have a new car within a week, she thanked +him and for the first time retired without offering her cheek for his +good-night kiss. Shortly thereafter the Colonel sought his own +virtuous couch and prepared to surrender himself to the first good +sleep in three weeks. He laid the flattering unction to his soul that +Bryce Cardigan had dealt him a poor hand from a marked deck and he +had played it exceedingly well. "Lucky I blocked the young beggar +from getting those rails out of the Laurel Creek spur," he mused, "or +he'd have had his jump-crossing in overnight--and then where the +devil would I have been? Up Salt Creek without a paddle--and all the +courts in Christendom would avail me nothing." + +He was dozing off, when a sound smote upon his ears. Instantly he was +wide awake, listening intently, his head cocked on one side. The +sound grew louder; evidently it was approaching Sequoia--and with a +bound the Colonel sat up in bed, trembling in every limb. + +Suddenly, out of the deep, rumbling diapason he heard a sharp click-- +then another and another. He counted them--six in all. + +"A locomotive and two flat-cars!" he murmured. "And they just passed +over the switch leading from the main-line tracks out to my log-dump. +That means the train is going down Water Street to the switch into +Cardigan's yard. By George, they've outwitted me!" + +With the agility of a boy he sprang into his clothes, raced +downstairs, and leaped into Mayor Poundstone's jitney, standing in +the darkness at the front gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +The success of Bryce Cardigan's plan for getting Ms rails down from +Laurel Creek depended entirely upon the whimsy which might seize the +crew of the big mogul that hauled the last load of logs out of +Cardigan's redwoods on Thursday afternoon. Should the engineer and +fireman decide to leave the locomotive at the logging-camp for the +night, Bryce's task would be as simple as turning a hose down a +squirrel-hole. On the other hand, should they run back to Sequoia +with the engine, he and Ogilvy faced the alternative of "borrowing" +it from the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's roundhouse; and that +operation, in view of the fact that Pennington's night watchman would +be certain to hear the engine leaving, offered difficulties. + +Throughout the afternoon, after having sent his orders in writing to +the woods-boss, via George Sea Otter (for he dared not trust to the +telephone), be waited in his office for a telephone-call from the +logging-camp as to what action the engine-crew had taken. He could +not work; he could not think. He only knew that all depended upon the +success of his coup to-night. Finally, at a quarter of six, Curtis, +his woods-boss rang in. + +"They're staying here all night, sir," he reported. + +"House them as far from the log-landing as possible, and organize a +poker-game to keep them busy in case they don't go to bed before +eight o'clock," Bryce ordered. "In the meantime, send a man you can +trust--Jim Harding, who runs the big bull-donkey, will do--down to +the locomotive to keep steam up until I arrive." + +He had scarcely hung up, when Buck Ogilvy came into the office. +"Well?" he queried casually. + +"Safe-o, Buck!" replied Bryce. "How about your end of the contract?" + +"Crowbars, picks, shovels, hack-saws to cut the rails, lanterns to +work by, and men to do the work will be cached in your lumber-yard by +nine o'clock, waiting for the rails to arrive." + +Bryce nodded his approval, "Then I suppose there's nothing to do but +get a bite of dinner and proceed to business." + +Buck insisted on keeping an engagement to dine with Moira, and Bryce +agreed to call for him at the Bon Gusto restaurant. Then Bryce went +home to dine with his father. Old Cardigan was happier than his son +had seen him since the return of the latter to Sequoia. + +"Well, sonny, I've had a mighty pleasant afternoon," he declared as +Bryce led him to the dinner-table. "I've been up to the Valley of the +Giants." + +Bryce was amazed. "Why, how could you?" he demanded. "The old skid- +road is impassable, and after you leave the end of the skid-road, the +trail in to Mother's grave is so overgrown with buckthorn and wild +lilac I doubt if a rabbit could get through it comfortably." + +"Not a bit of it," the old man replied. "Somebody has gone to work +and planked that old skid-road and put up a hand-railing on each +side, while the trail through the Giants has been grubbed out and +smoothed over. All that old logging-cable I abandoned in those +choppings has been strung from tree to tree alongside the path on +both sides. I can go up there alone now, once George sets me on the +old skid-road; I can't get lost." + +"How did you discover this?" Bryce demanded. + +"Judge Moore, representing the new owner, called round this morning +and took me in tow. He said his client knew the property held for me +a certain sentimental value which wasn't transferred in the deed, and +so the Judge had been instructed to have the skid-road planked and +the forest trail grubbed out--for me. It appears that the Valley is +going to be a public park, after all, but for the present and while I +live, it is my private park." + +"This is perfectly amazing, partner." + +"It's mighty comforting," his father admitted. "Guess the new owner +must be one of my old friends--perhaps somebody I did a favour for +once--and this is his way of repaying. Remember the old sugar-pine +windfall we used to sit on? Well, it's rotted through, and bears have +clawed it into chips in their search for grubs, but the new owner had +a seat put in there for me--just the kind of seat I like--a +lumberjack's rocking-chair made from an old vinegar-barrel. I sat in +it, and the Judge left me, and I did a right smart lot o' thinking. +And while it didn't lead me anywhere, still I--er--" + +"You felt better, didn't you?" his son suggested. + +John Cardigan nodded. "I'd like to know the name of the owner," he +said presently. "I'd like mighty well to say thank you to him. It +isn't usual for people nowadays to have as much respect for sentiment +in an old duffer like me as the fellow has. He sort of makes me feel +as if I hadn't sold at all." + +Buck Ogilvy came out of the Bon Gusto restaurant with Moira, just as +Bryce, with George Sea Otter at the wheel of the Napier, drove up to +the curb. They left Moira at her boarding-house, and rolled +noiselessly away. + +At nine o'clock they arrived at Cardigan's log-landing and found Jim +Harding, the bull-donkey engineer, placidly smoking his pipe in the +cab. Bryce hailed him. + +"That you, Jim?" + +"You bet." + +"Run up to Jabe Curtis's shanty, and tell him we're here. Have him +gather his gang and bring two pairs of overalls and two jumpers-- +large size--with him when he comes." + +Harding vanished into the darkness, and Buck Ogilvy climbed up into +the cab and glanced at the steam-gauge. "A hundred and forty," he +announced. "Good enough!" + +Presently the woods-boss, accompanied by thirty of his best men, came +down to the log-landing. At Bryce's order they clambered aboard the +engine and tender, hanging on the steps, on the roof of the cab, on +the cowcatcher--anywhere they could find a toe-hold. Harding cast +aside the two old ties which the careful engine-crew had placed +across the tracks in front of the drivers as additional precaution; +Buck Ogilvy cut off the air, and the locomotive and tender began to +glide slowly down the almost imperceptible grade. With a slight click +it cleared the switch and slid out onto the Cardigan lateral, swiftly +gathering speed. A quarter of a mile down the line Buck Ogilvy +applied the brakes and eased her down to twenty miles per hour. + +At the junction with the main line Buck backed briskly up into the +Laguna Grande woods, and coupled to the two loaded flat-cars. The +woods-gang scrambled aboard the flats, and the train pulled out for +Sequoia. Forty minutes later they rumbled down Water Street and slid +to a grinding halt at the intersection of B Street. + +From the darkness of Cardigan's drying-yard, where they had been +waiting, twenty picked men of the mill-crew now emerged, bearing +lanterns and tools. Under Buck Ogilvy's direction the dirt promptly +began to fly, while the woods-crew unloaded the rails and piled them +close to the sidewalk. + +Suddenly a voice, harsh and strident with passion, rose above the +thud of the picks and the clang of metal. + +"Who's in charge here, and what in blazes do you mean by cutting my +tracks?" + +Bryce turned in time to behold Colonel Seth Pennington leap from an +automobile and advance upon Buck Ogilvy. Ogilvy held a lantern up to +the Colonel's face and surveyed Pennington calmly. + +"Colonel," he began with exasperating politeness, "--I presume you +are Colonel Pennington--my name is Buchanan P. Ogilvy, and I am in +charge of these operations. I am the vice-president and general +manager of the N.C.O., and I am engaged in the blithe task of making +a jump-crossing of your rails. I had hoped to accomplish this without +your knowledge or consent, but now that you are here, that hope, of +course, has died a-bornin'. Have a cigar." And he thrust a perfecco +under the Colonel's nose. Pennington struck it to the ground, and on +the instant, half a dozen rough rascals emptied their shovels over +him. He was deluged with dirt. + +"Stand back, Colonel, stand back, if you please. You're in the way of +the shovellers," Buck Ogilvy warned him soothingly. + +Bryce Cardigan came over, and at sight of him Pennington choked with +fury. "You--you--" he sputtered, unable to say more. + +"I'm the N.C.O.," Bryce replied. "Nice little fiction that of yours +about the switch-engine being laid up in the shops and the Laurel +Creek bridge being unsafe for this big mogul." He looked Pennington +over with frank admiration. "You're certainly on the job, Colonel. +I'll say that much for you. The man who plans to defeat you must jump +far and fast, or his tail will be trod on." + +"You've stolen my engine," Pennington almost screamed. "I'll have the +law on you for grand larceny." + +"Tut-tut! You don't know who stole your engine. For all you know, +your own engine-crew may have run it down here." + +"I'll attend to you, sir," Pennington replied, and he turned to enter +Mayor Poundstone's little flivver. + +"Not to-night, at least," Bryce retorted gently. "Having gone this +far, I would be a poor general to permit you to escape now with the +news of your discovery. You'd be down here in an hour with a couple +of hundred members of your mill-crew and give us the rush. You will +oblige me, Colonel Pennington, by remaining exactly where you are +until I give you permission to depart." + +"And if I refuse--" + +"Then I shall manhandle you, truss you up like a fowl in the tonneau +of your car, and gag you." + +To Bryce's infinite surprise the Colonel smiled. "Oh, very well!" he +replied. "I guess you've got the bulge on me, young man. Do you mind +if I sit in the warm cab of my own engine? I came away in such a +hurry I quite forgot my overcoat." + +"Not at all. I'll sit up there and keep you company." + +Half an hour passed. An automobile came slowly up Water Street and +paused half a block away, evidently reconnoitering the situation. +Instantly the Colonel thrust his head out the cab window. + +"Sexton!" he shouted. "Cardigan's cutting in a crossing. He's holding +me here against my will. Get the mill-crew together and phone for +Rondeau and his woods-crew. Send the switch-engine and a couple of +flats up for them. Phone Poundstone. Tell him to have the chief of +police--" + +Bryce Cardigan's great hand closed over the Colonel's neck, while +down Water Street a dark streak that was Buck Ogilvy sped toward the +automobile, intending to climb in and make Pennington's manager a +prisoner also. He was too late, however. Sexton swung his car and +departed at full speed down Water Street, leaving the disappointed +Buck to return panting to the scene of operations. + +Bryce Cardigan released his hold on Pennington's neck. "You win, +Colonel," he announced. "No good can come of holding you here any +longer. Into your car and on your way." + +"Thank you, young man," the Colonel answered, and there was a +metallic ring in his voice. He looked at his watch in the glare of a +torch. "Plenty of time," he murmured. "Curfew shall not ring to- +night." Quite deliberately he climbed into the Mayor's late source of +woe and breezed away. + +Colonel Pennington did not at once return to his home, however. +Instead, he drove up to the business centre of the town. The streets +were deserted, but one saloon--the Sawdust Pile--was still open. + +Pennington strode through the bar and into the back room, where a +number of poker-games were in progress. For a moment he stood, his +cold, ophidian glance circling the room until it came to rest on no +less a personage than the Black Minorca, an individual with whom the +reader has already had some slight acquaintance. It will be recalled +that the Black Minorca led the futile rush against Bryce Cardigan +that day in Pennington's woods. + +The Colonel approached the table where the Black Minorca sat thumbing +the edges of his cards, and touched the cholo on the shoulder. The +Black Minorca turned, and Pennington nodded to him to follow; +whereupon the latter cashed in his chips and joined his employer on +the sidewalk. Here a whispered conversation ensued, and at its +conclusion the Black Minorca nodded vigorously. + +"Sure!" he assured the Colonel. "I'll fix 'em good and plenty." + +Together Pennington and the Black Minorca entered the automobile and +proceeded swiftly to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's mill-office. +From a locker the Colonel produced a repeating rifle and three boxes +of cartridges, which he handed to the cholo, who departed without +further ado into the night. + +Twenty minutes later, from the top of a lumber-pile in Cardigan's +drying-yard, Bryce Cardigan saw the flash of a rifle and felt a +sudden sting on his left forearm. He leaped around in front of the +cowcatcher to gain the shelter of the engine, and another bullet +struck at his feet and ricocheted off into the night. It was followed +by a fusillade, the bullets kicking up the freshly disturbed earth +among the workers and sending them scurrying to various points of +safety. In an instant the crossing was deserted, and work had been +stopped, while from the top of the adjacent lumber-pile the Black +Minorca poured a stream of lead and filthy invective at every point +which he suspected of harbouring a Cardigan follower. + +"I don't think he's hurt anybody," Buck Ogilvy whispered as he +crouched with Bryce beside the engine, "but that's due to his +marksmanship rather than his intentions." + +"He tried hard enough to plug me," Bryce declared, and showed the +hole through his sleeve. "They call him the Black Minorca, and he's a +mongrel greaser who'd kill his own mother for a fifty-dollar bill." + +"I'd like to plug him," Buck murmured regretfully. + +"What would be the use? This will be his last night in Humboldt +County--" + +A rifle shot rang out from the side of B Street; from the lumber-pile +across the street, Bryce and Ogilvy heard a suppressed grunt of pain, +and a crash as of a breaking board. Instantly out of the shadows +George Sea Otter came padding on velvet feet, rifle in hand--and then +Bryce understood. + +"All right, boss," said George simply as he joined Bryce and Ogilvy +under the lee of the locomotive. "Now we get busy again." + +"Safe-o, men," Ogilvy called. "Back to the job." And while Bryce, +followed by the careless George Sea Otter, went into the lumber-yard +to succour the enemy, Ogilvy set an example to the men by stepping +into the open and starting briskly to work with a shovel. + +At the bottom of the pile of lumber the Black Minorca was discovered +with a severe flesh-wound in his right hip; also he was suffering +from numerous bruises and contusions. George Sea Otter possessed +himself of the fallen cholo's rifle, while Bryce picked the wretch up +and carried him to his automobile. + +"Take the swine over to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's hospital +and tell them to patch him up," he ordered George Sea Otter. "I'll +keep both rifles and the ammunition here for Jules Rondeau and his +woods-gang. They'll probably be dropping in on us about two a.m., if +I know anything about Colonel Pennington's way of doing things." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Having dispatched the Black Minorca to hold up the work until the +arrival of reinforcements, Colonel Pennington fairly burned the +streets en route to his home. He realized that there would be no more +sleep for him that night, and he was desirous of getting into a heavy +ulster before venturing forth again into the night air. + +The violent slam with which he closed the front door after him +brought Shirley, in dressing-gown and slippers, to the staircase. + +"Uncle Seth!" she called. + +"Here!" he replied from the hall below. + +"What's the matter?" + +"There's the devil to pay," he answered. "That fellow Cardigan is +back of the N.C.O., after all, and he and Ogilvy have a gang of fifty +men down at the intersection of Water and B streets, cutting in a +jump-crossing of our line." + +He dashed into the living room, and she heard him calling frantically +into the telephone. + +"At last!" she murmured, and crept down the stairs, pausing behind +the heavy portieres at the entrance to the living room. + +"That you, Poundstone?" she heard him saying rapidly into the +transmitter. "Pennington speaking. Young Bryce Cardigan is behind +that N.C.O. outfit, and it's a logging-road and not intended to build +through to Grant's Pass at all. Cardigan and Ogilvy are at Water and +B streets this very instant with a gang of fifty men cutting in a +jump-crossing of my line, curse them! They'll have it in by six +o'clock to-morrow morning if something isn't done--and once they get +it in, the fat's in the fire. + +"Telephone the chief of police and order him to take his entire force +down there, if necessary, and stop that work. To blazes with that +temporary franchise! You stop that work for two hours, and I'll do +the rest. Tell the chief of police not to recognize that temporary +franchise. He can be suspicious of it, can't he, and refuse to let +the work go on until he finds you? And you can be hard to find for +two hours, can you not? Delay, delay, man! That's all I want... Yes, +yes, I understand. You get down about daylight and roast the chief of +police for interfering, but in the meantime!... Thank you, +Poundstone, thank you. Good-bye." + +He stood at the telephone, the receiver still held to his ear and his +right forefinger holding down the hook while the line cleared. When +he spoke again, Shirley knew he was calling his mill-office. He got a +response immediately, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. + +"Sexton? Pennington speaking. I've sent over the Black Minorca with a +rifle and sixty rounds of ammunition... What? You can hear him +shooting already? Bully boy with a crockery eye! He'll clean that +gang out and keep them from working until the police arrive. You've +telephoned Rondeau, have you?... Good! He'll have his men waiting at +the log-landing, and there'll be no delay. As soon as you've seen the +switch-engine started for the woods, meet me down at Water and B +streets. Sexton, we've got to block them. It means a loss of millions +to me if we fail!" + +Shirley was standing in the doorway as he faced about from the +telephone. "Uncle Seth," she said quietly, "use any honourable method +of defeating Bryce Cardigan, but call off the Black Minorca. I shall +hold you personally responsible for Bryce Cardigan's life, and if you +fail me, I shall never forgive you." + +"Silly, silly girl!" he soothed her. "Don't you know I would not +stoop to bush-whacking? There's some shooting going on, but its wild +shooting, just to frighten Cardigan and his men off the job." + +"You can't frighten him," she cried passionately, "You know you +can't. He'll kill the Black Minorca, or the Black Minorca will kill +him. Go instantly and stop it." + +"All right, all right!" he said rather humbly, and sprang down the +front steps into the waiting car. "I'll play the game fairly, +Shirley, never fear." + +She stood in the doorway and watched the red tail-light, like a +malevolent eye, disappear down the street. And presently as she stood +there, down the boulevard a huge gray car came slipping noiselessly-- +so noiselessly, in fact, that Shirley recognized it by that very +quality of silence. It was Bryce Cardigan's Napier. + +"George!" she called. "Come here." + +The car slid over to the gate and stopped at the sight of the slim +white figure running down the garden walk. + +"Is Mr. Cardigan hurt?" she demanded in an agony of suspense. + +George Sea Otter grunted contemptuously. "Nobody hurt 'cept the Black +Minorca. I am taking him to your company hospital, miss. He tried to +shoot my boss, so I shoot him myself once through the leg. Now my +boss says: 'Take him to the Laguna Grande hospital, George.' Me, I +would drop this greaser in the bay if I was the boss." + +She laughed hysterically. "On your way back from the hospital stop +and pick me up, George," she ordered. "This senseless feud has gone +far enough. I must stop it--at once." + +He touched his broad hat, and she returned to the house to dress. + +Meanwhile Colonel Pennington had reached the crossing once more, +simultaneously with the arrival of Sam Perkins, the chief of police, +accompanied by two automobiles crammed with patrolmen. Perkins +strutted up to Bryce Cardigan and Buck Ogilvy. + +"What's the meaning of all this row, Mr. Cardigan?" he demanded. + +"Something has slipped, Sam," Bryce retorted pleasantly. "You've been +calling me Bryce for the past twenty years, and now you're mistering +me! The meaning of this row, you ask?" Bryce continued. "Well, I'm +engaged in making a jump-crossing of Colonel Pennington's tracks, +under a temporary franchise granted me by the city of Sequoia. Here's +the franchise." And he thrust the document under the police chief's +nose. + +"This is the first I've heard about any franchise," Sam Perkins +replied suspiciously. "Seems to me you been mighty secret about this +job. How do I know this ain't a forgery?" + +"Call up the mayor and ask him," Bryce suggested. + +"I'll do that," quoth Mr. Perkins ponderously. "And in the meantime, +don't do any more digging or rail-cutting." He hurried away to his +automobile, leaving a lieutenant in charge of the squad. + +"Also in the meantime, young man," Colonel Pennington announced, "you +will pardon me if I take possession of my locomotive and flat-cars. I +observe you have finished unloading those rails." + +"Help yourself, Colonel," Bryce replied with an assumption of +heartiness he was far from feeling. + +"Thank you so much, Cardigan." With the greatest good nature in life, +Pennington climbed into the cab, reached for the bell-cord, and rang +the bell vigorously. Then he permitted himself a triumphant toot of +the whistle, after which he threw off the air and gently opened the +throttle. He was not a locomotive-engineer but he had ridden in the +cab of his own locomotive and felt quite confident of his ability in +a pinch. + +With a creak and a bump the train started, and the Colonel ran it +slowly up until the locomotive stood on the tracks exactly where Buck +Ogilvy had been cutting in his crossing; whereupon the Colonel locked +the brakes, opened his exhaust, and blew the boiler down. And when +the last ounce of steam had escaped, he descended and smilingly +accosted Bryce Cardigan. + +"That engine being my property," he announced, "I'll take the short +end of any bet you care to make, young man, that it will sit on those +tracks until your temporary franchise expires. I'd give a good deal +to see anybody not in my employ attempt to get up steam in that +boiler until I give the word. Cut in your jump-crossing now, if you +can, you whelp, and be damned to you. I've got you blocked!" + +"I rather imagine this nice gentleman has it on us, old dear," +chirped Buck Ogilvy plaintively. "Well! We did our damndest, which +angels can't do no more. Let us gather up our tools and go home, my +son, for something tells me that if I hang around here I'll bust one +of two things--this sleek scoundrel's gray head or one of my +bellicose veins! Hello! Whom have we here?" + +Bryce turned and found himself facing Shirley Sumner. Her tender lip +was quivering, and the tears shone in her eyes like stars. He stared +at her in silence. + +"My friend," she murmured tremulously, "didn't I tell you I would not +permit you to build the N.C.O.?" + +He bowed his head in rage and shame at his defeat. Buck Ogilvy took +him by the arm. "''Tis midnight's holy hour,'" he quoted, "'and +silence now is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er a still and +pulseless world.' Bryce, old chap, this is one of those occasions +where silence is golden. Speak not. I'll do it for you. Miss Sumner," +he continued, bowing graciously, "and Colonel Pennington," favouring +that triumphant rascal with an equally gracious bow, "we leave you in +possession of the field--temporarily. However, if anybody should +drive up in a hack and lean out and ask you, just tell him Buck +Ogilvy has another trump tucked away in his kimono." + +Bryce turned to go, but with a sudden impulse Shirley laid her hand +on his arm--his left arm. "Bryce!" she murmured. + +He lifted her hand gently from his forearm, led her to the front of +the locomotive, and held her hand up to the headlight. Her fingers +were crimson with blood. + +"Your uncle's killer did that, Shirley," he said ironically. "It's +only a slight flesh-wound, but that is no fault of your allies. Good- +night." + +And he left her standing, pale of face and trembling, in the white +glare of the headlight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Shirley made no effort to detain Bryce Cardigan as he walked to his +car and climbed into it. Ogilvy remained merely long enough to give +orders to the foreman to gather up the tools, store them in the +machine-shop of Cardigan's mill, and dismiss his gang; then he, too, +entered the automobile, and at a word from Bryce, the car slid +noiselessly away into the darkness. The track-cutting crew departed a +few minutes later, and when Shirley found herself alone with her +uncle, the tumult in her heart gave way to the tears she could no +longer repress. Pennington stood by, watching her curiously, coldly. + +Presently Shirley mastered her emotion and glanced toward him. + +"Well, my dear?" he queried nervously. + +"I--I think I had better go home," she said without spirit. + +"I think so, too," he answered. "Get into the Mayor's flivver, my +dear, and I'll drive you. And perhaps the least said about this +affair the better, Shirley. There are many things that you do not +understand and which cannot be elucidated by discussion." + +"I can understand an attempt at assassination, Uncle Seth." + +"That blackguard Minorca! I should have known better than to put him +on such a job. I told him to bluff and threaten; Cardigan, I knew, +would realize the grudge the Black Minorca has against him, and for +that reason I figured the greaser was the only man who could bluff +him. While I gave him orders to shoot, I told him distinctly not to +hit anybody. Good Lord, Shirley, surely you do not think I would wink +at a murder!" + +"I do," she answered passionately. "With Bryce Cardigan out of the +way, you would have a clear field before you--" + +"Oh, my dear, my dear! Surely you do not realize what you are saying. +You are beside yourself, Shirley. Please--please do not wound me so-- +so horribly. You do not--you cannot realize what a desperate fight I +have been putting up for both our sakes. I am surrounded by enemies-- +the most implacable enemies. They force me to fight the devil with +fire--and here you are, giving them aid and comfort." + +"I want you to defeat Bryce Cardigan, if you can do it fairly." + +"At another time and in a calmer mood we will discuss that villain," +he said authoritatively. "If we argue the matter now, we are liable +to misunderstandings; we may quarrel, and that is something neither +of us can afford. Get into the car, and we will go home. There is +nothing more to be done to-night." + +"Your sophistry does not alter my opinion," she replied firmly. +"However, as you say, this is neither the time nor the place to +discuss it." + +They drove home in silence. Shirley went at once to her room. For the +Colonel, however, the night's work had scarcely begun. The instant he +heard the door to his niece's room shut, he went to the telephone and +called up the Laguna Grande roundhouse. Sexton, his manager, +answered. + +"Have you sent the switch-engine to the woods for Rondeau and his +men?" + +"Just left." + +"Good! Now, then, Sexton, listen to me: As you know, this raid of +Cardigan's has developed so suddenly I am more or less taken by +surprise and have had no time to prepare the kind of counter-attack +that will be most effective. However, with the crossing blocked, I +gain time in which to organize--only there must be no weak point in +my organization. In order to insure that, I am proceeding to San +Francisco to-night by motor, via the coast road. I will arrive late +to-morrow night, and early Saturday morning I will appear in the +United States District Court with our attorneys and file a complaint +and petition for an order temporarily restraining the N.C.O. from +cutting our tracks. + +"I will have to make an affidavit to support the complaint, so I had +better be Johnny-on-the-spot to do it, rather than risk the delay of +making the affidavit tomorrow morning here and forwarding it by mail +to our attorneys. The judge will sign a restraining order, returnable +in from ten to thirty days--I'll try for thirty, because that will +knock out the N.C.O.'s temporary franchise--and after I have obtained +the restraining order, I will have the United States marshal +telegraph it to Ogilvy and Cardigan!" + +"Bully!" cried Sexton heartily. "That will fix their clock." + +"In the meantime," Pennington continued, "logs will be glutting our +landings. We need that locomotive for its legitimate purposes. Take +all that discarded machinery and the old boiler we removed from the +mill last fall, dump it on the tracks at the crossing, and get the +locomotive back on its run. Understand? The other side, having no +means of removing these heavy obstructions, will be blocked until I +return; by that time the matter will be in the District Court, +Cardigan will be hung up until his temporary franchise expires--and +the city council will not renew it. Get me?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I'll be back Sunday forenoon. Good-bye." + +He hung up, went to his chauffeur's quarters over the garage, and +routed the man out of bed. Then he returned quietly to his room, +dressed and packed a bag for his journey, left a brief note for +Shirley notifying her of his departure, and started on his two- +hundred-and-fifty mile trip over the mountains to the south. As his +car sped through sleeping Sequoia and gained the open country, the +Colonel's heart thrilled pleasurably. He held cards and spades, big +and little casino, four aces and the joker; therefore he knew he +could sweep the board at his pleasure. And during his absence Shirley +would have opportunity to cool off, while he would find time to +formulate an argument to lull her suspicions upon his return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +Quite oblivious of her uncle's departure for San Francisco, Shirley +lay awake throughout the remainder of the night, turning over and +over in her mind the various aspects of the Cardigan-Fennington +imbroglio. Of one thing she was quite certain; peace must be declared +at all hazards. She had been obsessed of a desire, rather unusual in +her sex, to see a fight worth while; she had planned to permit it to +go to a knockout, to use Bryce Cardigan's language, because she +believed Bryce Cardigan would be vanquished--and she had desired to +see him smashed--but not beyond repair, for her joy in the conflict +was to lie in the task of putting the pieces together afterward! She +realized now, however, that she had permitted matters to go too far. +A revulsion of feeling toward her uncle, induced by the memory of +Bryce Cardigan's blood on her white finger-tips, convinced the girl +that, at all hazards to her financial future, henceforth she and her +uncle must tread separate paths. She had found him out at last, and +because in her nature there was some of his own fixity of purpose, +the resolution cost her no particular pang. + +It was rather a relief, therefore, when the imperturbable James +handed her at breakfast the following note: + +Shirley, Dear + +After leaving you last night, I decided that in your present frame of +mind my absence for a few days might tend to a calmer and clearer +perception, on your part, of the necessary tactics which in a moment +of desperation, I saw fit, with regret, to pursue last night. And in +the hope that you will have attained your old attitude toward me +before my return, I am leaving in the motor for San Francisco. Your +terrible accusation has grieved me to such an extent that I do not +feel equal to the task of confronting you until, in a more judicial +frame of mind, you can truly absolve me of the charge of wishing to +do away with young Cardigan. Your affectionate Uncle Seth. + +Shirley's lip curled. With a rarer, keener intuition than she had +hitherto manifested, she sensed the hypocrisy between the lines; she +was not deceived. + +"He has gone to San Francisco for more ammunition," she soliloquized. +"Very well, Unkie-dunk! While you're away, I shall manufacture a few +bombs myself." + +After breakfast she left the house and walked to the intersection of +B with Water Street. Jules Rondeau and his crew of lumberjacks were +there, and with two policemen guarded the crossing. + +Rondeau glanced at Shirley, surprised, then lifted his hat. Shirley +looked from the woods bully to the locomotive and back to Rondeau. + +"Rondeau," she said, "Mr. Cardigan is a bad man to fight. You fought +him once. Are you going to do it again?" + +He nodded. + +"By whose orders?" + +"Mr. Sexton, he tell me to do it." + +"Well, Rondeau, some day I'll be boss of Laguna Grande and there'll +be no more fighting," she replied, and passed on down B Street to the +office of the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company. Moira McTavish looked +up as she entered. + +"Where is he, dear?" Shirley asked. "I must see him." + +"In that office, Miss Shirley," Moira replied, and pointed to the +door. Shirley stepped to the door, knocked, and then entered. Bryce +Cardigan, seated at his desk, looked up as she came in. His left arm +was in a sling, and he looked harassed and dejected. + +"Don't get up, Bryce," she said as he attempted to rise. "I know +you're quite exhausted. You look it." She sat down. "I'm so sorry," +she said softly. + +His dull glance brightened. "It doesn't amount to that, Shirley." And +he snapped his fingers. "It throbs a little and it's stiff and sore, +so I carry it in the sling. That helps a little. What did you want to +see me about?" + +"I wanted to tell you," said Shirley, "that--that last night's affair +was not of my making." He smiled compassionately. "I--I couldn't bear +to have you think I'd break my word and tell him." + +"It never occurred to me that you had dealt me a hand from the bottom +of the deck, Shirley. Please don't worry about it. Your uncle has had +two private detectives watching Ogilvy and me." + +"Oh!" she breathed, much relieved. A ghost of the old bantering smile +lighted her winsome features. "Well, then," she challenged, "I +suppose you don't hate me." + +"On the contrary, I love you," he answered. "However, since you must +have known this for some time past, I suppose it is superfluous to +mention it. Moreover, I haven't the right--yet." + +She had cast her eyes down modestly. She raised them now and looked +at him searchingly. "I suppose you'll acknowledge yourself whipped at +last, Bryce?" she ventured. + +"Would it please you to have me surrender?" He was very serious. + +"Indeed it would, Bryce." + +"Why?" + +"Because I'm tired of fighting. I want peace. I'm--I'm afraid to let +this matter go any further. I'm truly afraid." + +"I think I want peace, too," he answered wearily. "I'd be glad to +quit--with honour. And I'll do it, too, if you can induce your uncle +to give me the kind of logging contract I want with his road." + +"I couldn't do that, Bryce. He has you whipped--and he is not +merciful to the fallen. You'll have to--surrender unconditionally." +Again she laid her little hand timidly on his wounded forearm. +"Please give up, Bryce--for my sake. If you persist, somebody will +get killed." + +"I suppose I'll have to," he murmured sadly. "I dare say you're +right, though one should never admit defeat until he is counted out. +I suppose," he continued bitterly, "your uncle is in high feather +this morning." + +"I don't know, Bryce. He left in his motor for San Francisco about +one o'clock this morning." + +For an instant Bryce Cardigan stared at her; then a slow, mocking +little smile crept around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes +lighted with mirth. + +"Glorious news, my dear Shirley, perfectly glorious! So the old fox +has gone to San Francisco, eh? Left in a hurry and via the overland +route! Couldn't wait for the regular passenger-steamer to-morrow, eh? +Great jumping Jehoshaphat! He must have had important business to +attend to." And Bryce commenced to chuckle. "Oh, the poor old +Colonel," he continued presently, "the dear old pirate! What a +horrible right swing he's running into! And you want me to +acknowledge defeat! My dear girl, in the language of the classic, +there is nothing doing. I shall put in my crossing Sunday morning, +and if you don't believe it, drop around and see me in action." + +"You mustn't try," protested Shirley. "Rondeau is there with his +crew--and he has orders to stop you. Besides, you can't expect help +from the police. Uncle Seth has made a deal with the Mayor," Shirley +pleaded frantically. + +"That for the police and that venal Mayor Poundstone!" Bryce +retorted, with another snap of his fingers. "I'll rid the city of +them at the fall election." + +"I came prepared to suggest a compromise, Bryce," she declared, but +he interrupted her with a wave of his hand. + +"You can't effect a compromise. You've been telling me I shall never +build the N.C.O. because you will not permit me to. You're powerless, +I tell you. I shall build it." + +"You shan't!" she fired back at him, and a spot of anger glowed in +each cheek. "You're the most stubborn and belligerent man I have ever +known. Sometimes I almost hate you." + +"Come around at ten to-morrow morning and watch me put in the +crossing--watch me give Rondeau and his gang the run." He reached +over suddenly, lifted her hand, and kissed it. "How I love you, dear +little antagonist!" he murmured. + +"If you loved me, you wouldn't oppose me," she protested softly. "I +tell you again, Bryce, you make it very hard for me to be friendly +with you." + +"I don't want to be friendly with you. You're driving me crazy, +Shirley. Please run along home, or wherever you're bound. I've tried +to understand your peculiar code, but you're too deep for me; so let +me go my way to the devil. George Sea Otter is outside asleep in the +tonneau of the car. Tell him to drive you wherever you're going. I +suppose you're afoot to-day, for I noticed the Mayor riding to his +office in your sedan this morning." + +She tried to look outraged, but for the life of her she could not +take offense at his bluntness; neither did she resent a look which +she detected in his eyes, even though it told her he was laughing at +her. + +"Oh, very well," she replied with what dignity she could muster. +"Have it your own way. I've tried to warn you. Thank you for your +offer of the car. I shall be glad to use it. Uncle Seth sold my car +to Mayor Poundstone last night. Mrs. P. admired it so!" + +"Ah! Then it was that rascally Poundstone who told your uncle about +the temporary franchise, thus arousing his suspicions to such an +extent that when he heard his locomotive rumbling into town, he +smelled a rat and hurried down to the crossing?" + +"Possibly. The Poundstones dined at our house last night." + +"Pretty hard on you, I should say. But then I suppose you have to +play the game with Uncle Seth. Well, good morning, Shirley. Sorry to +hurry you away, but you must remember we're on a strictly business +basis--yet; and you mustn't waste my time." + +"You're horrid, Bryce Cardigan." + +"You're adorable. Good morning." + +"You'll be sorry for this," she warned him. "Good morning." She +passed out into the general office, visited with Moira about five +minutes, and drove away in the Napier. Bryce watched her through the +window. She knew he was watching her, but nevertheless she could not +forbear turning round to verify her suspicions. When she did, he +waved his sound arm at her, and she flushed with vexation. + +"God bless her!" he murmured. "She's been my ally all along, and I +never suspected it! I wonder what her game can be." + +He sat musing for a long time. "Yes," he concluded presently, "old +Poundstone has double-crossed us--and Pennington made it worth his +while. And the Colonel sold the Mayor his niece's automobile. It's +worth twenty-five hundred dollars, at least, and since old +Poundstone's finances will not permit such an extravagance, I'm +wondering how Pennington expects him to pay for it. I smell a rat as +big as a kangaroo. In this case two and two don't make four. They +make six! Guess I'll build a fire under old Poundstone." + +He took down the telephone-receiver and called up the Mayor. "Bryce +Cardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone," he greeted the chief executive of +Sequoia. + +"Oh, hello, Bryce, my boy," Poundstone boomed affably. "How's +tricks?" + +"So-so! I hear you've bought that sedan from Colonel Pennington's +niece. Wish I'd known it was for sale. I'd have outbid you. Want to +make a profit on your bargain?" + +"No, not this morning, Bryce. I think we'll keep it. Mrs. P. has been +wanting a closed car for a long time, and when the Colonel offered me +this one at a bargain, I snapped it up. Couldn't afford a new one, +you know, but then this one's just as good as new." + +"And you don't care to get rid of it at a profit?" Bryce repeated. + +"No, sirree!" + +"Oh, you're mistaken, Mr. Mayor. I think you do. I would suggest that +you take that car back to Pennington's garage and leave it there. +That would be the most profitable thing you could do." + +"Wha--what--what in blue blazes are you driving at?" the Mayor +sputtered. + +"I wouldn't care to discuss it over the telephone. I take it, +however, that a hint to the wise is sufficient; and I warn you, +Mayor, that if you keep that car it will bring you bad luck. To-day +is Friday, and Friday is an unlucky day. I'd get rid of that sedan +before noon if I were you." + +There was a long, fateful silence. Then in a singularly small, +quavering voice: "You think it best, Cardigan?" + +"I do. Return it to No. 38 Redwood Boulevard, and no questions will +be asked. Good-bye!" + +When Shirley reached home at noon, she found her car parked in front +of the porte cochere; and a brief note, left with the butler, +informed her that after thinking the matter over, Mrs. Poundstone had +decided the Poundstone family could not afford such an extravagance, +and accordingly the car was returned with many thanks for the +opportunity to purchase it at such a ridiculously low figure. Shirley +smiled, and put the car up in the garage. When she returned to the +house her maid Thelma informed her that Mr. Bryce Cardigan had been +calling her on the telephone. So she called Bryce up at once. + +"Has Poundstone returned your car?" he queried. + +"Why, yes. What makes you ask?" + +"Oh, I had a suspicion he might. You see, I called him up and +suggested it; somehow His Honour is peculiarly susceptible to +suggestions from me, and--" + +"Bryce Cardigan," she declared, "you're a sly rascal--that's what you +are. I shan't tell you another thing." + +"I hope you had a stenographer at the dictograph when the Mayor and +your uncle cooked up their little deal," he continued. "That was +thoughtful of you, Shirley. It was a bully club to have up your +sleeve at the final show-down, for with it you can make Unkie-dunk +behave himself and force that compromise you spoke of. Seriously, +however, I don't want you to use it, Shirley. We must avoid a scandal +by all means; and praise be, I don't need your club to beat your +uncle's brains out. I'm taking HIS club away from him to use for that +purpose." + +"Really, I believe you're happy to-day." + +"Happy? I should tell a man! If the streets of Sequoia were paved +with eggs, I could walk them all day without making an omelette." + +"It must be nice to feel so happy, after so many months of the +blues." + +"Indeed it is, Shirley. You see until very recently I was very much +worried as to your attitude toward me. I couldn't believe you'd so +far forget yourself as to love me in spite of everything--so I never +took the trouble to ask you. And now I don't have to ask you. I know! +And I'll be around to see you after I get that crossing in!" + +"You're perfectly horrid," she blazed, and hung up without the +formality of saying good-bye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Shortly after Shirley's departure from his office, Bryce had a visit +from Buck Ogilvy. The latter wore a neatly pressed suit of Shepherd +plaid, with a white carnation in his lapel, and he was, apparently, +the most light-hearted young man in Humboldt County. He struck an +attitude and demanded: + +"Boss, what do you think of my new suit?" + +"You lunatic! Don't you know red blonds should never wear light +shades? You're dressed like a Negro minstrel." + +"Well, I feel as happy as an end-man. And by the way, you're all +chirked up yourself. Who's been helping you to the elixir of life. +When we parted last night, you were forty fathoms deep in the slough +of despond." + +"No less a divinity than Miss Shirley Sumner! She called this morning +to explain that last night's fiasco was none of her making, and quite +innocently she imparted the information that old Pennington lighted +out for San Francisco at one o'clock this morning. Wherefore I laugh. +Te-he! Ha-hah!" + +"Three long, loud raucous cheers for Uncle. He's gone to rush a +restraining order through the United States District Court. Wonder +why he didn't wire his attorneys to attend to the matter for him." + +"He has the crossing blocked, and inasmuch as the Mayor feeds out of +Pennington's hand, the Colonel is quite confident that said crossing +will remain blocked, As for the restraining order--well, if one wants +a thing well done, one should do it oneself." + +"All that doesn't explain your cheerful attitude, though." + +"Oh, but it does. I've told you about old Duncan McTavish, Moira's +father, haven't I?" Ogilvy nodded, and Bryce continued: "When I fired +the old scoundrel for boozing, it almost broke his heart; he had to +leave Humboldt, where everybody knew him, so he wandered down into +Mendocino County and got a job sticking lumber in the drying-yard of +the Willits Lumber Company. He's been there two months now, and I am +informed by his employer that old Mac hasn't taken a drink in all +that time. And what's more, he isn't going to take one again." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because I make it my business to find out. Mac was the finest woods- +boss this county ever knew; hence you do not assume that I would lose +the old scoundrel without making a fight for him, do you? Why, Buck, +he's been on the Cardigan pay-roll thirty years, and I only fired him +in order to reform him. Well, last week I sent one of Mac's old +friends down to Willits purposely to call on him and invite him out +'for a time'; but Mac wouldn't drink with him. No, sir, he couldn't +be tempted. On the contrary, he told the tempter that I had promised +to give him back his job if he remained on the water wagon for one +year; he was resolved to win back his job and his self-respect." + +"I know what your plan is," Ogilvy interrupted. "You're going to ask +Duncan McTavish to waylay Pennington on the road at some point where +it runs through the timber, kidnap him, and hold him until we have +had time to clear the crossing and cut Pennington's tracks. + +"We will do nothing of the sort," Buck continued seriously. "Listen, +now, to Father's words of wisdom. This railroad-game is an old one to +me; I've fought at crossings before now, and whether successful or +defeated, I have always learned something in battle. Didn't you hear +me tell that girl and her villainous avuncular relative last night +that I had another ace up my kimono?" + +Bryce nodded. + +"That was not brag, old dear. I had the ace, and this morning I +played it--wherefore in my heart there is that peace that passeth +understanding--particularly since I have just had a telegram +informing me that my ace took the odd trick." + +He opened a drawer in Bryce's desk and reached for the cigars he knew +were there. + +"Not at all a bad cigar for ten cents. However--you will recall that +from the very instant we decided to cut in that jump-crossing, we +commenced to plan against interference by Pennington; in consequence +we kept, or tried to keep, our decision a secret. However, there +existed at all times the possibility that Pennington might discover +our benevolent intentions and block us with his only weapon--a +restraining order issued by the judge of the United States District +Court. + +"Now, one of the most delightful things I know about a court is that +it is open to all men seeking justice--or injustice disguised as +justice. Also there is a wise old saw to the effect that battles are +won by the fellow who gets there first with the most men. The +situation from the start was absurdly simple. If Pennington got to +the District Court first, we were lost!" + +"You mean you got there first?" exclaimed Bryce. + +"I did--by the very simple method of preparing to get there first in +case anything slipped. Something did slip--last night! However, I was +ready; so all I had to do was press the button, for as Omar Khayyam +remarked: 'What shall it avail a man if he buyeth a padlock for his +stable after his favourite stallion hath been lifted?' Several days +ago, my boy, I wrote a long letter to our attorney in San Francisco +explaining every detail of our predicament; the instant I received +that temporary franchise from the city council, I mailed a certified +copy of it to our attorney also. Then, in anticipation of our +discovery by Pennington, I instructed the attorney to prepare the +complaint and petition for a restraining order against Seth +Pennington et al. and stand by to rush the judge with it the instant +he heard from me! + +"Well, about the time old Pennington started for San Francisco this +morning, I had our attorney out of bed and on the long-distance +telephone; at nine o'clock this morning he appeared in the United +States District Court; at nine-fifteen the judge signed a restraining +order forbidding our enemies to interfere with us in the exercise of +a right legally granted us by the city of Sequoia, and at nine-thirty +a deputy United States marshal started in an automobile for Sequoia, +via the overland route. He will arrive late to-morrow night, and on +Sunday we will get that locomotive out of our way and install our +crossing." + +"And Pennington--" + +"Ah, the poor Pennington! Mon pauvre Seth!" Buck sighed comically. +"He will be just twenty-four hours late." + +"You old he-fox!" Bryce murmured. "You wicked, wicked man!" + +Buck Ogilvy lifted his lapel and sniffed luxuriously at his white +carnation, the while a thin little smile played around the corners of +his humorous mouth. "Ah," he murmured presently, "life's pretty +sweet, isn't it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Events followed each other with refreshing rapidity. While the crew +of the big locomotive on the crossing busied themselves getting up +steam, Sexton and Jules Rondeau toiled at the loading of the +discarded boiler and heavy castings aboard two flat-cars. By +utilizing the steel derrick on the company's wrecking-car, this task +was completed by noon, and after luncheon the mogul backed up the +main line past the switch into the Laguna Grande yards; whereupon the +switch-engine kicked the two flat-cars and the wrecking-car out of +the yard and down to the crossing, where the obstructions were +promptly unloaded. The police watched the operation with alert +interest but forebore to interfere in this high-handed closing of a +public thoroughfare. + +To Sexton's annoyance and secret apprehension, Bryce Cardigan and +Buck Ogilvy promptly appeared on the scene, both very cheerful and +lavish with expert advice as to the best method of expediting the job +in hand. To Bryce's surprise Jules Rondeau appeared to take secret +enjoyment of this good-natured chaffing of the Laguna Grande manager. +Occasionally he eyed Bryce curiously but without animus, and +presently he flashed the latter a lightning wink, as if to say: "What +a fool Sexton is to oppose you!" + +"Well, Rondeau," Bryce hailed the woods-boss cheerfully, "I see you +have quite recovered from that working over I gave you some time ago. +No hard feelings, I trust. I shouldn't care to have that job to do +over again. You're a tough one." + +"By gar, she don' pay for have hard feelings wiz you, M'sieur," +Rondeau answered bluntly. "We have one fine fight, but"--he shrugged +--"I don' want some more." + +"Yes, by gar, an' she don' pay for cut other people's trees, +M'sieur," Bryce mimicked him. "I shouldn't wonder if I took the value +of that tree out of your hide." + +"I t'enk so, M'sieur." He approached Bryce and lowered his voice. +"For one month I am no good all ze tam. We don' fight some more, +M'sieur. And I have feel ashame' for dose Black Minorca feller. +Always wiz him eet is ze knife or ze club--and now eet is ze rifle. +COCHON! W'en I fight, I fight wiz what le bon Dieu give me." + +"You appear to have a certain code, after all," Bryce laughed. "I am +inclined to like you for it. You're sporty in your way, you +tremendous scoundrel!" + +"Mebbeso," Rondeau suggested hopefully, "M'sieur likes me for woods- +boss?" + +"Why, what's the matter with Pennington? Is he tired of you?" + +The colour mounted slowly to the woods bully's swarthy cheek. +"Mademoiselle Sumnair, he's tell me pretty soon he's goin' be boss of +Laguna Grande an' stop all thees fight. An' w'en Mademoiselle, he is +in the saddle, good-bye Jules Rondeau. Thees country--I like him. I +feel sad, M'sieur, to leave dose beeg trees." He paused, looking +rather wistfully at Bryce. "I am fine woods-boss for somebody," he +suggested hopefully. + +"You think Miss Sumner dislikes you then, Rondeau?" + +"I don' theenk. I know." He sighed; his huge body seemed to droop. "I +am out of zee good luck now," he murmured bitterly. "Everybody, she +hate Jules Rondeau. Colonel--she hate because I don' keel M'sieur +Cardigan; Mademoiselle, he hate because I try to keel M'sieur +Cardigan; M'sieur Sexton, she hate because I tell her thees mornin' +she is one fool for fight M'sieur Cardigan." + +Again he sighed. "Dose beeg trees! In Quebec we have none. In zee +woods, M'sieur, I feel--here!" And he laid his great calloused, hairy +hand over his heart. "W'en I cut your beeg trees, M'sieur, I feel +like hell." + +"That infernal gorilla of a man is a poet," Buck Ogilvy declared. +"I'd think twice before I let him get out of the country, Bryce." + +"'Whose salt he eats, his song he sings,'" quoth Bryce. "I forgive +you, Rondeau, and when I need a woods-boss like you, I'll send for +you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +At eleven o'clock Saturday night the deputy United States marshal +arrived in Sequoia. Upon the advice of Buck Ogilvy, however, he made +no attempt at service that night, notwithstanding the fact that Jules +Rondeau and his bullies still guarded the crossing. At eight o'clock +Sunday morning, however, Bryce Cardigan drove him down to the +crossing. Buck Ogilvy was already there with his men, superintending +the erection of a huge derrick close to the heap of obstructions +placed on the crossing. Sexton was watching him uneasily, and flushed +as Ogilvy pointed him out to the marshal. + +"There's your meat, Marshal," he announced. The marshal approached +and extended toward Sexton a copy of the restraining order. The +latter struck it aside and refused to accept it--whereupon the deputy +marshal tapped him on the shoulder with it. "Tag! You're out of the +game, my friend," he said pleasantly. + +As the document fluttered to Sexton's feet, the latter turned to +Jules Rondeau. "I can no longer take charge here, Rondeau," he +explained. "I am forbidden to interfere." + +"Jules Rondeau can do ze job," the woods-boss replied easily. "Ze +law, she have not restrain' me. I guess mebbeso you don' take dose +theengs away, eh, M'sieur Cardigan. Myself, I lak see." + +The deputy marshal handed Rondeau a paper, at the same time showing +his badge. "You're out, too, my friend," he laughed. "Don't be +foolish and try to buck the law. If you do, I shall have to place a +nice little pair of handcuffs on you and throw you in jail--and if +you resist arrest, I shall have to shoot you. I have one of these +little restraining orders for every able-bodied man in the Laguna +Grande Lumber Company's employ--thanks to Mr. Ogilvy's foresight; so +it is useless to try to beat this game on a technicality." + +Sexton, who still lingered, made a gesture of surrender. "Dismiss +your crew, Rondeau," he ordered. "We're whipped to a frazzle." + +A gleam of pleasure, not unmixed with triumph, lighted the dark eyes +of the French-Canadian. "I tol' M'sieur Sexton she cannot fight +M'sieur Cardigan and win," he said simply, "Now mebbe he believe that +Jules Rondeau know somet'ing." + +"Shut up," Sexton roared petulantly. Rondeau shrugged contemptuously, +turned, and with a sweep of his great arm indicated to his men that +they were to go; then, without a backward glance to see that they +followed, the woods-boss strode away in the direction of the Laguna +Grande mill. Arrived at the mill-office, he entered, took down the +telephone, and called up Shirley Sumner. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "Jules Rondeau speaks to you. I have for you +zee good news. Bryce Cardigan, she puts in the crossing to-day. One +man of the law she comes from San Francisco with papers, and M'sieur +Sexton say to me: 'Rondeau, we are whip'. Deesmess your men.' So I +have deesmess doze men, and now I deesmess myself. Mebbeso bimeby I +go to work for M'sieur Cardigan. For Mademoiselle I have no weesh to +make trouble to fire me. I queet. I will not fight dose dirty fight +some more. Au revoir, mademoiselle. I go." + +And without further ado he hung up. + +"What's this, what's this?" Sexton demanded. "You re going to quit? +Nonsense, Rondeau, nonsense!" + +"I will have my time, M'sieur," said Jules Rondeau. "I go to work for +a man. Mebbeso I am not woods-boss for heem, but--I work." + +"You'll have to wait until the Colonel returns, Rondeau." + +"I will have my time," said Jules Rondeau patiently. + +"Then you'll wait till pay-day for it, Rondeau. You know our rules. +Any man who quits without notice waits until the regular pay-day for +his money." + +Jules advanced until he towered directly over the manager. "I tol' +M'sieur I would have my time," he repeated once more. "Is M'sieur +deaf in zee ears?" He raised his right hand, much as a bear raises +its paw; his blunt fingers worked a little and there was a smoldering +fire in his dark eyes. + +Without further protest Sexton opened the safe, counted out the wages +due, and took Rondeau's receipt. + +"Thank you, M'sieur," the woods-boss growled as he swept the coin +into his pocket. "Now I work for M'sieur Cardigan; so, M'sieur, I +will have zee switchengine weeth two flat-cars and zee wrecking-car. +Doze dam trash on zee crossing--M'sieur Cardigan does not like, and +by gar, I take heem away. You onderstand, M'sieur? I am Jules +Rondeau, and I work for M'sieur Cardigan. La la, M'sieur!" The great +hand closed over Sexton's collar. "Not zee pistol--no, not for Jules +Rondeau." + +Quite as easily as a woman dresses a baby, he gagged Sexton with +Sexton's own handkerchief, laid him gently on the floor and departed, +locking the door behind him and taking the key. At the corner of the +building, where the telephone-line entered the office, he paused, +jerked once at the wire, and passed on, leaving the broken ends on +the ground. + +In the round-house he found the switch-engine crew on duty, waiting +for steam in the boiler. The withdrawal of both locomotives, brief as +had been their absence, had caused a glut of logs at the Laguna +Grande landings, and Sexton was catching up with the traffic by +sending the switch-engine crew out for one train-load, even though it +was Sunday. The crew had been used to receiving orders from Rondeau, +and moreover they were not aware of his recent action; hence at his +command they ran the switch-engine out of the roundhouse, coupled up +the two flat-cars and the wrecking-car, and backed down to the +crossing. Upon arrival, Jules Rondeau leaned out of the cab window +and hailed Bryce. "M'sieur," he said, "do not bozzer to make zee +derrick. I have here zee wrecking-car--all you need; pretty soon we +lift him off zee crossing, I tell you, eh, M'sieur Cardigan?" + +Bryce stepped over to the switch-engine and looked up at his late +enemy. "By whose orders is this train here?" he queried. + +"Mine," Rondeau answered. "M'sieur Sexton I have tie like one leetle +pig and lock her in her office. I work now for M'sieur." + +And he did. He waited not for a confirmation from his new master but +proceeded to direct operations like the born driver and leader of men +that he was. With his late employer's gear he fastened to the old +castings and the boiler, lifted them with the derrick on the +wrecking-car, and swung them up and around onto the flat-cars. By the +middle of the afternoon the crossing was once more clear. Then the +Cardigan crew fell upon it while Jules Rondeau ran the train back to +the Laguna Grande yards, dismissed his crew, returned to the mill- +office, and released the manager. + +"You'll pay through the nose for this, you scoundrel," Sexton +whimpered. "I'll fix you, you traitor." + +"You feex nothing, M'sieur Sexton," Rondeau replied imperturbably. +"Who is witness Jules Rondeau tie you up? Somebody see you, no? I +guess you don' feex me. Sacre! I guess you don' try." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +Colonel Pennington's discovery at San Francisco that Bryce Cardigan +had stolen his thunder and turned the bolt upon him, was the hardest +blow Seth Pennington could remember having received throughout +thirty-odd years of give and take. He was too old and experienced a +campaigner, however, to permit a futile rage to cloud his reason; he +prided himself upon being a foeman worthy of any man's steel. + +On Tuesday he returned to Sequoia. Sexton related to him in detail +the events which had transpired since his departure, but elicited +nothing more than a noncommittal grunt. + +"There is one more matter, sir, which will doubtless be of interest +to you," Sexton continued apologetically. "Miss Sumner called me on +the telephone yesterday and instructed me formally to notify the +board of directors of the Laguna Grande Company of a special meeting +of the board, to be held here at two o'clock this afternoon. In view +of the impossibility of communicating with you while you were en +route, I conformed to her wishes. Our by-laws, as you know, stipulate +that no meeting of the board shall be called without formal written +notice to each director mailed twenty-four hours previously." + +"What the devil do you mean, Sexton, by conforming to her wishes? +Miss Sumner is not a director of this company." Pennington's voice +was harsh and trembled with apprehension. + +"Miss Sumner controls forty per cent. of the Laguna Grande stock, +sir. I took that into consideration." + +"You lie!" Pennington all but screamed. "You took into consideration +your job as secretary and general manager. Damnation!" + +He rose and commenced pacing up and down his office. Suddenly he +paused. Sexton still stood beside his desk, watching him +respectfully. "You fool!" he snarled. "Get out of here and leave me +alone." + +Sexton departed promptly, glancing at his watch as he did so. It +lacked five minutes of two. He passed Shirley Sumner in the general +office. + +"Shirley," Pennington began in a hoarse voice as she entered his +office, "what is the meaning of this directors' meeting you have +requested?" + +"Be seated, Uncle Seth," the girl answered quietly. "If you will only +be quiet and reasonable, perhaps we can dispense with this directors' +meeting which appears to frighten you so." + +He sat down promptly, a look of relief on his face. + +"I scarcely know how to begin, Uncle Seth," Shirley commenced sadly. +"It hurts me terribly to be forced to hurt you, but there doesn't +appear to be any other way out of it. I cannot trust you to manage my +financial affairs in the future--this for a number of reasons, the +principal one being--" + +"Young Cardigan," he interrupted in a low voice. + +"I suppose so," she answered, "although I did think until very +recently that it was those sixteen townships of red cedar--that crown +grant in British Columbia in which you induced me to invest four +hundred thousand dollars. You will remember that you purchased that +timber for me from the Caribou Timber Company, Limited. You said it +was an unparalleled investment. Quite recently I learned--no matter +how--that you were the principal owner of the Caribou Timber Company, +Limited! Smart as you are, somebody swindled you with that red cedar. +It was a wonderful stand of timber--so read the cruiser's report--but +fifty per cent. of it, despite its green and flourishing appearance, +is hollow-butted! And the remaining fifty per cent. of sound timber +cannot be logged unless the rotten timber is logged also and gotten +out of the way also. And I am informed that logging it spells +bankruptcy." + +She gazed upon him steadily, but without malice; his face crimsoned +and then paled; presently his glance sought the carpet. While he +struggled to formulate a verbal defense against her accusation +Shirley continued: + +"You had erected a huge sawmill and built and equipped a logging-road +before you discovered you had been swindled. So, in order to save as +much as possible from the wreck, you decided to unload your white +elephant on somebody else. I was the readiest victim. You were the +executor of my father's estate--you were my guardian and financial +adviser, and so you found it very, very easy to swindle me!" + +"I had my back to the wall," he quavered. "I was desperate--and it +wasn't at all the bad investment you have been told it is. You had +the money--more money than you knew what to do with--and with the +proceeds of the sale of those cedar lands, I knew I could make an +investment in California redwood and more than retrieve my fortunes-- +make big money for both of us." + +"You might have borrowed the money from me. You know I have never +hesitated to join in your enterprises." + +"This was too big a deal for you, Shirley. I had vision. I could see +incalculable riches in this redwood empire, but it was a tremendous +gamble and required twenty millions to swing it at the very start. I +dreamed of the control of California redwood; and if you will stand +by me, Shirley, I shall yet make my dream come true--and half of it +shall be yours. It has always been my intention to buy back from you +secretly and at a nice profit to you that Caribou red cedar, and with +the acquisition of the Cardigan properties I would have been in +position to do so. Why, that Cardigan tract in the San Hedrin which +we will buy in within a year for half a million is worth five +millions at least. And by that time, I feel certain--in fact, I know-- +the Northern Pacific will commence building in from the south, from +Willits." + +She silenced him with a disdainful gesture. "You shall not smash the +Cardigans," she declared firmly. + +"I shall--" he began, but he paused abruptly, as if he had suddenly +remembered that tact and not pugnacity was the requirement for the +handling of this ticklish situation. + +"You are devoid of mercy, of a sense of sportsmanship. Now, then, +Uncle Seth, listen to me: You have twenty-four hours in which to make +up your mind whether to accept my ultimatum or refuse it. If you +refuse, I shall prosecute you for fraud and a betrayal of trust as my +father's executor on that red-cedar timber deal." + +He brightened a trifle. "I'm afraid that would be a long, hard row to +hoe, my dear, and of course, I shall have to defend myself." + +"In addition," the girl went on quietly, "the county grand jury shall +be furnished with a stenographic report of your conversation of +Thursday night with Mayor Poundstone. That will not be a long, hard +row to hoe, Uncle Seth, for in addition to the stenographer, I have +another very reliable witness, Judge Moore. Your casual disposal of +my sedan as a bribe to the Mayor will be hard to explain and rather +amusing, in view of the fact that Bryce Cardigan managed to frighten +Mr. Poundstone into returning the sedan while you were away. And if +that is not sufficient for my purposes, I have the sworn confession +of the Black Minorca that you gave him five hundred dollars to kill +Bryce Cardigan. Your woods-boss, Rondeau, will also swear that you +approached him with a proposition to do away with Bryce Cardigan. I +think, therefore, that you will readily see how impossible a +situation you have managed to create and will not disagree with me +when I suggest that it would be better for you to leave this county." + +His face had gone gray and haggard. "I can't," he murmured, "I can't +leave this great business now. Your own interests in the company +render such a course unthinkable. Without my hand at the helms, +things will go to smash." + +"I'll risk that. I want to get rid of that worthless red-cedar +timber; so I think you had better buy it back from me at the same +figure at which, you sold it to me." + +"But I haven't the money and I can't borrow it. I--I---" + +"I will have the equivalent in stock of the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company. You will call on Judge Moore to complete the transaction and +leave with him your resignation as president of the Laguna Grande +Lumber Company." + +The Colonel raised his glance and bent it upon her in cold appraisal. +She met it with firmness, and the thought came to him: "She is a +Pennington!" And hope died out in his heart. He began pleading in +maudlin fashion for mercy, for compromise. But the girl was obdurate. + +"I am showing you more mercy than you deserve--you to whom mercy was +ever a sign of weakness, of vacillation. There is a gulf between us, +Uncle Seth--a gulf which for a long time I have dimly sensed and +which, because of my recent discoveries, has widened until it can no +longer be bridged." + +He wrung his hands in desperation and suddenly slid to his knees +before her; with hypocritical endearments he strove to take her hand, +but she drew away from him. "Don't touch me," she cried sharply and +with a breaking note in her voice. "You planned to kill Bryce +Cardigan! And for that--and that alone--I shall never forgive you." + +She fled from the office, leaving him cringing and grovelling on the +floor. "There will be no directors' meeting, Mr. Sexton," she +informed the manager as she passed through the general office. "It is +postponed." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +That trying interview with her uncle had wrenched Shirley's soul to a +degree that left her faint and weak. She at once set out on a long +drive, in the hope that before she turned homeward again she might +regain something of her customary composure. + +Presently the asphaltum-paved street gave way to a dirt road and +terminated abruptly at the boundaries of a field that sloped gently +upward--a field studded with huge black redwood stumps showing +dismally through coronets of young redwoods that grew riotously +around the base of the departed parent trees. From the fringe of the +thicket thus formed, the terminus of an old skid-road showed and a +signboard, freshly painted, pointed the way to the Valley of the +Giants. + +Shirley had not intended to come here, but now that she had arrived, +it occurred to her that it was here she wanted to come. Parking her +car by the side of the road, she alighted and proceeded up the old +skid, now newly planked and with the encroaching forestration cut +away so that the daylight might enter from above. On over the gentle +divide she went and down toward the amphitheatre where the primeval +giants grew. And as she approached it, the sound that is silence in +the redwoods--the thunderous diapason of the centuries--wove its +spell upon her; quickly, imperceptibly there faded from her mind the +memory of that grovelling Thing she had left behind in the mill- +office, and in its place there came a subtle peace, a feeling of awe, +of wonder--such a feeling, indeed, as must come to one in the +realization that man is distant but God is near. + +A cluster of wild orchids pendent from the great fungus-covered roots +of a giant challenged her attention. She gathered them. Farther on, +in a spot where a shaft of sunlight fell, she plucked an armful of +golden California poppies and flaming rhododendron, and with her +delicate burden she came at length to the giant-guarded clearing +where the halo of sunlight fell upon the grave of Bryce Cardigan's +mother. There were red roses on it--a couple of dozen, at least, and +these she rearranged in order to make room for her own offering. + +"Poor dear!" she murmured audibly. "God didn't spare you for much +happiness, did He?" + +A voice, deep, resonant, kindly, spoke a few feet away. "Who is it?" + +Shirley, startled, turned swiftly. Seated across the little +amphitheatre in a lumberjack's easy-chair fashioned from an old +barrel, John Cardigan sat, his sightless gaze bent upon her. "Who is +it?" he repeated. + +"Shirley Sumner," she answered. "You do not know me, Mr. Cardigan." + +"No," replied he, "I do not. That is a name I have heard, however. +You are Seth Pennington's niece. Is someone with you?" + +"I am quite alone, Mr. Cardigan." + +"And why did you come here alone?" he queried. + +"I--I wanted to think." + +"You mean you wanted to think clearly, my dear. Ah, yes, this is the +place for thoughts." He was silent a moment. Then: "You were thinking +aloud, Miss Shirley Sumner. I heard you. You said: 'Poor dear, God +didn't spare you for much happiness, did He?" And I think you +rearranged my roses. Didn't I have them on her grave?" + +"Yes, Mr. Cardigan. I was merely making room for some wild flowers I +had gathered." + +"Indeed. Then you knew--about her being here." + +"Yes, sir. Some ten years ago, when I was a very little girl, I met +your son Bryce. He gave me a ride on his Indian pony, and we came +here. So I remember." + +"Well, I declare! Ten years ago, eh? You've met, eh? You've met Bryce +since his return to Sequoia, I believe. He's quite a fellow now." + +"He is indeed." + +John Cardigan nodded sagely. "So that's why you thought aloud," he +remarked impersonally. "Bryce told you about her. You are right, Miss +Shirley Sumner. God didn't give her much time for happiness--just +three years; but oh, such wonderful years! Such wonderful years! + +"It was mighty fine of you to bring flowers," he announced presently. +"I appreciate that. I wish I could see you. You must be a dear, nice, +thoughtful girl. Won't you sit down and talk to me?" + +"I should be glad to," she answered, and seated herself on the brown +carpet of redwood twigs close to his chair. + +"So you came up here to do a little clear thinking," he continued in +his deliberate, amiable tones. "Do you come here often?" + +"This is the third time in ten years," she answered. "I feel that I +have no business to intrude here. This is your shrine, and strangers +should not profane it." + +"I think I should have resented the presence of any other person, +Miss Sumner. I resented you--until you spoke." + +"I'm glad you said that, Mr. Cardigan. It sets me at ease." + +"I hadn't been up here for nearly two years until recently. You see +I--I don't own the Valley of the Giants any more." + +"Indeed. To whom have you sold it?" + +"I do not know, Miss Sumner. I had to sell; there was no other way +out of the jam Bryce and I were in; so I sacrificed my sentiment for +my boy. However, the new owner has been wonderfully kind and +thoughtful. She reorganized that old skid-road so even an old blind +duffer like me can find his way in and out without getting lost--and +she had this easy-chair made for me. I have told Judge Moore, who +represents the unknown owner, to extend my thanks to his client. But +words are so empty, Shirley Sumner. If that new owner could only +understand how truly grateful I am--how profoundly her courtesy +touches me--" + +"HER courtesy?" Shirley echoed. "Did a woman buy the Giants?" + +He smiled down at her. "Why, certainly. Who but a woman--and a dear, +kind, thoughtful woman--would have thought to have this chair made +and brought up here for me?" + +Fell a long silence between them; then John Cardigan's trembling hand +went groping out toward the girl's. "Why, how stupid of me not to +have guessed it immediately!" he said. "You are the new owner. My +dear child, if the silent prayers of a very unhappy old man will +bring God's blessing on you--there, there, girl! I didn't intend to +make you weep. What a tender heart it is, to be sure!" + +She took his great toil-worn hand, and her hot tears fell on it, for +his gentleness, his benignancy, had touched her deeply. "Oh, you must +not tell anybody! You mustn't," she cried. + +He put his hand on her shoulder as she knelt before him. "Good land +of love, girl, what made you do it? Why should a girl like you give a +hundred thousand dollars for my Valley of the Giants? Were you"-- +hesitatingly--"your uncle's agent?" + +"No, I bought it myself--with my own money. My uncle doesn't know I +am the new owner. You see, he wanted it--for nothing." + +"Ah, yes. I suspected as much a long time ago. Your uncle is the +modern type of business man. Not very much of an idealist, I'm +afraid. But tell me why you decided to thwart the plans of your +relative." + +"I knew it hurt you terribly to sell your Giants; they were dear to +you for sentimental reasons. I understood, also, why you were forced +to sell; so I--well, I decided the Giants would be safer in my +possession than in my uncle's. In all probability he would have +logged this valley for the sake of the clear seventy-two-inch boards +he could get from these trees." + +"That does not explain satisfactorily, to me, why you took sides with +a stranger against your own kin," John Cardigan persisted. "There +must be a deeper and more potent reason, Miss Shirley Sumner." + +"Well," Shirley made answer, glad that he could not see the flush of +confusion and embarrassment that crimsoned her cheek, "when I came to +Sequoia last May, your son and I met, quite accidentally. The stage +to Sequoia had already gone, and he was gracious enough to invite me +to make the journey in his car. Then we recalled having met as +children, and presently I gathered from his conversation that he and +his John-partner, as he called you, were very dear to each other. I +was witness to your meeting that night--I saw him take you in his big +arms and hold you tight because you'd--gone blind while he was away +having a good time. And you hadn't told him! I thought that was brave +of you; and later, when Bryce and Moira McTavish told me about you-- +how kind you were, how you felt your responsibility toward your +employees and the community--well, I just couldn't help a leaning +toward John-partner and John-partner's boy, because the boy was so +fine and true to his father's ideals." + +"Ah, he's a man. He is indeed," old John Cardigan murmured proudly. +"I dare say you'll never get to know him intimately, but if you +should--" + +"I know him intimately," she corrected him. "He saved my life the day +the log-train ran away. And that was another reason. I owed him a +debt, and so did my uncle; but Uncle wouldn't pay his share, and I +had to pay for him." + +"Wonderful," murmured John Cardigan, "wonderful! But still you +haven't told me why you paid a hundred thousand dollars for the +Giants when you could have bought them for fifty thousand. You had a +woman's reason, I dare say, and women always reason from the heart, +never the head. However, if you do not care to tell me, I shall not +insist. Perhaps I have appeared, unduly inquisitive." + +"I would rather not tell you," she answered. + +A gentle, prescient smile fringed his old mouth; he wagged his +leonine head as if to say: "Why should I ask, when I know?" Fell +again a restful silence. Then: + +"Am I allowed one guess, Miss Shirley Sumner?" + +"Yes, but you would never guess the reason." + +"I am a very wise old man. When one sits in the dark, one sees much +that was hidden from him in the full glare of the light. My son is +proud, manly, independent, and the soul of honour. He needed a +hundred thousand dollars; you knew it. Probably your uncle informed +you. You wanted to loan him some money, but--you couldn't. You feared +to offend him by proffering it; had you proffered it, he would have +declined it. So you bought my Valley of the Giants at a preposterous +price and kept your action a secret." And he patted her hand gently, +as if to silence any denial, while far down the skid-road a voice--a +half-trained baritone--floated faintly to them through the forest. +Somebody was singing--or rather chanting--a singularly tuneless +refrain, wild and barbaric. + +"What is that?" Shirley cried. + +"That is my son, coming to fetch his old daddy home," replied John +Cardigan. "That thing he's howling is an Indian war-song or paean of +triumph--something his nurse taught him when he wore pinafores. If +you'll excuse me, Miss Shirley Sumner, I'll leave you now. I +generally contrive to meet him on the trail." + +He bade her good-bye and started down the trail, his stick tapping +against the old logging-cable stretched from tree to tree beside the +trail and marking it. + +Shirley was tremendously relieved. She did not wish to meet Bryce +Cardigan to-day, and she was distinctly grateful to John Cardigan for +his nice consideration in sparing her an interview. She seated +herself in the lumberjack's easy-chair so lately vacated, and chin in +hand gave herself up to meditation on this extraordinary old man and +his extraordinary son. + +A couple of hundred yards down the trail Bryce met his father. +"Hello, John Cardigan!" he called. "What do you mean by skallyhooting +through these woods without a pilot? Eh? Explain your reckless +conduct." + +"You great overgrown duffer," his father retorted affectionately, "I +thought you'd never come." He reached into his pocket for a +handkerchief, but failed to find it and searched through another +pocket and still another. "By gravy, son," he remarked presently, "I +do believe I left my silk handkerchief--the one Moira gave me for my +last birthday--up yonder. I wouldn't lose that handkerchief for a +farm. Skip along and find it for me, son. I'll wait for you here. +Don't hurry." + +"I'll be back in a pig's whisper," his son replied, and started +briskly up the trail, while his father leaned against a madrone tree +and smiled his prescient little smile. + +Bryce's brisk step on the thick carpet of withered brown twigs +aroused Shirley from her reverie. When she looked up, he was standing +in the centre of the little amphitheatre gazing at her. + +"You--you!" she stammered, and rose as if to flee from him. + +"The governor sent me back to look for his handkerchief, Shirley," he +explained. "He didn't tell me you were here. Guess he didn't hear +you." He advanced smilingly toward her. "I'm tremendously glad to see +you to-day, Shirley," he said, and paused beside her. "Fate has been +singularly kind to me. Indeed, I've been pondering all day as to just +how I was to arrange a private and confidential little chat with you, +without calling upon you at your uncle's house." + +"I don't feel like chatting to-day," she answered a little drearily-- +and then he noted her wet lashes. Instantly he was on one knee beside +her; with the amazing confidence that had always distinguished him in +her eyes, his big left arm went around her, and when her hands went +to her face, he drew them gently away. + +"I've waited too long, sweetheart," he murmured. "Thank God, I can +tell you at last all the things that have been accumulating in my +heart. I love you, Shirley. I've loved you from that first day we met +at the station, and all these months of strife and repression have +merely served to make me love you the more. Perhaps you have been all +the dearer to me because you seemed so hopelessly unattainable." + +He drew her head down on his breast; his great hand patted her hot +cheek; his honest brown eyes gazed earnestly, wistfully into hers. "I +love you," he whispered. "All that I have--all that I am--all that I +hope to be--I offer to you, Shirley Sumner; and in the shrine of my +heart I shall hold you sacred while life shall last. You are not +indifferent to me, dear. I know you're not; but tell me--answer me--" + +Her violet eyes were uplifted to his, and in them he read the answer +to his cry. "Ah, may I?" he murmured, and kissed her. + +"Oh, my dear, impulsive, gentle big sweetheart," she whispered--and +then her arms went around his neck, and the fullness of her happiness +found vent in tears he did not seek to have her repress. In the safe +haven of his arms she rested; and there, quite without effort or +distress, she managed to convey to him something more than an inkling +of the thoughts that were wont to come to her whenever they met. + +"Oh, my love!" he cried happily, "I hadn't dared dream of such +happiness until to-day. You were so unattainable--the obstacles +between us were so many and so great--" + +"Why to-day, Bryce?" she interrupted him. + +He took her adorable little nose in his great thumb and forefinger +and tweaked it gently. "The light began to dawn yesterday, my dear +little enemy, following an interesting half-hour which I put in with +His Honour the Mayor. Acting upon suspicion only, I told Poundstone I +was prepared to send him to the rock-pile if he didn't behave himself +in the matter of my permanent franchise for the N.C.O.--and the oily +old invertebrate wept and promised me anything if I wouldn't disgrace +him. So I promised I wouldn't do anything until the franchise matter +should be definitely settled--after which I returned to my office, to +find awaiting me there no less a person than the right-of-way man for +the Northwestern Pacific. He was a perfectly delightful young fellow, +and he had a proposition to unfold. It seems the Northwestern Pacific +has decided to build up from Willits, and all that powwow and +publicity of Buck Ogilvy's about the N.C.O. was in all probability +the very thing that spurred them to action. They figured the C.M. & +St.P. was back of the N.C.O.--that it was to be the first link of a +chain of coast roads to be connected ultimately with the terminus of +the C.M. & St.P. on Gray's Harbour, Washington, and if the N.C.O. +should be built, it meant that a rival road would get the edge on +them in the matter of every stick of Humboldt and Del Norte redwood-- +and they'd be left holding the sack." "Why did they think that, +dear?" + +"That amazing rascal Buck Ogilvy used to be a C. M. me that the money +had been deposited in escrow there awaiting formal deed. That money +puts the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company in the clear--no +receivership for us now, my dear one. And I'm going right ahead with +the building of the N.C.O.--while our holdings down on the San Hedrin +double in value, for the reason that within three years they will be +accessible and can be logged over the rails of the Northwestern +Pacific!" + +"Bryce," Shirley declared, "haven't I always told you I'd never +permit you to build the N.C.O.?" + +"Of course," he replied, "but surely you're going to withdraw your +objections now." + +"I am not. You must choose between the N.C.O. and me." And she met +his surprised gaze unflinchingly. + +"Shirley! You don't mean it?" + +"I do mean it. I have always meant it. I love you, dear, but for all +that, you must not build that road." + +He stood up and towered above her sternly. "I must build it, Shirley. +I've contracted to do it, and I must keep faith with Gregory of the +Trinidad Timber Company. He's putting up the money, and I'm to do the +work and operate the line. I can't go back on him now." + +"Not for my sake?" she pleaded. He shook his head. "I must go on," he +reiterated. + +"Do you realize what that resolution means to us?" The girl's tones +were grave, her glance graver. + +"I realize what it means to me!" + +She came closer to him. Suddenly the blaze in her violet eyes gave +way to one of mirth. "Oh, you dear big booby!" she cried. "I was just +testing you." And she clung to him, laughing. "You always beat me +down--you always win. Bryce, dear, I'm the Laguna Grande Lumber +Company--at least, I will be to-morrow, and I repeat for the last +time that you shall NOT build the N.C.O.--because I'm going to--oh, +dear, I shall die laughing at you--because I'm going to merge with +the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, and then my railroad shall be +your railroad, and we'll extend it and haul Gregory's logs to +tidewater for him also. And--silly, didn't I tell you you'd never +build the N.C.O.?" + +"God bless my mildewed soul!" he murmured, and drew her to him. + +In the gathering dusk they walked down the trail. Beside the madrone +tree John Cardigan waited patiently. + +"Well," he queried when they joined him, "did you find my +handkerchief for me, son?" + +"I didn't find your handkerchief, John Cardigan," Bryce answered, +"but I did find what I suspect you sent me back for--and that is a +perfectly wonderful daughter-in-law for you." + +John Cardigan smiled and held out his arms for her. "This," he said, +"is the happiest day that I have known since my boy was born." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +Colonel Seth Pennington was thoroughly crushed. Look which way he +would, the bedevilled old rascal could find no loophole for escape. + +"You win, Cardigan," he muttered desperately as he sat in his office +after Shirley had left him. "You've had more than a shade in every +round thus far, and at the finish you've landed a clean knockout. If +I had to fight any man but you--" + +He sighed resignedly and pressed the push-button on his desk. Sexton +entered. "Sexton," he said bluntly and with a slight quiver in his +voice, "my niece and I have had a disagreement. We have quarrelled +over young Cardigan. She's going to marry him. Now, our affairs are +somewhat involved, and in order to straighten them out, we spun a +coin to see whether she should sell her stock in Laguna Grande to me +or whether I should sell mine to her--and I lost. The book-valuation +of the stock at the close of last year's business, plus ten per cent. +will determine the selling price, and I shall resign as president. +You will, in all probability, be retained to manage the company until +it is merged with the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company--when, I +imagine, you will be given ample notice to seek a new job elsewhere. +Call Miss Sumner's attorney, Judge Moore, on the telephone and ask +him to come to the office at nine o'clock to-morrow, when the papers +can be drawn up and signed. That is all." + +The Colonel did not return to his home in Redwood Boulevard that +night. He had no appetite for dinner and sat brooding in his office +until very late; then he went to the Hotel Sequoia and engaged a +room. He did not possess sufficient courage to face his niece again. + +At four o'clock the next day the Colonel, his baggage, his +automobile, his chauffeur, and the solemn butler James, boarded the +passenger steamer for San Francisco, and at four-thirty sailed out of +Humboldt Bay over the thundering bar and on into the south. The +Colonel was still a rich man, but his dream of a redwood empire had +faded, and once more he was taking up the search for cheap timber. +Whether he ever found it or not is a matter that does not concern us. + +At a moment when young Henry Poundstone's dream of legal opulence was +fading, when Mayor Poundstone's hopes for domestic peace had been +shattered beyond repair, the while his cheap political aspirations +had been equally devastated because of a certain damnable document in +the possession of Bryce Cardigan, many events of importance were +transpiring. On the veranda of his old-fashioned home, John Cardigan +sat tapping the floor with his stick and dreaming dreams which, for +the first time in many years, were rose-tinted. Beside him Shirley +sat, her glance bent musingly out across the roofs of Sequoia and on +to the bay shore, where the smoke and exhaust-steam floated up from +two sawmills--her own and Bryce Cardigan's. To her came at regularly +spaced intervals the faint whining of the saws and the rumble of log- +trains crawling out on the log-dumps; high over the piles of bright, +freshly sawed lumber she caught from time to time the flash of white +spray as the great logs tossed from the trucks, hurtled down the +skids, and crashed into the Bay. At the docks of both mills vessels +were loading, their tall spars cutting the skyline above and beyond +the smokestacks; far down the Bay a steam schooner, loaded until her +main-deck was almost flush with the water, was putting out to sea, +and Shirley heard the faint echo of her siren as she whistled her +intention to pass to starboard of a wind-jammer inward bound in tow +of a Cardigan tug. + +"It's wonderful," she said presently, apropos of nothing. + +"Aye," he replied in his deep, melodious voice, "I've been sitting +here, my dear, listening to your thoughts. You know something, now, +of the tie that binds my boy to Sequoia. This"--he waved his arm +abroad in the darkness--"this is the true essence of life--to create, +to develop the gifts that God has given us--to work and know the +blessing of weariness--to have dreams and see them come true. That is +life, and I have lived. And now I am ready to rest." He smiled +wistfully. "'The king is dead. Long live the king.' I wonder if you, +raised as you have been, can face life in Sequoia resolutely with my +son. It is a dull, drab sawmill town, where life unfolds gradually +without thrill--where the years stretch ahead of one with only trees, +among simple folk. The life may be hard on you, Shirley; one has to +acquire a taste for it, you know." + +"I have known the lilt of battle, John-partner," she answered; "hence +I think I can enjoy the sweets of victory. I am content." + +"And what a run you did give that boy Bryce!" + +She laughed softly. "I wanted him to fight; I had a great curiosity +to see the stuff that was in him," she explained. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +Next day Bryce Cardigan, riding the top log on the end truck of a +long train just in from Cardigan's woods in Township Nine, dropped +from the end of the log as the train crawled through the mill-yard on +its way to the log-dump. He hailed Buck Ogilvy, where the latter +stood in the door of the office. + +"Big doings up on Little Laurel Creek this morning, Buck." + +"Do tell!" Mr. Ogilvy murmured morosely. + +"It was great," Bryce continued. "Old Duncan McTavish returned. I +knew he would. His year on the mourner's-bench expired yesterday, and +he came back to claim his old job of woods-boss." + +"He's one year too late," Ogilvy declared. "I wouldn't let that big +Canadian Jules Rondeau quit for a farm. Some woods-boss, that--and +his first job with this company was the dirtiest you could hand him-- +smearing grease on the skid-road at a dollar and a half a day and +found. He's made too good to lose out now. I don't care what his +private morals may be. He CAN get out the logs, hang his rascally +hide, and I'm for him." + +"I'm afraid you haven't anything to say about it, Buck," Bryce +replied dryly. + +"I haven't, eh? Well, any time you deny me the privilege of hiring +and firing, you're going to be out the service of a rattling good +general manager, my son. Yes, sir! If you hold me responsible for +results, I must select the tools I want to work with." + +"Oh, very well," Bryce laughed. "Have it your own way. Only if you +can drive Duncan McTavish out of Cardigan's woods, I'd like to see +you do it. Possession is nine points of the law, Buck--and Old Duncan +is in possession." + +"What do you mean--in possession?" + +"I mean that at ten o'clock this morning Duncan McTavish appeared at +our log-landing. The whisky-fat was all gone from him, and he +appeared forty years old instead of the sixty he is. With a whoop he +came jumping over the logs, straight for Jules Rondeau. The big +Canuck saw him coming and knew what his visit portended--so he wasn't +taken unawares. It was a case of fight for his job--and Rondeau +fought." + +"The devil you say!" + +"I do--and there was the devil to pay. It was a rough and tumble and +no grips barred--just the kind of fight Rondeau likes. Nevertheless +old Duncan floored him. While he's been away somebody taught him the +hammer-lock and the crotch-hold and a few more fancy ones, and he got +to work on Rondeau in a hurry. In fact, he had to, for if the tussle +had gone over five minutes, Rondeau's youth would have decided the +issue." + +"And Rondeau was whipped?" + +"To a whisper. Mac floored him, climbed him, and choked him until he +beat the ground with his free hand in token of surrender; whereupon +old Duncan let him up, and Rondeau went to his shanty and packed his +turkey. The last I saw of him he was headed over the hill to Camp Two +on Laguna Grande. He'll probably chase that assistant woods-boss I +hired after the consolidation, out of Shirley's woods and help +himself to the fellow's job. I don't care if he does. What interests +me is the fact that the old Cardigan woods-boss is back on the job in +Cardigan's woods, and I'm mighty glad of it. The old horsethief has +had his lesson and will remain sober hereafter. I think he's cured." + +"The infamous old outlaw!" + +"Mac knows the San Hedrin as I know my own pocket. He'll be a tower +of strength when we open up that tract after the railroad builds in. +By the way, has my dad been down this morning?" + +"Yes. Moira read the mail to him and then took him up to the Valley +of the Giants. He said he wanted to do a little quiet figuring on +that new steam schooner you're thinking of building. He thinks she +ought to be bigger--big enough to carry two million feet." + +Bryce glanced at his watch. "It's half after eleven," he said. "Guess +I'll run up to the Giants and bring him home to luncheon." + +He stepped into the Napier standing outside the office and drove +away. Buck Ogilvy waited until Bryce was out of sight; then with +sudden determination he entered the office. + +"Moira," he said abruptly, approaching the desk where she worked, +"your dad is back, and what's more, Bryce Cardigan has let him have +his old job as woods-boss. And I'm here to announce that you're not +going back to the woods to keep house for him. Understand? Now, look +here, Moira. I've shilly-shallied around you for months, protesting +my love, and I haven't gotten anywhere. To-day I'm going to ask you +for the last time. Will you marry me? I need you worse than that +rascal of a father of yours does, and I tell you I'll not have you go +back to the woods to take care of him. Come, now, Moira. Do give me a +definite answer." + +"I'm afraid I don't love you well enough to marry you, Mr. Ogilvy," +Moira pleaded. "I'm truly fond of you, but--" + +"The last boat's gone," cried Mr. Ogilvy desperately. "I'm answered. +Well, I'll not stick around here much longer, Moira. I realize I must +be a nuisance, but I can't help being a nuisance when you're near me. +So I'll quit my good job here and go back to my old game of +railroading." + +"Oh, you wouldn't quit a ten-thousand-dollar job," Moira cried, +aghast. + +"I'd quit a million-dollar job. I'm desperate enough to go over to +the mill and pick a fight with the big bandsaw. I'm going away where +I can't see you. Your eyes are driving me crazy." + +"But I don't want you to go, Mr. Ogilvy." + +"Call me Buck," he commanded sharply. + +"I don't want you to go, Buck," she repeated meekly. "I shall feel +guilty, driving you out of a fine position." + +"Then marry me and I'll stay." + +"But suppose I don't love you the way you deserve--" + +"Suppose! Suppose!" Buck Ogilvy cried. "You're no longer certain of +yourself. How dare you deny your love for me? Eh? Moira, I'll risk +it." + +Her eyes turned to him timidly, and for the first time he saw in +their smoky depths a lambent flame. "I don't know," she quavered, +"and it's a big responsibility in case--" + +"Oh, the devil take the case!" he cried rapturously, and took her +hands in his. "Do I improve with age, dear Moira?" he asked with +boyish eagerness; then, before she could answer, he swept on, a +tornado of love and pleading. And presently Moira was in his arms, he +was kissing her, and she was crying softly because--well, she admired +Mr. Buck Ogilvy; more, she respected him and was genuinely fond of +him. She wondered, and as she wondered, a quiet joy thrilled her in +the knowledge that it did not seem at all impossible for her to grow, +in time, absurdly fond of this wholesome red rascal. + +"Oh, Buck, dear," she whispered, "I don't know, I'm sure, but perhaps +I've loved you a little bit for a long time." + +"I'm perfectly wild over you. You're the most wonderful woman I ever +heard of. Old rosy-cheeks!" And he pinched them just to see the +colour come and go. + + John Cardigan was seated in his lumberjack's easy-chair as his son +approached. His hat lay on the litter of brown twigs beside him; his +chin was sunk on his breast, and his head was held a little to one +side in a listening attitude; a vagrant little breeze rustled gently +a lock of his fine, long white hair. Bryce stooped over the old man +and shook him gently by the shoulder. + +"Wake up, partner," he called cheerfully. But John Cardigan did not +wake, and again his son shook him. Still receiving no response, Bryce +lifted the leonine old head and gazed into his father's face. "John +Cardigan!" he cried sharply. "Wake up, old pal." + +The old eyes opened, and John Cardigan smiled up at his boy. "Good +son," he whispered, "good son!" He closed his sightless eyes again as +if the mere effort of holding them open wearied him. "I've been +sitting here--waiting," he went on in the same gentle whisper. "No, +not waiting for you, boy--waiting--" + +His head fell over on his son's shoulder; his hand went groping for +Bryce's. "Listen," he continued. "Can't you hear it--the Silence? +I'll wait for you here, my son. Mother and I will wait together now-- +in this spot she fancied. I'm tired--I want rest. Look after old Mac +and Moira--and Bill Dandy, who lost his leg at Camp Seven last fall-- +and Tom Ellington's children--and--all the others, son. You know, +Bryce. They're your responsibilities. Sorry I can't wait to see the +San Hedrin opened up, but--I've lived my life and loved my love. Ah, +yes, I've been happy--so happy just doing things--and--dreaming here +among my Giants--and--" + +He sighed gently. "Good son," he whispered again; his big body +relaxed, and the great heart of the Argonaut was still. Bryce held +him until the realization came to him that his father was no more-- +that like a watch, the winding of which has been neglected, he had +gradually slowed up and stopped. + +"Good-bye, old John-partner!" he murmured. + +"You've escaped into the light at last. We'll go home together now, +but we'll come back again." + +And with his father's body in his strong arms he departed from the +little amphitheatre, walking lightly with his heavy burden down the +old skid-road to the waiting automobile. And two days later John +Cardigan returned to rest forever--with his lost mate among the +Giants, himself at last an infinitesimal portion of that tremendous +silence that is the diapason of the ages. + +When the funeral was over, Shirley and Bryce lingered until they +found themselves alone beside the freshly turned earth. Through a +rift in the great branches two hundred feet above, a patch of +cerulean sky showed faintly; the sunlight fell like a broad golden +shaft over the blossom-laden grave, and from the brown trunk of an +adjacent tree a gray squirrel, a descendant, perhaps, of the gray +squirrel that had been wont to rob Bryce's pockets of pine-nuts +twenty years before, chirped at them inquiringly. + +"He was a giant among men," said Bryce presently. "What a fitting +place for him to lie!" He passed his arm around his wife's shoulders +and drew her to him. "You made it possible, sweetheart." + +She gazed up at him in adoration. And presently they left the Valley +of the Giants to face the world together, strong in their faith to +live their lives and love their loves, to dream their dreams and +perchance when life should be done with and the hour of rest at hand, +to surrender, sustained and comforted by the knowledge that those +dreams had come true. + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Valley of the Giants, by Peter B. Kyne + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS *** + +This file should be named vlgnt10.txt or vlgnt10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, vlgnt11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, vlgnt10a.txt + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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