The Valley of the Giants

by Peter B. Kyne

  CHAPTER XIII

  Colonel Pennington's imported British butler showed Bryce into thePennington living room at six-thirty, announcing him with due ceremony.Shirley rose from the piano where she had been idly fingering the keysand greeted him with every appearance of pleasure--following which, sheturned to present her visitor to Colonel Pennington, who was standing inhis favourite position with his back to the fireplace.

  "Uncle Seth, this is Mr. Cardigan, who was so very nice to me the day Ilanded in Red Bluff."

  The Colonel bowed. "I have to thank you, sir, for your courtesy to myniece." He had assumed an air of reserve, of distinct aloofness, despitehis studied politeness. Bryce stepped forward with extended hand, whichthe Colonel grasped in a manner vaguely suggestive of that clammy-palmedcreation of Charles Dickens--Uriah Heep. Bryce was tempted to squeezethe lax fingers until the Colonel should bellow with pain; but resistingthe ungenerous impulse, he replied instead:

  "Your niece, Colonel, is one of those fortunate beings the world willalways clamour to serve."

  "Quite true, Mr. Cardigan. When she was quite a little girl I came underher spell myself."

  "So did I, Colonel. Miss Sumner has doubtless told you of our firstmeeting 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 thistime every night since my return."

  "Shirley belongs to the Band of Hope," the Colonel explained. "She'sready 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 springdrive. So we'll have to drink her share, Mr. Cardigan. Pray be seated."

  Bryce seated himself. "Well, we lumbermen are a low lot and naturallyfond of dissipation," he agreed. "I fear Miss Sumner's Prohibitiontendencies will be still further strengthened after she has seen themad-train."

  "What is that?" Shirley queried.

  "The mad-train runs over your uncle's logging railroad up into TownshipNine, where his timber and ours is located. It is the only trainoperated on Sunday, and it leaves Sequoia at five p.m. to carrythe Pennington and Cardigan crews back to the woods after theirSaturday-night celebration in town. As a usual thing, all hands, withthe 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 Saturdaynights?" Shirley protested.

  "They ride in on the last trainload of logs, and if we didn't let themdo 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 Sundayafternoon 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 acouple of lumberjacks going to it on a flat-car travelling thirty milesan hour."

  "But aren't they liable to fall off and get killed?"

  "No. You see, they're used to fighting that way. Moreover, the engineerlooks 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 themad-train any more," he said blandly.

  "Indeed! How do you prevent it?" Bryce asked.

  "My woods-boss, Jules Rondeau, makes them keep the peace," Penningtonreplied with a small smile. "If there's any fighting to be done, he doesit."

  "You mean among his own crew, of course," Bryce suggested.

  "No, he's in charge of the mad-train, and whether a fight starts amongyour men or ours, he takes a hand. He's had them all behaving mildly forquite a while, because he can whip any man in the country, and everybodyrealizes it. I don't know what I'd do without Rondeau. He certainlymakes those bohunks of mine step lively."

  "Oh-h-h! Do you employ bohunks, Colonel?"

  "Certainly. They cost less; they are far less independent than mostmen and more readily handled. And you don't have to pamperthem--particularly in the matter of food. Why, Mr Cardigan, with all duerespect to your father, the way he feeds his men is simply ridiculous!Cake and pie and doughnuts at the same meal!" The Colonel snortedvirtuously.

  "Well, Dad started in to feed his men the same food he fed himself, andI suppose the habits one forms in youth are not readily changed in oldage, 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 thanthey were used to before they came to this country; but I cannot seem tosatisfy them. I am continuously being reminded, when I do a thing thusand so, that John Cardigan does it otherwise. Your respected parentis the basis for comparison in this country, Cardigan, and I findit devilish inconvenient." He laughed indulgently and passed hiscigarette-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 theGreat Pooh-Bah of the lumber-trade back in Michigan, but out here he hasto play second fiddle. Don't you, Nunky-dunk?"

  "I'm afraid I do, my dear," the Colonel admitted with his best air ofhearty expansiveness. "I'm afraid I do. However, Mr. Cardigan, now thatyou have--at least, I have been so informed--taken over your father'sbusiness, I am hoping we will be enabled to get together on many littledetails and work them out on a common basis to our mutual advantage. Welumbermen should stand together and not make it hard for each other. Forinstance, your scale of wages is totally disproportionate to the presenthigh cost of manufacture and the mediocre market; yet just because youpay 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 thatduring the day. Besides, here are the cocktails."

  With the disposal of the cocktails, the conversation drifted into adiscussion of Shirley's adventures with a salmon in Big Lagoon.The Colonel discoursed learnedly on the superior sport ofmuskellunge-fishing, which prompted Bryce to enter into a descriptionof 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 tobeat; muskellunge are a delight, and tarpon are not so bad if you'relooking for thrills; but for genuine inspiration give me a sixteen-footswordfish that will leap out of the water from three to six feet, and doit three or four hundred times--all on a line and rod so light one daresnot 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 timeannouncing that dinner was served. The girl rose and gave her arm toBryce; with her other arm linked through her uncle's she turned towardthe dining room.

  Just inside the entrance Bryce paused. The soft glow of the candles inthe old-fashioned silver candlesticks upon the table was reflectedin the polished walls of the room-walls formed of panels of the mostexquisitely patterned redwood burl Bryce Cardigan had ever seen. Alsothe panels were unusually large.

  Shirley Sumner's alert glance followed Bryce's as it swept aroundthe 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 wondersin the matter of having it polished. Those panels are positively thelargest and most beautiful specimens of redwood burl ever turned out inthis country. The grain is not merely wavy; it is not merely curly; itis actually so contrary that you have here, Colonel Pennington, a roomabsolutely unique, in that it is formed of bird's-eye burl. Mark thedeep shadows in it. And how it does reflect those candles!"

  "It is beautiful," the Colonel declared. "And I must confess to apardonable pride in it, although the task of keeping these walls frombeing marred by the furniture knocking against them requires the utmostcare."

  Bryce turned and his brown eyes blazed into the Colonel's. "Where DIDyou succeed in findi
ng such a marvellous tree?" he queried pointedly."I know of but one tree in Humboldt County that could have produced suchbeautiful 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 notedit, and his quickly roused suspicions were as quickly kindled intocertainty. "Where did you find that tree?" he repeated innocently.

  "Rondeau, my woods-boss, knew I was on the lookout for somethingspecial--something nobody else could get; so he kept his eyes open."

  "Indeed!" There was just a trace of irony in Bryce's tones as hedrew Shirley's chair and held it for her. "As you say, Colonel, it isdifficult to keep such soft wood from being marred by contact withthe furniture. And you are fortunate to have such a woods-boss in youremploy. Such loyal fellows are usually too good to be true, and quitefrequently they put their blankets on their backs and get out of thecountry when you least expect it. I dare say it would be a shock to youif Rondeau did that."

  There was no mistaking the veiled threat behind that apparentlyinnocent observation, and the Colonel, being a man of more than ordinaryastuteness, 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 rathermore than it is customary to pay woods-bosses; so I imagine he'llstay--unless, of course, somebody takes a notion to run him out ofthe county. And when that happens, I want to be on hand to view thespectacle."

  Bryce sprinkled a modicum of salt in his soup. "I'm going up intoTownship Nine to-morrow afternoon," he remarked casually. "I think Ishall 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 inadvance--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 fromhim where he procured this burl. There may be more of the same in theneighbourhood 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 havea cracker?"

  The dinner passed pleasantly; the challenge and defiance between guestand host had been so skillfully and gracefully exchanged that Shirleyhadn'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 thetime being, turned their attention to other and more trifling matters.Coffee was served in the living room, and through the fragrant smokeof Pennington's fifty-cent perfectos a sprightly three-corneredconversation continued for an hour. Then the Colonel, secretly enragedat the calm, mocking, contemplative glances which Bryce ever and anonbestowed upon him, and unable longer to convince himself that he was tooapprehensive--that this cool young man knew nothing and would do nothingeven if he knew something--rose, pleaded the necessity for looking oversome papers, and bade Bryce good-night. Foolishly he proffered Bryce alimp hand; and a demon of deviltry taking possession of the latter, thistime he squeezed with a simple, hearty earnestness, the while he said:

  "Colonel Pennington, I hope I do not have to assure you that my visithere 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 notthe sort of man who suffers in silence; for a minute later the butler,leaning over the banisters as his master climbed the stairs to hislibrary, heard the latter curse with an eloquence that was singularlyappealing.