CHAPTER XXII
When Bryce Cardigan walked down the gang-plank at the steamship-dock inSan Francisco, the first face he saw among the waiting crowd was BuckOgilvy's. Mr. Ogilvy wore his over-coat and a joyous smile, proving thatin so far as he was concerned all was well with the world; he pressedforward and thrust forth a great speckled paw for Bryce to shake. Bryceignored 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 lightningwink. "I have never heard of you, Mr. Ogilvy. You are mistaking me forsomeone 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, andhe's the speaking image of you."
Bryce nodded and passed on, hailed a taxicab, and was driven to the SanFrancisco office of his company. Five minutes later the door opened andBuck Ogilvy entered.
"I was a bit puzzled at the dock, Bryce," he explained as they shookhands, "but decided to play safe and then follow you to your office.What's up? Have you killed somebody, and are the detectives on yourtrail? If so, 'fess up and I'll assume the responsibility for yourcrime, just to show you how grateful I am for that hundred."
"No, I wasn't being shadowed, Buck, but my principal enemy was comingdown the gangplank right behind me, and--"
"So was my principal enemy," Ogilvy interrupted. "What does our enemylook like?"
"Like ready money. And if he had seen me shaking hands with you, he'dhave suspected a connection between us later on. Buck, you have a goodjob--about five hundred a month."
"Thanks, old man. I'd work for you for nothing. What are we going todo?"
"Build twelve miles of logging railroad and parallel the line of the oldwolf 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 theword 'Go!' the rest is up to you. I must not be known in the transactionat all, because that would be fatal. And I miss my guess if, once westart building or advertising the building of the road, you and I andeverybody connected with the enterprise will not be shadowed day andnight by an army of Pinkertons."
"I listen," said Buck Ogilvy, and he inclined a large speckled ear inBryce's direction, the while his large speckled hand drew a scratch-padtoward him.
Three hours later Ogilvy was in possession of the most minute details ofthe situation in Sequoia, had tabulated, indexed, and cross-indexedthem in his ingenious brain and was ready for business--and so announcedhimself. "And inasmuch as that hundred you sent me has been pretty wellshattered," he concluded, "suppose you call in your cold-hearted managerwho refused me alms on your credit, and give him orders to honour mysight-drafts. If I'm to light in Sequoia looking like ready money, I'vegot to have some high-class, tailor-made clothes, and a shine and ashave and a shampoo and a trunk and a private secretary. If there was arailroad running into Sequoia, I'd insist on a private car."
This final detail having been attended to, Mr. Ogilvy promptly proceededto forget business and launched forth into a recital of his manifoldadventures since leaving Princeton; and when at length all of theirclassmates had been accounted for and listed as dead, married,prosperous, or pauperized, the amiable and highly entertaining Buck tookhis departure with the announcement that he would look around a littleand try to buy some good second-hand grading equipment and a locomotive,in addition to casting an eye over the labour situation and sending afew 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 couldalready 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 thatN. C. & O. stands for Northern California Outrage."
When Bryce Cardigan returned to Sequoia, his labours, insofar as thebuilding of the road were concerned, had been completed. His agreementwith Gregory of the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company had been signed,sealed, and delivered; the money to build the road had been depositedin 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-equipmentarrived in Sequoia, purchased a wagon and two horses, piled theirdunnage into the wagon, and disappeared up-country. Hard on theirheels came Mr. Buck Ogilvy, and occupied the bridal suite in the HotelSequoia, arrangements for which had previously been made by wire. Inthe sitting room of the suite Mr. Ogilvy installed a new desk, afiling-cabinet, and a brisk young male secretary.
He had been in town less than an hour when the editor of the SequoiaSentinel sent up his card. The announcement of the incorporation of theNorthern California Outrage (for so had Mr. Ogilvy, in huge enjoyment ofthe misery he was about to create, dubbed the road) had previously beenflashed to the Sentinel by the United Press Association, as a localfeature story, and already speculation was rife in Sequoia as to theidentity of the harebrained individuals who dared to back an enterpriseas nebulous as the millennium. Mr. Ogilvy was expecting the visit--infact, impatiently awaiting it; and since the easiest thing he did was tospeak for publication, naturally the editor of the Sentinel got astory which, to that individual's simple soul, seemed to warrant aseven-column head--which it received. Having boned up on the literatureof the Redwood Manufacturers' Association, what Buck Ogilvy didn't knowabout redwood timber, redwood lumber, the remaining redwood acreage andmarket conditions, past and present, might have been secreted in theeditorial eye without seriously hampering the editorial sight. He statedthat the capital behind the project was foreign, that he believed in thesuccess of the project and that his entire fortune was dependent uponthe completion of it. In glowing terms he spoke of the billions of tonsof timber-products to be hauled out of this wonderfully fertile andlittle-known country, and confidently predicted for the county a futurecommercial supremacy that would be simply staggering to contemplate.
When Colonel Seth Pennington read this outburst he smiled. "That's abright scheme on the part of that Trinidad Redwood Timber Company gangto start a railroad excitement and unload their white elephant," hedeclared. "A scheme like that stuck them with their timber, and Isuppose they figure there's a sucker born every minute and that thesame old gag might work again. Chances are they have a prospect in towalready."
When Bryce Cardigan read it, he laughed. The interview was so like BuckOgilvy! In the morning the latter's automobile was brought up from thesteamship-dock, and accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Ogilvy disappearedinto the north following the bright new stakes of his surveying-gang,and for three weeks was seen no more. As for Bryce Cardigan, that youngman buckled down to business, and whenever questioned about the newrailroad was careful to hoot at the idea.
On a day when Bryce's mind happened to be occupied with thoughts ofShirley Sumner, he bumped into her on the main street of Sequoia, and toher great relief but profound surprise, he paused in his tracks, liftedhis hat, smiled, and opened his mouth to say something--thought betterof it, changed his mind, and continued on about his business. As Shirleypassed him, she looked him squarely in the face, and in her glance therewas neither coldness nor malice.
Bryce felt himself afire from heels to hair one instant, and cold andclammy the next, for Shirley spoke to him.
"Good morning, Mr. Cardigan."
He paused, turned, and approached her. "Good morning, Shirley," hereplied. "How have you been?"
"I might have been dead, for all the interest you took in me," shereplied sharply. "As matters stand, I'm exceedingly well--thank you. Bythe 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 himsuddenly. "You make me unutterably weary."
"I'm sorry," he answered, "but just at present I am forced to subjectyou to the strain. Say a year from now, when things are different withme, I'll strive not to offend."
"I'll not be here a year from now," she warned him. He bowed. "ThenI'll go wherever you are--and bring you back." And with a mocking littlegrin, he lifted his hat and passed on.
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