The Valley of the Giants

by Peter B. Kyne

  CHAPTER XXIX

  Mayor Poundstone and his wife arrived at the Pennington home in RedwoodBoulevard at six forty-five Thursday evening. It was with a profoundfeeling of relief that His Honour lifted the lady from their modestlittle "flivver," for once inside the Pennington house, he felt,he would be free from a peculiarly devilish brand of persecutioninaugurated by his wife about three months previously. Mrs. Poundstonewanted a new automobile. And she had entered upon a campaign of naggingand complaint; hoping to wear Poundstone's resistance down to the pointwhere he would be willing to barter his hope of salvation in return fora guarantee of peace on earth.

  "I feel like a perfect fool, calling upon these people in this filthylittle rattletrap," Mrs. Poundstone protested as they passed up thecement walk toward the Pennington portal.

  Mayor Poundstone paused. Had he been Medusa, the glance he bent uponhis spouse would have transformed her instantly into a not particularlysymmetrical statue of concrete. He had reached the breaking-point.

  "In pity's name, woman," he growled, "talk about something else. Give meone night of peace. Let me enjoy my dinner and this visit."

  "I can't help it," Mrs. P. retorted with asperity. She pointed toShirley Sumner's car parked under the porte-cochere. "If I had a sedanlike that, I could die happy. And it only cost thirty-two hundred andfifty dollars."

  "I paid six hundred and fifty for the rattletrap, and I couldn't affordthat," he almost whimpered. "You were happy with it until I was electedmayor."

  "You forget our social position, my dear," she purred sweetly.

  He could have struck her. "Hang your social position," he grittedsavagely. "Shut up, will you? Social position in a sawmill town! Rats!"

  "Sh--sh! Control yourself, Henry!" She plucked gently at his arm; withher 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 sweptthem with a faintly disapproving glance. It is possible that he foundMayor Poundstone, who was adorned with a white string tie, a soft slouchhat, a Prince Albert coat, and horseshoe cut vest, mildly amusing.

  The Poundstones entered. At the entrance to the living room the butlerannounced sonorously: "Mayor Poundstone and Mrs. Poundstone."

  "Glad to see you aboard the ship," Colonel Pennington boomed with hisbest air of hearty expansiveness. "Well, well," he continued, leadingMrs. Poundstone to a divan in front of the fire, "this is certainlydelightful. My niece will be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Have acigarette, Mr. Poundstone."

  In the midst of the commonplace chatter incident to such occasions,Shirley entered the room; and the Colonel, leaving her to entertain theguests, went to a small sideboard in one corner and brought forth the"materials," as he jocularly termed them. James appeared like magicwith a tray, glasses, and tiny serviettes, and the Colonel's elixir waspassed to the company.

  "To your beautiful eyes, Mrs. Poundstone," was Pennington's debonairtoast as he fixed Mrs. P.'s green orbs with his own. "Poundstone, yourvery good health, sir."

  "Dee-licious," murmured Mrs. Poundstone. "Perfectly dee-licious. And nota bit strong!"

  "Have another," her hospitable host suggested, and he poured it, quiteoblivious 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," Shirleyreplied smilingly.

  "Oh, well," the Colonel retorted agreeably, "we'll make it athree-cornered festival. Poundstone, smoke up."

  They "smoked up," and Poundstone prayed to his rather nebulous gods thatMrs. P. would not discuss automobiles during the dinner.

  Alas! The Colonel's cocktails were not unduly fortified, but for allthat, the two which Mrs. Poundstone had assimilated contained justsufficient "kick" to loosen the lady's tongue without thickeningit. Consequently, about the time the piece de resistance made itsappearance, she threw caution to the winds and adverted to the subjectclosest to her heart.

  "I was telling Henry as we came up the walk how greatly I envied youthat beautiful sedan, Miss Sumner," she gushed. "Isn't it a perfectlystunning car?"

  Poundstone made one futile attempt to head her off. "And I was tellingMrs. Poundstone," he struck in with a pathetic attempt to appearhumorous and condescending, "that a little jitney was our gait, andthat she might as well abandon her passionate yearning for a closed car.Angelina, my dear, something tells me I'm going to enjoy this dinnera whole lot more if you'll just make up your mind to be real nice andresign yourself to the inevitable."

  "Never, my dear, never." She shook a coy finger at him. "You dear oldtightie," she cooed, "you don't realize what a closed car means to awoman." She turned to Shirley. "How an open car does blow one around, mydear!"

  "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 theconversation.

  "Yes. The fellow's own fault," Pennington replied. "He was one of thoseemployees who held to the opinion that every man is the captain of hisown soul and the sole proprietor of his own body--hence that it behoovedhim 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 andliable to pull out of the becket--and sure enough it did. The free endof the cable snapped back like a whip, and--"

  "I hold to the opinion," Mrs. Poundstone interrupted, "that if onewishes for a thing hard enough and just keeps on wishing, one is boundto get it."

  "My dear," said Mr. Poundstone impressively, "if you would only confineyourself to wishing, I assure you your chances for success would beinfinitely brighter."

  There was no mistaking this rebuke; even two cocktails were powerlessto render Mrs. Poundstone oblivious to it. Shirley and her uncle sawthe Mayor's lady flush slightly; they caught the glint of murder in HisHonour's eye; and the keen intelligence of each warned them that closedcars should be a closed topic of conversation with the Poundstones. Withthe nicest tact in the world, Shirley adroitly changed the subject tosome tailored shirt-waists she had observed in the window of a localdry-goods emporium that day, and Mrs. Poundstone subsided.

  About nine o'clock, Shirley, in response to a meaning glance from herrelative, tactfully convoyed Mrs. Poundstone upstairs, leaving her unclealone with his prey. Instantly Pennington got down to business.

  "Well," he queried, apropos of nothing, "what do you hear with referenceto the Northern-California-Gregon Railroad?"

  "Oh, the usual amount of wind, Colonel. Nobody knows what to make ofthat outfit."

  Pennington studied the end of his cigar a moment. "Well, I don't knowwhat to think of that project either," he admitted presently, "But whileit looks like a fake, I have a suspicion that where there's so muchsmoke, one is likely to discover a little fire. I've been waiting to seewhether or not they will apply for a franchise to enter the city, butthey 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. Idon't mean to be impertinent," he added with a gracious smile, "but thefact is I noticed that windbag Ogilvy entering your office in the cityhall the other afternoon, and I couldn't help wondering whether hisvisit was social or official."

  "Social--so far as I could observe," Poundstone replied truthfully,wondering just how much Pennington knew, and rather apprehensive that hemight 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 wasgrateful, since it provided time in which to organize himself. Suddenly,however, Pennington turned toward his guest and fixed the latter with aserious glance.

 
; "I hadn't anticipated discussing this matter with you, Poundstone, andyou must forgive me for it; but the fact is--I might as well be frankwith you--I am very greatly interested in the operation of this proposedrailroad."

  "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. Thelogical route for this railroad is from Willits north to Sequoia, notfrom 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, whilea line built in from the south will tap two thirds of it. The remainingthird can be tapped by an extension of my own logging-road; when my owntimber is logged out, I will want other business for my road, and ifthe N.C.O. parallels it, I will be left with two streaks of rust on myhands."

  "Ah, I perceive. So it will, so it will!"

  "You agree with me, then, Poundstone, that the N.C.O. is not designed tofoster the best interests of the community. Of course you do."

  "Well, I hadn't given the subject very mature thought, Colonel, butin the light of your observations it would appear that you are quiteright."

  "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 yourcity 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 toknow is this: will you exert every effort to block that franchise in thefirm conviction that by so doing you will accomplish a laudable publicservice?"

  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 morethoroughly--"

  "Tut-tut, my dear man! Let us not straddle the fence. Business is agame, and so is politics. Neither knows any sentiment. Suppose youshould favour this N.C.O. crowd in a mistaken idea that you were doingthe right thing, and that subsequently numberless fellow-citizensdeveloped the idea that you had not done your public duty? Would some ofthem not be likely to invoke a recall election and retire you and yourcity 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 strikesme. However, while we're on the subject, I have no hesitancy in tellingyou that in the event of a disastrous decision on your part, I shouldnot feel justified in supporting you."

  He might, with equal frankness, have said: "I would smash you." To hisguest his meaning was not obscure. Poundstone studied the pattern ofthe rug, and Pennington, watching him sharply, saw that the man wasdistressed. Then suddenly one of those brilliant inspirations, orflashes of rare intuition, which had helped so materially to fashionPennington into a captain of industry, came to him. He resolved on abold stroke.

  "Let's not beat about the bush, Poundstone," he said with the air of afather patiently striving to induce his child to recant a lie, tellthe truth, and save himself from the parental wrath. "You've been doingbusiness with Ogilvy; I know it for a fact, and you might as well admitit."

  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 forrail-connection with the outside world that you jump at the first planthat seems to promise you one. Now, I'm as eager as the others, but ifwe are going to have a railroad, I, for one, desire the right kind ofrailroad; and the N.C.O. isn't the right kind--that is, not for theinterests I represent. Have you promised Ogilvy a franchise?"

  There was no dodging that question. A denial, under the presentcircumstances, would be tantamount to an admission; Poundstone could notguess just how much the Colonel really knew, and it would not do to lieto him, since eventually the lie must be discovered. Caught between thehorns of a dilemma, Poundstone only knew that Ogilvy could never beto him such a powerful enemy as Colonel Seth Pennington; so, after thefashion 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 didyou 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. "Thetemporary franchise will expire in twenty-eight days--and in that shorttime the N.C.O. cannot even get started."

  "Have you any understanding as to an extension of that temporaryfranchise, in case the N.C.O. desires it?"

  "Well, yes--not in writing, however. I gave Ogilvy to understand thatif he was not ready in thirty days, an extension could readily bearranged."

  "Any witnesses?"

  "I am not such a fool, sir," Poundstone declared with asperity. "I had anotion--I might as well admit it--that you would have serious objectionto 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 inPennington an impression that the latter was dealing with a crafty andfar-seeing mayor, Poundstone smiled boldly and knowingly. "I repeat,"he said, "that I did not put it in writing." He leaned back nonchalantlyand blew smoke at the ceiling.

  "You oily rascal!" Pennington soliloquized. "You're a smarter man thanI thought. You're trying to play both ends against the middle." Herecalled the report of his private detective and the incident ofOgilvy's visit to young Henry Poundstone's office with a small leatherbag; he was more than ever convinced that this bag had containedthe bribe, in gold coin, which had been productive of that temporaryfranchise 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," theColonel retorted mirthfully "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Oh, Lord!Poundstone, you're funny. Upon my word, you're a scream." And theColonel gave himself up to a sincerely hearty laugh. "You call it aretainer," he continued presently, "but a grand jury might call itsomething else. However," he went on after a slight pause, "you're notin politics for your health; so let's get down to brass tacks. How muchdo you want to deny the N.C.O. not only an extension of that temporaryfranchise 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 onethousand dollars per each for your three good councilmen and true, andfor yourself that sedan of my niece's? It's a good car. Last year'smodel, 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 giveit to you. I'll sell it to you--five hundred down upon the signing ofthe agreement, and in lieu of the cash, I will take over that jitneyMrs. Poundstone finds so distasteful. Then I will employ your son Henryas the attorney for the Laguna Grande Lumber Company and give him aretainer of twenty-five hundred dollars for one year. I will leave it toyou to get this twenty-five hundred dollars from Henry and pay my niececash for the car
. Doesn't that strike you as a perfectly safe and saneproposition?"

  Had a vista of paradise opened up before Mr. Poundstone, he could nothave been more thrilled. He had been absolutely honest inhis plea to Mrs. Poundstone that he could not afford athirty-two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar sedan, much as he longed to obligeher and gain a greatly to be desired peace. And now the price wasdangling before his eyes, so to speak. At any rate it was parked in theporte-cochere not fifty feet distant!

  For the space of a minute the Mayor weighed his son's future as acorporation attorney against his own future as mayor of Sequoia--andHenry lost.

  "It might be arranged, Colonel," he murmured in a low voice--the voiceof shame.

  "It is already arranged," the Colonel replied cheerfully. "Leave yourjit at the front gate and drive home in Shirley's car. I'll arrangematters with her." He laughed shortly. "It means, of course, that I'llhave 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 leanedsuddenly toward her husband, threw a fat arm around his neck and kissedhim. "Oh, Henry, you darling!" she purred. "What did I tell you? If aperson 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 beforewe've had it an hour?"

  As for Colonel Pennington, he had little difficulty in explainingthe deal to Shirley, who was sleepy and not at all interested. ThePoundstones had bored her to extinction, and upon her uncle's assurancethat she would have a new car within a week, she thanked him and for thefirst time retired without offering her cheek for his good-nightkiss. Shortly thereafter the Colonel sought his own virtuous couch andprepared to surrender himself to the first good sleep in three weeks.He laid the flattering unction to his soul that Bryce Cardigan had dealthim a poor hand from a marked deck and he had played it exceedinglywell. "Lucky I blocked the young beggar from getting those rails out ofthe Laurel Creek spur," he mused, "or he'd have had his jump-crossingin overnight--and then where the devil would I have been? Up Salt Creekwithout a paddle--and all the courts in Christendom would avail menothing."

  He was dozing off, when a sound smote upon his ears. Instantly he waswide awake, listening intently, his head cocked on one side. The soundgrew louder; evidently it was approaching Sequoia--and with a bound theColonel sat up in bed, trembling in every limb.

  Suddenly, out of the deep, rumbling diapason he heard a sharpclick--then another and another. He counted them--six in all.

  "A locomotive and two flat-cars!" he murmured. "And they just passedover 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 intoCardigan'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 atthe front gate.