The Valley of the Giants

by Peter B. Kyne

  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 officeafter Shirley had left him. "You've had more than a shade in every roundthus far, and at the finish you've landed a clean knockout. If I had tofight any man but you--"

  He sighed resignedly and pressed the push-button on his desk. Sextonentered. "Sexton," he said bluntly and with a slight quiver in hisvoice, "my niece and I have had a disagreement. We have quarrelled overyoung Cardigan. She's going to marry him. Now, our affairs are somewhatinvolved, and in order to straighten them out, we spun a coin to seewhether she should sell her stock in Laguna Grande to me or whether Ishould sell mine to her--and I lost. The book-valuation of the stock atthe close of last year's business, plus ten per cent. will determinethe selling price, and I shall resign as president. You will, in allprobability, be retained to manage the company until it is merged withthe Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company--when, I imagine, you will be givenample 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 nineo'clock to-morrow, when the papers can be drawn up and signed. That isall."

  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 verylate; then he went to the Hotel Sequoia and engaged a room. He did notpossess 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 passengersteamer for San Francisco, and at four-thirty sailed out of Humboldt Bayover the thundering bar and on into the south. The Colonel was still arich man, but his dream of a redwood empire had faded, and once more hewas taking up the search for cheap timber. Whether he ever found it ornot is a matter that does not concern us.

  At a moment when young Henry Poundstone's dream of legal opulencewas fading, when Mayor Poundstone's hopes for domestic peace had beenshattered beyond repair, the while his cheap political aspirations hadbeen equally devastated because of a certain damnable document inthe possession of Bryce Cardigan, many events of importance weretranspiring. On the veranda of his old-fashioned home, John Cardigansat tapping the floor with his stick and dreaming dreams which, for thefirst time in many years, were rose-tinted. Beside him Shirley sat, herglance bent musingly out across the roofs of Sequoia and on to thebay shore, where the smoke and exhaust-steam floated up from twosawmills--her own and Bryce Cardigan's. To her came at regularly spacedintervals the faint whining of the saws and the rumble of log-trainscrawling out on the log-dumps; high over the piles of bright, freshlysawed lumber she caught from time to time the flash of white sprayas the great logs tossed from the trucks, hurtled down the skids, andcrashed 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 almostflush with the water, was putting out to sea, and Shirley heard thefaint echo of her siren as she whistled her intention to pass tostarboard 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 thetie that binds my boy to Sequoia. This"--he waved his arm abroad in thedarkness--"this is the true essence of life--to create, to developthe gifts that God has given us--to work and know the blessing ofweariness--to have dreams and see them come true. That is life, and Ihave lived. And now I am ready to rest." He smiled wistfully. "'The kingis 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, drabsawmill town, where life unfolds gradually without thrill--where theyears stretch ahead of one with only trees, among simple folk. The lifemay be hard on you, Shirley; one has to acquire a taste for it, youknow."

  "I have known the lilt of battle, John-partner," she answered; "hence Ithink 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 tosee the stuff that was in him," she explained.

  CHAPTER XL

  Next day Bryce Cardigan, riding the top log on the end truck of a longtrain just in from Cardigan's woods in Township Nine, dropped from theend of the log as the train crawled through the mill-yard on its way tothe log-dump. He hailed Buck Ogilvy, where the latter stood in the doorof 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 knewhe would. His year on the mourner's-bench expired yesterday, and he cameback to claim his old job of woods-boss."

  "He's one year too late," Ogilvy declared. "I wouldn't let that bigCanadian Jules Rondeau quit for a farm. Some woods-boss, that--andhis first job with this company was the dirtiest you could handhim--smearing grease on the skid-road at a dollar and a half a day andfound. He's made too good to lose out now. I don't care what his privatemorals may be. He CAN get out the logs, hang his rascally hide, and I'mfor him."

  "I'm afraid you haven't anything to say about it, Buck," Bryce replieddryly.

  "I haven't, eh? Well, any time you deny me the privilege of hiring andfiring, you're going to be out the service of a rattling good generalmanager, my son. Yes, sir! If you hold me responsible for results, Imust select the tools I want to work with."

  "Oh, very well," Bryce laughed. "Have it your own way. Only if you candrive Duncan McTavish out of Cardigan's woods, I'd like to see you doit. Possession is nine points of the law, Buck--and Old Duncan is inpossession."

  "What do you mean--in possession?"

  "I mean that at ten o'clock this morning Duncan McTavish appeared at ourlog-landing. The whisky-fat was all gone from him, and he appeared fortyyears old instead of the sixty he is. With a whoop he came jumping overthe logs, straight for Jules Rondeau. The big Canuck saw him coming andknew what his visit portended--so he wasn't taken unawares. It was acase 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 andno grips barred--just the kind of fight Rondeau likes. Neverthelessold Duncan floored him. While he's been away somebody taught him thehammer-lock and the crotch-hold and a few more fancy ones, and he gotto work on Rondeau in a hurry. In fact, he had to, for if the tussle hadgone 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 hebeat the ground with his free hand in token of surrender; whereupon oldDuncan 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 LagunaGrande. He'll probably chase that assistant woods-boss I hired after theconsolidation, out of Shirley's woods and help himself to the fellow'sjob. I don't care if he does. What interests me is the fact that theold Cardigan woods-boss is back on the job in Cardigan's woods, and I'mmighty glad of it. The old horsethief has had his lesson and will remainsober 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 ofstrength when we open up that tract after the railroad builds in. By theway, has my dad been down this morning?"

  "Yes. Moira read the mail to him and then took him up to the Valley ofthe Giants. He said he wanted to do a little quiet figuring on that newsteam schooner you're thinking of building. He thinks she ought to bebigger--big enough to carry two million feet."

  Bryce glanced at his watch. "It's half after eleven," he said. "GuessI'll run up to the Giants and bring him home to lu
ncheon."

  He stepped into the Napier standing outside the office and drove away.Buck Ogilvy waited until Bryce was out of sight; then with suddendetermination he entered the office.

  "Moira," he said abruptly, approaching the desk where she worked, "yourdad is back, and what's more, Bryce Cardigan has let him have his oldjob as woods-boss. And I'm here to announce that you're not going backto the woods to keep house for him. Understand? Now, look here, Moira.I've shilly-shallied around you for months, protesting my love, and Ihaven'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 ofyours does, and I tell you I'll not have you go back to the woods totake 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 mustbe a nuisance, but I can't help being a nuisance when you're near me. SoI'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 themill and pick a fight with the big bandsaw. I'm going away where I can'tsee 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 feelguilty, 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 ofyourself. 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 theirsmoky depths a lambent flame. "I don't know," she quavered, "and it's abig responsibility in case--"

  "Oh, the devil take the case!" he cried rapturously, and took herhands in his. "Do I improve with age, dear Moira?" he asked with boyisheagerness; then, before she could answer, he swept on, a tornado of loveand 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, andas she wondered, a quiet joy thrilled her in the knowledge that it didnot seem at all impossible for her to grow, in time, absurdly fond ofthis wholesome red rascal.

  "Oh, Buck, dear," she whispered, "I don't know, I'm sure, but perhapsI've loved you a little bit for a long time."

  "I'm perfectly wild over you. You're the most wonderful woman I everheard of. Old rosy-cheeks!" And he pinched them just to see the colourcome and go.

  John Cardigan was seated in his lumberjack's easy-chair as his sonapproached. His hat lay on the litter of brown twigs beside him; hischin was sunk on his breast, and his head was held a little to one sidein a listening attitude; a vagrant little breeze rustled gently a lockof his fine, long white hair. Bryce stooped over the old man and shookhim gently by the shoulder.

  "Wake up, partner," he called cheerfully. But John Cardigan did notwake, and again his son shook him. Still receiving no response, Brycelifted the leonine old head and gazed into his father's face. "JohnCardigan!" 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 ifthe mere effort of holding them open wearied him. "I've been sittinghere--waiting," he went on in the same gentle whisper. "No, not waitingfor you, boy--waiting--"

  His head fell over on his son's shoulder; his hand went groping forBryce's. "Listen," he continued. "Can't you hear it--the Silence? I'llwait for you here, my son. Mother and I will wait together now--inthis spot she fancied. I'm tired--I want rest. Look after old Mac andMoira--and Bill Dandy, who lost his leg at Camp Seven last fall--and TomEllington's children--and--all the others, son. You know, Bryce. They'reyour responsibilities. Sorry I can't wait to see the San Hedrin openedup, but--I've lived my life and loved my love. Ah, yes, I've beenhappy--so happy just doing things--and--dreaming here among myGiants--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 therealization 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 andstopped.

  "Good-bye, old John-partner!" he murmured.

  "You've escaped into the light at last. We'll go home together now, butwe'll come back again."

  And with his father's body in his strong arms he departed from thelittle amphitheatre, walking lightly with his heavy burden down the oldskid-road to the waiting automobile. And two days later John Cardiganreturned to rest forever--with his lost mate among the Giants, himselfat last an infinitesimal portion of that tremendous silence that is thediapason of the ages.

  When the funeral was over, Shirley and Bryce lingered until they foundthemselves alone beside the freshly turned earth. Through a rift in thegreat branches two hundred feet above, a patch of cerulean skyshowed faintly; the sunlight fell like a broad golden shaft over theblossom-laden grave, and from the brown trunk of an adjacent tree a graysquirrel, a descendant, perhaps, of the gray squirrel that had been wontto rob Bryce's pockets of pine-nuts twenty years before, chirped at theminquiringly.

  "He was a giant among men," said Bryce presently. "What a fitting placefor him to lie!" He passed his arm around his wife's shoulders and drewher to him. "You made it possible, sweetheart."

  She gazed up at him in adoration. And presently they left the Valleyof the Giants to face the world together, strong in their faith to livetheir lives and love their loves, to dream their dreams and perchancewhen life should be done with and the hour of rest at hand, tosurrender, sustained and comforted by the knowledge that those dreamshad come true.

  THE END