CHAPTER XXI
Upon his return from the office that night, Bryce Cardigan found hisfather 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'llmanage to live till next spring."
"Oh, I knew there was nothing wrong with you, John Cardigan, that ahealthy 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--Inever expected we'd have to do it; but when I realize that it was a caseof sacrificing you or my Giants, of course you won. And I didn't feelso badly about it as I used to think I would. I suppose that's becausethere is a certain morbid pleasure in a real sacrifice for those welove. And I never doubted but that Pennington would snap up the propertythe instant I offered to sell. Hence his refusal--in the face of ourdesperate need for money to carry on until conditions improve--almostfloored your old man."
"Well, we can afford to draw our breath now, and that gives us afighting chance, partner. And right after dinner you and I will sit downand start brewing a pot of powerful bad medicine for the Colonel."
"Son, I've been sitting here simmering all day." There was a note ofthe old dominant fighting John Cardigan in his voice now. "And it hasoccurred to me that even if I must sit on the bench and root, I'venot reached the point where my years have begun to affect my thinkingability." 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 trotout your plan of campaign and I'll trot out mine; then we'll tear themapart, select the best pieces of each and weld them into a perfectwhole."
Accordingly, dinner disposed of, father and son sat down together toprepare the plan of campaign. For the space of several minutes a silencesettled between them, the while they puffed meditatively upon theircigars. 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 manwho is going to parallel his logging railroad, he will throw all theweight of his truly capable mind, his wealth and his ruthlessnessagainst you--and you will be smashed. To beat that man, you must do morethan spend money. You will have to outthink him, outwork him, outgamehim, and when eventually you have won, you'll know you've been in thefight of your career. You have one advantage starting out. The Coloneldoesn't think you have the courage to parallel his road in the firstplace; in the second place, he knows you haven't the money; and in thethird place he is morally certain you cannot borrow it, because youhaven't any collateral to secure your note.
"We are mortgaged now to the limit, and our floating indebtedness isvery large; on the face of things and according to the Colonel's verycorrect inside information, we're helpless; and unless the lumber-marketstiffens very materially this year, by the time our hauling-contractwith Pennington's road expires, we'll be back where we were yesterdaybefore we sold the Giants. Pennington regards that hundred thousand asget-away money for us. So, all things considered, the Colonel, will beslow to suspect us of having an ace in the hole; but by jinks we haveit, 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 thebackground--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 routeof the road and give us an estimate of the cost of construction."
"For the sake of argument we will consider that done, and that theestimate comes within the scope of the sum Gregory is willing to advanceus."
"Your third step, then, will be to incorporate a railroad company underthe laws of the State of California."
"I think I'll favour the fair State of New Jersey with our trade," Brycesuggested dryly. "I notice that when Pennington bought out the Hendersoninterests and reorganized that property, he incorporated the LagunaGrande Lumber Company under the laws of the State of New Jersey, home ofthe 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 goodenough for us. Now, then, you are going to incorporate a company tobuild a road twelve miles long--and a private road, at that. That wouldbe a fatal step. Pennington would know somebody was going to build alogging-road, and regardless of who the builders were, he would have tofight them in self-protection. How are you going to cover your trail, myson?"
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'swhere the shoe pinches. Common carriers are subject to the rules andregulations of the Railroad Commission."
"They are wise and just rules," commented the old man, "expensive toobey 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 carryour deception still further and incorporate for the purpose of buildinga road from Sequoia to Grant's Pass, Oregon, there to connect with theSouthern Pacific."
John Cardigan smiled. "The old dream revived, eh? Well, the old jokesalways bring a hearty laugh. People will laugh at your company, becausefolks up this way realize that the construction cost of such a roadis prohibitive, not to mention the cost of maintenance, which would betremendous and out of all proportion to the freight area tapped."
"Well, since we're not going to build more than twelve miles of our roadduring the next year, and probably not more than ten miles additionalduring the present century, we won't worry over it. It doesn't cost acent more to procure a franchise to build a road from here to themoon. If we fail to build to Grant's Pass, our franchise to build theuncompleted portion of the road merely lapses and we hold only thatportion 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 landownersalong the proposed route will give us rights of way free gratis and fornothing, just to encourage the lunatics. Without a railroad the land isvalueless; and as a common carrier they know we can condemn rights ofway capriciously withheld--something we cannot do as a private road.Moreover, deeds to rights of way can be drawn with a time-limit, afterwhich they revert to the original owners."
"Good strategy, my son! And certainly as a common carrier we will bewelcomed by the farmers and cattlemen along our short line. We canhandle their freight without much annoyance and perhaps at a slightprofit."
"Well, that about completes the rough outline of our plan. The nextthing to do is to start and keep right on moving, for as old Omarhas it, 'The bird of time hath but a little way to flutter,' and thebirdshot is catching up with him. We have a year in which to build ourroad; if we do not hurry, the mill will have to shut down for lack oflogs, when our contract with Pennington expires."
"You forget the manager for our new corporation--the vice-presidentand general manager. The man we engage must be the fastest and mostconvincing talker in California; not only must he be able to tell a liewith a straight face, but he must be able to believe his own lies. Andhe must talk in millions, look millions, and act as if a million dollarswere equivalent in value to a redwood stump. In addition, he must be aman of real ability and a person you can trust implicitly."
"I have the very man you mention. His name is Buck Ogilvy and only thisvery day I received a letter from him begging me for a small loan. Ihave 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 youhis 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 andsend me a rectangular piece of white, blue, green, or pink paper bearingin the lower right-hand corner, in your clear, bold chirography, themagic words "Bryce Cardigan"--with the little up-and-down hook andflourish which identifies your signature given in your serious moodsand lends value to otherwise worthless paper. Five dollars would makeme chirk up; ten would start a slight smile; twenty would put a beam inmine eye; fifty would cause me to utter shrill cries of unadulteratedjoys and a hundred would inspire me to actions like unto those of awhirling dervish.
I am so flat busted my arches make hollow sounds as I tread the hardpavements of a great city, seeking a job. Pausing on the brink ofdespair, that destiny which shapes our ends inspired me to think of oldtimes and happier days and particularly of that pink-and-white midget ofa girl who tended the soda-fountain just back of the railroad station atPrinceton. You stole that damsel from me, and I never thanked you. ThenI remembered you were a timber-king with a kind heart and that you livedsomewhere in California; so I looked in the telephone book and foundthe address of the San Francisco office of the Cardigan Redwood LumberCompany. You have a mean man in charge there. I called on him, toldhim I was an old college pal of yours, and tried to borrow a dollar. Hespurned me with contumely--so much of it, in fact, that I imagine youhave a number of such friends. While he was abusing me, I stole from hisdesk the stamped envelope which bears to you these tidings of great woe;and while awaiting your reply, be advised that I subsist on the bittercud of reflection, fresh air, and water, all of which, thank God, costnothing.
My tale is soon told. When you knew me last, I was a prosperous youngcontractor. Alas! I put all my eggs in one basket and produced anomelet. Took a contract to build a railroad in Honduras. Honduras gotto fighting with Nicaragua; the government I had done business with wentout of business; and the Nicaraguan army recruited all my labourers andmounted them on my mules and horses, swiped all my grub, and told me togo home. I went. Why stay? Moreover, I had an incentive consisting ofabout an inch of bayonet--fortunately not applied in a vital spot--whichaccelerated rather than decreased my speed.
Hurry, my dear Cardigan. Tempest fidgets; remember Moriarity--which, ifyou 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 toSequoia 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 oftime.--B.
John Cardigan chuckled. "I'd take Buck Ogilvy, Bryce. He'll do. Is hehonest?"
"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 thatcarries your letter might be wrecked and your friend Ogilvy forced tosteal."
"I have already wired him the hundred. In all probability he is now outwhirling 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 yourdeal with Gregory. Arrange with him to leave his own representative withOgilvy to keep tab on the job, check the bills, and pay them as theyfall due; and above all things, insist that Gregory shall place themoney in a San Francisco bank, subject to the joint check of hisrepresentative and ours. Hire a good lawyer to draw up the agreementbetween you; be sure you're right, and then go ahead--full speed. Whenyou return to Sequoia, I'll have a few more points to give you. I'llmull them over in the meantime."