The Valley of the Giants

  CHAPTER XXIV

  To return to Bryce Cardigan: Having completed his preliminary plansto build the N. C. O., Bryce had returned to Sequoia, prepared to sitquietly on the side-lines and watch his peppery henchman Buck Ogilvy gointo action. The more Bryce considered that young man's fitness forthe position he occupied, the more satisfied did he become with hisdecision. While he had not been in touch with Ogilvy for several years,he had known him intimately at Princeton.

  In his last year at college Ogilvy's father, a well-known railroadmagnate, had come a disastrous cropper in the stock market, thusthrowing Buck upon his own resources and cutting short his collegecareer--which was probably the very best thing that could happen tohis father's son. For a brief period--perhaps five minutes--Buck hadstaggered under the blow; then his tremendous optimism had asserteditself, and while he packed his trunk, he had planned for the future.As to how that future had developed, the reader will have gleanedsome slight idea from the information imparted in his letter to BryceCardigan, already quoted. In a word, Mr. Ogilvy had had his ups anddowns.

  Ogilvy's return to Sequoia following his three-weeks tour in search ofrights of way for the N. C. O. was heralded by a visit from him toBryce Cardigan at the latter's office. As he breasted the counter in thegeneral office, Moira McTavish left her desk and came over to see whatthe visitor desired.

  "I should like to see Mr. Bryce Cardigan," Buck began in crispbusinesslike accents. He was fumbling in his card-case and did not lookup until about to hand his card to Moira--when his mouth flew half open,the while he stared at her with consummate frankness. The girl's glancemet his momentarily, then was lowered modestly; she took the card andcarried it to Bryce.

  "Hum-m-m!" Bryce grunted. "That noisy fellow Ogilvy, eh?"

  "His clothes are simply wonderful--and so is his voice. He's veryrefined. But he's carroty red and has freckled hands, Mr. Bryce."

  Bryce rose and sauntered into the general office.

  "Mr. Bryce Cardigan?" Buck queried politely, with an interrogative liftof his blond eyebrows.

  "At your service, Mr. Ogilvy. Please come in."

  "Thank you so much, sir." He followed Bryce to the latter's privateoffice, closed the door carefully behind him, and stood with his broadback against it.

  "Buck, are you losing your mind?" Bryce demanded.

  "Losing it? I should say not. I've just lost it."

  "I believe you. If you were quite sane, you wouldn't run the risk ofbeing seen entering my office."

  "Tut-tut, old dear! None of that! Am I not the main-spring of theNorthern California Oregon Railroad and privileged to run the destiniesof that soulless corporation as I see fit?" He sat down, crossed hislong legs, and jerked a speckled thumb toward the outer office. "I wassane when I came in here, but the eyes of the girl outside--oh, yow,them eyes! I must be introduced to her. And you're scolding me forcoming around here in broad daylight. Why, you duffer, if I come atnight, d'ye suppose I'd have met her? Be sensible."

  "You like Moira's eyes, eh?"

  "I've never seen anything like them. Zounds, I'm afire. I have littleprickly sensations, like ants running over me. How can you be insensateenough to descend to labour with an houri like that around? Oh, man! Tothink of an angel like that WORKING--to think of a brute like you makingher work!"

  "Love at first sight, eh, Buck?"

  "I don't know what it is, but it's nice. Who is she?"

  "She's Moira McTavish, and you're not to make love to her. Understand? Ican't have you snooping around this office after to-day."

  Mr. Ogilvy's eyes popped with interest. "Oh," he breathed. "You have aneye to the main chance yourself have you? Have you proposed to the ladyas yet?"

  "No, you idiot."

  "Then I'll match you for her--or rather for the chance to proposefirst." Buck produced a dollar and spun it in the air.

  "Nothing doing, Buck. Spare yourself these agonizing suspicions. Thefact of the matter is that you give me a wonderful inspiration. I'vealways been afraid Moira would fall in love with some ordinary fellowaround Sequoia--propinquity, you know--"

  "You bet. Propinquity's the stuff. I'll stick around."

  "--and I we been on the lookout for a fine man to marry her off to.She's too wonderful for you, Buck, but in time you might learn to liveup to her."

  "Duck! I'm liable to kiss you."

  "Don't be too precipitate. Her father used to be our woods-boss. I firedhim for boozing."

  "I wouldn't care two hoots if her dad was old Nick himself. I'm going tomarry her--if she'll have me. Ah, the glorious creature!" He waved hislong arms despairingly. "O Lord, send me a cure for freckles. Bryce,you'll speak a kind word for me, won't you--sort of boom my stock, eh?Be a good fellow."

  "Certainly. Now come down to earth and render a report on yourstewardship."

  "I'll try. To begin, I've secured rights of way, at a total cost oftwelve thousand, one hundred and three dollars and nine cents, fromthe city limits of Sequoia to the southern boundary of your timber inTownship Nine. I've got my line surveyed, and so far as the building ofthe road is concerned, I know exactly what I'm going to do, and how andwhen I'm going to do it, once I get my material on the ground."

  "What steps have you taken toward securing your material?"

  "Well, I can close a favourable contract for steel rails with theColorado Steel Products Company. Their schedule of deliveries is O.K. as far as San Francisco, but it's up to you to provide watertransportation from there to Sequoia."

  "We can handle the rails on our steam schooners. Next?"

  "I have an option of a rattling good second-hand locomotive down atthe Santa Fe shops, and the Hawkins & Barnes Construction Company haveoffered me a steam shovel, half a dozen flat-cars, and a lot of fresnosand scrapers at ruinous prices. This equipment is pretty well worn, andthey want to get rid of it before buying new stuff for their contractto build the Arizona and Sonora Central. However, it is first-rateequipment for us, because it will last until we're through with it; thenwe can scrap it for junk. We can buy or rent teams from local citizensand get half of our labour locally. San Francisco employment bureauswill readily supply the remainder, and I have half a dozen fine boyson tap to boss the steam shovel, pile-driver, bridge-building gang,track-layer and construction gang. And as soon as you tell me how I'm toget my material ashore and out on the job, I'll order it and get busy."

  "That's exactly where the shoe begins to pinch, Pennington's main-linetracks enter the city along Water Street, with one spur into hislog-dump and another out on his mill-dock. From the main-line tracks wealso have built a spur through our drying-yard out to our log-dump and aswitch-line out on to our milldock. We can unload our locomotive, steamshovel, and flat-cars on our own wharf, but unless Pennington gives uspermission to use his main-line tracks out to a point beyond the citylimits--where a Y will lead off to the point where our constructionbegins--we're up a stump."

  "Suppose he refuses, Bryce. What then?"

  "Why, we'll simply have to enter the city down Front Street, parallelingPennington's tracks on Water Street, turning down B Street, make ajump-crossing of Pennington's line on Water Street, and connecting withthe spur into our yard."

  "Can't have an elbow turn at Front and B streets?"

  "Don't have to. We own a square block on that corner, and we'll buildacross it, making a gradual turn."

  "See here, my son," Buck said solemnly, "is this your first adventure inrailroad building?"

  Bryce nodded.

  "I thought so; otherwise you wouldn't talk so confidently of runningyour line over city streets and making jump-crossings on yourcompetitor's road. If your competitor regards you as a menace to hispocketbook, he can give you a nice little run for your money and delayyou indefinitely."

  "I realize that, Buck. That's why I'm not appearing in this railroaddeal at all. If Pennington suspected I was back of it, he'd fight mebefore the city council and move heaven and earth to keep me out of afranchise to use the city streets and cross his line
. Of course, sincehis main line runs on city property, under a franchise granted by thecity, the city has a perfect right to grant me the privilege of making ajump-crossing of his line---"

  "Will they do it? That's the problem. If they will not, you're licked,my son, and I'm out of a job."

  "We can sue and condemn a right of way."

  "Yes, but if the city council puts up a plea that it is against the bestinterests of the city to grant the franchise, you'll find that except inmost extraordinary cases, the courts regard it as against public policyto give judgment against a municipality, the State or the Government ofthe United States. At any rate, they'll hang you up in the courts tillyou die of old age; and as I understand the matter, you have to havethis line running in less than a year, or go out of business."

  Bryce hung his head thoughtfully. "I've been too cocksure," he mutteredpresently. "I shouldn't have spent that twelve thousand for rights ofway until I had settled the matter of the franchise."

  "Oh, I didn't buy any rights of way--yet," Ogilvy hastened to assurehim. "I've only signed the land-owners up on an agreement to give orsell me a right of way at the stipulated figures any time withinone year from date. The cost of the surveying gang and my salary andexpenses are all that you are out to date."

  "Buck, you're a wonder."

  "Not at all. I've merely been through all this before and have profitedby my experience. Now, then, to get back to our muttons. Will the citycouncil grant you a franchise to enter the city and jump Pennington'stracks?"

  "I'm sure I don't know, Buck. You'll have to ask them--sound them out.The city council meets Saturday morning."

  "They'll meet this evening--in the private diningroom of the HotelSequoia, if I can arrange it," Buck Ogilvy declared emphatically. "I'mgoing to have them all up for dinner and talk the matter over. I'm notexactly aged, Bryce, but I've handled about fifteen city councilsand county boards of supervisors, not to mention Mexican and CentralAmerican governors and presidents, in my day, and I know the breed fromcover to cover. Following a preliminary conference, I'll let you knowwhether you're going to get that franchise without difficulty or whethersomebody's itchy palm will have to be crossed with silver first. Honestmen never temporize. You know where they stand, but a grafter temporizesand plays a waiting game, hoping to wear your patience down to the pointwhere you'll ask him bluntly to name his figure. By the way, what do youknow about your blighted old city council, anyway?"

  "Two of the five councilmen are for sale; two are honest men--and oneis an uncertain quantity. The mayor is a politician. I've known them allsince boyhood, and if I dared come out in the open, I think that eventhe crooks have sentiment enough for what the Cardigans stand for inthis county to decline to hold me up."

  "Then why not come out in the open and save trouble and expense?"

  "I am not ready to have a lot of notes called on me," Bryce replieddryly. "Neither am I desirous of having the Laguna Grande Lumber Companystart a riot in the redwood lumber market by cutting prices to a pointwhere I would have to sell my lumber at a loss in order to get hold of alittle ready money. Neither do I desire to have trees felled across theright of way of Pennington's road after his trainloads of logs have gonethrough and before mine have started from the woods. I don't want mylog-landings jammed until I can't move, and I don't want Pennington'sengineer to take a curve in such a hurry that he'll whip my loadedlogging-trucks off into a canon and leave me hung up for lack ofrolling-stock. I tell you, the man has me under his thumb, and the onlyway I can escape is to slip out when he isn't looking. He can do toomany things to block the delivery of my logs and then dub them actsof God, in order to avoid a judgment against him on suit fornon-performance of his hauling contract with this company."

  "Hum-m-m! Slimy old beggar, isn't he? I dare say he wouldn't hesitate tobuy the city council to block you, would he?"

  "I know he'll lie and steal. I dare say he'd corrupt a public official."

  Buck Ogilvy rose and stretched himself. "I've got my work cut out forme, haven't I?" he declared with a yawn. "However, it'll be a fightworth while, and that at least will make it interesting. Well?"

  Bryce pressed the buzzer on his desk, and a moment later Moira entered."Permit me, Moira, to present Mr. Ogilvy. Mr. Ogilvy, Miss McTavish."The introduction having been acknowledged by both parties, Brycecontinued: "Mr. Ogilvy will have frequent need to interview me at thisoffice, Moira, but it is our joint desire that his visits here shallremain a profound secret to everybody with the exception of ourselves.To that end he will hereafter call at night, when this portion of thetown is absolutely deserted. You have an extra key to the office, Moira.I wish you would give it to Mr. Ogilvy."

  The girl nodded. "Mr. Ogilvy will have to take pains to avoid ourwatchman," she suggested.

  "That is a point well taken, Moira. Buck, when you call, make it a pointto arrive here promptly on the hour. The watchman will be down in themill then, punching the time-clock."

  Again Moira inclined her dark head and withdrew. Mr. Buck Ogilvygroaned. "God speed the day when you can come out from under and I'llbe permitted to call during office hours," he murmured. He picked uphis hat and withdrew, via the general office. Half an hour later, Brycelooked out and saw him draped over the counter, engaged in animatedconversation with Moira McTavish. Before Ogilvy left, he had managed toimpress Moira with a sense of the disadvantage under which he labouredthrough being forced, because of circumstances Mr. Cardigan woulddoubtless relate to her in due course, to abandon all hope of seeing herat the office--at least for some time to come. Then he spoke feelinglyof the unmitigated horror of being a stranger in a strange town, forcedto sit around hotel lobbies with drummers and other lost souls, and drewfrom Moira the assurance that it wasn't more distressing than having tosit around a boardinghouse night after night watching old women tat andtattle.

  This was the opening Buck Ogilvy had sparred for. Fixing Moira with hisbright blue eyes, he grinned boldly and said: "Suppose, Miss McTavish,we start a league for the dispersion of gloom. You be the president, andI'll be the financial secretary."

  "How would the league operate?" Moira demanded cautiously.

  "Well, it might begin by giving a dinner to all the members, followedby a little motor-trip into the country next Saturday afternoon," Bucksuggested.

  Moira's Madonna glance appraised him steadily. "I haven't known you verylong, Mr. Ogilvy," she reminded him.

  "Oh, I'm easy to get acquainted with," he retorted lightly. "Besides,don't I come well recommended?" He pondered for a moment. Then: "I'lltell you what, Miss McTavish. Suppose we put it up to Bryce Cardigan.If he says it's all right we'll pull off the party. If he says it's allwrong, I'll go out and drown myself--and fairer words than them has noman spoke."

  "I'll think it over," said Moira.

  "By all means. Never decide such an important matter in a hurry. Justtell me your home telephone number, and I'll ring up at seven thisevening for your decision."

  Reluctantly Moira gave him the number. She was not at all prejudicedagainst this carroty stranger--in fact, she had a vague suspicion thathe was a sure cure for the blues, an ailment which she suffered fromall too frequently; and, moreover, his voice, his respectful manner,his alert eyes, and his wonderful clothing were all rather alluring.Womanlike, she was flattered at being noticed--particularly by a manlike Ogilvy, whom it was plain to be seen was vastly superior to anymale even in Sequoia, with the sole exception of Bryce Cardigan. Theflutter of a great adventure was in Moira's heart, and the flush ofa thousand roses in her cheeks when, Buck Ogilvy having at lengthdeparted, she went into Bryce's private office to get his opinion as tothe propriety of accepting the invitation.

  Bryce listened to her gravely as with all the sweet innocence of heryears and unworldliness she laid the Ogilvy proposition before him.

  "By all means, accept," he counselled her. "Buck Ogilvy is one of thefinest gentlemen you'll ever meet. I'll stake my reputation on him.You'll find him vastly amusing, Moira. He'd make Niobe forg
et hertroubles, and he DOES know how to order a dinner."

  "Don't you think I ought to have a chaperon?"

  "Well, it isn't necessary, although it's good form in a small town likeSequoia, where everybody knows everybody else."

  "I thought so," Moira murmured thoughtfully. "I'll ask Miss Sumner tocome with us. Mr. Ogilvy won't mind the extra expense, I'm sure."

  "He'll be delighted," Bryce assured her maliciously. "Ask Miss Sumner,by all means."

  When Moira had left him, Bryce sighed. "Gosh!" he murmured. "I wish Icould go, too."

  He was roused from his bitter introspections presently by the ringing ofthe telephone. To his amazement Shirley Sumner was calling him!

  "You're a wee bit surprised, aren't you, Mr. Cardigan?" she saidteasingly.

  "I am," he answered honestly. "I had a notion I was quite persona nongrata with you."

  "Are you relieved to find you are not? You aren't, you know."

  "Thank you. I am relieved."

  "I suppose you're wondering why I have telephoned to you?"

  "No, I haven't had time. The suddenness of it all has left me more orless dumb. Why did you ring up?"

  "I wanted some advice. Suppose you wanted very, very much to know whattwo people were talking about, but found yourself in a position whereyou couldn't eavesdrop. What would you do?"

  "I wouldn't eavesdrop," he told her severely. "That isn't a nice thingto do, and I didn't think you would contemplate anything that isn'tnice."

  "I wouldn't ordinarily. But I have every moral, ethical, and financialright to be a party to that conversation, only--well--"

  "With you present there would be no conversation--is that it?"

  "Exactly, Mr. Cardigan."

  "And it is of the utmost importance that you should know what is said?"

  "Yes."

  "And you do not intend to use your knowledge of this conversation, whengained, for an illegal or unethical purpose?"

  "I do not. On the contrary, if I am aware of what is being planned, Ican prevent others from doing something illegal and unethical."

  "In that event, Shirley, I should say you are quite justified ineavesdropping."

  "But how can I do it? I can't hide in a closet and listen."

  "Buy a dictograph and have it hidden in the room where the conversationtakes place. It will record every word of it."

  "Where can I buy one?"

  "In San Francisco."

  "Will you telephone to your San Francisco office and have them buy onefor me and ship it to you, together with directions for using. GeorgeSea Otter can bring it over to me when it arrives."

  "Shirley, this is most extraordinary."

  "I quite realize that. May I depend upon you to oblige me in thismatter?"

  "Certainly. But why pick on me, of all persons, to perform such amission for you?"

  "I can trust you to forget that you have performed it."

  "Thank you. I think you may safely trust me. And I shall attend to thematter immediately."

  "You are very kind, Mr. Cardigan. How is your dear old father? Moiratold me sometime ago that he was ill."

  "He's quite well again, thank you. By the way, Moira doesn't know thatyou and I have ever met. Why don't you tell her?"

  "I can't answer that question--now. Perhaps some day I may be in aposition to do so."

  "It's too bad the circumstances are such that we, who started out to besuch agreeable friends, see so little of each other, Shirley."

  "Indeed, it is. However, it's all your fault. I have told you once howyou can obviate that distressing situation. But you're so stubborn, Mr.Cardigan."

  "I haven't got to the point where I like crawling on my hands andknees," he flared back at her.

  "Even for your sake, I decline to simulate friendship or tolerance foryour uncle; hence I must be content to let matters stand as they arebetween us."

  She laughed lightly. "So you are still uncompromisinglybelligerent--still after Uncle Seth's scalp?"

  "Yes; and I think I'm going to get it. At any rate, he isn't going toget mine."

  "Don't you think you're rather unjust to make me suffer for the sins ofmy relative, Bryce?" she demanded.

  She had called him by his first name. He thrilled. "I'm lost in aquagmire of debts--I'm helpless now," he murmured. "I'm not fightingfor myself alone, but for a thousand dependents--for a principle--foran ancient sentiment that was my father's and is now mine. You do notunderstand."

  "I understand more than you give me credit for, and some day you'llrealize it. I understand just enough to make me feel sorry for you. Iunderstand what even my uncle doesn't suspect at present, and thatis that you're the directing genius of the Northern California OregonRailroad and hiding behind your friend Ogilvy. Now, listen to me, BryceCardigan: You're never going to build that road. Do you understand?"

  The suddenness of her attack amazed him to such an extent that he didnot take the trouble to contradict her. Instead he blurted out, angrilyand defiantly: "I'll build that road if it costs me my life--if it costsme you. Understand! I'm in this fight to win."

  "You will not build that road," she reiterated.

  "Why?"

  "Because I shall not permit you to. I have some financial interestin the Laguna Grande Lumber Company, and it is not to that financialinterest that you should build the N.C.O."

  "How did you find out I was behind Ogilvy?"

  "Intuition. Then I accused you of it, and you admitted it."

  "I suppose you're going to tell your uncle now," he retortedwitheringly.

  "On the contrary, I am not. I greatly fear I was born with a touch ofsporting blood, Mr. Cardigan, so I'm going to let you two fight untilyou're exhausted, and then I'm going to step in and decide the issue.You can save money by surrendering now. I hold the whip hand."

  "I prefer to fight. With your permission this bout will go to aknockout."

  "I'm not so certain I do not like you all the more for that decision.And if it will comfort you the least bit, you have my word of honourthat I shall not reveal to my uncle the identity of the man behind theN. C. O. I'm not a tattletale, you know, and moreover I have a greatcuriosity to get to the end of the story. The fact is, both you andUncle Seth annoy me exceedingly. How lovely everything would have beenif you two hadn't started this feud and forced upon me the task oftrying to be fair and impartial to you both."

  "Can you remain fair and impartial?"

  "I think I can--even up to the point of deciding whether or not you aregoing to build that road. Then I shall act independently of you both.Forgive my slang, but--I'm going to hand you each a poke then."

  "Shirley," he told her earnestly, "listen carefully to what I am aboutto say: I love you. I've loved you from the day I first met you. I shallalways love you; and when I get around to it, I'm going to ask youto marry me. At present, however, that is a right I do not possess.However, the day I acquire the right I shall exercise it."

  "And when will that day be?" Very softly, in awesome tones!

  "The day I drive the last spike in the N. C. O."

  Fell a silence. Then: "I'm glad, Bryce Cardigan, you're not a quitter.Good-bye, good luck--and don't forget my errand." She hung up and satat the telephone for a moment, dimpled chin in dimpled hand, her glancewandering through the window and far away across the roofs of the townto where the smoke-stack of Cardigan's mill cut the sky-line. "How I'dhate you if I could handle you!" she murmured.

  Following this exasperating but illuminating conversation with ShirleySumner over the telephone, Bryce Cardigan was a distressed and badlyworried man. However, Bryce was a communicant of a very simple faith--towit, that one is never whipped till one is counted out, and the firstshock of Shirley's discovery having passed, he wasted no time invain repinings but straightway set himself to scheme a way out of hisdilemma.

  For an hour he sat slouched in his chair, chin on breast, the while hereviewed every angle of the situation.

  He found it impossible, however, to dissociate t
he business from thepersonal aspects of his relations with Shirley, and he recalled that shehad the very best of reasons for placing their relations on a businessbasis rather than a sentimental one. He had played a part in theirlittle drama which he knew must have baffled and infuriated her. More,had she, in those delightful few days of their early acquaintance,formed for him a sentiment somewhat stronger than friendship (he didnot flatter himself that this was so), he could understand her attitudetoward him as that of the woman scorned. For the present, however, itwas all a profound and disturbing mystery, and after an hour of futileconcentration there came to Bryce the old childish impulse to go tohis father with his troubles. That sturdy old soul, freed from the hotpassions of youth, its impetuosity and its proneness to consider causerather than effect, had weathered too many storms in his day to permitthe present one to benumb his brain as it had his son's.

  "He will be able to think without having his thoughts blotted out by awoman's face," Bryce soliloquized. "He's like one of his own big redwoodtrees; his head is always above the storm."

  Straightway Bryce left the office and went home to the old house on theknoll. John Cardigan was sitting on the veranda, and from a stand besidehim George Sea Otter entertained him with a phonograph selection--"TheSuwanee River," sung by a male quartet. As the gate clicked, John raisedhis head; then as Bryce's quick step spurned the cement walk upthe little old-fashioned garden, he rose and stood with one handoutstretched and trembling a little. He could not see, but with theintuition of the blind, he knew.

  "What is it, son?" he demanded gently as Bryce came up the low steps."George, choke that contraption off."

  Bryce took his father's hand. "I'm in trouble, John Cardigan," he saidsimply, "and I'm not big enough to handle it alone."

  The leonine old man smiled, and his smile had all the sweetness of abenediction. His boy was in trouble and had come to him. Good! Then hewould not fail him. "Sit down, son, and tell the old man all about it.Begin at the beginning and let me have all the angles of the angle."

  Bryce obeyed, and for the first time John Cardigan learned of his son'sacquaintance with Shirley Sumner and the fact that she had been presentin Pennington's woods the day Bryce had gone there to settle the scorewith Jules Rondeau. In the wonderful first flush of his love a sense ofembarrassment, following his discovery of the fact that his father andColonel Pennington were implacable enemies, had decided Bryce notto mention the matter of the girl to John Cardigan until the ENTENTECORDIALE between Pennington and his father could be reestablished, forBryce had, with the optimism of his years, entertained for a few days athought that he could bring about this desirable condition of affairs.The discovery that he could not, together with his renunciation of hislove until he should succeed in protecting his heritage and eliminatingthe despair that had come upon his father in the latter's old age, hadfurther operated to render unnecessary any discussion of the girl withthe old man.

  With the patience and gentleness of a confessor John Cardigan heard thestory now, and though Bryce gave no hint in words that his affectionswere involved in the fight for the Cardigan acres, yet did his fatherknow It, for he was a parent. And his great heart went out in sympathyfor his boy.

  "I understand, sonny, I understand. This young lady is only oneadditional reason why you must win, for of course you understand she isnot indifferent to you."

  "I do not know that she feels for me anything stronger than a vagrantsympathy, Dad, for while she is eternally feminine, nevertheless she hasa masculine way of looking at many things. She is a good comrade witha bully sense of sportsmanship, and unlike her skunk of an uncle, shefights in the open. Under the circumstances, however, her first loyaltyis to him; in fact, she owes none to me. And I dare say he has givenher some extremely plausible reason why we should be eliminated; whileI think she is sorry that it must be done, nevertheless, in a mistakenimpulse of self-protection she is likely to let him do it."

  "Perhaps, perhaps. One never knows why a woman does things, although itis a safe bet that if they're with you at all, they're with you all theway. Eliminate the girl, my boy. She's trying to play fair to you andher relative. Let us concentrate on Pennington."

  "The entire situation hinges on that jump-crossing of his tracks onWater Street."

  "He doesn't know you plan to cross them, does he?"

  "No."

  "Then, lad, your job is to get your crossing in before he finds out,isn't it?"

  "Yes, but it is an impossible task, partner. I'm not Aladdin, you know.I have to have a franchise from the city council, and I have to haverails."

  "Both are procurable, my son. Induce the city council to grant you atemporary franchise to-morrow, and buy your rails from Pennington. Hehas a mile of track running up Laurel Creek, and Laurel Creek was loggedout three years ago. I believe that spur is useless to Pennington, andthe ninety-pound rails are rusting there."

  "But will he sell them to me?"

  "Not if you tell him why you want them."

  "But he hates me, old pal."

  "The Colonel never permits sentiment to interfere with business, my son.He doesn't need the rails, and he does desire your money. Consider therail-problem settled."

  "How do you stand with the Mayor and the council?"

  "I do not stand at all. I opposed Poundstone for the office; Dobbs,who was appointed to fill a vacancy caused by the death of a regularlyelected councilman, was once a bookkeeper in our office, you willremember. I discharged him for looting the petty-cash drawer. Andrewsand Mullin are professional politicians and not to be trusted. In fact,Poundstone, Dobbs, Andrews, and Mullin are known as the Solid Four.Yates and Thatcher, the remaining members of the city council, arethe result of the reform ticket last fall, but since they are in theminority, they are helpless."

  "That makes it bad."

  "Not at all. The Cardigans are not known to be connected with the N. C.O. Send your bright friend Ogilvy after that franchise. He's the onlyman who can land it. Give him a free hand and tell him to deliver thegoods by any means short of bribery. I imagine he's had experiencewith city councils and will know exactly how to proceed. I KNOW youcan procure the rails and have them at the intersection of B and Waterstreets Thursday night. If Ogilvy can procure the temporary franchiseand have it in his pocket by six o'clock Thursday night, you should havethat crossing in by sunup Friday morning. Then let Pennington rave. Hecannot procure an injunction to restrain us from cutting his tracks,thus throwing the matter into the courts and holding us up indefinitely,because by the time he wakes up, the tracks will have been cut. The besthe can do then will be to fight us before the city council when we applyfor our permanent franchise. Thank God, however, the name of Cardigancarries weight in this county, and with the pressure of public sympathyand opinion back of us, we may venture, my boy, to break a lance withthe Solid Four, should they stand with Pennington."

  "Partner, it looks like a forlorn hope," said Bryce.

  "Well, you're the boy to lead it. And it will cost but little to putin the crossing and take a chance. Remember, Bryce, once we have thatcrossing in, it stands like a spite-fence between Pennington and the lawwhich he knows so well how to pervert to suit his ignoble purposes." Heturned earnestly to Bryce and waved a trembling admonitory finger. "Yourjob is to keep out of court. Once Pennington gets the law on us,the issue will not be settled in our favour for years; and in themeantime--you perish. Run along now and hunt up Ogilvy. George, playthat 'Suwannee River' quartet again. It sort o' soothes me."