The Valley of the Giants Part 11

She finished her breakfast in thoughtful silence; then she went to the telephone and called up Bryce at his home. Mrs. Tully, all aflutter with curiosity, was quite insistent that Shirley should leave her name and telephone number, but failing to carry her point, consented to inform the latter that Mr. Bryce was at the office. She gave Shirley the telephone number.

When the girl called the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company, Bryce answered. He recognized her voice instantly and called her name before she had opportunity to announce her ident.i.ty.

"Thank you so much for the beautiful roses, Mr. Cardigan," she began.

"I'm glad you liked them. n.o.body picks flowers out of our garden, you know. I used to, but I'll be too busy hereafter to bother with the garden."

"Very well. Then I am not to expect any more roses?"

"I'm a stupid clodhopper. Of course you may. By the way, Miss Sumner, does your uncle own a car?"

"I believe he does--a little old rattletrap which he drives himself."

"Then I'll send George over with the Napier this afternoon. You might care to take a spin out into the surrounding country. By the way, Miss Sumner, you are to consider George and that car as your personal property. I fear you're going to find Sequoia a dull place; so whenever you wish to go for a ride, just call me up, and I'll have George report to you."

"But think of all the expensive gasoline and tires!"

"Oh, but you mustn't look at things from that angle after you cross the Rocky Mountains on your way west. Moreover, mine is the only real car in the country, and I know you like it. What are you going to do this afternoon?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead."

"For some real sport I would suggest that you motor up to Laguna Grande. That's Spanish for Big Lagoon, you know. Take a rod with you.

There are some land-locked salmon in the lagoon--that is, there used to be; and if you hook one you'll get a thrill."

"But I haven't any rod."

"I'll send you over a good one."

"But I have n.o.body to teach me how to use it," she hinted daringly.

"I appreciate that compliment," he flashed back at her, "but unfortunately my holidays are over for a long, long time. I took my father's place in the business this morning."

"So soon?"

"Yes. Things have been happening while I was away. However, speaking of fishing, George Sea Otter will prove an invaluable instructor. He is a good boy and you may trust him implicitly. On Thursday evening you can tell me what success you had with the salmon."

"Oh, that reminds me, Mr. Cardigan. You can't come Thursday evening, after all." And she explained the reason.

"By Jove," he replied, "I'm mighty glad you tipped me off about that.

I couldn't possibly remain at ease in the presence of a banker- particularly one who will not lend me money."

"Suppose you come Wednesday night instead."

"We'll call that a bet. Thank you."

She chuckled at his frank good humour. "Thank YOU, Mr Cardigan, for all your kindness and thoughtfulness; and if you WILL persist in being nice to me, you might send George Sea Otter and the car at one- thirty. I'll be glad to avail myself of both until I can get a car of my own sent up from San Francisco. Till Wednesday night, then. Good- bye."

As Bryce Cardigan hung up, he heaved a slight sigh, and a parody on a quatrain from "Lalla Rookh" ran through his mind:

I never loved a dear gazelle, To glad me with its limpid eye, But when I learned to love it well, The gol-darned thing was sure to die!

It was difficult to get out of the habit of playing; he found himself the possessor of a very great desire to close down the desk, call on Shirley Sumner, and spend the remainder of the day basking in the sunlight of her presence.

CHAPTER XII

The days pa.s.sed swiftly, as they have a habit of pa.s.sing after one has discovered one's allotted task in life and has proceeded to perform it. Following his discovery of the outrage committed on his father's sanctuary, Bryce wasted considerable valuable time and effort in a futile endeavour to gather some further hint of the ident.i.ty of the vandals; but despairing at last, he dismissed the matter from his mind, resolving only that on Thursday he would go up into Pennington's woods and interview the redoubtable Jules Rondeau.

Bryce's natural inclination was to wait upon M. Rondeau immediately, if not sooner, but the recollection of his dinner engagement at the Pennington home warned him to proceed cautiously; for while harbouring no apprehensions as to the outcome of a possible clash with Rondeau, Bryce was not so optimistic as to believe he would escape unscathed from an encounter. Experience had impressed upon him the fact that in a rough-and-tumble battle n.o.body is quite so thoroughly at home as a lumberjack; once in a clinch with such a man, even a champion gladiator of the prize ring may well feel apprehensive of the outcome.

Wednesday evening at five o'clock Mr. Sinclair, the manager, came into Bryce's office with a handful of folded papers. "I have here,"

he announced in his clerky voice with a touch of solemnity to it, "a trial balance. I have not had time to make an exact inventory; but in order to give you some idea of the condition of your father's affairs, I have used approximate figures and prepared a profit-and- loss account."

Bryce reached for the papers.

"You will note the amount charged off to profit and loss under the head of 'Pensions,' Sinclair continued. "It amounts approximately to two thousand dollars a month, and this sum represents payments to crippled employees and the dependent families of men killed in the employ of the Company.

"In addition to these payments, your father owns thirty-two thirty- acre farms which he has cleared from his logged-over lands. These little farms are equipped with bungalows and outbuildings built by your father and represent a considerable investment. As you know, these farms are wonderfully rich, and are planted in apples and berries. Other lands contiguous to them sell readily at two hundred dollars an acre, and so you will see that your father has approximately two hundred thousand dollars tied up in these little farms."

"But he has given a life-lease at nothing a year for each farm to former employees who have been smashed beyond the possibility of doing the hard work of the mill and woods," Bryce reminded the manager. "Hence you must not figure those farms among our a.s.sets."

"Why not?" Sinclair replied evenly. "Formal leases have never been executed, and the tenants occupy the property at your father's pleasure."

"I think that will be about as far as the discussion on that point need proceed," Bryce replied smilingly. "My father's word has always been considered sufficient in this country; his verbal promise to pay has always been collateral enough for those who know him."

"But my dear boy," Sinclair protested, "while that sort of philanthropy is very delightful when one can afford the luxury, it is scarcely practical when one is teetering on the verge of financial ruin. After all, Bryce, self-preservation is the first law of human nature, and the sale of those farms would go a long way toward helping the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Company out of the hole it is in at present."

"And we're really teetering on the edge of financial ruin, eh?" Bryce queried calmly.

"That is expressing your condition mildly. The semi-annual payment of interest on the bonded indebtedness falls due on July first--and we're going to default on it, sure as death and taxes. Colonel Pennington holds a majority of our bonds, and that means prompt suit for foreclosure."

"Well, then, Sinclair," Bryce retorted, carefully pigeon-holing the doc.u.ments the manager had handed him, "I'll tell you what we'll do.

For fifty years my father has played the game in this community like a sport and a gentleman, and I'll be d.a.m.ned if his son will dog it now, at the finish. I gather from your remarks that we could find ready sale for those thirty-two little farms?"

"I am continually receiving offers for them."

"Then they were not included in the list of properties covered by our bonded indebtedness?"

"No, your father refused to include them. He said he would take a chance on the financial future of himself and his boy, but not on his helpless dependents."

"Good old John Cardigan! Well, Sinclair, I'll not take a chance on them either; so to-morrow morning you will instruct our attorney to draw up formal life-leases on those farms, and to make certain they are absolutely una.s.sailable. Colonel Pennington may have the lands sold to satisfy a deficiency judgment against us, but while those life-leases from the former owner are in force, my father's proteges cannot be dispossessed. After they are dead, of course, Pennington may take the farms--and be d.a.m.ned to him."

Sinclair stared in frank amazement at his youthful superior. "You are throwing away two hundred thousand dollars," he said distinctly.

"I haven't thrown it away--yet. You forget, Sinclair, that we're going to fight first--and fight like fiends; then if we lose--well, the tail goes with the hide, By the way, Sinclair, are any of those farms untenanted at the present time?"