The Valley of the Giants Part 37

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

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

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

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

Rats!"

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

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

"Glad to see you aboard the ship," Colonel Pennington boomed with his best air of hearty expansiveness. "Well, well," he continued, leading Mrs. Poundstone to a divan in front of the fire, "this is certainly delightful. My niece will be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail.

Have a cigarette, Mr. Poundstone."

In the midst of the commonplace chatter incident to such occasions, Shirley entered the room; and the Colonel, leaving her to entertain the guests, went to a small sideboard in one corner and brought forth the "materials," as he jocularly termed them. James appeared like magic with a tray, gla.s.ses, and tiny serviettes, and the Colonel's elixir was pa.s.sed to the company.

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

"Dee-licious," murmured Mrs. Poundstone. "Perfectly dee-licious. And not a bit strong!"

"Have another," her hospitable host suggested, and he poured it, quite oblivious 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 c.o.c.ktail, and one is always my limit,"

Shirley replied smilingly.

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

They "smoked up," and Poundstone prayed to his rather nebulous G.o.ds that Mrs. P. would not discuss automobiles during the dinner.

Alas! The Colonel's c.o.c.ktails were not unduly fortified, but for all that, the two which Mrs. Poundstone had a.s.similated contained just sufficient "kick" to loosen the lady's tongue without thickening it.

Consequently, about the time the piece de resistance made its appearance, she threw caution to the winds and adverted to the subject closest to her heart.

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

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

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

"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 the conversation.

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

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

"My dear," said Mr. Poundstone impressively, "if you would only confine yourself to wishing, I a.s.sure you your chances for success would be infinitely brighter."

There was no mistaking this rebuke; even two c.o.c.ktails were powerless to render Mrs. Poundstone oblivious to it. Shirley and her uncle saw the Mayor's lady flush slightly; they caught the glint of murder in His Honour's eye; and the keen intelligence of each warned them that closed cars should be a closed topic of conversation with the Poundstones. With the nicest tact in the world, Shirley adroitly changed the subject to some tailored shirt-waists she had observed in the window of a local dry-goods emporium that day, and Mrs.

Poundstone subsided.

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

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

"Oh, the usual amount of wind, Colonel. n.o.body knows what to make of that outfit."

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

"Social--so far as I could observe," Poundstone replied truthfully, wondering just how much Pennington knew, and rather apprehensive that he might 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 was grateful, since it provided time in which to organize himself.

Suddenly, however, Pennington turned toward his guest and fixed the latter with a serious glance.

"I hadn't antic.i.p.ated discussing this matter with you, Poundstone, and you must forgive me for it; but the fact is--I might as well be frank with you--I am very greatly interested in the operation of this proposed railroad."

"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.

The logical route for this railroad is from Willits north to Sequoia, not from Sequoia north to Grant's Pa.s.s, Oregon. Such a road as the N.C.O. contemplates will tap about one third of the redwood belt only, while a line built in from the south will tap two thirds of it.

The remaining third can be tapped by an extension of my own logging- road; when my own timber is logged out, I will want other business for my road, and if the N.C.O. parallels it, I will be left with two streaks of rust on my hands."

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

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

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