202 
American Agriculturist, March 3, 1023 
The Valley of the Giants-sr peter b. Kyne 
H e had been in town less than an hour when the editor of the Sequoia “Sentinel” 
sent up his card. The announcement of the incorporation of the Northern 
California Outrage (for so had Mr. Ogilvy, in huge enjoyment of the misery he 
was about to create, dubbed the road) had previously been flashed to the “Senti¬ 
nel” by the United Press Association, and already speculation was rife in Sequoia 
as to the identity of the harebrained individuals who dared to back the enterprise, 
Mr. Ogilvy was expecting the visit—in fact, impatiently awaiting it; and since 
the easiest thing he did was to speak for publcation, naturally the editor of the 
“Sentinel” got a story which, to that individual’s simple soul, seemed to warrant 
a seven-column head—which it received. Having boned up, what Buck Ogilvy 
didn’t know about redwood timber, lumber, the remaining redwood acerage and 
market conditions, past and present, might have been secreted in the editorial eye 
without seriously hampering the editorial sight. He stated that the capital be¬ 
hind the project was foreign, that he believed in the success of the project and 
that his entire fortune was dependent upon the completion of it. In glowing terms 
he spoke of the billions of tons of timber-products to be hauled out of this won¬ 
derfully fertile and little-known country, and confldently predicted for the county 
a future commercial supremacy that would be simply staggering to contemplate. 
When Colonel Seth Pennington read 
this outburst he smiled. “That’s a 
bright scheme on the part of that 
Trinidad Redwood Timber Company 
gang to start a railroad excitement 
and unload their white elephant,” he 
declared. “A scheme like that stuck 
them with their timber, and I suppose 
they figure that the SiUme old gag 
might work again. Chances are they 
have a prospect in tow already.” 
When Bryce Cardigan read it, he 
laughed. The interview was so like 
Buck Ogilvy! In the morning the lat¬ 
ter’s automobile was brought up from 
the steamship-dock, and accompanied 
by his secretary, Mr. Ogilvy disap¬ 
peared into the north following the 
bright new stakes of his surveying- 
gang, and for three weeks was seen 
no more. 
On a day when Bryce’s mind hap¬ 
pened to be occupied with thoughts of 
Shirley Sumner, he bumped into her on 
the main street of Sequoia, and to her 
great relief but profound surprise, he 
paused, lifted his hat, smiled and 
opened his mouth to say something— 
thought better of it, and continued on 
about his_ business. Shirley looked him 
squarely in the face, and in her glance 
there was neither coldness nor malice. 
Bryce felt himself afire from heels 
to hair one instant, and cold and 
clammy the next, for Shirley spoke to 
him. 
“Good morning, Mr. Cardigan.” 
He turned, and approached her. 
“Good morning, Shirley,” he replied. 
“How have you been?” 
“I might have been dead, for all the 
interest you took in me,” she replied 
sharply. I’m exceedingly well—thank 
you. By the way, are you still bel¬ 
ligerent?” 
He nodded. “I have to be.” 
“Still peeved at my uncle?” 
Again he nodded. 
“I think you’re a great big grouch, 
Bryce Cardigan,” she flared at him 
suddenly. “You make me unutterably 
weary.” 
“I’m sorry,” he answered, “but just 
at present I am forced to subject you 
to the strain. Say a year from now, 
when things are different with me. I’ll 
strive not to offend.” 
“I’ll not be here a year from now,” 
she warned him. 
He bowed. “Then I’ll go wherever# 
you are—and bring you back.” And 
with a mocking little grin, he lifted his 
hat and passed on. 
CHAPTER XXI 
HOUGH Buck Ogilvy was gone 
from Sequoia for three weeks, he 
was by no means forgotten. His sec¬ 
retary proved to be an industrious 
press-agent who by mail, telegraph, 
and long-distance telephone managed 
daily to keep the editor of the Sequoia 
“Sentinel” fully apprised of all develop¬ 
ments in the matter of the Northern 
California Oregon Railroad Company— 
including some that had not as yet de¬ 
veloped! The result was copious and 
persistent publicity for the new rail¬ 
road^ company, and the arousing in the 
public mind of a genuine interest in 
this railroad which was to do so much 
for the town of Sequoia. 
Colonel Seth Pennington was among 
those who, skeptical at first, eventually 
found himself gradually coerced into 
serious consideration of the results at¬ 
tendant upon the building of the road. 
The Colonel was naturally as suspicious 
as a rattlesnake in August; hence he 
had no sooner emerged from the ranks 
of the frank scoffers than his alert 
mind framed the question: 
“How is this new road—improbable 
as I know it to be—going to affect the 
interests of the Laguna Grande Lumber 
Company, if the unexpected should hap¬ 
pen and those bunco-steerers should 
actually build a road from Sequoia to 
Grant’s Pass, Oregon, and thus con¬ 
struct a feeder to a transcontinental 
line?” 
Five minutes of serious reflection 
sufficed to bring the Colonel to the 
verge of panic, notwithstanding his 
firm belief that there was no reason 
why he should be frightened. Similar 
considerations occur to a small boy who 
is walking home in the dark past a 
cemetery. 
T he vital aspects of his predicament 
dawned on the Colonel one night 
at dinner. So forcibly did they occur 
to him, in fact, that for the nonce he 
forgot that his niece was seated op¬ 
posite him. 
“Confound them,” the Colonel mur¬ 
mured distinctly, “I must look into this 
immediately.” 
“Look into what. Uncle dear?” Shir¬ 
ley asked innocently. 
“This new railroad that Ogilvy talks 
of building-—which means, Shirley, that 
with Sequoia as his starting point, he 
is going to build a hundred and fifty 
miles north to connect with the main 
line of the Southern Pacific in Oregon.” 
“But wouldn’t that be the finest thing 
that could possibly happen to Hum¬ 
boldt County?” she demanded. 
“Undoubtedly—to Humboldt County; 
but to the Laguna Grande Lumber 
Company, in which you have something 
more than a sentimental interest, it 
would be a blow. As you know, all of 
my efforts are devoted to fighting any¬ 
thing that has a tendency to depreciate 
its value.” 
“Which reminds me. Uncle Seth, that 
you never discuss with me any of the 
matters pertaining to my business in¬ 
terests,” she suggested. 
He beamed upon her .with his patron¬ 
izing and indulgent smile. “There is 
no reason why you should puzzle that 
pretty head of yours with business 
affairs while I am on the job,” he 
answered.^ “However, since you desire 
to have this railroad situation explained 
to you, I will do so. I am not in¬ 
terested in seeing a feeder built from 
Sequoia north to connect with the South¬ 
ern Pacific, but I am tremendously in¬ 
terested in seeing a feeder built south 
toward San Francisco, to connect with 
the Northwestern Pacific.” 
“Why?” 
“For cold business reasons, my 
my dear.” He hesitated, and then re¬ 
sumed: “A few months ago I would 
not have told you what I am about 
to tell you, Shirley, for the reason it 
seemed then you were destined to be¬ 
come^ friendly with young Cardigan.” 
Shirley blushed, and her uncle 
chuckled good-naturedly. ^‘Fortunate¬ 
ly,” he continued, “Bryce Cardigan had 
the misfortune to show himself to you 
in his true colors, and you had the 
good sense to dismiss him. Conse¬ 
quently I see no reason why I should 
not explain to you now what I con¬ 
sidered it the part of wisdom to with¬ 
hold from you at that time.” 
“Do go on. Uncle Seth. I’m tre¬ 
mendously interested,” averred Shirley. 
“Shortly after I launched the La¬ 
guna Grande Lumber Company—in 
which, as your guardian and executor 
of your^ father’s estate, I deemed it 
wise to invest part of yooii inheritance 
—I found myself forced to seek further 
for sound investments for your sur¬ 
plus funds. Now, good timber, bought 
cheap, inevitably will be sold dear. Old 
John Cardigan had some twenty thou¬ 
sand acres of the finest redwood tim¬ 
ber which had cost him an average 
price of less than fifty cents per thou¬ 
sand. 
“Well, in this instance the old man 
had overreached himself, and finding it 
necessary to increase his working capi¬ 
tal, he incorporated his holdings into 
the Cardigan Redwood Lumber Com¬ 
pany and floated a bond issue of a mil¬ 
lion dollars. I invested for you three 
hundred thousand dollars in Cardigan 
bonds. I bought them at eighty, and 
they were worth two hundred; at least, 
they would have been worth two hun¬ 
dred under my management-” 
“How did you manage to buy them 
so cheap?” she interrupted. . 
“Old Cardigan had had a long run 
of bad luck. From time to time I dis¬ 
covered bondholders who needed money 
and hence unloaded at a sacrifice; but 
by far the majority were owned by 
local people who had lost confidence in 
John Cardigan and the future of the 
redwood lumber industry. You under¬ 
stand, do you not?” • 
“I do not understand what all this 
has to do with a railroad.” 
“Very well—I shall proceed to ex¬ 
plain.” He held up his index finger. 
“Item one: For years old John Cardi¬ 
gan has rendered valueless, because 
inaccessible, twenty-five hundred acres 
of Laguna Grande timber on Squaw 
Creek. His absurd Valley of the Giants 
blocks the outlet, and of course he per¬ 
sisted in refusing me a right of way 
in order to force me to sell him that 
Squaw Creek timber at his price.” 
“Yes,” Shirley agreed, “I dare say 
that was his object. . Was it'reprehen- 
sible of him. Uncle Seth?” 
“Not a bit, my dear. He was simply 
playing the cold game of business. I 
would have done the same thing had 
the situation been reversed. We played 
a game together—and I admit that he 
won, fairly and squarely. 
“Then why is it that you feel such 
resentment against him?” 
“Oh, I don’t resent the old fool, Shir¬ 
ley. He merely annoys me. I suppose 
I feel a certain natural chagrin at hav¬ 
ing been beaten, and in consequence 
cherish an equally 'natural desire to 
pay the old schemer back in his own 
coin. Such action on my part is per¬ 
fectly permissible, is it not?” 
“Yes,” she agreed frankly, “I think 
it is. Uncle Seth. Certainly, if he 
blocked you and rendered your timber 
valueless, there is no reason why, if you 
have the opportunity you should not 
block him—and render his timber value¬ 
less.’^ 
T he Colonel banged the table with his 
fist so heartily that the silver fairly 
leaped. “Spoken like a man!” he de¬ 
clared. “I have the opportunity and 
am proceeding to impress the Cardi¬ 
gans with the truth of the old saying 
that every dog must have his day. 
When Cardigan’s contract \^ith our 
road for hauling his logs expires next 
year, I am not going to renew it—at 
least not until I have forced him to 
make_ me the concessions I desire, and 
certainly not at the present ruinous 
freight-rate.” 
“Then,” Said Shirley eagerly, ^‘if 
you got a right of way through his 
Valley of the Giants, you would renew 
the contract he has with you for the 
hauling of his logs, would you not?” 
“I would have before young Cardi¬ 
gan raised such Hades that day in the 
logging-camp, before old Cardigan 
sold his Valley of the Giants to another 
burglar—and before I had evidence 
that neither of the _ Cardigans knows' 
enough about managing a sawmill and 
selling lumber to guarantee a reason¬ 
able profit and pay the interest on their 
bonded and floating indebtedness. 
Shirley, I bought those bonds for you 
because I thought old Cardigan knew 
his business and would make the bonds 
worth par. Instead, the Cardigan 
Company is tottering on the verge of 
bankruptcy; the bonds I purchased for 
you are now worth less than I paid for 
them, and by next year the Cardigans 
will default on the interest. 
“So I’m going to sit tight and decline 
to have business dealings with the 
Cardigans. When their hauling con¬ 
tract expires, I shall not renew it; so 
they will automatically go out of the 
lumber business and into the hands of 
a receiver; and since you are the largest 
individual stockholder, I, representing 
you and a number of minor bondhold¬ 
ers, will dominate the executive com¬ 
mittee of the bondholders when they 
meet to consider what shall be done 
when the Cardigans default. I shall 
then have myself appointed receiver 
for the Cardigan Redwood Lumber 
Company, and see for myself whether 
or no there is a possibility of working 
it out of the jam it is in and saving you 
a loss on your bonds. 
MUST pursue this course, my dear, 
i in justice to you and the other 
bondholders. If, on the other hand, I 
find the situation hopeless I shall rec¬ 
ommend to the bank that the property- 
be sold at public auction to the highest 
bidder to reimburse the bondholders. 
Of course,” he hastened to add, “if the 
property sells for more than the cor¬ 
poration owes such excess will then 
in due course be turned over to the 
Cardigans.” 
“Is it likely to do this?” Shirley 
queried anxiously. 
“It is possible, but scarcely prob-‘ 
able,” he answered dryly. “I ha-\ie in 
mind, under those circumstances, bid¬ 
ding the property in and merging it 
with our holdings.” 
“But what will the Cardigans do 
then. Uncle Seth?” 
“Well, long before the necessity 
arises, the old man will have been 
gathered to the bosom of Abraham; 
and young Cardigan can then go to 
work for a living.” 
“Would you give him employment. 
Uncle Seth?” 
“I would not. Do you think I’m 
crazy, Shirley? Remember, my dear, 
there is no sentiment in business.” 
“I think I understand. Uncle Seth— 
with the exception of what effect the 
building of the N. C. 0. has upon your 
plans.” 
“Item two,” he challenged, and ticked 
it off on his middle finger. “The Cardi¬ 
gan Redwood Lumber Company owns 
two fine bodies of redwood timber 
widely separated—one to the south in 
the San Hedrin watershed, at present 
practically valueless because inacces¬ 
sible, and the other to the north of 
Sequoia, immediately adjoining our 
holdings in To-wnship Nine and valu¬ 
able because of its accessibility.” He 
paused a moment and looked at her 
smilingly. “The logging railroad of 
our corporation, the Laguna Grande 
Lumber Company, makes it accessible. 
Now, while the building of the N. C. 0. 
would be a grand thing for the county 
in general, we can get along without it 
because it doesn’t help us out particu¬ 
larly. We already have a railroad run¬ 
ning from our timber to tidewater.” 
“I think I understand. Uncle Seth. 
{Continued on page 203) 
WHAT HAS HAPPENED IN “THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS” 
'T^HE struggle between old John Cardigan, pioneer in the redwoods 
country, and Colonel Seth Pennington, rival operator, has centered 
around the Valley of the Giants, Cardigan’s favorite grove which block’s 
the Colonel’s holdings. 
It seems as though the feud has descended to young Cardigan and 
the Colonel’s niece, Shirley Sumner. But the latter, angered by her 
uncle’s unscrupulous methods secretly buys the Valley, planning to 
force peace. She does not know that Bryce is about to parallel 
Pennington’s logging road, as a last desperate measure to save the 
Cardigan fortunes. 
) 
