366 
American Agriculturist, April 21,1923 
The Valley of the Giants-sr 
Peter B. Kyne 
C OLONEL PENNINGTON drove up to the business center of the town. The 
streets were deserted, but one saloon—the Sawdust Pile—was still open. 
The Colonel approached the table where thb Black Minorca sat, and touched 
the cholo on the shoulder. The Black Minorca turned, and Pennington nodded 
to him to follow; whereupon the latter cashed in his chips and joined his employer 
on the sidewalk. Here a whispered conversation ensued, and at its conclusion the 
Black Minorca nodded vigorously. 
“Sure!” he assured the Colonel. “I’ll fix ’em good and plenty.” 
Together Pennington and the Black Minorca entered the automobile and pro¬ 
ceeded swiftly to the Laguna Grande Lumber Company’s mill-office. From a 
locker the Colonel produced a repeating rifle and three boxes of cartridges, which 
he handed to the cholo. 
Twenty minutes later, from the top of a lumber-pile in Cardigan’s drying-yard, 
Bryce Cardigan saw the flash of a rifle and felt a sudden sting on his left forearm. 
He leaped to gain the shelter of the engine, and another bullet struck at his feet 
and ricocheted off into the night. It was followed by a fusillade, the bullets 
kicking up the freshly disturbed earth among the workers and sending them 
scurrying to various points of safety. 
“I don’t think he’s hurt anybody,” Buck Ogilvy whispered as he crouched with 
Bryce beside the engine, “but that’s due to his markmanship rather than his 
intentions.” 
“He tried hard enough to plug me,” 
Bryce declared, and showed the hole 
through his sleeve. “They call him the 
Black Minorca, and he’s a mongrel 
greaser who’d kill his own mother for 
a fifty-dollar bill.” 
“I’d like to plug him,” Buck mur¬ 
mured regretfully. 
“What would be the use? This 
will be his last night in Humboldt 
County-” 
A rifle shot rang out from the side 
of B Street; from the lumber-pile 
across the street, Bryce and Ogilvy 
heard a suppressed grunt of pain, and 
a crash. Instantly out of the shadows 
George Sea Otter came padding on vel¬ 
vet feet, rifle in hand—and then Bryce 
understood. 
“All right, boss,” said George simply 
as he joined Bi’yce and Qgilvy. “Now 
we get busy again.’” 
“Safe-o, men,” Ogilvy called. “Back 
to the job.” And while Bryce, followed 
by the careless George Sea Otter, went 
into the lumber-yard to succor the 
enemy, Ogilvy set an example to the 
men by stepping into the open and 
starting briskly to work with a shovel. 
At the bottom of the pile of lumber 
the Black Minorca was discovered with 
a severe flesh-wound in his right hip; 
also he was suffering from numerous 
bruises and contusions. George Sea 
Otter possessed himself of the fallen 
cholo’s rifle, while Bryce picked the 
wretch up and carried him to his auto¬ 
mobile. 
“Take the swine over to the Laguna 
Grande Lumber Company’s hospital,” 
he ordered George Sea Otter. “I’ll keep 
both rifles and the ammunition here for 
Jules Rondeau and his woods-gang. 
They’ll probably be dropping in on us 
about two a. m.” 
CHAPTER XXVIl 
.4VING dispatched the Black 
Minorca, Colonel Pennington fairly 
burned the streets to his home. 
The violent slam with which he closed 
the front door brought Shirley, in dress¬ 
ing-gown and slippers, to the staircase. 
“Uncle Seth!” she called. 
“Here!” he replied from the hall be¬ 
low. 
“What’s the matter?” 
“There’s the devil to pay,” he an¬ 
swered. “That fellow Cardigan and 
Ogilvy have a gang of fifty men at the 
intersection of Water and B streets, 
cutting in a jump-crossing of our 
line.” 
He dashed into the living room, and 
she heard him calling frantically into 
the telephone. 
“That you, Poundstone?” she heard 
him saying. “Pennington speaking. 
Young Cardigan is behind that N. C. O. 
outfit, and it’s a log^ng-road and not 
intended to build through to Grant’s 
Pass at all. Cardigan and Ogilvy with 
a gang of fifty men are cutting in a 
jump-crossing of my line! 
“Telephone the chief of police and 
order him to take his entire force down 
there, if necessary, and stop that work. 
To blazes with that temporary fran¬ 
chise! ^ Tell the chief of police not to 
recognize it. He can be suspicious of 
it, can’t he, and refuse to let the work 
go on until he finds you? And you can 
be hard to find, can you not? Delay, 
delay, man! ... Yes, yes, I under¬ 
stand. You get down about daylight 
and roast the chief of police for in¬ 
terfering, but in the meantime! . . . 
Thank you, Poundstone, thank you. 
Good-bye.” 
He stood at the telephone and when 
he spoke again, Shirley knew he was 
calling his mill-office. “Sexton? Pen¬ 
nington speaking. I’ve sent over the 
Black Minorca with a rifle and sixty 
rounds of ammunition. . . . What? 
You can hear him shooting already? 
Bully boy! He’ll clean that gang out 
and keep them from working! You’ve 
telephoned Rondeau, have you? . . . 
Good! As soon as the switch-engine 
starts for the woods, meet me down at 
Water and B streets.” 
Shirley was standing in the door¬ 
way as he faced about. “Uncle Seth,” 
she said quietly, “use any honorable 
method of defeating Bryce Cardigan, 
but call off the Black Minorca.” 
“Silly girl!” he soothed her. “Don’t 
you know I would not stoop to bush¬ 
whacking? It’s wild shooting, just to 
frighten Cardigan and. his men off the 
job.” 
“You can’t frighten him,” she cried 
passionately. “You know you can’t. 
He’ll kill the Black Minorca, or the 
Black Minorca will kill him. Go in¬ 
stantly and stop it.”' 
“All right, all right!” he said rather 
humbly, and sprang down the front 
steps into the waiting car. “I’ll play 
the game fairly, Shirley, never fear.” 
S HE stood in the doorway and watched 
the red tail-light, like a malevolent 
eye, disappear down the street. And as 
she stood there, down the boulevard a 
huge gray car came slipping noise¬ 
lessly. It was Bryce Cardigan’s Napier. 
“George!” she called. “Come here.” 
The car stopped at the sight of the 
slim white figure running down the 
garden walk. 
“Is Mr. Cardigan hurt?” she de¬ 
manded in an agony of suspense. 
George Sea Otter grunted contemptu¬ 
ously. “Nobody hurt ’cept the Black 
Minorca. He tried to shoot my boss, so 
I shoot him myself once through the 
leg. Now my boss says: ‘Take him to 
the Laguna Grande hospital, George.’ 
Me, I would drop this greaser in the 
bay.” 
She laughed hysterically. “On your 
way back stop and pick me up, George,” 
she ordered. 
Meanwhile Colonel Pennington had 
reached the crossing, simultaneously 
with the arrival of Sam Perkins, the 
chief of police, accompanied by two 
automobiles crammed with patrolmen. 
Perkins strutted up to Bryce. 
“What’s the meaning of all this row, 
Mr. Cardigan?” he demanded. 
“Something has slipped, Sam,” Bryce 
retorted pleasantly. “You’ve been call¬ 
ing me Bryce for the past twenty 
years! The meaning of this row?” 
Bryce continued. “Well, I’m engaged 
in making a jump-crossing of Colonel 
Pennington’s tracks, under a temporary 
franchise granted me by the city of 
Sequoia.” And he thrust the document 
under the police chief’s nose. 
“This is the first I’ve heard about 
any franchise,” Sam Perkins replied 
suspiciously. “Seems to me you been 
mighty secret about this job. How do 
I know this ain’t a forgery?” 
“Call up the mayor and ask him,” 
Bryce suggested. 
“I’ll do that,” quoth Mr. Perkins 
ponderously. “And in the meantime, 
don’t do any more digging or rail-cUt- 
ting.” He hurried away to his auto¬ 
mobile. 
“Also in the meantime, young man,” 
Colonel Pennington announced, “you 
will pardon me if I take possession of 
my locomotive and flat-cars. I observe 
you have finished unloading those rails.” 
“Help yourself. Colonel,” Bryce re¬ 
plied. 
With the greatest good nature in 
life, Pennington climbed into the cab, 
reached for the bell-cord, and rang 
the bell vigorously. Then he permitted 
himself a triumphant toot of the 
whistle, after which he threw off the 
air and gently opened the throttle. 
W ITH a creak and a bump the train 
started, and the Colonel ran it 
slowly up until the locomotive stood on 
the tracks exactly where Buck Ogilvy 
had been cutting in his crossing; where¬ 
upon the Colonel locked the brakes, 
opened his exhaust, and blew the boiler 
down. 
“That engine being my property,” 
he announced, “I’ll take the short end 
of any bet you care to make, young 
man, that it will sit on those tracks 
until your temporary franchise ex¬ 
pires. I’d give a good deal to see any¬ 
body not in my employ attempt to get 
up steam in that boiler until I give the 
word. Cut in your jump-crossing now, 
if you can, you whelp!” 
“I rather imagine this nice gentle¬ 
man has it on us, old dear,” chirped 
Buck Ogilvy plaintively. “Well! Let 
us gather up our tools and go home, for 
something tells me that if I hang around 
here I’ll bust this sleek scoundrel’s gray 
head! Hello! Whom have we here?” 
Bryce turned and found himself fac¬ 
ing Shirley Sumner. Her lip was quiv¬ 
ering, and the tears shone in her eyes 
like stars. He stared at her in silence. 
“My friend,”*she murmured tremu¬ 
lously, “didn’t I tell you I would not 
permit you to build the N. C. 0.?” 
He bowed his head in rage and 
shame. Buck Ogilvy took him by the 
arm. “ ‘ ’Tis midnight’s holy hour,’ ” he 
quoted, “ ‘and silence now is brooding 
o’er a still and pulseless world.’ Bryce, 
old chap, this is one of those occasions 
where silence is golden. Speak not. I’ll 
do it for you. Miss Sumner,” he con¬ 
tinued, bowing graciously, “and Colonel 
Pennington,” favoring that triumphant 
rascal with an equally gracious bow, 
“we leave you in possession of the field 
—temporarily. However, if anybody 
should drive up in a hack and lean out 
and ask you, just tell him Buck Ogilvy 
has another trump tucked away in his 
kimona.” 
Bryce turned to go, but with a sud¬ 
den impulse Shirley laid her hand on 
his arm—his left arm. “Bryce!” she 
murmured. 
He lifted her hand gently from his 
forearm, led her to the front of the 
locomotive, and held her hand up to the 
headlight. Her fingers were crimson 
with blood. 
“Your uncle’s killer did that, Shirley,” 
he said ironically. “It’s only a slight 
flesh-wound, but that is no fault of your 
allies. Good-night.” 
And he left her standing, pale of 
face and trembling, in the white glare 
of the headlight. 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
HIRLEY made no effort to detain 
Bryce Cardigan. Ogilvy remained 
long enough to order the foreman to 
gather up the tools, and dismiss his 
gang; then he, too, entered the automo¬ 
bile, and at a word from Bryce, the car 
slid noiselessly away into the darkness. 
The c^ew departed a few minutes later, 
and when Shirley found herself alone 
with her uncle, she gave way to the 
tears she could no longer repress. Pen¬ 
nington stood by, watching her curi¬ 
ously. 
“Well, my dear?” he queried nerv¬ 
ously. 
“I—I think I had better go home,” she 
said without spirit. 
“I think so, too,” he answered. “Get 
into the flivver, my dear. And perhaps 
the least said the better, Shirley. There 
are many things that you do not under¬ 
stand. 
“I can understand an attempt at as¬ 
sassination, Uncle Seth.” 
“That blackguard Minorca! I told 
him to bluff and threaten. While I gave 
him orders to shoot, I told him distinctly 
not to hit anybody. Good Lord, Shirley, 
surely you do not think I would wink 
at a murder!” 
“I do,” she answered passionately. 
“With Bryce Cardigan out of the way, 
you would have a clear field before you.” 
“At another time and in a calmer 
mood we will discuss that villain,” he 
said authoritatively. “If we argue the 
matter now, we may quarrel, and that 
is something neither of us can afford. 
Get into the car, and we will go home.” 
“Your sophistry does not alter my 
opinion,” she replied firmly. “How¬ 
ever, as you say, this is neither the 
time nor the place to discuss it.” 
T hey drove home in silence. Shirley 
went at once to her room. For the 
Colonel, however, the night’s work had 
scarcely begun. The instant he heard 
the door to his niece’s room shut, he 
went to the telephone and called up the 
Laguna Grande roundhouse. Sexton, 
his manager, answered. 
“Have you sent the switch-engine to 
the woods for Rondeau and his men?” 
“Just left.” 
“Good! Now, then, Sexton, listen to 
me: As you know, this has developed 
so suddenly I am taken by surprise and 
have had no time to prepare the kind 
of counter-attack that will be most ef¬ 
fective. However, with the crossing 
blocked, I gain time in which to or¬ 
ganize. I am proceeding to San Fran¬ 
cisco to-night by motor. I will arrive 
late to-morrow night, and early Satur¬ 
day morning I will appear in the United 
States District Court with our attor¬ 
neys and file a complaint and petition 
for an order temporarily restraining 
the N. C. O. from cutting our tracks. 
“I will have to make an affidavit to 
support the complaint, so I had better 
be Johnny-on-the-spot to do it. The 
judge will sign a restraining order, and 
after I have obtained it, I will have the 
United States marshal telegraph it to 
Ogilvy and Cardigan!” 
“Bully!” cried Sexton heartily. 
“In the meantime,” Pennington con¬ 
tinued, “we need that locomotive for 
its legitimate purposes. Take all that 
di^arded machinery we, removed from 
the mill last fall, dump it on the tracks 
at the crossing, and get the locomotive 
back on its run. Understand?” 
“Yes, sir.” 
“I’ll be back Sunday forenoon.” 
He hung up, went to his chauffeur’s 
quarters and routed the man out of 
bed. Then he returned to his room, 
dressed and packed a bag, left a brief 
note for Shirley, and started on his two- 
hundred-and-fifty-mile trip. 
Quite oblivious of her uncle’s de¬ 
parture, Shirley lay awake, turning 
over and over in her mind the vari¬ 
ous aspects of the Cardigan-Pen- 
nington imbroglio. Of one thing she 
was quite certain; peace must be de¬ 
clared at all hazards. She had been 
obsessed of a desire, rather unusual 
in her sex, to see a fight worth while; 
{Continued on page 367) 
WHAT HAS HAPPENED IN THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS 
TDRYCE CARDIGAN and Buck Ogilvy are determined that that jump- 
crossing shall go in. Colonel Seth is equally determined that it shall 
not. A battle royal is in progress, Bryce and Buck having outwitted the 
Colonel by obtaining a franchise, the Colonel being the stronger, how¬ 
ever, both in finances and because he is utterly unscrupulous. 
Shirley fights fairly, and is just beginning to suspect her uncle’s 
methods in protecting their joint interest. She has managed to main¬ 
tain her friendship with Bryce and also with Moria MacTavish, his 
office aide, with whom redheaded Buck has fallen deliriously in love. 
Through Bryce, Shirley obtains a dictograph to overhear the secret con¬ 
versation of her uncle and Mayor Poundstone. 
