American Agriculturist, April 28,1923 
383 
The Valley of the 
Giants —By Peter B. Kyne 
S HIRLEY'S lip curled. She sensed the hypocrisy between the lines. ■ 
“He has gone to San Francisco for more ammunition,” she soliloquized. 
“Very well, Unkie-dunk! While you’re away, I shall manufacture a few bombs 
myself.” 
After breakfast she walked to the intersection of B with Water Street. Jules 
Rondeau and his crew of lumber-jacks were there, and with two policemen 
guarded the crossing. 
Rondeau glanced at Shirley, surprised, then lifted his hat. 
“Rondeau,” she said, “Mr. Cardigan is a bad man to fight. You fought him 
once. Are you going to do it again?” 
He nodded. 
“By whose orders?” 
“Mr. Sexton, she tell me to do it.” 
“Well, Rondeau, some day I’ll be boss of Laguna Grande and there’ll be no 
more fighting,” she replied, and passed on to the office of the Cardigan Redwood 
Lumber Company. Moira McTavish looked up as she entered. 
“Where is he, dear?” Shirley asked. “I must see him.” 
“In that office. Miss Shirley,” Moira replied, and pointed to the door. Shirley 
stepped to the door, knocked and then entered. Bryce Cardigan, seated at his 
desk, looked up as she came in. His left arm was in a sling, and he looked 
harassed and dejected. 
“Don’t get up, Bryce,” she said as he 
attempted to rise. “I know you’re 
quite exhausted.” _ She sat down. “I’m 
so sorry,” she said softly. 
His dull glance brightened. “It 
doesn’t amount to that, Shirley.” And 
he snapped his fingers. “What did you 
want to see me about?” 
“I wanted to tell , you,” said Shirley, 
“that—that last night’s- aff,air was not of 
my making.” He smiled compassion¬ 
ately. “I—I couldn’t bear to have you 
think I’d break my word and tell him.” 
“It never occurred to me, Shirley. 
Please don’t worry about it. Your 
uncle has had two private detectives 
watching Ogilvy and me.” 
“Oh!” she breathed. A ghost of the 
old smile lighted her winsome features. 
“Well, then,” she challenged, “I sup¬ 
pose you don’t hate me.” 
“On the contrary, I love you,” he 
answered. “However, since you must 
have known this for some time past, I 
suppose it is superfluous to mention' it. 
Moreover, I haven’t the right—yet.” 
She cast her eyes down, then raised 
them and looked at him searchingly. 
“I suppose you’ll acknowledge yourself 
whipped at last, Bryce?” she ventured. 
“I want peace, too,” he answered 
wearily. “I’d be glad to quit—with 
honor. And I’ll do it, too, if you can 
induce your uncle to give me the kind of 
logging contract I want with his road.” 
“I couldn’t do that, Bryce. He is not 
merciful to the fallen. You’ll have to^— 
surrender unconditionally.” Again she 
laid her little hand timidly on his 
wounded forearm. “Please give up, 
Bryce—for my sake.” 
“I suppose I’ll have to,” he mur¬ 
mured sadly. “I dare say you’re right. 
I suppose,” he continued bitterly, “your 
uncle is in high feather this morning.” 
“I don’t know, Bryce. He left in his 
motor for San B’rancisco about one 
o’clock this morning.” 
F or an instant Bryce Cardigan 
stared at her; then a slow, mock¬ 
ing little smile crept aroupd the corn¬ 
ers of his mouth. 
“Glorious news, my dear Shirley! 
So the old fox has gone to San Fran¬ 
cisco, eh? Couldn’t wait for the regu¬ 
lar passenger-steamer to-morrow, eh?” 
And Bryce commenced to chuckle. “Oh, 
the poor old Colonel,” he continued 
presently, “the dear old pirate! What 
a horrible right swing he’s running 
into! And you want me to acknowledge 
defeat! My dear girl, there is nothing 
doing. I shall put in my crossing Sun¬ 
day morning. Drop around and see me 
in action.” 
“You mustn’t try,” protested Shirley. 
“Rondeau is there with his crew—and 
he has orders to stop you. Besides, 
you can’t expect help from the police. 
Uncle Seth has made a deal with the 
Mayor,” Shirley pleaded frantically. 
“That for the police and that venal 
Mayor Poundstone!” Bryce retorted, 
with another snap of his fingers. 
“I came to suggest a compromise, 
Bryce,” she declared, but he interrupted 
her. 
“You can’t effect a compromise. 
You’ve been telling me I shall never 
build "the N. C. 0. You’re powerless, 
I tell you. I shall build it.” 
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t op¬ 
pose me,” she protested softly. “I 
tell you again, Bryce, you make it very 
hard to be friendly with you.” 
“I don’t want to be friendly with 
you. You’re driving me crazy, Shirley. 
Please run along home. I’ve tried to 
understand your peculiar code, but 
you’re too deep for me. George Sea 
Otter is oUtside. Tell him to drive you. 
I suppose you’re afoot to-day, for I 
noticed the Mayor riding in your sedan 
this morning.” 
She tried to look outraged, but for 
the life of her she could not take offense 
at his bluntness. 
“Oh, very well,” she replied with 
what dignity she could muster. “Have 
it your own way. I’ve tried to warn 
you. Thank you for your offer of the 
car. Uncle Seth sold my car to Mayor 
Poundstone last nigh^.” 
“Ah! Then it was that rascally 
Poundstone who told your uncle about 
the temporary franchise, thus arous¬ 
ing his suspicions to such an extent 
that when he heard his locomotive 
rumbling into town, he smelled a rat 
and hurried down to the crossing?” 
“Possibly. The Poundstones dined at 
our house last night.” 
“Pretty hard on you, I should say. 
But then I suppose you have to play 
the game with Uncle Seth. Well, good 
morning, Shirley.” 
“You’re horrid, Bryce Cardigan.” 
“You’re adorable. Good morning.” 
“You’ll be sorry for this,” she 
warned him. “Good morning.” She 
passed out into the general office, 
visited with Moira about five minutes, 
and drove away in the Napier. Bryce 
watched her through the window. 
“God bless her!” he murmured. “She’s 
been my ally all along, and I never sus¬ 
pected it!” 
H e sat musing for a long time. 
“Yes,” he concluded presently, “old 
Poundstone has double-crossed us—and 
Pennington made it worth his while. 
And the Colonel ‘sold’ the Mayor his 
niece’s automobile. I smell a rat as 
big as a kangaroo. In this case two 
and two don’t make four. They make 
six! Guess I’ll build a fire under old 
Poundstone.” 
He called up the Mayor. “Bryce 
Cardigan speaking, Mr. Poundstone,” 
he greeted the chief executive. 
“Oh, hello, Bryce,” Poundstone 
boomed. “How’s tricks?” 
“So-so! I hear you’ve bought that 
sedan from Colonel Pennington’s niece. 
Wish I’d known it was for sale. I’d 
have outbid you. Want to make a 
profit on your bargain?” 
“No, not this morning, Bryce. Mrs. 
P. has been wanting a closed car for a 
long time, and when the Colonel offered 
me this one at a bargain, I snapped 
it up.” ' 
“And you don’t care to get rid of it 
at a profit?” Bryce repeated. 
“No, siree!” 
“Oh, you’re mistaken, Mr. Mayor. 
I would suggest that you take that car 
back to Pennington’s garage and leave 
it there. That would be the most 
profitable thing you could do.” 
“Wha—^what—what in blue blazes are 
you driving at?” the Mayor sputtered. 
“I wouldn’t discuss it over the tele¬ 
phone. However, a hint to the wise is 
sufficient. To-day is Friday, and Fri¬ 
day is an unlucky day. I’d get rid of 
that sedan before noon if I were you.” 
There was a long silence. Then in a 
singularly small, quavering voice: 
“You think it best, Cardigan?” 
“I do. Return it to No. 38 Redwood 
Boulevard, and no questions will be 
asked. Good-bye!” 
When Shirley reached home at noon, 
she found her car, and a brief note in¬ 
formed her that after thinking the 
matter over, Mrs. Poundstone had de¬ 
cided the family could not afford such 
an extravagance, and accordingly the 
car was returned with many thanks for 
the opportunity to purchase it at such 
a ridiculously low figure. Shirley 
smiled, and put the car up in the gar¬ 
age. When she returned to the house 
her maipl Thelma informed her that 
Mr. Bryce Cardigan had been calling 
her on the telephone. So she called 
Bryce up at once. 
“Has Poundstone returned your 
car?” he queried. 
“Why, yes. What makes you ask?” 
“Oh, I had a suspicion he might. You 
see, I called him up and suggested it; 
somehow His Honor is peculiarly 
susceptible to suggestions from me, 
and-” 
“Bryce Cardigan,” she declared, 
“you’re a sly rascal. I shan’t tell you 
another thing.” 
“I hope you had a stenographer at 
the dictograph when the Mayor and 
your uncle cooked up their little deal,” 
he continued. “That was thoughtful of 
you, Shirley.” 
“Really, I believe you’re happy to¬ 
day.” 
“Happy? If the streets were paved 
with eggs, I could walk them all day 
without making an omelette.” 
“It must be nice to feel so happy, 
after so many months of the blues.” 
“Indeed it is, Shirley. You see until 
very recently I was very much wor¬ 
ried as to your attitude toward me. I 
couldn’t believe you’d so far forget 
yourself as to love me in spite of every¬ 
thing—so I never took the trouble to 
ask you. And now I don’t have to ask 
you. I know! And I’ll be around to 
see you after I get that crossing in! ” 
“You’re perfectly horrid,” she blazed, 
and hung up without the formality of 
saying good-bye. 
CHAPTER XXIX 
HORTLY after Shirley’s departure 
from his office, Bryce had a visit 
from Buck Ogilvy. The latter wore a 
neatly pressed suit of Shepherd plaid, 
with a white carnation in his lapel. He 
struck an attitude and demanded: 
“Boss, what do you think of my new 
suit?” 
“You lunatic! Don’t you know red 
blonds should never wear light shades? 
You’re dressed like a negro minstrel.” 
“Well, I feel as happy as an end- 
man. And by the way, who’s chirked 
you up? When we parted last night, 
you were forty fathoms deep in the 
slough of despond.” 
“No less a divinity than Miss Shirley 
Sumner! Quite inn,ocently she im¬ 
parted the information that old Pen¬ 
nington lighted out for San Francisco 
at one o’clock this morning. Where¬ 
fore I laugh. Te-he! Ha-hah!” 
“Three long, loud raucous cheers for 
Uncle. He’s gone to rush a restrain¬ 
ing order through the United States 
District Court. Wonder why he didn’t 
wire his attorneys to attend to the 
matter for him.” 
“He has the crossing blocked, and 
inasmuch as the Mayor feeds out of 
Pennington’s hand, the Colonel is quite 
confident that said crossing will re¬ 
main blocked. As for the restraining 
order—well, if one wants a thing well 
done, one should do it oneself.” 
“All that doesn’t explain your cheer¬ 
ful attitude, though.” 
“Oh, but it does. I’ve told you about 
old Duncan McTavish, haven’t I?” 
Ogilvy nodded, and Bryce continued: 
“When I fired the old scoundrel for 
boozing, it almost broke his heart; he 
wandered down into Mendocino Coun¬ 
ty and got a job sticking lumber. He’s 
been there two months now, and I am 
informed that old Mac hasn’t taken a 
drink in all that time. And what’s 
more, he isn’t going to take one 
again.” 
“How do you know?” 
“Because I make it my business to 
find out. Mac was the finest woods- 
boss this county ever knew; hence you 
do not assume that I would lose the 
old scoundrel without making a fight 
for him, do you? Why, Buck, I only 
fired him to reform him. Well, last 
week I sent one of Mac’s old friends 
down purposely to invite him out ‘for 
a time’; but Mac wouldn’t drink.” 
“I know what your plan is,” Ogilvy 
interrupted. “You’re going to ask Dun¬ 
can McTavish to waylay Pennington, 
kidnap him, and hold him until we 
have had time to clear the crossing.” 
“We will do nothing of the sort,” 
Buck continued seriously. “Listen, 
now, to Father’s words of wisdom. 
Didn’t you hear me tell that girl and 
her villainous avuncular last night 
that I had another ace up my kimono?” 
Bryce nodded. 
“That was not brag, old dear. I had 
the ace, and this morning I played it— 
wherefore in my heart there is peace.” 
H e opened a drawer in Bryce’s desk 
and reached for the cigars. 
“Not at all a bad cigar for ten cents. 
However—you will recall that from 
the very instant we decided to cut in 
that jump-crossing, we commenced to 
plan against interference by Penning¬ 
ton; in consequence we tried to keep 
our decision a secret. However, there 
existed at all times the possibility that 
Pennington might discover our inten¬ 
tions and block us with his only weapon 
—a restraining order. 
“Now, one of the most delightful 
things I know about a court is that it 
is open to all men. Also there is a wise 
old saw to the effect that battles are 
won by the fellow who gets there first 
with the most men- The situation was 
absurdly simple. If Pennington got to 
the District Court first, we were lost!” 
“You mean you got there first?” ex¬ 
claimed Bryce. 
“I did—by the simple method of pre¬ 
paring to get there first in case any¬ 
thing slipped. Something did slip— 
last night! However, I was ready. 
Several days ago, my boy, I wrote a 
long letter to our attorney in San 
Francisco explaining every detail of 
our predicament; the instant I received 
that temporary franchise, I mailed a 
certified copy of it to him also. Then 
I instructed the attorney to prepare 
the complaint and petition for a re¬ 
straining order against Seth Penning¬ 
ton et al. and stand by to rush the 
judge with it the instant he heard 
from me! 
“Well, about the time old Penning¬ 
ton started for San Francisco this 
morning, I had our attorney out of bed 
on the long-distance telephone; at nine 
o’clock this morning he appeared in the 
District Court; at nine-fifteen the 
judge signed a restraining order for¬ 
bidding our enemies to interfere with 
us in the exercise of a right legally 
granted by the city of Sequoia, and at 
nine-thirty a deputy United States 
marshal started in an automobile for 
Sequoia. He will arrive late to-morrow 
night, and on Sunday we will get that 
locomotive out of our way and install 
our crossing.” 
“And Pennington-” 
“Ah, the poor Pennington! Mon 
{^Continued on page 384) 
WHAT HAS HAPPENED IN THE VALLEY OF THE GIANTS 
B ryce 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. 
