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HOK]$ COUNTY, JOPBrNAL. &AEFORD, N. C.
■' V
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THE VALLEY of the dlANTS
i r-.
By PETER B. KYKE
Author of "Cappy Ricks"
“CRAZY—LIKE A FOX."
Synopsis.—Pioneer In the Califor
nia redwood region, John Cardigan,
at forty-seven. Is the leading citizen
of Sequoia, owner of mills, ships,
and many acres of timber, a wid
ower after three years of married
life, and father of two-day ' old
Bryce Cardigan. The redwood, with
Its cousin the sequoia. Is the oldest
and biggest thing on earth. It
grows nowhere but In California.
Most oi the redwoods have ‘gone;
those remaining are apparently
doomed to the ax and saw. The
sequoias are safe to future gener
ations in Sequoia and Yosemlte Na
tional parks. The "Save the Red
woods LesLgue" has been ’organized
with the purpose of establishing a
Redwoods National park.
♦
CHAPTER II—Continued.
—2—
Of all theh" adventures together,
liowever, those which occurred on their
frequent excursions up to the Valley
of the Giants Impressed themselves
Imperishably upon Bryce’s memory.
How well he remembered their first
trip, when, .seated astride his father’s
shoulders with his sturdy little legs
around Cardigan’s neck and his chubby
little hands clasping tlie old man’s
■ears, they liad gone up tlie abandon
ed skid-road #iid into the .serai-oark-
oess of the fore.st, terminating sud
denly in a shower of sunshine that
fell in an open siiace wliere a hoy
could roll and play and never .get'
dirty. Bryce looked forward with
eagerness to those, frequent tnps with
his father “to the place where Mother
dear went to heaven.”
When Bryce was six years old, his
father sent him to the public school
In Sequoia with the cliildren of his
loggers and mill-hands, thus laying
the foundation for a democratic edu*
cation all too .infrequent with the sons
of men rated as millionaires. Bryce’s
boyhood was much the same as tliat
of other lads in Sequoia, save that in
file matter of toys .snd later guns,
fishing-rods, dogs and ponies he was a
, source of envy to his fellows. After
his tenth year his father placed him
on the mill pay-roll, and on pa.v-day
he was wont to line up with the mill-
crew to receive his modest stipeftd of
ten dollars for carrying In kindling to
the cook in the mill kitchen each day
after school.
This otherwise needless arrangement
was old Cardigan’s way of teaching
his boy financial responsibility.
When Bryce Cardigan was about
fourteen years old there occurred an
Important event in his life. In a con4-
inendable effort to increase his incomf
he had laid out a small , vegetable
garden in the rear of his father’s
house, and here on a Saturday morn
ing, while down on his knees weeding
carrots, he chanced to look up and
dl.scovered a young lady gazing at him
throujrli the picket fence. She was a
“Hello, Little Boy."
few years his Junior, and a stranger
In Sequoia. Ensued^ the following
conversation: “Hello, little boy."
“Hello yourself! I ain’t a little
boy.”
She Ignored the correction. “What
•re you doing?” .
“Weedin’ carrots. Can’t you see?”
“What torr
Bryce, highly Incensed At having
been designated a little boy by this
raperior damsel, saw his opportunity
to silence her. “Cat’s fur for kitten
bfeeches,” he retorted—wltliout any
evidence of originality, we must con
fess, and for the space of several min
utes gave all his attention to his crop.
And presently the visitor spoke again.
“I like your hair, little .boy. It’s a
pretty red."
That settled the issue bettveen
them. To be hailed as little boy was
'bad enough, but to be reminded of his
crowning misfortune was adding insult
to injury. Be ro^e and cautiously
approached the fence with the tnten*
tlon of pinching the impudent strang
er, suddenly and surreptitiously, and
sending her away weeping. As his
hand crept between the palings on its
wicked mission, the little miss looked
at him In friendly fashion and queried:
"What’s your name?"
Bryce’s hand hesitated. “Bryce
Cardigan," lie answered gruffly.
“I’m Shirley Sumner,” she ventured.
“Let’s be frletlds.’’
“When did you come to live in
Sequoia?” he demanded.
“I don’t live here. I’m Just visiting
here with my aunt and uncle. We’re
staying at the hotel, ai^d there’s no
body to play with. My uncle’s name
is Pennlngon. So’s my adnt’s. He’s
out here buying timber, and we live
In Michigan.”
Her gaze wandered past Bryce to
where his Indian pony stood with her
head out of tlie window of her box-
stall conteniplating her master.
“Oh. wliat a dear little horse!"
Shirley Sumner exclaimed. “Whose
is he?”
“ ’Tain’t a he. It’s a she. And
.she liqlongs to me." ?
“Do you ride her?”
“Not very often now. J’m getting
too heavy for her. so Dad’s bought me
a horse that weighs nine hundred
pounds. Midget only weighs five
hundred.” He considered her a mo
ment while she gazed In awe upon
this man with two horses. “Can you
ride a pony?" he asked, for no reason
he was aware of.
She sighed, shaking her head re
signedly.'“We haven’t any room to
keep a pony at our house in Detroit,"
ghe explained, and added hopefully:
“But I’d love to ride Midget. I sup
pose I could learn to ride if somebody
taught me how.”
He looked at her again. At that
period of his life he was inclined to
regard girls as a necessary evil. For
some immutable reason they existed,
and perforce .must be borne with, and
it was his hope that he would get
through life and see as little as possi
ble of the exasperating sex. Never
theless, as Bryce surveyed this win
some miss through the palings, he was
sensible of a sneaking desire to find
favor in her eyes—also equally sensi
ble of the fact that the path to that
desirable end lay between himself and
Midget.
“Well, I suppose if you want a ride
FIl have to give it to you.” he grum
bled, “although I’m pretty busy this
morning.”
“Oh, I think you’re so nice,” she de
clared.
A thrill shot through him that was
akin to pain; with dllTIculty did he
“estraln an Impulse to dash wildly
iato the stable and saddle Midget In
furious haste. Instead he walked to
the barn slowly and with extreme
dignity. When he reappeared, he was
leading Midget, a little siiverpoint
runt of a Klamath Indian pony, and
Moses, a sturdy pinto cayuse from the
cattle ranges over in Trinity county.
“I’ll have to ride with you,” he an
nounced “Can’t let a tenderfoot like
you go Cut alone on Midget.”
All aflTtter with delightful antici
pation. the young lady climbed up on
the gate and scrambled Into the saddle
when Bryce swung the pony broadside
to the gate. Two hours of his valua-
able time did he give that morning
before the call of duty brought him
back to the house and his neglected
crop of carrots. When he suggested
tactfully, however, that it was now
necessary that his guest and Midget
separate, a difficulty arose. Shirley
Sumner refused point blank to leave
the premises. She liked Bryce for his
hair and because he had been so kind
to her: she was a stranger in Sequoia,
and now that she had found an agree
able companion, it was far from her
Intention to desert him.
So Miss Sumner stayed and helped
Brj'ce weed his carrots, and since as
a voluntary laborer she was at least
worth her board, at noon Bryce
brought her in to Mrs. Tully with a
request-for luncheon. When he wen^
to the mill to carry in the kindling
for the cook, the young lady returned
rather sorrowfully to the Hotel
Sequoia, with a fervent promise to see
him the next day. She did, and Bryce
took, her for a long ride up Into the
Valley of the Giants and showe,^ her
his mother’s grave. They put some
flowers on the grave, and when they
returned to town and Bryce was un
saddling the ponies, Shirley drew
Midget’s nose down to her and kissed
It Then, she commenced to weep
ratlleV violently.
“iSVHat are you crying about?"
Bryce demanded. Girls were so hard
to understand.
' yi’m go-going h-h-b-home tomorrow,”
she hi^wled^
He was ^^iMcken with dismay and
bade her desist from her vain repln-
Ings. But her heart was broken, and
somehow—Pryce appeared to lact auto
matically—he had his arm around
her. “Don’t cry, Shirley," be pleaded.
“It breaks my heart to see you cry.
Dp you want Midget? I’ll give her to
you.” )
Between sobs Shirley confessed that
the prospect of parting with bin and
not Midget was provocative of her
woe. This staggered Bryce and pleas
ed him Immensely. And at parting
she kissed him good-bye, reiterating
her opinion that he was the nicest,
kindest boy she had ever met or hoped
to meet.
When Shirley and her uncle and
aunt boarded the steamer for San
Franci.sco, Bryce stood disconsolate
on the dock and waved to Shirley
until he could no longer discern her
on the deck. He thought of his elfin
companion very frequently for a week,
and he lost his appetite, very much to
Mrs. Tully’s concern. Then the
steelhead trout began to run In Eel
river, and Ihe sweetest event that can
occur in any boy’s existence—the sud
den awakening to the wonder and
beauty of life so poignantly realized
in his first love-affair—was lost sight
of by Bryce. In a month he had for
gotten the incident; in six months he
had forgotten Sliirley Sumner.
Copyright by Peter B. Kyne
rail connection with the outside world,
so we are forced to ship our lumber
by water. But some day a railroad
will be built in from the south—from
San Francisco; and when it comes, the
only route for it to travel is through
our timjber in the San Hedrin valley.
I've accumulated that ten thousand
acres for you, my son, for tlie railroad
will never lie buift In my "day. It
doesn’t matter, son. You will still be
I'lgging there fifty years from now.
-Viid when the railroad people come to
.vou for a riglit of way, my boy, give
it to them. Don't charge them a cent,
it lia.s always lieen my policy to en
courage the development of this
county, and I want you to be a for
ward-looking, public-spirited citizen.
Tiini's Vrhy I’m sending you East to
college. ^You’ve lieeii born and raised
in tills town, and you must see more
of tlie world. Listen to me, son.
I'ou're only a lioy, and you can’t un
derstand everytliitig I tell you, but
CHAPTER III.
Throughout the happy years of
Bryce’s boyhood his fatlier continued
to enlarge and improve his sawmill,
to build more scliooners, and to ac
quire more redwood timber. Lanins,
the purchase of which by Cardigan a
decade before tiad caused his neigh
bors to impugn his Judgment, now
developed strategical importance. As
a result those l.ands necessary to con
solidate his own holdings came to
him at his own price, while his ad
verse holdings that b'ocked the log
ging operations of his competitors
went from him—also at his own price.
In fact, all well-laid plans matured
sati.sfactorliy with the exception of
one, and since it has a very definite
bearing on the story, the necessity for
explaining It is paramount.
Contiguous to Cardigan's logging
operations to the east and north of
Sequoia, and comparatively close in,
lay a block of two thousand acres
of splendid timber, the natural, feas
ible. and inexpensive outlet for which,
when it should be logged, was the
Valley of the Giants. For thirty-
years John Cardigan had played a
waiting game with the owner of that
timber, for the latter was as fullif
obses.sed with the belief that he was
going to sell it to John Cardigan at a
dollar and a half per thousand feet
stumpage as Cardigan was certain he
wqs going to buy it for a dollar a
thousand—when he should be ready
to do so and not one second sooner.
Eventually the time for acquiring
more timber arrived. John Cardigan,
meeting his neighbor o'u the street,
accosted him thus:
“Look here, Bill, isn’t it time we
got together on that timber of yours?
You know you’ve been holding it to
block me and force me to buy at your
figure. I’ll give you a dollar a thous
and stumpage for your timber. Bill.”
“I want a dollar and a half.”
“A dollar is my absolute limiL”
“Then I’ll keep my timber.”
"And I’ll keep my money. When
I finish logging in my present hold
ings, I’m going ^ pull out of that
country and log twenty miles soutli
of Sequoia. Remember, Bill, the man
who buys your timber will have to log
it through my land—and I’m not go
ing to log that quarter-section In the
valley. Hence there will be no outlet
for your timber in back."-
“Not going to log it? Why, what
are you going to do with it?”
“I’m Just going to let it stay tliere
until I die. When my will is filed for
probate, your curiosity will be .satis
fied—but not until then. Better take
a dollar. Bill. It’s a good, fair price,
as the market on redwood timber is
now, and you’ll be making an even
hundred per cent, on your investment.
Remember, Bill, if I don’t buy your
timber, you’ll never log it yourself
and neither will anybody else. You’ll
be stuck with It for the next forty
years—and taxes aren’t getting any
lower.”
“I’ll hang on a little longer, I
think."
“I think so, too,” John Cardigan re
plied. And that nlght/*^as was his
wont, even though he realized that it
was not possible for Bryce to gain a
profound understanding of the business
problems to which he wms heir, John
Cardigan discussed the Squaw creek
timber with his son, relating to him
the details of his conversation with
the owner.
Bryce pondered. “But isn’t it
cheaper to give him his price on Squaw
creek timber than go logging in the
San Hedrin and have to build twenty
miles of logging railroad to get your
logs to the mill?”
“It would be, son, if I liad to build
the railroad. Fortunately, I do not.
I’ll Jyst shoot the logs down the hill
side to the San Hedrin river and
drive them down the stream to a log-
boom on tidewater.”
Bryce looked at his father admlr-
fegly. “I guess Dan Keyes Is right.
Dad,”., he said. “Dan says you’re
crazy—like a fox. Now I know why
you’ve been picking up. claims in tlie
San Hedrin w^ershed.” . i
“No, you fflm’t, Bryce. I’ve uevcr I
told you, bm I’ll tell yon now xim :
real reasoa. Humboldt cou&ty has ac j
tloo. “The heavy hn^-loga
to the bottom.” he continued. “Wl# »
normal head o’ywatei/, the lads'll most
them, but wT the draVpie we have the
nob ” lie.threw .up bis hamllke
hands despairlpiriy.
Three days Inter a rlond-burst filled
the river to the brim; It catiie at niglit
and -swept tlie river clean of r’nrili-
gan's clear An nnuj o' .lug-
gemaut-s. they .swept down oi. the
boiling torrent to tidewater, reaching
the bay shortly after tlie tide had
commenced to ebb.
■ Now, a ctiain is only as strong as
Its weakest link, and a log-hoom Is a
chaplet of .small logs, linked end to
end by means of short chains; hence
when the van-guard of logs on the
lip of that flood reached the log-
boom, the impetus of the ctiarge wa.s
too great !o tie re.sisted. Straight
through tile weakest link in tliis lioora
the huge .saw-logs crashed and out
over Humboldt bar to tlie broad Pa-
clflc. With the ebb tide some of them
came back, while others, caught in
cross-currents, liohbed about tlie bay
all night and finally beaclied at widely
scattered point.s. Out of the fifteen
million feet of logs les.s than three
million were salvaged, and this task
In Itself was an expensive operation.
John Cardigan received tlie ne\v.s,
calmly. He turned from the manager
and walked away 4ti1;ongh hl.s logged-
over lands, ucro.s.a tihe little divide
and down into tlie quarter-section of
green timber he liad told McTuvish
not to cut. Once in the Valley of the
Giants, he followed a well-worn foot
path to the little aniphithi'ater. and
where tlie sunlight filten-d " tliroiigh
like a halo and fell on a plain little
wlilte marble monviment, he paused
and sat down on the now almost de
cayed sugar-pine jviudfnlL
“I’ve come for a little comfort,
sweetheart,” he mur.uured to her .wh«
slept beneatli the stone. Tlien h«
leaned liack against a redwood tree,
relnoved Ids hat, and closed ids eyes,
holding his great gray liead the while
a little to one side in a listenici; atti
tude. Long lie sat tliere. a .great,
time-bitten devotee at tlie shrine of
ids comfort; and presently tlie har
ried look left ids strong, kind face
and wa.s replaced by a little jirescicnt
smile—the sort of smile worn by one
who through bitter years has sou.ght
something very, very precious and
has at length discovered It.
Dinna. See How I’m to
Mill Runnin’!"
some day unaerstanding- will come to
you. You mustn’t fail the iieople who
w'ork for you—who are dependent upon
your strength and brains and enter
prise to furnisli them with an oppois
tunity for life, liberty, and the pursuit
of happiness. When you are the boss
of Cardigan’s mill, you must keep the
wheels turning; you must never shut
down the mill or tlwj logging-camps
in dull times Just to avoid a loss you
can stand better than your employees.”
His hard, trembling old hand closed
over the boy’s. “I want you to be a
brave and honorable man,” he con
cluded.
^ True to his word, when Johfi Cardi
gan finished his logging in his old,
original holdings adjacent to Sequoia
and Bill Henderson’s Squaw creek
timber, he quietly moved south with
his Squaw creek woods-gang and Join
ed the crew alreaoy getting out logs
In the San Hedrin watershed. Not
until then did Bill Hendei-son realize
tliat John Cardigan liad cglled his
bluff—whereat he curs'ed him.self for
a fool and a poor Judge of human na
ture. He had tried a hold-up game
and had failed; a dollar a thousand
feet stumpage was a fair price; for
years he had needed the money; and-
now, when it was too late, lie realized
his error. Luck was with Henderson,
however, for sliortly thereafter there
came again to Setiuoia one Colonel
Pennington, a millionaire white-pine
operator from Michigan. From a
chair-warmer on .the porch of the
Hotel Sequoia, the Colonel had lieard
the tale of how stiff-necketl old John
Cardigan had called the bluff of equal
ly stiff-necked Bill Henderson; so for
the next few weeks the Colonel, under
pretense of going liunting or fishing
on Squaw, creek, managed to make a
fairly accurate cursory cruise of„tht%
Henderson timber—following which
lie purchased it from the delighted
Bill for a dollar and a quarter per
thousand feet stumpage.
• • * « • • •
No man Is Infallihle. and in plan
ning his logging operations in the San
Hedrin , waterslied John Cardigan
presently made tlie discovery that he
had erred In Judgment. That season,
from May to November, his woods-
crew put tlilrty million feet of logs
Into the San Hedrin river, while the
mill sawed on a reserve s'upply of logs
taken from the last of the- old chop
pings adjacent to Squaw creek. That
year, however, the rainfall In the San
gedrin country was fifty per cent
less than normal, and by the first of
May of the following year Cardigan’s
woods-crew had succeeded in driving
slightly less than half of the cut of
the preceding year to/ the boom on
tidewater at the mouth of thq river.
“Unless the Lord’ll gl’ us a lot more
,1’ater in tKe r^ver,” tlie woods-boss
alcTavlsh compik.-lned, “I dlttna .see
iiow I’m to keep the mill runnin’.”
He was taking John Cardigan up/the
flter bank and cjcplBlnlng the aitua- !
CHAPTER IV.
It was on tlie day that John Cardi
gan received the~telegnim from Bryce'
saying that, following four years at
Princeton and two years of travel
abroad, he was returning tp Sequoia to
take over his redwood hei'itage—that
he discovered that a straiKer and not
the flesh of his flesh and-ifhe blood of
his blood was to reap the reward of
his fifty years of endeavor
For a long time he sat there lelhar
glc witli misery. Eventually IM
roused himself, reached for the desk
telephone, and pressed a button oi
the office exchange-station. His mta-
ager, one Thomas Sinclair, answered.
“Thomas,” he said calmly, “3"o«
know, of course, that Bryce is com
ing home. Tell George to take th«
big car and go over to Red Bluff fof
him.”
George Sea Otter, son of Bryoa
Cardigan’s old half-breed nurse, v^ai
a person in whose nature struggfeA
the white’s predilection for advertise
ment and civic pride and the red
man’s instinct -for adornment. For
three years he had lieen old mat
Cardigan’s chauffeur nod man-of-all-
work about the latter's old-fashioned
home, and in the former capacity h«
drove John Cardigan’s sia#!e evidenca
of extravagance—a Napier aar, which
was very Justly regarded by Georg*
Sea Otter as- the king of autoviobiles,
since it was the only imported car la
the county. Upon receipt of orders,,
therefore, from Sinclair, to drive th«
Napier over to Red Bluff and meet
his future boss and one-time play
fellow, George Sea Otter arrayed him
self in a pair of new black corduroy
trousers, .vellowi button slioes, a blu*
woolen shirt with a large scarlet silk
handkerchief ^tied around the neck, q
pair of beaded buckskin gloves with
fringe dependent from the gauntlet,
and a broad white beaver hat with a
rattlesnake-skin band. Across th*
windshield of the Napier lie fastened
an orange-colored pennant hearing
in bright green letters, the legend:
MY CITY—SEQUOIA. As a safet.v-
flrsti precaution against man and
beasOen route, he buckleil- a gun-
scabbard to the spare, tires on th*
running-board and slippeii a rifle into
the scabbard within quick and easy
reach of his hand; and amiyetl thus,
George descended u^n Red Bluff at
the helm of the king of automobiles.
When the overland train coasted
into Red Bluff and slid to a grinding
halt, Bryce Cardigan saw that th*
Highest Living Authority had de
scended from the train also. He had
elected to designate her thus in the
absence of any information anent her
Christian and family names, and for
the further reason that quite obvious
ly she was a very superior person.
All''. Dodson, the ‘'Liver
Man, Tel's the Treachery ^
of CaiomeL
Gaiomel loses yon a day! Too 1
what calomel l.s. It’s merebry;
silver. Calomel isdangerooa. It*
into sour bile like dynamite,
and sickening you. Calomel
the bones and should never be-potl
your system.
When you feet bilious, singgiMi,
stipated and all knocked oat anC
lieve you need a dose of dangerootf*
omel Just remember that yonr i
sells for a few cents a large bottl# -
Dodson's Liver Tone, which is
vegetable and pleasant to take andj
a perfect substitute for calomel. 11'
guaranteed to start yonr liver wit
stirring you up inside, and can
salivate.
Don't take calomel I It can not
trusted any more than ^ leopard or
wild-cat. Take Dodson’s Liver To
which straightens you right up
makes you feel fine. Give it to
children because it- is perfectly harm-j
less aud doesn’t gripe.—Adv.
France Establishes 30 as Bachelor Ag*L..
Tlie time-honored question of the!
aires at which a man becomes a
liaclielm- and a woman a spinster is
aiioiit to lie settled by France. The
finaiH'i* coiiimittee of the ch.araber of
deputies intends to fix .30 years as the
age at wliicli an unmarried man la
France liecomes lieble to the bqchelor
tax of 10 per cent. It ' is expected
that tiris tax will become effective on •
June 1. Tlie impending decision was
said to have basteiied many marriages
during tlie Easter holidays.
DIDN’T KNOW
’TWAS SO 6001)
Texas Lady Storekeeper, Who
Carries Black-Draught in Stock,
, Has Found It “Best Liver
Medicine” Obtainable.
Barker, Tex.—Relating her experi*
enee with ’Thedford’s Black-Draught,
Mrs, A. L. Fromme, of this place,
says: “I had for some time used . . .
and other liver ^^^aes, which
would nauseate and make me re^uaa
We have a Gtore, and our customers
ca-lled for Black-Draught so often that
I decided it must be good, so thought
I would try it myself. I
“I began its use and found It just
fitted my case. It neither griped nor
nauseated me, was an easy laxative
and not hard to take.
“I had had headaches a great deal,
no doubt from torpid liver. The
Black-Draught would cure them. The
best way I find to take Black-Draught
is to take one or two good sized doses
until the liver begins to act, then taper
the doses to Just a pinch after meals.
“It will Insure good digestion, do
away with the gas or bad taste in the
mouth, and is without doubt the best
liver medicine in the market. I have
found it so. I can recommend it to
my friends, for I believe it will do
them good.”
‘ Get a package of Thedford’s Black-
Draught liver medicine today.
Most dealers carry it in stock.
—Adv.-
Georgette and Tricotine.
“Trlcotine. I liear soiiii' silly girl is
going to marry .Algy."
"Yes.”
“Isn't it ridiculous?”
“Well, I don't know - wtiat to say,
Georsrette. I’m the girl.”—Louisville
Courier-Journal.
SURE SHOT
Hog Remedy
Medidne, Not a Stock Food
SURE SHOT
Bryce Cardigan comes
home to his blind father.
(TO BE CONTINUED.!
a ■
Silk for Consistent Hindu*.
Muga silk is a product of.Assan. Br(
silk comes from caterpillars which teo4
on the castor oil plant. It is of great
value in India, because it is the only
silk, that can be spun f^m cocootu
without killing the in the d?
coons, and it is therefor^ *t* i- only -If
that can b* worn by n udo
Removes wortna from dm stomach
and Udneys, enrk^ the blood, in-
cream the appetite keeping the
hog in a healthy, thriving conditiooL
Do not lose money by delaying to
OM this preparation but ^GDi
TODAY. Satisfaction guarantoed
PRICE $1.00
Sold by druggists and marchantA
If your deMer doea,^jgt hai«a Ih
' write na
SureSkot Remedy Ik.
AYDCHHC.