CHAPTER VI
It was on the day that John Cardigan received the telegram from Brycesaying that, following four years at Princeton and two years oftravel abroad, he was returning to Sequoia to take over his redwoodheritage--that he discovered that a stranger and not the flesh of hisflesh and the blood of his blood was to reap the reward of his fiftyyears of endeavour. Small wonder, then, that he laid his leonine headupon his desk and wept, silently, as the aged and helpless weep.
For a long time he sat there lethargic with misery. Eventually he rousedhimself, reached for the desk telephone, and pressed a button on theoffice exchange-station. His manager, one Thomas Sinclair, answered."Thomas," he said calmly, "you know, of course, that Bryce is cominghome. Tell George to take the big car and go over to Red Bluff for him."
"I'll attend to it, Mr Cardigan. Anything else?"
"Yes, but I'll wait until Bryce gets home."
George Sea Otter, son of Bryce Cardigan's old half-breed nurse, wasa person in whose nature struggled the white man's predilection foradvertisement and civic pride and the red man's instinct foradornment. For three years he had been old man Cardigan's chauffeur andman-of-all-work about the latter's old-fashioned home, and in the formercapacity he drove John Cardigan's single evidence of extravagance--aNapier car, which was very justly regarded by George Sea Otter as theking of automobiles, since it was the only imported car in the county.Upon receipt of orders, therefore, from Sinclair, to drive the Napierover to Red Bluff and meet his future boss and one-time playfellow,George Sea Otter arrayed himself in a pair of new black corduroytrousers, yellow button shoes, a blue woollen shirt with a large scarletsilk handkerchief tied around the neck, a pair of beaded buckskin gloveswith fringe dependent from the gauntlet, and a broad white beaver hatwith a rattlesnake-skin band. Across the windshield of the Napier hefastened an orange-coloured pennant bearing in bright green letters thelegend: MY CITY--SEQUOIA. As a safety-first precaution against man andbeast en route, he buckled a gun-scabbard to the spare tires on therunning-board and slipped a rifle into the scabbard within quick andeasy reach of his hand; and arrayed thus, George descended upon RedBluff at the helm of the king of automobiles.
When the overland train coasted into Red Bluff and slid to a grindinghalt, Bryce Cardigan saw that the Highest Living Authority had descendedfrom the train also. He had elected to designate her thus in the absenceof any information anent her Christian and family names, and for thefurther reason that quite obviously she was a very superior person. Hehad a vague suspicion that she was the kind of girl in whose presencea man always feels that he must appear on parade--one of those alert,highly intelligent young women so extremely apt to reduce an ordinarilyintelligent young man to a state of gibbering idiocy or stupidimmobility.
Bryce had travelled in the same car with the Highest Living Authorityfrom Chicago and had made up his mind by observation that with a littleencouragement she could be induced to mount a soap-box and make a speechabout Women's Rights; that when her native State should be grantedequal suffrage she would run for office or manage somebody's politicalcampaign; that she could drive an automobile and had probably beenarrested for speeding; that she could go around any golf links in thecountry in ninety and had read Maeterlinck and enjoyed it.
Bryce could see that she was the little daughter of some large rich man.The sparsity of jewellery and the rich simplicity of her attire provedthat, and moreover she was accompanied by a French maid to whom shespoke French in a manner which testified that before acquiring theFrench maid she had been in the custody of a French nurse. She possessedpoise. For the rest, she had wonderful jet-black hair, violet eyes, andmilk-white skin, a correct nose but a somewhat generous mouth, Bryceguessed she was twenty or twenty-one years old and that she had a tempersusceptible of being aroused. On the whole, she was rather wonderfulbut not dazzling--at least, not to Bryce Cardigan. He told himself shemerely interested him as a type--whatever he meant by that.
The fact that this remarkable young woman had also left the train at RedBluff further interested him, for he knew Red Bluff and while giving duecredit to the many lovely damsels of that ambitious little city, Brycehad a suspicion that no former Red Bluff girl would dare to invade theold home town with a French maid. He noted, as further evidence of thecorrectness of his assumption, that the youthful baggage-smasher at thestation failed to recognize her and was evidently dazzled when, followedby the maid struggling with two suit-cases, she approached him and inpure though alien English (the Italian A predominated) inquired the nameand location of the best hotel and the hour and point of departure ofthe automobile stage for San Hedrin. The youth had answered her firstquestion and was about to answer the second when George Sea Otter, inall his barbaric splendour, came pussy-footing around the corner of thestation in old man Cardigan's regal touring-car.
The Highest Living Authority, following the gaze of the baggage-smasher,turned and beheld George Sea Otter. Beyond a doubt he was of the Westwestward. She had heard that California stage-drivers were picturesquefellows, and in all probability the displacing of the old Concord coachof the movie-thriller in favour of the motor-stage had not disturbed theidiosyncrasies of the drivers in their choice of raiment. She notedthe rifle-stock projecting from the scabbard, and a vision of a stagehold-up flashed across her mind. Ah, yes, of course--the expressmessenger's weapon, no doubt! And further to clinch her instantassumption that here was the Sequoia motor-stage, there was the pennantadorning the wind-shield!
Dismissing the baggage-smasher with a gracious smile, the HighestLiving Authority approached George Sea Otter, noting, the while, furtherevidence that this car was a public conveyance, for the young man whohad been her fellow-passenger was heading toward the automobile also.She heard him say:
"Hello, George, you radiant red rascal! I'm mighty glad to see you, boy.Shake!"
They shook, George Sea Otter's dark eyes and white teeth flashingpleasurably. Bryce tossed his bag into the tonneau; the half-breedopened the front door; and the young master had his foot on therunning-board and was about to enter the car when a soft voice spoke athis elbow:
"Driver, this is the stage for Sequoia, is it not?"
George Sea Otter could scarcely credit his auditory nerves. "This car?"he demanded bluntly, "this--the Sequoia stage! Take a look, lady. Thishere's a Napier imported English automobile. It's a private car andbelongs to my boss here."
"I'm so sorry I slandered your car," she replied demurely. "I observedthe pennant on the wind-shield, and I thought--"
Bryce Cardigan turned and lifted his hat.
"Quite naturally, you thought it was the Sequoia stage," he said toher. He turned a smoldering glance upon George Sea Otter. "George," hedeclared ominously, but with a sly wink that drew the sting from hiswords, "if you're anxious to hold down your job the next time a ladyspeaks to you and asks you a simple question, you answer yes or no andrefrain from sarcastic remarks. Don't let your enthusiasm for this carrun away with you." He faced the girl again. "Was it your intention togo out to Sequoia on the next trip of the stage?"
She nodded.
"That means you will have to wait here three days until the stagereturns from Sequoia," Bryce replied.
"I realized, of course, that we would arrive here too late to connectwith the stage if it maintained the customary schedule for itsdeparture," she explained, "but it didn't occur to me that thestage-driver wouldn't wait until our train arrived. I had an idea hisschedule was rather elastic."
"Stage-drivers have no imagination, to speak of," Bryce assured her. Tohimself he remarked: "She's used to having people wait on her."
A shade of annoyance passed over the classic features of the HighestLiving Authority. "Oh, dear," she complained, "how fearfully awkward!Now I shall have to take the next train to San Francisco and bookpassage on the steamer to Sequoia--and Marcelle is such a poor sailor.Oh, dear!"
Bryce had an inspiration and hastened to reveal it.
"We are about to start for Sequoia now, although t
he lateness of ourstart will compel us to put up tonight at the rest-house on the southfork of Trinity River and continue the journey in the morning. However,this rest-house is eminently respectable and the food and accommodationsare extraordinarily good for mountains; so, if an invitation to occupythe tonneau of my car will not be construed as an impertinence, comingas it does from a total stranger, you are at liberty to regard thiscar as to all intents and purposes the public conveyance which soscandalously declined to wait for you this morning."
She looked at him searchingly for a brief instant: then with apeculiarly winning smile and a graceful inclination of her head shethanked him and accepted his hospitality--thus:
"Why, certainly not! You are very kind, and I shall be eternallygrateful."
"Thank you for that vote of confidence. It makes me feel that I haveyour permission to introduce myself. My name is Bryce Cardigan, and Ilive in Sequoia when I'm at home."
"Of Cardigan's Redwoods?" she questioned. He nodded. "I've heard of you,I think," she continued. "I am Shirley Sumner."
"You do not live in Sequoia."
"No, but I'm going to hereafter. I was there about ten years ago."
He grinned and thrust out a great hand which she surveyed gravely for aminute before inserting hers in it. "I wonder," he said, "if it is to bemy duty to give you a ride every time you come to Sequoia? The last timeyou were there you wheedled me into giving you a ride on my pony, ananimal known as Midget. Do you, by any chance, recall that incident?"
She looked up at him wonderingly. "Why--why you're the boy with thebeautiful auburn hair," she declared. He lifted his hat and revealed histhick thatch in all its glory. "I'm not so sensitive about it now," heexplained. "When we first met, reference to my hair was apt to rileme." He shook her little hand with cordial good-nature. "What a pity itwasn't possible for us to renew acquaintance on the train, Miss Sumner!"
"Better late than never, Mr. Cardigan, considering the predicament inwhich you found me. What became of Midget?"
"Midget, I regret to state, made a little pig of herself one day anddied of acute indigestion. She ate half a sack of carrots, and knowingfull well that she was eating forbidden fruit, she bolted them, and forher failure to Fletcherize--but speaking of Fletcherizing, did you dineaboard the train?"
She nodded. "So did I, Miss Sumner; hence I take it that you are quiteready to start."
"Quite, Mr. Cardigan."
"Then we'll drift. George, suppose you pile Miss Sumner's hand-baggagein the tonneau and then pile in there yourself and keep Marcellecompany. I'll drive; and you can sit up in front with me, Miss Sumner,snug behind the wind-shield where you'll not be blown about."
"I'm sure this is going to be a far pleasanter journey than the stagecould possibly have afforded," she said graciously as Bryce slipped inbeside her and took the wheel.
"You are very kind to share the pleasure with me, Miss Sumner." He wentthrough his gears, and the car glided away on its journey. "By the way,"he said suddenly as he turned west toward the distant blue mountainsof Trinity County, "how did you happen to connect me with Cardigan'sredwoods?"
"I've heard my uncle, Colonel Seth Pennington, speak of them."
"Colonel Seth Pennington means nothing in my young life. I never heardof him before; so I dare say he's a newcomer in our country. I've beenaway six years," he added in explanation.
"We're from Michigan. Uncle was formerly in the lumber business there,but he's logged out now."
"I see. So he came West, I suppose, and bought a lot of redwood timbercheap from some old croaker who never could see any future to theredwood lumber industry. Personally, I don't think he could have madea better investment. I hope I shall have the pleasure of making hisacquaintance when I deliver you to him. Perhaps you may be a neighbourof mine. Hope so."
At this juncture George Sea Otter, who had been an interested listenerto the conversation, essayed a grunt from the rear seat. Instantly, toShirley Sumner's vast surprise, her host grunted also; whereupon GeorgeSea Otter broke into a series of grunts and guttural exclamations whichevidently appeared quite intelligible to her host, for he slowed downto five miles an hour and cocked one ear to the rear; apparently hewas profoundly interested in whatever information his henchman had toimpart. When George Sea Otter finished his harangue, Bryce nodded andonce more gave his attention to tossing the miles behind him.
"What language was that?" Shirley Sumner inquired, consumed withcuriosity.
"Digger Indian," he replied. "George's mother was my nurse, and he and Igrew up together. So I can't very well help speaking the language of thetribe."
They chattered volubly on many subjects for the first twenty miles; thenthe road narrowed and commenced to climb steadily, and thereafter Brycegave all of his attention to the car, for a deviation of a foot from thewheel-rut on the outside of the road would have sent them hurtling overthe grade into the deep-timbered canons below. Their course led througha rugged wilderness, widely diversified and transcendently beautiful,and the girl was rather glad of the opportunity to enjoy it in silence.Also by reason of the fact that Bryce's gaze never wavered from theroad immediately in front of the car, she had a chance to appraisehim critically while pretending to look past him to the tumbled,snow-covered ranges to their right.
She saw a big, supple, powerful man of twenty-five or six, with thebearing and general demeanour of one many years his elder. His rich,dark auburn hair was wavy, and a curling lock of it had escaped from theband of his cap at the temple; his eyes were brown to match his hair andwere the striking feature of a strong, rugged countenance, for they werespaced at that eminently proper interval which proclaims an honest man.His nose was high, of medium thickness and just a trifle long--thenose of a thinker. His ears were large, with full lobes--the ears of agenerous man. The mouth, full-lipped but firm, the heavy jaw and squarechin, the great hands (most amazingly free from freckles) denoted theman who would not avoid a fight worth while. Indeed, while the girl waslooking covertly at him, she saw his jaw set and a sudden, fierce lightleap up in his eyes, which at first sight had seemed to her ratherquizzical. Subconsciously he lifted one hand from the wheel and clenchedit; he wagged his head a very little bit; consequently she knew histhoughts were far away, and for some reason, not quite clear to her, shewould have preferred that they weren't. As a usual thing, young mendid not go wool-gathering in her presence; so she sought to divert histhoughts to present company.
"What a perfectly glorious country!" she exclaimed. "Can't we stop forjust a minute to appreciate it?"
"Yes," he replied abstractedly as he descended from the car and sat ather feet while she drank in the beauty of the scene, "it's a he country;I love it, and I'm glad to get back to it."
Upon their arrival at the rest-house, however, Bryce cheered up, andduring dinner was very attentive and mildly amusing, although Shirley'skeen wits assured her that this was merely a clever pose and sustainedwith difficulty. She was confirmed in this assumption when, aftersitting with him a little on the porch after dinner, she complained ofbeing weary and bade him good-night. She had scarcely left him when hecalled:
"George!"
The half-breed slid out of the darkness and sat down beside him. Amoment later, through the open window of her room just above the porchwhere Bryce and George Sea Otter sat, Shirley heard the former say:
"George, when did you first notice that my father's sight was beginningto fail?"
"About two years ago, Bryce."
"What made you notice it?"
"He began to walk with his hands held out in front of him, and sometimeshe lifted his feet too high."
"Can he see at all now, George?"
"Oh, yes, a little bit--enough to make his way to the office and back."
"Poor old governor! George, until you told me this afternoon, I hadn'theard a word about it. If I had, I never would have taken that two-yearjaunt around the world."
George Sea Otter grunted. "That's what your father said, too. So hewouldn't tell you,
and he ordered everybody else to keep quiet about it.Myself--well, I didn't want you to go home and not know it until you methim."
"That was mighty kind and considerate of you, George. And you say thisman Colonel Pennington and my father have been having trouble?"
"Yes--" Here George Sea Otter gracefully unburdened himself of a ferventcurse directed at Shirley's avuncular relative; whereupon that younglady promptly left the window and heard no more.
They were on the road again by eight o'clock next morning, and just asCardigan's mill was blowing the six o'clock whistle, Bryce stopped thecar at the head of the street leading down to the water-front. "I'll letyou drive now, George," he informed the silent Sea Otter. He turned toShirley Sumner. "I'm going to leave you now," he said. "Thank you forriding over from Red Bluff with me. My father never leaves the officeuntil the whistle blows, and so I'm going to hurry down to that littlebuilding you see at the end of the street and surprise him."
He stepped out on the running-board, stood there a moment, and extendedhis hand. Shirley had commenced a due and formal expression of hergratitude for having been delivered safely in Sequoia, when George SeaOtter spoke:
"Here comes John Cardigan," he said.
"Drive Miss Sumner around to Colonel Pennington's house," Bryce ordered,and even while he held Shirley's hand, he turned to catch the firstglimpse of his father. Shirley followed his glance and saw a tall,powerfully built old man coming down the street with his hands thrusta little in front of him, as if for protection from some invisibleassailant.
"Oh, my poor old father!" she heard Bryce Cardigan murmur. "My dear oldpal! And I've let him grope in the dark for two years!"
He released her hand and leaped from the car. "Dad!" he called. "It isI--Bryce. I've come home to you at last."
The slightly bent figure of John Cardigan straightened with a jerk; heheld out his arms, trembling with eagerness, and as the car continued onto the Pennington house Shirley looked back and saw Bryce folded in hisfather's embrace. She did not, however, hear the heart-cry with whichthe beaten old man welcomed his boy.
"Sonny, sonny--oh, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. Bryce, I'mwhipped--I've lost your heritage. Oh, son! I'm old--I can't fightany more. I'm blind--I can't see my enemies. I've lost your redwoodtrees--even your mother's Valley of the Giants."
And he commenced to weep for the third time in fifty years. And when theaged and helpless weep, nothing is more terrible. Bryce Cardigan saidno word, but held his father close to his great heart and laid his cheekgently against the old man's, tenderly as a woman might. And presently,from that silent communion of spirit, each drew strength and comfort. Asthe shadows fell in John Cardigan's town, they went home to the house onthe hill.
The Valley of the Giants Page 6