Los Angeles herald., 1906-03-18


~ ground in a clearing in the redwoodS II
f8&Hf was dug-dug roughly, huTiedly 1t
is big enough for giant, deep enough
even to satisfy those who made 1t, deep enough
even for Boss. 1t is at the very edge OF the
forest At its head a giant redwood towers and
if you know and look up into the motionle's
green of the tree, you may see, dangling from ts
great arm, the end of an old rope. The grave
dug at night and its diggers showed no hight;
they were not particular about the shape OF the
hole they made so long as it was deep. Deep,
anyhow deep as can be, SOS he'll stay as one
said. with lock to rest his thoughts on And
it is not so very long ago that it was dug. not so
long ago as the redwoods count the time.
Nightmare, where they knew about 1t, was one
of the most refining logging camps in the Big
Basin 1t was shame that it should have been
called Nightmare but Knight, its first settler,
had mad a habit of Throwing fits and while
there was more than hereditary excuse for such
nseemly actions on his part, there seemed no
better reasons for calling the place after any
other of the nemes that suggested. They
were all bad enough as names all properly appro-
pirate as characerzing the early atmosphere Of
the locality. And yet, from the purely physical
side there is 10 more beautiful spot in all the
Coast Range of mountains. In the very heart
of the redwoods on a cleared rise of ground over
looking the tumbling waters of Boulder Creek
Knight had found a site for his cabin of shakes
that an artist might have dreamed. But Knight
dreams were practical. He saw a fortune In the
vast forests of redwood about him and settled
there to own, rather than love, the land. lhat
was long ago. He lived elsewhere now, and
foreign doctor of great renown, and little ro-
nance had cured him of the fits though Night
mare could not, would not, change its name.
Boss Biddle was the overseer at the logging
mill. the man its owner had put in charge to
look out for his interests and, from that stand
point, its owner had chosen well. To the men
at the camp he was bear, human bear, but
bear nevertheless, a bear that had not been
tanned even by the refining influences of Night
mare Big, burly, brusque, with red hair, red
face red eyes almost, Boss cowed the men until
they were in reality not men, but slaves They
worked for him at the mill or chopped for him
in the hills for bread; they got nothing else un'
less the mere life of the air they worked in, the
quiet simple joy of a pipe at nightfall amid the
great trees with the waters of Boulder rushing
along below them, sunrise perhaps-unless such
things were worth considering. Boss was their
master in every way. He not alone their
manager in the business sense; his personality
overpowered them, suppressed them cheated
them of their right even to the pleasure IN the
work they lived by; and they hated him.
He must have known it. He must have seen it
A blind man might have warned him. Selfpfe-
servation surely was a sense he knew not, as ne
knew not fear. The mutterings of the MEN,
their sullen looks, he minded more than he
minded the shifting fog drifting in at night. lime
and time again they had tried to get rid of him
They had written to Knight himself and to his
agent in town. They had planned, they had
plotted and, yes, they had even prayed, such of
them as knew how, but Boss was still their mas
ter.
One morning, however, new plan was sug-