The Adair County news., 1921-02-02

i nnlSn logging III my present mold
ings, I'm going to pull out of that
country and log twenty miles south
of Sequoia. Remember, Bill, the man
.who-huys your timber will have to log
1t through my iand-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?"
"Pm just going to let it stay there
until / die. When my will is filed for
probate, your curiosity will be salts
fied-but not until then. Better take
a dollar, Bill. It's 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 | 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"
"PIl hang on a little longer, I
think"
81 think so, too," John Cardigan re-
piled. And that night, as was his
wont, even though he realized that 1t
was not possible for Bryce to gain
profound understanding of the business
problems to which he was 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
Sap Hedrin and have to build twenty
miles of logging railroad>tO get your
logs to the mill?"
at would be, son, if had build
the railroad. Fortunately, do not.
I'll just shoot the logs down the hill
side to the San Hedrin river and
drive them down the stream to log
boom on tidewater."
Bryce looked at his father admir-
ingly. 81 guess Dan Reyes is right,
Dad" he said. Dan says you're
crazy-like a fox. Now l know why
you've been picking up claims in the
San Hedrin watershed"
mo, you don't, Bryce I've never
told you, but I'll tell you now the
real reason. Humboldt county has no
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
San Francisco; and when it comes, the
only route for it to travel is through
our timber in the San Hedrin valley.
I've accumulated that ten thousand
acres for you, my son, for the railroad
will never be built in my day. 1t
doesn't matter, son. You will still, be
logging there fifty years from now.
And when the railroad people come to
you for right of way, my boy, give
it to them. Don't charge them cent.
1t has always been my policy to en-
courage the development of this
county, and l want you to be = for
wardtloOking. public-spirited citizen.
That's why Pm sending you East to
college. You've been born and raised
in this town, and you must see more
of the world. Listen to me, son.
You're only a boy, and you can't I'M
derstand everything l tell you, but
some day understanding will come to
you. You mustn't fail the people who
work for yOu-whO are dependent upon
your strength and brains and enter
prise to furnish them with an oppOr-
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 the logging-camps
in dull times Just to avoid loss you
can stand better than your employees"
His hard, trembling old hand closed
over the boys. 81 want you to be
brave and honorable man." he con-
cluded
True to his word, when John Cardi-
gan finished his logging in his old,
original holdings adjacent to Sequoia
DIN bQuuN
timber. he quietly moved south with
his Squaw creek woods-gang and join
ed the crew already getting out logs
in the San Hedrin watershed Not
until then did Bill Henderson realize
that John Cardigan had called his
bluff-whereat he cursed himself for
a fool and poor judge of human ma
ture. He had tried a hold-up game
and had failed; a dollar a thousand
feet stumpage was fair price; for
years he had needed the money and
now, when it was too late, he realized
his error. Luck was with Henderson,
however, for shortly thereafter there
came again to Sequoia one Colonel
Pennington, a millionaire white-pine
operator from Michigan. From
ehair-warmer on the porch of the
Hotel Sequoia, the Colonel had Heard
the tale of how stiff-necked old John
Cardigan had called the bluff of equal
IL, stiff-necked Bill Henderson, so for
the next few weeks the Colonel, under
pretense of going hunting or fishing
on Squaw creek, managed to make a
fairly accurate cursory cruise of the