When Colonel Seth Pennington read this outburst he smiled. “That's a bright scheme on the part of that Trinidad Redwood Timber Company gang to start a railroad excitement and unload their white elephant,” he declared. “A scheme like that stuck them with their timber, and I suppose they figure there's a sucker born every minute and that the same old gag might work again. Chances are they have a prospect in tow already.”
When Bryce Cardigan read it, he laughed. The interview was so like Buck Ogilvy! In the morning the latter's automobile was brought up from the steamship-dock, and accompanied by his secretary, Mr. Ogilvy disappeared into the north following the bright new stakes of his surveying-gang, and for three weeks was seen no more. As for Bryce Cardigan, that young man buckled down to business, and whenever questioned about the new railroad was careful to hoot at the idea.
On a day when Bryce's mind happened to be occupied with thoughts of Shirley Sumner, he bumped into her on the main street of Sequoia, and to her great relief but profound surprise, he paused in his tracks, lifted his hat, smiled, and opened his mouth to say something—thought better of it, changed his mind, and continued on about his business. As Shirley passed him, she looked him squarely in the face, and in her glance there was neither coldness nor malice.
Bryce felt himself afire from heels to hair one instant, and cold and clammy the next, for Shirley spoke to him.
“Good morning, Mr. Cardigan.”
He paused, turned, and approached her. “Good morning, Shirley,” he replied. “How have you been?”
“I might have been dead, for all the interest you took in me,” she replied sharply. “As matters stand, I'm exceedingly well—thank you. By the way, are you still belligerent?”
He nodded. “I have to be.”
“Still peeved at my uncle?”
Again he nodded.