“Oh, but you can't quit until you've seen your redwoods again,” Bryce reminded him. “I suppose it's been a long time since you've visited the Valley of the Giants; your long exile from the wood-goblins has made you a trifle gloomy, I'm afraid.”
John Cardigan nodded. “I haven't seen them in a year and a half, Bryce. Last time I was up, I slipped between the logs on the old skid-road and like to broke my old fool neck. But even that wasn't warning enough for me. I cracked right on into the timber and got lost.”
“Lost? Poor old partner! And what did you do about it?”
“The sensible thing, my boy. I just sat down under a tree and waited for George Sea Otter to trail me and bring me home.”
“And did he find you? Or did you have to spend the night in the woods?”
John Cardigan smiled humorously. “I did not. Along about sunset George found me. Seems he'd been following me all the time, and when I sat down he waited to make certain whether I was lost or just taking a rest where I could be quiet and think.”
“I've been leaving to an Indian the fulfillment of my duty,” Bryce murmured bitterly.
“No, no, son. You have never been deficient in that,” the old man protested.
“Why didn't you have the old skid-road planked with refuse lumber so you wouldn't fall through? And you might have had the woods-boss swamp a new trail into the timber and fence it on both sides, in order that you might feel your way along.”
“Yes, quite true,” admitted the old man. “But then, I don't spend money quite as freely as I used to, Bryce. I consider carefully now before I part with a dollar.”