"
"There is deep water across the bay and plenty of water-front
property for sale. I'll find a mill-site there and tow my logs
across."
"But you've got to dump 'em in the water on this side. Everything
north of Cardigan's mill is tide-flat; he owns all the deep-water
frontage for a mile south of Sequoia, and after that come more tide-
flats. If you dump your logs on these tide-flats, they'll bog down in
the mud, and there isn't water enough at high tide to float 'em off
or let a tug go in an' snake 'em off."
"You're a discouraging sort of person," the Colonel declared
irritably. "I suppose you'll tell me now that I can't log my timber
without permission from Cardigan."
Old Bill spat at another crack; his faded blue eyes twinkled
mischievously. "No, that's where you've got the bulge on John,
Colonel. You can build a logging railroad from the southern fringe of
your timber north and up a ten per cent. grade on the far side of the
Squaw Creek watershed, then west three miles around a spur of low
hills, and then south eleven miles through the level country along
the bay shore. If you want to reduce your Squaw Creek grade to say
two per cent., figure on ten additional miles of railroad and a
couple extra locomotives. You understand, of course, Colonel, that no
Locomotive can haul a long trainload of redwood logs up a long,
crooked, two per cent.
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