The Colonel's face was in repose now--cold, calculating,
vaguely repellent. He scowled slightly.
"Now, isn't that the devil's luck?" he soliloquized. "Young Cardigan
is probably the only man in Sequoia--dashed awkward if they should
become interested in each other--at this time. Everybody in town,
from lumberjacks to bankers, has told me what a fine fellow Bryce
Cardigan is. They say he's good-looking; certainly he is educated and
has acquired some worldly polish--just the kind of young fellow
Shirley will find interesting and welcome company in a town like
this. Many things can happen in a year--and it will be a year before
I can smash the Cardigans. Damn it!"
CHAPTER VII
Along the well-remembered streets of Sequoia Bryce Cardigan and his
father walked arm in arm, their progress continuously interrupted by
well-meaning but impulsive Sequoians who insisted upon halting the
pair to shake hands with Bryce and bid him welcome home. In the
presence of those third parties the old man quickly conquered the
agitation he had felt at this long-deferred meeting with his son, and
when presently they left the business section of the town and turned
into a less-frequented street, his emotion assumed the character of a
quiet joy, evidenced in a more erect bearing and a firmer tread, as
if he strove, despite his seventy-six years, not to appear
incongruous as he walked beside his splendid son.
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