In fact, I'm going to saw in that one
year remaining to us as much lumber as we would ordinarily saw in two
years. To be exact, I'm going to run a night-shift."
The sightless old man raised both hands in deprecation. "The market
won't absorb it," he protested.
"Then we'll stack it in piles to air-dry and wait until the market is
brisk enough to absorb it," Bryce replied.
"Our finances won't stand the overhead of that night-shift, I tell
you," his father warned.
"I know we haven't sufficient cash on hand to attempt it, Dad, but--
I'm going to borrow some."
"From whom? No bank in Sequoia will lend us a penny, and long before
you came home I had sounded every possible source of a private loan."
"Did you sound the Sequoia Bank of Commerce?"
"Certainly not. Pennington owns the controlling interest in that
bank, and I was never a man to waste my time."
Bryce chuckled. "I don't care where the money comes from so long as I
get it, partner. Pennington's money may be tainted; in fact, I'd risk
a bet that it is; but our employees will accept it for wages
nevertheless. Desperate circumstances require desperate measures you
know, and the day before yesterday, when I was quite ignorant of the
fact that Colonel Pennington controls the Sequoia Bank of Commerce, I
drifted in on the president and casually struck him for a loan of one
hundred thousand dollars.
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