Bryce, he has to have it;
and he'll pay the price, when he knows I mean business."
With a sweeping gesture he waved aside the arguments that rose to his
son's lips. "Lead me to the telephone," he commanded; and Bryce,
recognizing his sire's unalterable determination, obeyed.
"Find Pennington's number in the telephone-book," John Cardigan
commanded next.
Bryce found it, and his father proceeded to get the Colonel on the
wire. "Pennington," he said hoarsely, "this is John Cardigan
speaking. I've decided to sell you that quarter-section that blocks
your timber on Squaw Creek."
"Indeed," the Colonel purred. "I had an idea you were going to
present it to the city for a natural park."
"I've changed my mind. I've decided to sell at your last offer."
"I've changed my mind, too. I've decided not to buy--at my last
offer. Good-night."
Slowly John Cardigan hung the receiver on the hook, turned and groped
for his son. When he found him, the old man held him for a moment in
his arms. "Lead me upstairs, son," he murmured presently. "I'm tired.
I'm going to bed."
When Colonel Seth Pennington turned from the telephone and faced his
niece, Shirley read his triumph in his face. "Old Cardigan has
capitulated at last," he cried exultingly. "We've played a waiting
game and I've won; he just telephoned to say he'd accept my last
offer for his Valley of the Giants, as the sentimental old fool calls
that quarter-section of huge redwoods that blocks the outlet to our
Squaw Creek timber.
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