That is
life, and I have lived. And now I am ready to rest." He smiled
wistfully. "'The king is dead. Long live the king.' I wonder if you,
raised as you have been, can face life in Sequoia resolutely with my
son. It is a dull, drab sawmill town, where life unfolds gradually
without thrill--where the years stretch ahead of one with only trees,
among simple folk. The life may be hard on you, Shirley; one has to
acquire a taste for it, you know."
"I have known the lilt of battle, John-partner," she answered; "hence
I think I can enjoy the sweets of victory. I am content."
"And what a run you did give that boy Bryce!"
She laughed softly. "I wanted him to fight; I had a great curiosity
to see the stuff that was in him," she explained.
CHAPTER XL
Next day Bryce Cardigan, riding the top log on the end truck of a
long train just in from Cardigan's woods in Township Nine, dropped
from the end of the log as the train crawled through the mill-yard on
its way to the log-dump. He hailed Buck Ogilvy, where the latter
stood in the door of the office.
"Big doings up on Little Laurel Creek this morning, Buck."
"Do tell!" Mr. Ogilvy murmured morosely.
"It was great," Bryce continued. "Old Duncan McTavish returned. I
knew he would. His year on the mourner's-bench expired yesterday, and
he came back to claim his old job of woods-boss.
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