"I'm just going to let it stay there until I die. When my will is
filed for probate, your curiosity will be satisfied--but not until
then."

The other laughed. "John," he declared, "you just haven't got the
courage to pull out when your timber adjoining mine is gone, and move
twenty miles south to the San Hedrin watershed. That will be too
expensive a move, and you'll only be biting off your nose to spite
your face. Come through with a dollar and a half, John."

"I never bluff, Bill. Remember, if I pull out for the San Hedrin,
I'll not abandon my logging-camps there to come back and log your
timber. One expensive move is enough for me. Better take a dollar,
Bill. It's a good, fair price, as the market on redwood timber is
now, and you'll be making an even hundred per cent, on your
investment. Remember, Bill, if I don't buy your timber, you'll never
log it yourself and neither will anybody else. You'll be stuck with
it for the next forty years--and taxes aren't getting any lower.
Besides, there's a good deal of pine and fir in there, and you know
what a forest fire will do to that."

"I'll hang on a little longer, I think."

"I think so, too," John Cardigan replied. And that night, as was his
wont, even though he realized that it was not possible for Bryce to
gain a profound understanding of the business problems to which he
was heir, John Cardigan discussed the Squaw Creek timber with his
son, relating to him the details of his conversation with the owner.

"I suppose he thinks you're bluffing," Bryce commented.