"I'm not, Bryce. I never bluff--that is, I never permit a bluff of
mine to be called, and don't you ever do it, either. Remember that,
boy. Any time you deliver a verdict, be sure you're in such a
position you won't have to reverse yourself. I'm going to finish
logging in that district this fall, so if I'm to keep the mill
running, I'll have to establish my camps on the San Hedrin watershed
right away."

Bryce pondered. "But isn't it cheaper to give him his price on Squaw
Creek timber than go logging in the San Hedrin and have to build
twenty miles of logging railroad to get your logs to the mill?"

"It would be, son, if I HAD to build the railroad. Fortunately, I do
not. I'll just shoot the logs down the hillside to the San Hedrin
River and drive them down the stream to a log-boom on tidewater."

"But there isn't enough water in the San Hedrin to float a redwood
log, Dad. I've fished there, and I know."

"Quite true--in the summer and fall. But when the winter freshets
come on and the snow begins to melt in the spring up in the Yola
Bolas, where the San Hedrin has its source, we'll have plenty of
water for driving the river. Once we get the logs down to tide-water,
we'll raft them and tow them up to the mill. So you see, Bryce, we
won't be bothered with the expense of maintaining a logging railroad,
as at present."

Bryce looked at his father admiringly. "I guess Dan Keyes is right,
Dad," he said. "Dan says you're crazy--like a fox. Now I know why