you've been picking up claims in the San Hedrin watershed."

"No, you don't, Bryce. I've never told you, but I'll tell you now the
real reason. Humboldt County has no rail connection with the outside
world, so we are forced to ship our lumber by water. But some day a
railroad will be built in from the south--from San Francisco; and
when it comes, the only route for it to travel is through our timber
in the San Hedrin Valley. I've accumulated that ten thousand acres
for you, my son, for the railroad will never be built in my day. It
may come in yours, but I have grown weary waiting for it, and now
that my hand is forced, I'm going to start logging there. It doesn't
matter, son. You will still be logging there fifty years from now.
And when the railroad people come to you for a right of way, my boy,
give it to them. Don't charge them a cent. It has always been my
policy to encourage the development of this county, and I want you to
be a forward-looking, public-spirited citizen. That's why I'm sending
you East to college. You've been born and raised in this town, and
you must see more of the world. You mustn't be narrow or provincial,
because I'm saving up for you, my son, a great many responsibilities,
and I want to educate you to meet them bravely and sensibly."

He paused, regarding the boy gravely and tenderly. "Bryce, lad," he
said presently, "do you ever wonder why I work so hard and barely
manage to spare the time to go camping with you in vacation time?"

"Why don't you take it easy, Dad? You do work awfully hard, and I
have wondered about it."

"I have to work hard, my son, because I started something a long time
ago, when work was fun. And now I can't let go. I employ too many