watershed. Not until then did Bill Henderson realize that John
Cardigan had called his bluff--whereat he cursed himself for a fool
and a poor judge of human nature. He had tried a hold-up game and had
failed; a dollar a thousand feet stumpage was a fair price; for years
he had needed the money; and now, when it was too late, he realized
his error. Luck was with Henderson, however; for shortly thereafter
there came again to Sequoia one Colonel Seth Pennington, a
millionaire white-pine operator from Michigan. The Colonel's Michigan
lands had been logged off, and since he had had one taste of cheap
timber, having seen fifty-cent stumpage go to five dollars, the
Colonel, like Oliver Twist, desired some more of the same. On his
previous visit to Sequoia he had seen his chance awaiting him in the
gradually decreasing market for redwood lumber and the corresponding
increase of melancholia in the redwood operators; hence he had
returned to Michigan, closed out his business interests there, and
returned to Sequoia on the alert for an investment in redwood timber.
From a chair-warmer on the porch of the Hotel Sequoia, the Colonel
had heard the tale of how stiff-necked old John Cardigan had called
the bluff of equally stiff-necked old Bill Henderson; so for the next
few weeks the Colonel, under pretense of going hunting or fishing on
Squaw Creek, managed to make a fairly accurate cursory cruise of the
Henderson timber--following which he purchased it from the delighted
Bill for a dollar and a quarter per thousand feet stumpage and paid
for it with a certified check. With his check in his hand, Henderson
queried:

"Colonel, how do you purpose logging that timber?"

The Colonel smiled. "Oh, I don't intend to log it. When I log timber,
it has to be more accessible. I'm just going to hold on and outgame