“Well, about the time old Pennington started for San Francisco this morning, I had our attorney out of bed and on the long-distance telephone; at nine o’clock this morning he appeared in the United States District Court; at nine-fifteen the judge signed a restraining order forbidding our enemies to interfere with us in the exercise of a right legally granted us by the city of Sequoia, and at nine-thirty a deputy United States marshal started in an automobile for Sequoia, via the overland route.  He will arrive late to-morrow night, and on Sunday we will get that locomotive out of our way and install our crossing.”

“And Pennington—­”

“Ah, the poor Pennington!  Mon pauvre Seth!” Buck sighed comically.  “He will be just twenty-four hours late.”

“You old he-fox!” Bryce murmured.  “You wicked, wicked man!”

Buck Ogilvy lifted his lapel and sniffed luxuriously at his white carnation, the while a thin little smile played around the corners of his humorous mouth.  “Ah,” he murmured presently, “life’s pretty sweet, isn’t it!”

CHAPTER XXXV

Events followed each other with refreshing rapidity.  While the crew of the big locomotive on the crossing busied themselves getting up steam, Sexton and Jules Rondeau toiled at the loading of the discarded boiler and heavy castings aboard two flat-cars.  By utilizing the steel derrick on the company’s wrecking-car, this task was completed by noon, and after luncheon the mogul backed up the main line past the switch into the Laguna Grande yards; whereupon the switch-engine kicked the two flat-cars and the wrecking-car out of the yard and down to the crossing, where the obstructions were promptly unloaded.  The police watched the operation with alert interest but forebore to interfere in this high-handed closing of a public thoroughfare.

To Sexton’s annoyance and secret apprehension, Bryce Cardigan and Buck Ogilvy promptly appeared on the scene, both very cheerful and lavish with expert advice as to the best method of expediting the job in hand.  To Bryce’s surprise Jules Rondeau appeared to take secret enjoyment of this good-natured chaffing of the Laguna Grande manager.  Occasionally he eyed Bryce curiously but without animus, and presently he flashed the latter a lightning wink, as if to say:  “What a fool Sexton is to oppose you!”

“Well, Rondeau,” Bryce hailed the woods-boss cheerfully, “I see you have quite recovered from that working over I gave you some time ago.  No hard feelings, I trust.  I shouldn’t care to have that job to do over again.  You’re a tough one.”

“By gar, she don’ pay for have hard feelings wiz you, M’sieur,” Rondeau answered bluntly.  “We have one fine fight, but”—­he shrugged —­“I don’ want some more.”

“Yes, by gar, an’ she don’ pay for cut other people’s trees, M’sieur,” Bryce mimicked him.  “I shouldn’t wonder if I took the value of that tree out of your hide.”