“But that makes it hard for other manufacturers,” the Colonel protested.  “I feed my men good plain food and plenty of it—­quite better food than they were used to before they came to this country; but I cannot seem to satisfy them.  I am continuously being reminded, when I do a thing thus and so, that John Cardigan does it otherwise.  Your respected parent is the basis for comparison in this country, Cardigan, and I find it devilish inconvenient.”  He laughed indulgently and passed his cigarette-case to Bryce.

“Uncle Seth always grows restless when some other man is the leader,” Shirley volunteered with a mischievous glance at Pennington.  “He was the Great Pooh-Bah of the lumber-trade back in Michigan, but out here he has to play second fiddle.  Don’t you, Nunky-dunk?”

“I’m afraid I do, my dear,” the Colonel admitted with his best air of hearty expansiveness.  “I’m afraid I do.  However, Mr. Cardigan, now that you have—­at least, I have been so informed—­taken over your father’s business, I am hoping we will be enabled to get together on many little details and work them out on a common basis to our mutual advantage.  We lumbermen should stand together and not make it hard for each other.  For instance, your scale of wages is totally disproportionate to the present high cost of manufacture and the mediocre market; yet just because you pay it, you set a precedent which we are all forced to follow.  However,” he concluded, “let’s not talk shop.  I imagine we have enough of that during the day.  Besides, here are the cocktails.”

With the disposal of the cocktails, the conversation drifted into a discussion of Shirley’s adventures with a salmon in Big Lagoon.  The Colonel discoursed learnedly on the superior sport of muskellunge-fishing, which prompted Bryce to enter into a description of going after swordfish among the islands of the Santa Barbara channel.  “Trout-fishing when the fish gets into white water is good sport; salmon-fishing is fine, and the steel-head in Eel River are hard to beat; muskellunge are a delight, and tarpon are not so bad if you’re looking for thrills; but for genuine inspiration give me a sixteen-foot swordfish that will leap out of the water from three to six feet, and do it three or four hundred times—­all on a line and rod so light one dares not state the exact weight if he values his reputation for veracity.  Once I was fishing at San—­”

The butler appeared in the doorway and bowed to Shirley, at the time announcing that dinner was served.  The girl rose and gave her arm to Bryce; with her other arm linked through her uncle’s she turned toward the dining room.

Just inside the entrance Bryce paused.  The soft glow of the candles in the old-fashioned silver candlesticks upon the table was reflected in the polished walls of the room-walls formed of panels of the most exquisitely patterned redwood burl Bryce Cardigan had ever seen.  Also the panels were unusually large.