The Valley of the Giants Part 44

"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."

"I t'enk so, M'sieur." He approached Bryce and lowered his voice.

"For one month I am no good all ze tam. We don' fight some more, M'sieur. And I have feel ashame' for dose Black Minorca feller.

Always wiz him eet is ze knife or ze club--and now eet is ze rifle.

COCHON! W'en I fight, I fight wiz what le bon Dieu give me."

"You appear to have a certain code, after all," Bryce laughed. "I am inclined to like you for it. You're sporty in your way, you tremendous scoundrel!"

"Mebbeso," Rondeau suggested hopefully, "M'sieur likes me for woods- boss?"

"Why, what's the matter with Pennington? Is he tired of you?"

The colour mounted slowly to the woods bully's swarthy cheek.

"Mademoiselle Sumnair, he's tell me pretty soon he's goin' be boss of Laguna Grande an' stop all thees fight. An' w'en Mademoiselle, he is in the saddle, good-bye Jules Rondeau. Thees country--I like him. I feel sad, M'sieur, to leave dose beeg trees." He paused, looking rather wistfully at Bryce. "I am fine woods-boss for somebody," he suggested hopefully.

"You think Miss Sumner dislikes you then, Rondeau?"

"I don' theenk. I know." He sighed; his huge body seemed to droop. "I am out of zee good luck now," he murmured bitterly. "Everybody, she hate Jules Rondeau. Colonel--she hate because I don' keel M'sieur Cardigan; Mademoiselle, he hate because I try to keel M'sieur Cardigan; M'sieur s.e.xton, she hate because I tell her thees mornin'

she is one fool for fight M'sieur Cardigan."

Again he sighed. "Dose beeg trees! In Quebec we have none. In zee woods, M'sieur, I feel--here!" And he laid his great calloused, hairy hand over his heart. "W'en I cut your beeg trees, M'sieur, I feel like h.e.l.l."

"That infernal gorilla of a man is a poet," Buck Ogilvy declared.

"I'd think twice before I let him get out of the country, Bryce."

"'Whose salt he eats, his song he sings,'" quoth Bryce. "I forgive you, Rondeau, and when I need a woods-boss like you, I'll send for you."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

At eleven o'clock Sat.u.r.day night the deputy United States marshal arrived in Sequoia. Upon the advice of Buck Ogilvy, however, he made no attempt at service that night, notwithstanding the fact that Jules Rondeau and his bullies still guarded the crossing. At eight o'clock Sunday morning, however, Bryce Cardigan drove him down to the crossing. Buck Ogilvy was already there with his men, superintending the erection of a huge derrick close to the heap of obstructions placed on the crossing. s.e.xton was watching him uneasily, and flushed as Ogilvy pointed him out to the marshal.

"There's your meat, Marshal," he announced. The marshal approached and extended toward s.e.xton a copy of the restraining order. The latter struck it aside and refused to accept it--whereupon the deputy marshal tapped him on the shoulder with it. "Tag! You're out of the game, my friend," he said pleasantly.

As the doc.u.ment fluttered to s.e.xton's feet, the latter turned to Jules Rondeau. "I can no longer take charge here, Rondeau," he explained. "I am forbidden to interfere."

"Jules Rondeau can do ze job," the woods-boss replied easily. "Ze law, she have not restrain' me. I guess mebbeso you don' take dose theengs away, eh, M'sieur Cardigan. Myself, I lak see."

The deputy marshal handed Rondeau a paper, at the same time showing his badge. "You're out, too, my friend," he laughed. "Don't be foolish and try to buck the law. If you do, I shall have to place a nice little pair of handcuffs on you and throw you in jail--and if you resist arrest, I shall have to shoot you. I have one of these little restraining orders for every able-bodied man in the Laguna Grande Lumber Company's employ--thanks to Mr. Ogilvy's foresight; so it is useless to try to beat this game on a technicality."

s.e.xton, who still lingered, made a gesture of surrender. "Dismiss your crew, Rondeau," he ordered. "We're whipped to a frazzle."

A gleam of pleasure, not unmixed with triumph, lighted the dark eyes of the French-Canadian. "I tol' M'sieur s.e.xton she cannot fight M'sieur Cardigan and win," he said simply, "Now mebbe he believe that Jules Rondeau know somet'ing."

"Shut up," s.e.xton roared petulantly. Rondeau shrugged contemptuously, turned, and with a sweep of his great arm indicated to his men that they were to go; then, without a backward glance to see that they followed, the woods-boss strode away in the direction of the Laguna Grande mill. Arrived at the mill-office, he entered, took down the telephone, and called up s.h.i.+rley Sumner.

"Mademoiselle," he said, "Jules Rondeau speaks to you. I have for you zee good news. Bryce Cardigan, she puts in the crossing to-day. One man of the law she comes from San Francisco with papers, and M'sieur s.e.xton say to me: 'Rondeau, we are whip'. Deesmess your men.' So I have deesmess doze men, and now I deesmess myself. Mebbeso bimeby I go to work for M'sieur Cardigan. For Mademoiselle I have no weesh to make trouble to fire me. I queet. I will not fight dose dirty fight some more. Au revoir, mademoiselle. I go."

And without further ado he hung up.

"What's this, what's this?" s.e.xton demanded. "You re going to quit?

Nonsense, Rondeau, nonsense!"

"I will have my time, M'sieur," said Jules Rondeau. "I go to work for a man. Mebbeso I am not woods-boss for heem, but--I work."

"You'll have to wait until the Colonel returns, Rondeau."

"I will have my time," said Jules Rondeau patiently.

"Then you'll wait till pay-day for it, Rondeau. You know our rules.

Any man who quits without notice waits until the regular pay-day for his money."

Jules advanced until he towered directly over the manager. "I tol'

M'sieur I would have my time," he repeated once more. "Is M'sieur deaf in zee ears?" He raised his right hand, much as a bear raises its paw; his blunt fingers worked a little and there was a smoldering fire in his dark eyes.

Without further protest s.e.xton opened the safe, counted out the wages due, and took Rondeau's receipt.

"Thank you, M'sieur," the woods-boss growled as he swept the coin into his pocket. "Now I work for M'sieur Cardigan; so, M'sieur, I will have zee switchengine weeth two flat-cars and zee wrecking-car.

Doze dam trash on zee crossing--M'sieur Cardigan does not like, and by gar, I take heem away. You onderstand, M'sieur? I am Jules Rondeau, and I work for M'sieur Cardigan. La la, M'sieur!" The great hand closed over s.e.xton's collar. "Not zee pistol--no, not for Jules Rondeau."

Quite as easily as a woman dresses a baby, he gagged s.e.xton with s.e.xton's own handkerchief, laid him gently on the floor and departed, locking the door behind him and taking the key. At the corner of the building, where the telephone-line entered the office, he paused, jerked once at the wire, and pa.s.sed on, leaving the broken ends on the ground.

In the round-house he found the switch-engine crew on duty, waiting for steam in the boiler. The withdrawal of both locomotives, brief as had been their absence, had caused a glut of logs at the Laguna Grande landings, and s.e.xton was catching up with the traffic by sending the switch-engine crew out for one train-load, even though it was Sunday. The crew had been used to receiving orders from Rondeau, and moreover they were not aware of his recent action; hence at his command they ran the switch-engine out of the roundhouse, coupled up the two flat-cars and the wrecking-car, and backed down to the crossing. Upon arrival, Jules Rondeau leaned out of the cab window and hailed Bryce. "M'sieur," he said, "do not bozzer to make zee derrick. I have here zee wrecking-car--all you need; pretty soon we lift him off zee crossing, I tell you, eh, M'sieur Cardigan?"

Bryce stepped over to the switch-engine and looked up at his late enemy. "By whose orders is this train here?" he queried.

"Mine," Rondeau answered. "M'sieur s.e.xton I have tie like one leetle pig and lock her in her office. I work now for M'sieur."

And he did. He waited not for a confirmation from his new master but proceeded to direct operations like the born driver and leader of men that he was. With his late employer's gear he fastened to the old castings and the boiler, lifted them with the derrick on the wrecking-car, and swung them up and around onto the flat-cars. By the middle of the afternoon the crossing was once more clear. Then the Cardigan crew fell upon it while Jules Rondeau ran the train back to the Laguna Grande yards, dismissed his crew, returned to the mill- office, and released the manager.

"You'll pay through the nose for this, you scoundrel," s.e.xton whimpered. "I'll fix you, you traitor."

"You feex nothing, M'sieur s.e.xton," Rondeau replied imperturbably.

"Who is witness Jules Rondeau tie you up? Somebody see you, no? I guess you don' feex me. Sacre! I guess you don' try."

CHAPTER x.x.xVII