They were married before the ship was loaded, and on a knoll of the
logged-over lands back of the town and commanding a view of the bay,
with the dark-forested hills in back and the little second-growth
redwoods flourishing in the front yard, he built her the finest home
in Sequoia. He had reserved this building-site in a vague hope that
some day he might utilize it for this very purpose, and here he spent
with her three wonderfully happy years. Here his son Bryce was born,
and here, two days later, the new-made mother made the supreme
sacrifice of maternity.

For half a day following the destruction of his Eden John Cardigan
sat dumbly beside his wife, his great, hard hand caressing the auburn
head whose every thought for three years had been his happiness and
comfort. Then the doctor came to him and mentioned the matter of
funeral arrangements.

Cardigan looked up at him blankly. "Funeral arrangements?" he
murmured. "Funeral arrangements?" He passed his gnarled hand over his
leonine head. "Ah, yes, I suppose so. I shall attend to it."

He rose and left the house, walking with bowed head out of Sequoia,
up the abandoned and decaying skid-road through the second-growth
redwoods to the dark green blur that marked the old timber. It was
May, and Nature was renewing herself, for spring comes late in
Humboldt County. From an alder thicket a pompous cock grouse boomed
intermittently; the valley quail, in pairs, were busy about their
household affairs; from a clump of manzanita a buck watched John
Cardigan curiously. On past the landing where the big bull donkey-
engine stood (for with the march of progress, the logging donkey-
engine had replaced the ox-teams, while the logs were hauled out of