k, hanging perilously to the slope of the
mountain, he saw the rails of a narrow-gauge railroad reaching from
Coldriver Valley to the main line that passed the valley's mouth. He saw
sturdy, snorting little engines drawing logs to sawmills of a magnitude
not dreamed of by any other man in the locality, and he saw other
engines hauling out lumber to the southward. He saw villages where no
villages existed that day, and villages meaning more traffic for his
railroad, more trade for the stores he had it in his thought to
establish. Something else he saw, but more dimly. This vision took the
shape of a gigantic dam far back in the mountains, behind which should
be stored the waters from the melting snows and from the spring rains,
so that they might be released at will to insure a uniform flow
throughout the year, wet months and dry months, as he desired. He saw
this water pouring over other dams, turning water wheels, giving power
to mills and factories. More than that, in the remotest and dimmest
recess of his brain he saw not sharply, not with full comprehension,
this tremendous water power converted into electricity and transported
mile upon mile over far-reaching wires, to give light and energy to
distant communities.

But all that was remote; it lay in the years to come. For the present
smaller affairs must content him. Even the matter of the narrow-gauge
railroad was beyond his grasp.

Scattergood reached down mechanically and removed his huge shoes; then,
stretching out his fat legs gratefully, he twiddled his toes in the
sunlight and gave himself up to practical thought. He controlled the
tail of the valley with his dam and boom company; he must control its
mouth. He must have command over the exit from the valley so that every
individual, every log, every article of merchandise that entered or left
the valley, should pass through his hands. That was to be the next step.
He must straddle the mouth of the valley like the fat colossus he was.

Scattergood was placid and patient. He knew what he wanted to do with
his valley, and had perfect confidence he should accomplish it. But he
had no disposition to hasten matters unwisely. It was better, as he told
Sam Kettleman, the grocer, "to let an apple fall in your lap instead of
skinnin' your shins goin' up the tree after it--and then findin' it was
green."

So, though he wanted the mouth of his river, and wanted it badly, he did
not rush off, advertising his need, an