he sturdiness
of the bed-slats provided, he dragged mattress and bedding to the floor
and was soon emitting snores that Landlord Coombs assured his wife was
the beat of anybody ever slept in the house not countin' that travelin'
man from Boston. Next morning Scattergood was about early, padding
slowly up and down the crossed streets which made up the village. He was
studying the ground for immediate strategic purposes, just as he had
been studying the valley on his long trudge up from the railroad for
purposes related to distant campaigns. Though Scattergood's arrival in
Coldriver may have seemed impromptu, as his adoption of the town for a
permanent location seemed abrupt, not to say impulsive, neither really
was so. Scattergood rarely acted without reason and after reflection.

True, he had but a moment's glimpse of Coldriver before he decided he
had moved there, but the glimpse showed him the location was the one he
had been searching for.... Scattergood's specialty, his hobby, was
valleys. Valleys down which splashed and roared sizable streams, whose
mountain sides were covered with timber, and whose flats were
comfortable farms--such valleys interested him with an especial
interest. But the valley he had been looking for was one with but a
single possible _outlet_. He wanted a valley whose timber and produce
and products could not go climbing off across the hills, over a number
of easy roads, to market. His valley must be hemmed in. The only way to
market must lie _down_ the valley, with the river. And the river that
flowed down his valley must be swift, with sufficient volume all twelve
months of the year to turn possible mill wheels.... As yet he thought
only of the direct application of power. He had not dreamed yet of great
turbine generators which should transport thousands of horse power,
written in terms of electricity, hundreds of miles across country, there
to light cities and turn the wheels of huge manufactories....

Coldriver Valley was that valley! He felt it as soon as he turned into
it; certainty increased as he progressed between those gigantic walls
black with tall, straight, beautiful spruce. So, when he sat shoeless,
resting his blistered feet on Locker's porch, he was ready to make his
decision. The mere making of it was a negligible detail.

So Scattergood Baines found his valley. He entered it consciously as an
invader, determined to conquer. Pitiful as were the resources of Cortez
as he adv