THE CALL OF THE HEART
Larry caught up with Jeff outside the elevator shaft, where he found him striding up and down like a caged beast. Jeff entered the car in a daze and followed Larry blindly across the huge lobby downstairs and out of doors to a motor which was waiting for them at the curb. Larry was still bewildered at the surprising conclusion of their visit and eyed his companion sharply, but Jeff sat with folded arms, looking neither to the right nor left as they whirled through the city streets and out into the highroad. The hunted look in Jeff's eyes warned Larry not to speak, so he sat beside his partner patiently and waited.
Suddenly, without moving, Jeff's great hand shot out and clinched Larry's knee like a vise.
"He—he's my father, Larry," said Jeff hoarsely, "my father—do you understand? I didn't want him to know."
Larry put his hand over Jeff's and gripped it hard. He knew what other people in Mesa City knew of Jeff's birth, but no words occurred to him. The information had taken his breath away.
"I didn't want him to know," Jeff went on. "I wanted to wait—to tell him myself when things had broken right for us. I wanted to win—to show him I was his master—not to come crawling and licking his boots for mercy. I'll not do it now, either, by G—d. He can break me to bits, but he'll never own me—I never was his—I never will be——"
"He hasn't broken us yet, Jeff. He can't keep us out of Pueblo. We're going to win, I tell you."
"We've got to win, Larry," groaned Jeff. "We've got to win. That conspiracy charge——"
"Mere piffle," said Larry. "Don't worry. They've bought Fritz Weyl. He's not a competent witness. I can prove it."
Jeff sank back again, his gaze on the mountains. "He'd send me to Cañon City—to the penitentiary—if he could—and he's—my father."