As Caldwell saw it, Roddy was acting from pique and in the belief that his father would continue to supply him with funds. This Caldwell knew was not the intention of Mr. Forrester. He had directed Caldwell to inform Roddy that if he deliberately opposed him he must not only seek work elsewhere, but that he did not think he should continue to ask his father for support. Caldwell proceeded to make this quite plain to Roddy, but, except that the color in his face deepened and that his jaw set more firmly, Roddy made no sign.
“Very well, then,” concluded Caldwell, “you leave me no other course than to carry out your father’s direction. I’ll give you a month’s wages and pay your passage-money home.”
“I’m not going home,” returned Roddy, “and I don’t want any money I haven’t worked for. The company isn’t discharging me,” he added with a grin, “as it would a cook. I am discharging the company.”
“I warn you your father won’t stand for it,” protested Caldwell.
Roddy turned back, and in a serious tone, and emphasizing his words with a pointed forefinger, spoke earnestly.
“Sam,” he said, “I give you my word, father is in wrong. You are in wrong. You’re both backing the wrong stable. When this row starts your man Vega won’t run one, two, three.”
“You mean Rojas?” said Caldwell.
“I mean Rojas,” replied Roddy. “And if you and father had trusted me I could have told you so three months ago. It would have saved you a lot of money. It isn’t too late even now. You’d better listen to me.”
Caldwell laughed comfortably.
“Rojas is a back number,” he said. “He’s an old man, and a dead one. And besides—” He hesitated and glanced away.