“I might, Dad, if I could really run it. But you know I can’t do that. It’s yours; and even if you gave it to me, Verne and the operators’ federation wouldn’t let me do what I’d want to do. No, Dad, there’s something vitally wrong with the oil industry, and I can never play the game with the rest. I want to go off and try something on my own.”
“You mean to go alone?”
“There’s another fellow has the same idea, and we’re going together. Gregor Nikolaieff.”
“That Russian! Couldn’t you possibly find an American to associate with?”
“Well, it just happens, Dad, that none of the Americans are interested.”
There was a long pause. “And you really mean this seriously?”
“Yes, Dad, I’m going to do it.”
“You know, son, the big industries are pretty rough, most of them. Some of the men get badly hurt, and some killed.”
“Yes; that’s just the point.”
“It’s pretty hard on a father that has only one son, and had hopes for him. You know, I’ve really thought a lot about you—it’s been the main reason I worked so hard.”