Rod sat silent, recalling that scene in the library. All the hot anger had evaporated long ago. He was not sorry. No. But he was sobered. It had given him food for thought. His mind was so made that it fed upon, digested for good or evil, every crisis, each outstanding event, the significance of whatever stirred him deeply. Certain phases of a conversation with his father kept recurring to him. Certain things had been said--some calmly enough--some with a touch of passion. Rod thought again with impatience that his father had a blind spot where Grove was concerned. But it didn't matter much now. He had taken the only reasonable course open to him after that encounter with Grove, the simplest, most dignified solution. He could not remain at Hawk's Nest and preserve peace and dignity. He recognized that there lurked in him an eagerness to clash with Grove on almost any provocation. They were fundamentally antagonistic; they had always been. The gulf between them grew wider as they matured; the deep-rooted distrust and dislike of motive and action became more profound. "It's as well the break came," he said aloud. "It was bound to come over something. I've simply been marking time. Now I can do--whatever I can do. Both of us. We don't have to follow copy any more. We can make our own copy. I rather like the idea." "It listens good to me," Mary said gayly. And they smiled in understanding. "For the first time in my life I feel like a free man," Rod said abruptly. "Isn't that queer? Free in the sense that I am absolutely at liberty to work out my own destiny, in so far as any man can do that." Phil came up from below. He sat on the low cabin roof, dangling his long legs. "Well, children," he said cheerfully, "what's your program? Going to stay in town awhile?" "Not long," Rod answered. "We're going to resume our interrupted honeymoon. For a month or so. After that--well, I'm not making any cast-iron plans." "When you get ready to do something, let me know," Phil remarked. "This blow-up has sort of opened my eyes. It made me realize that our family solidarity is badly shot. Grove feels his oats more and more. If I weren't more or less passive, and if I didn't get a certain amount of satisfaction out of carrying on the show--and there's the governor to consider; he is a good sort--I'd quit. I may have to by and by. I won't stand interference. If I have to drop the reins, I'd like to take a whirl at something that might grow. We could make a go of it in timber, I think. We both know our ground there. I've got some money put aside. Think it over, Rod." "I surely will. Only, as I said, I've no cast-iron plan. If you want to make money, why not try finance? _Á la_ Grove. That seems to be gorgeously productive." "Finance. Huh!" Phil snorted. "I'd rather play poker. I don't want so much to get something as to _do_ something."