among Belloc's men!"

"No, but did you have no trouble with Belloc's men?"

Carnac told him of the death of the Grier man after the collision, of his
own arrest and fine of twenty-five cents and of the attitude of the
public and the Press. The old man was jubilant. "Say, you did the thing
in style. It was the only way to do it. You landed 'em with the protest
fair and easy. You're going to be a success in the business, I can see
that."

Carnac for a moment looked at his father meditatively. Then, seeing the
surprise in John Grier's face, he said: "No, I'm not going to be a
success in it, for I'm not going on with it. I've had enough. I'm
through."

"You've had enough--you're through--just when you've proved you can do
things as well as I can do them! You ain't going on! Great
Jehoshaphat!"

"I mean it; I'm not going on. I'm going to quit in another month.
I can't stick it. It galls me. It ain't my job. I do it, but it's
artificial, it ain't the real thing. My heart isn't in it as yours is,
and I'd go mad if I had to do this all my life. It's full of excitement
at times, it's hard work, it's stimulating when you're fighting, but
other times it's deadly dull and bores me stiff. I feel as though I were
pulling a train of cars."

Slowly the old man's face reddened with anger. "It bores you stiff, eh?
It's deadly dull at times! There's only interest in it when there's a