That sticks. If I hadn't tamed
down considerably these late years, I'd have--wound him up, right
there."
From beneath his drooping lids Ellsworth regarded the Ranger
curiously. "You HAVE a bad temper, haven't you?"
"Rotten!"
"I know. You were a violent boy. I've often wondered how you were
getting along. How do you feel when you're--that way?"
It was the younger man's turn to hesitate. "Well, I don't feel
anything when I'm mad," he confessed. "I'm plumb crazy, I guess.
But I feel plenty bad afterwards."
There was a flicker of the judge's eyelids.
Dave went on musingly: "I dare say it's inherited. They tell me my
father was the same. He was--a killer."
"Yes. He was all of that."
"Say! WAS he my father?"
Ellsworth started. "What do you mean?"
Dave lifted an abstracted gaze from the Pullman carpet. "I hardly
know what I mean, Judge. But you've had hunches, haven't you?
Didn't you ever KNOW that something you thought was true wasn't
true at all? Well, I never felt as if I had Frank Law's blood in
me."
"This is interesting!" Ellsworth stirred and leaned forward.
"Whatever made you doubt it, Dave?"
"Um-m. Nothing definite.
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