"Well—I don't have to be gentle with myself, do I? When I'm alone—like in the woods, that is?"

The older one pondered. "You mean—you like to—ah—let yourself out—when you're alone?"

"That's what I mean." The usual constraint between them had receded. Hugo was grateful for his father's help. "You see, dad, I—well—I went walkin' to-day—and I—I kind of tried myself out."

Danner answered in breathless eagerness: "And?"

"Well—I'm not just a strong kid, dad. I don't know what's the matter with me. It seems I'm not like other kids at all. I guess it's been gettin' worse all these years since I was a baby."

"Worse?"

"I mean—I been gettin' stronger. An' now it seems like I'm about—well—I don't like to boast—but it seems like I'm about the strongest man in the world. When I try it, it seems like there isn't any stopping me. I can go on—far as I like. Runnin'. Jumpin'." His confession had commenced in detail. Hugo warmed to it. "I can do things, dad. It kind of scares me. I can jump higher'n a house. I can run faster'n a train. I can pull up big trees an' push 'em over."

"I see." Danner's spine tingled. He worshipped his son then. "Suppose you show me."

Hugo looked up and down the street. There was no one in sight. The evening was still duskily lighted by afterglow. "Look out then. I'm gonna jump."

Mr. Danner saw his son crouch. But he jumped so quickly that he vanished. Four seconds elapsed. He landed where he had stood. "See, dad?"

"Do it again."

On the second trial the professor's eyes followed the soaring form. And he realized the magnitude of the thing he had wrought.

"Did you see me?"

Danner nodded. "I saw you, son."

"Kind of funny, isn't it?"

"Let's talk some more." There was a pause. "Do you realize, son, that no one else on earth can do what you just did?"

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