n his eyes. Was he to take Betty's departure before his
arrival as an indication that she had fled from him? He had seen her
when she had pressed her face to the window some time before, and it
now appeared to him that she had deliberately left the room to avoid
meeting him. He frowned and walked to the table, looking down at the
food. She had thought of him, at any rate.

He sat at the table and took several bites of food before he spoke
again.

"Betty see the pup?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Like him?"

"Yep."

He hesitated, while Bob looked at him, intent for more questions. He
had liked Calumet from the first, despite the killing of Lonesome. He
could not forget the gruff words of consolation that had been spoken by
Calumet on that occasion--they had been sincere, at any rate--his boy's
heart knew that. He worshiped Calumet since he had given him the dog.
And so he wanted to talk.

"She patted him on the head," he said.

"Just what did she say?" inquired Calumet.

"She said he was nice."

"Them the exact words?"

"Yep."

There was a silence again, while Calumet chewed meditatively at his
food. Bob suspended play with the puppy to watch him.

"Well," said Calumet finally, "that shows just what a woman knows about
dogs--or anything. He ain't none nice, not at all, takin' dogs as
dogs. He's nothin' but a fool yellow mongrel."

Bob contemplated his benefactor, sourly at first, for already he and
the dog were friends, and thus Calumet's derogatory words were in the
nature of a base slander. But he reasoned that all was not well
between Betty and Calumet, and therefore perhaps Calumet had not meant
them in exactly that spirit.

"Well," he said at last, "I like him a lot, anyway."

"What's that?" said Calumet, startled. He had forgotten about the dog.
He had been wondering if Betty had gone to bed, or whether she was in
the sitting room, reading, as she was accustomed to doing. A light
came through the sitting room door, and Calumet had been watching it,
momentarily expecting to see Betty's shadow. "What's that?" he
repeated. "You like him, anyway? Why?"

"Because you gave him to me," said Bob, blushing at the admission.

Calumet looked at him, sourly at first; and then, with a crafty grin on
his face as he watched the sitting room door, he raised his voice so
that if Betty were in the sitting room she could not help hearing it.

"Well," he said, "you like him because I gave him to you, e