, disdainful, mocking.

"I think I know what you are going to say. You are going to tell me
how I wormed my way into the good graces of your father and coaxed him
to make me his beneficiary. It is your intention to be mean, to insult
me, to try to bully me." Her eyes flashed as she leaned a little
toward him. "Understand," she said; "your bluster won't have the
slightest effect on me. I am not afraid of you. So swear and curse to
your heart's content. As for bossing the ranch," she went on, her
voice suddenly one of cold mockery, "what is there to boss? Some
dilapidated buildings! Of course you may boss those, because they
can't object. But you can't boss me, nor grandfather, nor Bob--because
we won't let you!"

She walked away from the table and went to a door that led to another
room, standing in the opening and looking back at Calumet, who still
sat at the table, speechless with surprise.

"Go out and begin your bossing!" she jeered. "Very likely the
buildings will begin to dance around at your bidding. With your
admirable persuasive powers you ought to be able to do wonders with
them in the matter of repairs. Try it, at least. But if they refuse
to be repaired at your mere word, and you think something more
substantial is needed, then come to me--perhaps I may help you."

She bowed mockingly and vanished into the other room, closing the door
behind her, leaving Calumet glaring into his plate.

For a moment there was a painful silence, which Malcolm broke by
clearing his throat, his gaze on the tablecloth.

"Sometimes I think Betty's a little fresh," he said, apologetically.
"She's sorta sudden-like. She hadn't ought to--"

He looked up to see a malevolent scowl on Calumet's face, and he ducked
by the narrowest of margins the heavy plate that flew from Calumet's
hand. The plate struck the wall and was shattered to atoms. Malcolm
crouched, in deadly fear of other missiles, but Calumet did not deign
to notice him further, stalking out of the room and slamming the door
behind him.

CHAPTER VI

"BOB"

Five minutes after leaving the kitchen of the ranchhouse Calumet stood
beside the rotted rails of the corral fence near the stable, frowning,
fully conscious that he had been worsted in the verbal battle just
ended. He was filled with a disagreeable sense of impotence; he felt
small, mean, cheap, and uncomfortable, and was oppressed with
indecision. In short, he felt that he was not the