se grip on the hand had
not been loosened. Calumet drew the hand fiercely away, overturning
Bob so that he fell sprawling into the dust at his feet. The youngster
was up again before Betty and Malcolm could reach him, hobbling toward
Calumet, his thin face working from excitement, his big eyes alight
over the discovery he had made.

"He didn't kill Lonesome because he is mean, Betty!" he shrilled; "I
knew he didn't! Look at his arm, Betty! It's all bloody! Lonesome
bit him!"

In spite of Calumet's efforts to avoid him, the boy again seized the
arm, holding it out so that Betty and Malcolm could see the patches on
the sleeve and the thin red streak that had crawled down over the back
of his hand and was dripping from the finger tips.

Malcolm halted in his advance on Calumet and stealthily sheathed his
weapon. Betty, too, had stopped, a sudden wave of color overspreading
her face, the picture of embarrassment and astonishment.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked accusingly; "it would have saved--"

"Saved you from makin' a fool of yourself," interrupted Calumet. "You
certainly did prove that I'm a mighty mean man," he added, mockingly.
"I didn't tell you because it's none of your business. It's only a
scratch, but I ain't lettin' no damned animal chaw me up an' get away
with it." He drew the hand away from the boy and placed it behind him
so that Betty could not look at it, which she had been doing until now,
with wide, frightened eyes. She came forward when he placed the hand
behind him, and stood close to him, determination in her manner.

"I want to see how badly you have been bitten," she said.

"Go finish washin' your dishes," he advised, with a sneer. "That's
where you belong. Until you an' your bunch butted in with your palaver
I was enjoyin' myself. You drive me plumb weary."

Betty faced him resolutely, though now there was contrition in her
manner, in her voice. She spoke firmly.

"I am sorry for what I said to you before--about Lonesome. I thought
you had killed him just to be mean, to hurt me. I will try to make
amends. If you will come into the house I will dress your arm--it must
be badly injured."

Calumet's lips curled, then straightened, and he looked down at her
with steady hostility.

"I ain't got no truck with you at all," he said. "When I'm figgerin'
on lettin' you paw over me I'll let you know." He turned shortly and
walked over to the door of the stable, where he fu