"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.
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