I don't want you to starve."
His face expressed disgust. "Holy smoke!" he said; "I reckon I ain't
man enough to take care of myself!"
"I don't think that is the question. Can't we get at it in the proper
spirit? You belong here; you have a right to be here. And I am here
because your father wanted me to stay. I want you to feel that you are
at home, and I don't want to be continually quarreling with you. Be
mean and stubborn if you want to--I suppose you can't help that. But
so long as conditions are as they are, let us try to make the best of
them. Even if you don't like me, even if you resent my presence here,
you can at least act more like a human being and less like a wild man.
Why," she continued, with a dry laugh, "just now you spoke of being a
man, and this morning after you killed Lonesome you acted like a big,
over-grown boy. You had your arm hurt and refused to allow me to dress
it. Did you think I wanted to poison you?"
"What I thought this morning is my business," returned Calumet gruffly.
Betty's voice had been quietly conversational, but it had carried a
subtle sting with its direct mockery, and Calumet felt again as he had
felt the night before, like an unruly scholar being rebuked by his
teacher. Last night, though, the situation had been a novel one; now
the thought that she was laughing at him, taunting him, filled him with
rage.
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