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.
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