His
attitude toward Betty became almost gentle, and there were times when
she watched him with wondering curiosity, as though not quite
understanding the change that had come in him.
But Dade understood. He had "sized" Calumet "up" in those first days
and his judgment had been unerring, as it was now when Betty asked his
opinion.
"He's beginnin' to use his brain box," he told her. "He's been a
little shy an' backward, not knowin' what to expect, an' makin'
friend's bein' a little new to him. But he's the goods at bottom, an'
he's sighted a goal which he's thinkin' to make one of these days."
"A goal?" said she, puzzled.
"Aw, you female critters is deep ones," grinned Dade, "an' all smeared
over with honey an' innocence. You're the goal he's after. An' I'm
bettin' he'll get you."
Her face reddened, and she looked at him plainly indignant.
"He is a brute," she said.
"Most all men is brutes if you scratch them deep enough," drawled Dade.
"The trouble with Calumet is that he's never had a chance to spread on
the soft stuff. He's the plain, unvarnished, dyed-in-the-wool,
original man. There's a word fits him, if I could think of it." He
looked at her inquiringly.
"Primitive, I think you mean," she said.
"That's it--primitive. That's him. He's the rough material; nobody's
ever helped him to get into shape.
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