sire in his heart to
goad her to anger.

But he did not succeed. Her face paled a little at his brutal words, at
the insult they implied, and she became a little rigid, her lips
stiffening. But suddenly she smiled, mockingly, with irritating
unconcern.

"If I didn't know that you hate me as you do I should be inclined to
think that you are jealous. Are you?"

He straightened in astonishment. Her manner was not that of the woman
who is caught doing something dishonorable; it was the calm poise of
sturdy honesty at bay. But while he was mystified, he was not convinced.
She had hit the mark, he knew, but he laughed harshly.

"Jealous!" he said; "jealous of you? I reckon you've got a good opinion
of yourself! You make me sick. I just want to put you wise a few. You
don't need to try to pull off any of that sweet innocence stuff on me any
more. You're deep an' slick, but I've sized you up. You made a monkey
of the old man; you made him think like you're tryin' to make me think,
that you're sacrificin' yourself.

"You soft-soaped him into smearin' a heap of mush into his letters to me.
It's likely you wrote them yourself. An' you hoodwinked him into givin'
you the money an' the idol so's you an' Taggart could divvy up after you
put me out of the runnin'. Goin' to reform me! I reckon if I was an
angel I'd have to have a recommendation from the Lord before you'd agree
that I'd reformed. You couldn't be pried loose from that coin with a
crow-bar!"

He turned from her, baffled, for it was apparent from the expression of
mirth deep in her eyes that his attack had made no impression on her.

Calumet went to the stable and threw a bridle on Blackleg. While he was
placing the saddle on the animal he hesitated and stood regarding it with
indecision. He had intended to refuse to accept Betty's orders in the
future; had decided that he would do no more work on the buildings. But
he was not the Calumet of old, who did things to suit himself, in
defiance to the opinions and wishes of other people. Betty had thrown a
spell over him; he discovered that in spite of his discovery he felt like
accommodating his movements to her desires. It was a mystery that
maddened him; he seemed to be losing his grip on himself, and, though he
fought against it, he found that he dreaded her disapproval, her sarcasm,
and her taunts.

It seemed to him puerile, ridiculous, to think of refusing to continue
with the work he had star