"Get up, or I will shoot you like a dog!" she said.]

Releasing his grip on the man's throat, Calumet swung around sideways
and glared malevolently at the young woman. His anger was gone; there
was no reason for it, now that he had discovered that the man was not
his father. But the demon in him was not yet subdued, and he got to
his feet, not because the young woman had ordered him to do so, but
because he saw no reason to stay down. A cold, mocking smile replaced
the malevolence on his face when, after reaching an erect position, he
saw that the weapon in the young woman's hand had drooped until its
muzzle was directed toward the floor at his feet. A forty-five caliber
revolver, loaded, weighs about forty ounces, and this one looked so
unwieldy and cumbersome, so entirely harmless in the young woman's
slender hand, that her threat seemed absurd, even farcical. An
ironical humor over the picture she made standing there moved Calumet.

"I reckon you ought to use two hands if you want to hold that gun
proper, ma'am," he said.

The muzzle of the weapon wavered uncertainly; the young woman gasped.
Apparently the lack of fear exhibited by the intruder shocked her. But
she did not follow Calumet's suggestion, she merely stood and watched
him warily, as the man whom he had attacked struggled dizzily to his
feet, staggered weakly to a chair and half fell, half slipped into it,
swaying oddly back and forth, gasping for breath, a grotesque figure.

The demon in Calumet slumbered--this situation was to his liking. He
stepped back a pace, and when the young woman saw that he meditated no
further mischief she lowered the pistol to her side. Then, moving
cautiously, watching Calumet closely, she placed the candle on the
floor in front of her. Again she stood erect, though she did not raise
the pistol. Evidently she was regaining her composure, though Calumet
observed that her free hand came up and grasped the dress over her
bosom so tightly that the fabric was in danger of ripping. Her face,
in the flickering light from the candle on the floor, was slightly in
in the shadow, but Calumet could see that the color was coming back to
her cheeks, and he took note of her, watching her with insolent
intentness.

Of the expression in Calumet's eyes she apparently took no notice, but
she was watching the man he had attacked, plainly concerned over his
condition. And when at last she saw that he was suffering more from
shock