Calumet considered her for a moment in silence and then his attention was directed to her grandfather, who had got to his feet and was walking unsteadily toward the dining-room door. He was a well-preserved man, appearing to be about sixty. That Calumet's attack had been a vicious one was apparent, for as the man reached the door he staggered and leaned weakly against the jambs. He made a grimace at Calumet and smiled weakly at the girl. "I'm pretty well knocked out, Betty," he said. "My neck hurts, sorta. I'll send Bob in to keep you company." The girl cast a sharp, eloquent glance at Calumet and smiled with straight lips. "Don't bother to send Bob," she replied; "I am not afraid." The grandfather went out, leaving the door open. While the girl stood listening to his retreating steps, Calumet considered her. She had said that she was not afraid of him--he believed her; her actions showed it. He said nothing until after her grandfather had vanished and his step was no longer heard, and then when she turned to him he said shortly: "So your name's Betty. Betty what?" "Clayton." "An' your grandpap?" "Malcolm Clayton." "Who's Bob?" "My brother." "Any more Claytons around here?" he sneered. "No." "Well," he said with truculent insolence; "what in Sam Hill are you-all doin' at the Lazy Y, anyway?" "I am coming to that presently," she returned, unruffled. "Goin' to work your jaw again, I reckon?" he taunted. The hard calm came again into her face as she looked at him, though behind it was that subtle quality that hinted of her possession of advantage. Her manner made plain to him that she held some mysterious power over him, a power which she valued, even enjoyed, and he was nettled, baffled, and afflicted with a deep rage against her because of it. Dealing with a man he would have known what to do, but he felt strangely impotent in the presence of this girl, for she was not disturbed over his insults, and her quiet, direct glances affected him with a queer sensation of guilt, even embarrassed him. "Well?" he prompted, after a silence. "I am going to tell you about your father," she said. "Make it short," he said gruffly.