For a long time after he had completed the reading of the letter, Calumet was silent, staring straight ahead of him. The information contained in the account of his father's adventures was soothing—the termagant who had presided over his boyhood destinies had not been his real mother, and his father had left him a score to settle. He already hated the Taggarts, not particularly because they were his father's enemies, but rather because Tom Taggart had been a traitor. He felt a contempt for him. He himself was mean and vicious—he knew that. But he had never betrayed a friend. It was better to have no friend than to have one and betray him. He looked around to see that Betty was still apparently absorbed in her book.
"Do you know what is in this letter?" he said.
She laid the book in her lap and nodded affirmatively.
"You opened it, I suppose?" he sneered.
"No," she returned, unmoved. "Your father read it to me."
"Kind of him, wasn't it? What do you think of it?"
"What I think isn't important. What do you think of it?"
"Nosey, eh?" he jeered. "If it won't inconvenience you any, I'll keep what I think of it to myself. But it's plain to me now that when you caught me tryin' to guzzle your granddad you thought I belonged to the Taggart bunch. You told me I'd have to try again—or somethin' like that. I reckon you thought I was after the idol?"
"Yes."
"Then the Taggarts have tried to get it since you've been here?"