and found himself of baser metal, but Claud, like Dixie, had only avoided him, and this avoidance he continued to misinterpret until his confidence returned.
"It was after one of his frantic attempts to catch Dixie that he sought to force the issue. He turned suddenly and strode to where Claud was lying on the sand, and at the sight of his face the lad struggled to his feet—while I sat and waited, for something seemed to tell me that the time had come, and I felt no fear of the result.
" 'Call your dog, you putty-face!' snarled Deshay. 'Call your dog!'—he thrust out his matted jaw; 'call him up where I can get my hands on him!' said he. He had put away his knife and gripped the stretcher. 'Call him up, d'ye hear, or I'll spatter your fool brains all over the shop!'
"It was here that he struck the steel beneath the fresco. Claud looked him over, carefully, coolly, and, although their faces were almost in contact, from such an infinite distance—
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