Chip jerked open the door with a force greatly in excess of the need
of it.

Miss Whitmore started impulsively toward him. Her eyes were not quite
clear.

"Don't--not yet! Let me go. If it's a straight break I can set the bone
and save him."

Chip, savage in his misery, regarded her over one square shoulder.

"Are you a veterinary surgeon, may I ask ?"

Miss Whitmore felt her cheeks grow hot, but she stood her ground.

"I am not. But a broken bone is a broken bone, whether it belongs to a
man--or some OTHER beast!"

"Y--e-s?"

Chip's way of saying yes was one of his chief weapons of annihilation.
He had a peculiar, taunting inflection which he could give to it, upon
occasion, which caused prickles of flesh upon the victim. To say that
Miss Whitmore was not utterly quenched argues well for her courage.
She only gasped, as though treated to an unexpected dash of cold water,
and went on.

"I'm sure I might save him if you'd let me try. Or are you really eager
to shoot him?"