Again he listened at the door.

Betty and the man were still talking.
Calumet found his boots.

He decided not to put them on until he got to the kitchen door, for he was determined to go around the outside of the house and lay in wait for Betty's confederate, and he did not want to make any sound that would scare him off.

He was proceeding stealthily, directing his course through the darkness by a stream of moonlight that came in through one of the kitchen windows, and had almost reached the kitchen door when his feet struck an obstruction--something soft and yielding.
There was a sudden scurrying, a sharp, terrified yelp.
Calumet cursed.

It was Bob's pup.