ponder. Calumet was in no good humor. He felt
like baiting Dade.

"What you clawin' your head that way for?" he suddenly demanded as Dade
continued to puzzle over his problem.

Dade grinned. "I'm goin' to halve these sills together. But I'm
wantin' to make sure that the halves will be made reverse, so's they'll
fit. An' I don't seem to be able to fix it clear in my mind."

"You was braggin' some on bein' a carpenter."

"I reckon I wasn't doin' no braggin'," denied Dade, reddening a little.

Calumet fixed a hostile eye on him. "Braggin' goes," he said shortly.
"If you'd said you was a barber, now, no one would expect you to fit
any sills together. But when you say you've done carpenter work that
makes it different. You ought to _sabe_ sills."

Dade laid his square and scratch awl down on the piece of timber and
deliberately seated himself on the saw-horse beside it. He looked
defiantly at Calumet. A change had come over him from the day
before--the slight deference in his manner had become succeeded by
something unyielding and hard.

"Let's get on an understandin'," he said. "You can't go to pickin' on
me." And he looked fairly into Calumet's eyes over the length of the
timber.

"I'm gassin' to suit myself," said Calumet; "if that don't size up
right to you you can pull your freight."

"You're a false alarm," said Dade bluntly; "you drive me plumb weary."

Before his voice had died away Calumet's hand had flashed to his pistol
butt. Why he did not draw the weapon was a mystery known only to
himself. It might have been because Dade had not moved. Calumet's
lips had tensed over his teeth in a savage snarl; they still held the
snarl when he spoke.

"You'll swallow that," he said. "Do you _sabe_ my idea?"

"Nary swallow," declared Dade. "False alarm goes. I've got you sized
up right."

Calumet's six-shooter came out. His eyes, blazing with a wanton fire,
met Dade's and held them. The youngster's lips whitened, but his eyes
did not waver. Death twitched at Calumet's finger. There was a long
silence. And then Dade spoke.

"Usin' it?" he said.

Into Calumet's blazing eyes came a slow glint of doubt, of reluctant
admiration. His lashes flickered, the blaze died down, he squinted, a
cold, amused smile succeeded the snarl. He laughed shortly, looked at
the pistol, and then slowly jammed it back into the holster.

"You're too good to lose," he said. "I'm savin' you for another time."