"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.