He heard no sound from the other part of the house and he finally decided to find and confront his father.

He stood erect, lit the cigarette and threw the match from him, accidentally striking his hand against the back of the chair on which he had been sitting.

Yielding to a sudden, vicious anger, he kicked the chair out of the way, so that it slid along the rough floor a little distance and overturned with a crash.
Calumet cursed.

He was minded to take the chair up and hurl it down again, so vengeful was the temper he was in, but his second sober sense urged upon him the futility of attacking inanimate things and he contented himself with snarling at it.

He stood silent for a moment, a hope in his heart that his father, alarmed over the sudden commotion, would come to investigate, and a wave of sardonic satisfaction swept over him when he finally heard a faint sound--a footstep in the distance.
His father had heard and was coming! Calumet stood near the center of the room, undecided whether to make his presence known at once or to secrete himself and allow his father to search for him.