The latter quickly withdrew his own
hand, it was empty. And in response to an abrupt movement of Calumet's
hand it went upward, the other following it instantly. Watchful,
alert, Calumet stepped forward, plucked Taggart's pistol from its
holster, threw it a dozen feet from him, swiftly passed a hand over
Taggart's shirt and waistband and then stepped back.
"You've got a minute," he said. "Sixty seconds to decide whether you'd
rather die with your boots on or get to talkin'. Take your time, for
there won't be any arguin' afterward."
Taggart looked into Calumet's eyes. What he saw there seemed to decide
him. "I reckon it's your trick," he said; "I'll talk."
"Get goin'."
"I said I'd made love to her."
A half-sneer wreathed Calumet's face. "I reckon that covers the ground
pretty well. You didn't say it that way, but we won't have you repeat
the exact words; they ain't fit to hear. The point is, did you tell
the truth?"
"No," said Taggart. He did not look at Betty and his face was scarlet.
"So you lied, eh? Lied about a woman! There's only one place for that
kind of a man. Crawl an' tell her you're a snake!"
Taggart had partly recovered his composure.
"Guess again," he sneered. "You're buttin' in where--"
Calumet dropped his pistol and took a quick step.
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