Part 3 (2/2)
The sheriff looked puzzled for a moment; then it seemed to dawn on him that it was just possible that a big, red-headed Swede was not likely to be John Marvin.
”Well!” he snapped. ”Then I guess you're working for him, ain't you?”
The lumberjack shook his head and went close to Blodgett, emphasizing his words, ”Who I work for bane my business!” There was no fear in his manner as he stood looking into his interrogator's face with a grin that boded ill for any one looking for trouble.
Blodgett backed away, his eyes following the breadth of the Swede's husky shoulders and the line of his powerful arms.
”None of that!” he said. ”You're with the gang that's been chopping down that timber out there. You know well enough that Marvin's stealing that timber, don't you?”
”Stealing?”
”Yes! He's stealing it from the Pacific Railroad Company, and I'm here to arrest him for it!”
”Humph!” The Swede shrugged his shoulders and wheeled around, gazing anxiously out of the window, where the path through the forest was visible.
”You know where he is, don't you?” Blodgett asked.
”He gone away.”
”Where?” Blodgett stamped his spurred boot.
”I doan' know.”
”When did he go?”
”Maybe--yesterday.”
”When's he coming back?”
”I doan' think he coomin' back.” The Swede deliberately put a kettle on the stove and whistled indifferently.
Blodgett was evidently torn between a desire to maintain his dignity and authority as sheriff and a rather healthy reluctance to have any trouble with the great, hulking Swede.
”It's going to be hard for you if you're lying--”
He got no farther. The Swede stepped up to him with blazing eyes.
”You call me liar?” he yelled. ”I throw you out the door!”
Blodgett backed quickly away--very quickly. His hand sought the latch behind him. ”If you threaten me, the next thing you know you'll find yourself in jail!” he cried, shaking his fist.
The Swede's only answer was an ugly grin. Blodgett opened the door, slamming it after him as he went away.
The big lumberjack stood quiet for several minutes, listening to the sounds of retreat beaten by the hoofs of Blodgett's horse. a.s.sured that the sheriff was safely out of the way, he crept to the window, thrust his head over the sill, and gave a low whistle.
There was a stir in the soap-plant outside and Marvin emerged, hurried around to the door, and entered the cabin.
”Good work!” he exclaimed, laughing and clapping the grinning Swede on the back. ”You got rid of him very well, Oscar! Now I'll go on with my supper!”
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