"You're John Marvin, ain't you?" he demanded.
"No, sir," replied the Swede, with a heavy frown.
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.