Blodgett heaved his shoulders in relief, and, with hands in his pockets, went back to his station at the door. "That's all right!" He exhaled a full breath once again.
Thomas turned the leaves of the calendar, looked ahead for a day or two, without noticing much that he saw, then turned the leaves back again to the day's list. He went to the court-room window and looked out upon the valley that ran from Reno up toward the foothills. He sniffed the keen, cool air that was blown up to him. He stood contemplating the rushing waters of the Truckee River below. After several minutes' thought he faced Blodgett again.
"I'm going to ask you what time you were at Marvin's camp, for I want to show he was taking down the timber," he announced.
"I didn't get out where the timber was," the sheriff replied.
"But you know he had a gang of lumbermen there?" In Thomas's tone and in the gleam on his cold, blue eyes the sheriff caught the message of persuasion.
"Oh, sure." He nodded with the air of a man who understood what was wanted of him.
"And they drove you off by force?"
Blodgett nodded again.
"And you remember the date?"
"I guess I won't fergit it." There was emphasis in Blodgett's answer and he arose impatiently from his chair and stood, his arms akimbo, peering down the corridor. "Do you think Marvin'll be here to-day?" This time he was interlocutor. "I got a notion he won't," he added, fathering his disappointment by admitting the possibility of frustration in the one desire that had held him ever since Marvin had foiled him by the technicality of the state boundary-line. He was bound, however, that there should be no opportunity for escape this time.