“I’ll not say another word except this: they’ll never prove you a firebug, and old Talbot will be sorry for the day he stirred things up and started out to persecute an honest boy. Drat the varmint! I’ll be afraid of him no longer, Andy, you are a good friend.”
“I try to be, Mr. Chase.”
“I’ll prove that I am to you.”
Chase refused to say another word. Andy curiously watched him stump around attending to his duties. The old fellow would scowl and mutter, and Andy believed he was mentally discussing Talbot. Then he would chuckle, and Andy decided he was thinking something pleasant about himself.
Chase appeared to have entire charge of the cell room. At five o’clock in the afternoon he let the other prisoners out in the corridor for exercise, and at six o’clock he gave them their supper in their cells. Then he and Andy adjourned to the little room beyond the cells and had a hearty, appetizing meal.
Chase supplied Andy with some newspapers, and later they played a game of checkers. About nine o’clock a prisoner was brought in and locked up.
At ten o’clock, just as Andy was going to bed, the turnkey’s ponderous key rattled at the barred door, and again his voice rang out:
“Andrew Nelson!”
“Wonder who wants me now?” said Andy.
“Somebody to see you in the sheriff’s room,” said the turnkey, “follow me.”