"No," the sheriff retorted, a little hotly, "you don't understand anything
of the kind. I said that I didn't have the keys; and further," he added,
after a moment's pause, "I say that this jail is empty."
There was silence for a moment, while the men looked at one another
incredulously; then the jeering began again.
"There is nothing to do but to break open the cells," Morris said, sharply,
but without turning his head. "We trusted the sheriff last night, and he
outwitted us; we must not trust him again."
The sheriff's eyes flashed, and the blood sprang to his face. The crowd
stood eagerly silent; but after a second the sheriff answered, quietly,
"You may say what you please to me, Mr. Morris, and I'll not resent it
under these circumstances, but I'll swear the jail's empty."
For answer Morris drove an axe furiously against the nearest cell door, and
the crowd followed suit. There were not many cells, and as he looked from a
window the sheriff counted the doors as they fell in, and listened for the
whistle of the train that he hoped would bring Judge More. The doors were
going down rapidly, and as each yielded the sheriff could hear cries and
demonstrations.
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