He wished Mason was home, so that he could leave. It wouldn't matter
then, he tried to believe, what he did. He even dwelt upon the desire of
Mason's return to the extent of calculating, with his eyes upon the
fancy calendar on the wall opposite, the exact time of his absence. Ten
days--there was no hope of release for another month, at least, and Ford
sighed unconsciously when he thought of it; for although a month is not
long, there was Josephine refusing to look at him, and there was
Dick--and there was the jug in the closet.
As to Josephine, there was no help for it; he could not avoid her
without making the avoidance plain to all observers, and Ford was proud.
As to Dick, he would not send him off without some proof that he had
broken an unwritten law of the Double Cross and brought whisky to the
ranch; and of that he had no proof. As to his suspicions--well, he
considered that Dick had almost paid the penalty for having roused them,
and the matter would have to rest where it was; for Ford was just. As to
the jug, he could empty it upon the ground and be done with that
particular form of torture.
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