Part 55

Gregg growled out, "You'd better keep your man Cavanagh in the hills, Mr. Forester, or somebody will take a pot-shot at him."

"Why, what's new?"

"His assistant is down with smallpox."

"Smallpox!" exclaimed Dalton.

Every jaw was fixed and every eye turned upon the speaker.

"Smallpox!" gasped Lee.

Gregg resumed, enjoying the sensation he was creating. "Yes, that Basque herder of mine--the one up near Black Tooth--sent word he was sick, so I hunted up an old tramp by the name of Edwards to take his place. Edwards found the dago dying of pox, and skipped out over the range, leaving him to die alone. Cavanagh went up and found the dago dead, and took care of him--result is, he's full of germs, and has brought his apprentice down with it, and both of 'em must be quarantined right where they are."

"Good heavens, man!" exclaimed Dalton. "This is serious business. Are you sure it's smallpox?"

"One of my men came from there last night. I was there myself on Monday, so was the deputy. The sheriff missed Tom this morning, but I reached him by 'phone, and Cavanagh admitted to us that the Basque died of smallpox, and that he buried him with his own hands."

The sheriff spoke up. "The criminal part of it is this, Mr. Dalton: Cavanagh didn't report the case when he came down here, just went about leaving a trail of poison. Why didn't he report it? He should be arrested."

"Wait a moment," said Dalton. "Perhaps it wasn't pox, perhaps it was only mountain-fever. Cavanagh is not the kind of man to involve others in a pestilence. I reckon he knew it was nothing but a fever, and, not wishing to alarm his friends, he just slid into town and out again."

A flash of light, of heat, of joy went through Lee's heart as she listened to Dalton's defence of Cavanagh. "That was the reason why he rode away," she thought. "He was afraid of bringing harm to us." And this conviction lighted her face with a smile, even while the Forester continued his supposition by saying, "Of course, proper precautions should be taken, and as we are going up there, the Supervisor and I will see that a quarantine is established if we find it necessary."

Gregg was not satisfied: "Cavanagh admitted to the deputy and to me that he believed the case to be smallpox, and said that he had destroyed the camp and everything connected with it except the horse and the dog, and yet he comes down here infectin' everybody he meets." He turned to Lee. "You'd better burn the bed he slept on. He's left a trail of germs wherever he went. I say the man is criminally liable, and should be jailed if he lives to get back to town."

Lee's mind was off now on another tangent. "Suppose it is true?" she asked herself. "Suppose he has fallen sick away up there, miles and miles from any nurse or doctor--"

"There's something queer about the whole business," pursued Gregg. "For instance, who is this assistant he's got? Johnson said there was an old man in ranger uniform potterin' round. Why didn't he send word by him? Why did he let me come to the door? He might have involved me in the disease. I tell you, if you don't take care of him the people of the county will."

The Forester looked grave. "If he knew it was pox and failed to report it he certainly did wrong; but you say he took care of this poor shepherd--nursed him till he died, and buried him, taking all precautions--you can't complain of that, can you? That's the act of a good ranger and a brave man. You wouldn't have done it!" he ended, addressing Gregg. "Sickness up there two full miles above sea-level is quite a different proposition from sickness in Sulphur City or the Fork. I shall not condemn Mr. Cavanagh till I hear his side of the story."

Lee turned a grateful glance upon him. "You must be right. I don't believe Mr. Cavanagh would deceive any one."

"Well, we'll soon know the truth," said Dalton, "for I'm going up there. If the ranger has been exposed, he must not be left alone."

"He ain't alone," declared the sheriff. "Tom 'phoned me that he had an assistant."

"Swenson, I suppose," said Redfield, who entered at this moment. "Swenson is his assistant."

"I didn't see him myself," Gregg continued, "but I understood the deputy to say that he was an old man."

"Swenson is a young man," corrected Redfield.

The sheriff insisted. "Tom said it was an old man--a stranger to him--tall, smooth-shaven, not very strong, he said--'peared to be a cook. He had helped nurse the dago, so Tom said."

"That's very curious," mused Redfield. "There isn't an old man in the service of this forest. There's a mistake somewhere."

"Well," concluded Gregg, "that's what he said. I thought at first it might be that old hobo Edwards, but this feller being in uniform and smooth-shaven--" His face changed, his voice deepened. "Say, by the Lord! I believe it was Edwards, and, furthermore, Edwards is the convict that Texas marshal was after the other day, and this man Cavanagh--your prize ranger--is harborin' him."

"What nonsense!" exclaimed Redfield.

The sheriff banged his hand upon the table. "That's the whole mystery. I see it all now. He's up there concealing this man. He's given out this smallpox scare just to keep the officers away from him. Now you've got it!"

The thunder in his voice drew toward him all those who remained in the dining-room, and Lee found herself ringed about by a dozen excited men. But she did not flinch; she was too deeply concerned over Cavanagh's fate to be afraid, and, besides, Redfield and the Forester were beside her.