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.