"No matter; you're ailing, and might take it again, so toddle back. It's mighty good of you, and of Lee, to come--but there isn't a thing you can do, and here's the doctor," he added, as he recognized the young student who passed for a physician in the Fork. He was a beardless youth of small experience and no great courage, and as he approached with hesitant feet he asked: "Are you sure it's smallpox?" Cavanagh smiled. "The indications are all that way. That last importation of Basques brought it probably from the steerage of the ship. I'm told they've had several cases over in the Basin." "Have you been vaccinated?" "Yes; when I was in the army." "Then you're all right." "I hope so." There was a certain comic relief in this long-distance diagnosing of a "case" by a boy, and yet the tragic fact beneath it all was that Wetherford was dying, a broken and dishonored husband and father, and that his identity must be concealed from his wife and daughter, who were much more deeply concerned over the ranger than over the desperate condition of his patient. "And this must continue to be so," Cavanagh decided. And as he stood there looking toward the girl's fair figure on the bridge, he came to the final, fixed determination never to speak one word or make a sign that might lead to the dying man's identification. "Of what use is it?" he asked himself. "Why should even Lize be made to suffer? Wetherford's poor misspent life is already over for her, and for Lee he is only a dim memory." Redfield came near enough to see that the ranger's face, though tired, showed no sign of illness, and was relieved. "Who is this old herder?" he asked. "Hasn't he any relatives in the country?" "He came from Texas, so he said. You're not coming in?" he broke off to say to the young physician, whom Lize had shamed into returning to the cabin. "I suppose I'll have to," he protested, weakly. "I don't see the need of it. The whole place reeks of the poison, and you might carry it away with you. Unless you insist on coming in, and are sure you can prevent further contagion, I shall oppose your entrance. You are in the company of others--I must consider their welfare." The young fellow was relieved. "Well, so long as we know what it is I can prescribe just as well right here," he said, and gave directions for the treatment, which the ranger agreed to carry out. "I tried to bring a nurse," explained Redfield, "but I couldn't find anybody but old Lize who would come." "I don't blame them," replied Ross. "It isn't a nice job, even when you've got all the conveniences." His eyes, as he spoke, were on the figure of Lee, who still stood on the bridge awed and worshipful, barred of approach by Lize. "She shall not know," he silently vowed. "Why put her through useless suffering and shame? Edward Wetherford's disordered life is near its end. To betray him to his wife and daughter would be but the reopening of an old wound."