The roar of the stream made it necessary to speak loudly, and he could not put into his voice the tenderness he felt at the moment, but his face was knotted with pain as he asked: "Don't you see you add to my uneasiness--my pain?" "We're so anxious about you," she answered. "It seems as though we should be doing something to help you." He understood, and was grateful for the tenderness which brought her so near to him, but he was forced to be stern. "There is nothing you can do--nothing more than you are doing. It helps me to know that you are there, but you must not cross the bridge. Please go back!" There was pleading as well as command in his voice, and with a realization of the passion his voice conveyed, she retraced her steps, her heart beating quickly with the joy which his words conveyed. At sunset Redfield returned, bringing with him medicines but no nurse. "Nobody will come up here," he said. "I reckon Ross is doomed to fight it out alone. The solitude, the long trail, scares the bravest of them away. I tried and tried--no use. Eleanor would have come, of course--demanded to come; but I would not permit that. She commissioned me to bring you both down to the ranch." Lee Virginia thanked him, but reiterated her wish to stay until all possible danger to Cavanagh was over. Redfield crossed the bridge, and laid the medicines down outside the door. "The nurse from Sulphur refused to come when she found that her patient was in a mountain cabin. I'm sorry, old man; I did the best I could." "Never mind," replied Cavanagh. "I'm still free from any touch of fever. I'm tired, of course, but good for another night of it. My main anxiety concerns Lee--get her to go home with you if you can." "I'll do the best I can," responded Redfield, "but meanwhile you must _not_ think of getting out of the Forest Service. I have some cheering news for you. The President has put a good man into the chief's place." Cavanagh's face lighted up. "That'll help some," he exclaimed; "but who's the man?" Redfield named him. "He was a student under the chief, and the chief says he's all right, which satisfies me. Furthermore, he's a real forester, and not a political jobber or a corporation attorney." "That's good," repeated Cavanagh; "and yet--" he said, sadly, "it leaves the chief out just the same." "No, the chief is not out. He's where he can fight for the idea to better advantage than when he was a subordinate under another man. Anyhow, he asks us all to line up for the work and not to mind him. The work, he says, is bigger than any man. Here's that resignation of yours," he said, taking Cavanagh's letter from his pocket; "I didn't put it on file. What shall I do with it?" "Throw it to me," said Cavanagh, curtly. Redfield tossed it over the hitching-pole, and Ross took it up, looked at it for a moment in silence, then tore it into bits and threw it on the ground.