"Then I suppose I'll have to throw and hog-tie you." The physician rose and laid a heavy hand upon his patient's arm, at which Tom exclaimed: "Ouch! Leggo! Gimme the stuff and I'll rub myself." "Tom!" The very gravity of the speaker's voice was portentous, alarming. Mr. Slater hesitated, his gaze wavered, he scratched his chest unconsciously. Eliza shook her head pityingly; she uttered an inarticulate murmur of concern. "You couldn't get my shirt off with a steam-winch. I tell you I'm feeling grand." "Why WILL you chew the horrid stuff?" Miss Appleton inquired sadly. "I'm just a little broke out, that's all." "Ah! You're broken out. I feared so," said the doctor. The grave concern in those two faces was too much for Slater's sensitive nature; his stubbornness gave way, his self-control vanished, and he confessed wretchedly: "I spent an awful night, Doc. I'll bust into flame if this keeps up. What is it, anyhow?" "Is there an eruption of the arms and chest?" "They're all erupted to hell." Dr. Gray silently parted the shirt over Slater's bosom. "Hm-m!" said he. "Tell him what it is," urged Eliza, in whom mirth and pity were struggling for mastery. "It has every appearance of-smallpox!" The victim uttered a choking cry and sat down limply. Sweat leaped out upon his face, beads appeared upon his round bald head. "I knew I was a sick man. I've felt it coming on for three months, but I fought it off for Murray's sake. Say it's chicken-pox," he pleaded. "Never mind; it's seldom serious," Eliza endeavored to comfort the stricken man. "You wanted a good rest-" "I don't. I want to work." "I'll have to quarantine you, Tom." Slater was in no condition for further resistance; a complete collapse of body and mind had followed the intelligence of his illness. He began to complain of many symptoms, none of which were in any way connected with his fancied disease. He was racked with pains, he suffered a terrible nausea, his head swam; he spoke bravely of his destitute family and prepared to make his will. When he left the hospital, an hour later, it was on a stretcher between four straining bearers. That evening a disturbing rumor crept through the town of Omar. It penetrated the crowded saloons where the laborers who had quit work were squandering their pay, and it caused a brief lull in the ribaldry; but the mere fact that Tom Slater had come down with smallpox and had been isolated upon a fishing-boat anchored in the creek seemed, after all, of little consequence. Some of the idlers strolled down the street to stare at the boat, and upon their return verified the report. They also announced that they had seen the yellow-haired newspaper woman aboard, all dressed in white. It was considered high time by the majority to leave Omar, for an epidemic was a thing to be avoided, and a wager was made that the whole force would quit in a body as soon as the truth became known.