seeking
particulars as to the death of the herder and the whereabouts of the
sheep.

The ranger was not in a mood to invite the sheepman in, and, besides, he
perceived the danger to which Wetherford was exposed. Therefore his
answers were short. Gregg, on his part, did not appear anxious to enter.

"What happened to that old hobo I sent up?" he asked.

Cavanagh briefly retold his story, and at the end of it Gregg grunted.
"You say you burned the tent and all the bedding?"

"Every thread of it. It wasn't safe to leave it."

"What ailed the man?"

"I don't know, but it looked and smelled like smallpox."

The deputy rose with a spring. "Smallpox! You didn't _handle_ the cuss?"

Cavanagh did not spare him. "Somebody had to lend a hand. I couldn't see
him die there alone, and he had to be buried, so I did the job."

Gregg recoiled a step or two, but the deputy stood staring, the
implication of all this sinking deep. "Were you wearing the same clothes
you've got on?"

"Yes, but I used a slicker while working around the body."

"Good King!" The sweat broke out on the man's face. "You ought to be
arrested."

Ross took a step toward him. "I'm at your service."

"Keep off!" shouted the sheriff.

Ross smiled, then became very serious. "I took every precaution, Mr.
Deputy; I destroyed everything that could possibly carry the disease. I
burned every utensil, including the saddle, everything but the man's horse
and his dog!"

"The dog!" exclaimed the deputy, seized with another idea. "Not that dog
you fed just now?"

"The very same," replied Cavanagh.

"Don't you know a dog's sure to carry the poison in his hair? Why, _he
jumped on you_! Why didn't you shoot him?" he demanded, fiercely.

"Because he's a faithful guardian, and, besides, he was with the sheep,
and never so much as entered the tent."

"Do you _know_ that?"

"Not absolutely, but he seemed to be on shy terms with the herder, and I'm
sure--"

The officer caught up his hat and coat and started for the door. "It's me
for the open air," said he.

As the men withdrew Ross followed them, and, standing in his door,
delivered his final volley. "If this State does not punish those fiends,
every decent man should emigrate out of it, turning the land over to the
wolves, the wildcats, and other beasts of prey."

Gregg, as he retreated, called back: "That's all right, Mr. Ranger, but
you'd better keep to the hills for a few weeks. The settlers down below