The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-02-17

see MIN QIe tEere alone, ana ne naQ TO
be buried, so 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 / used a slicker while
working around the body"
Good kingr The sweat broke out
on the mans face. "You ought to be
arrested"
Ross took q step toward him. "Tm
at your service"
Keep OFF, shouted the sheriff.
Ross smiled. then became very Sc
rious. 81 took every precaution. Mr.
Deputy. destroyed everything that
could possibly carry the disease.
burned every utensil. including the
saddle-everything but the mans
horse and his dog"
The officer caught up his hat and
coat and started for the door. Its
me for the open air." said he.
As the men withdrew Ross followed
them and. standing in his door. de-
does not punish those fiends every de-
cent 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
few weeks. The settlers down below
won't enjoy having a man with small
pox Classifying around town. They
might rope and tie you"
Wetherford came out Of his hiding
place with a grave face.
They're right about our staying
clear Of town." said Cavanagh.
They'll quarantine us sure"
'Wetherford now that the danger Of
arrest was over was disposed to be
grimly humorous. There's no great
loss without some small gain. don't
think we'll be troubled by any more
visitors, not even by sheriffs or doc
tors. reckon you and / are in for
couple of months Of the quiet life-the
kind we read about"
. Cavanagh now that he was definite
~ out of the forest service perceived
the weight Of every objection which
his friends and relatives had made
against his going into 1t. 1t was a
lonely life and must ever be SO. 1t
was all very well for young unmar-
ried man who loved the woods and
hills beyond all things else and who
could wait for advancement. but it
was sad place for one who desired
q wife. The rangers place was on
the trail and In the hills, and to bring
a woman into these high silences, into
these lone reaches of forest and fell.
would be cruel. To bring children into
them would be criminal.
All the next day. while Wetherford
pottered about the cabin or the yard.
Cavanagh toiled at his papers. resolv-
ed to leave everything in the perfect
order which he loved. Whenever he
looked round upon his belongings. each
and all so redolent of the wilderness.
he found then very dear His chairs.
which he had rived out Of slabs: his
guns. his robes. his saddles and their
accouterments-all meant much to
him. Some of them must go with
me-" he said. land when l am settled
down in the old home I'll have one
room to myself which shall be so COM
pletely of the mountain America that
when l am within it can fancy my
self back in the camp"
He thought Of South Africa as pos
c;f q 81 10 ly~
that no other place could have the
same indefnable charm that the Rocky
mountains possessed for the reason
that he had come to them at his most
impressionable age. Then, too. the
United States, for all its faults, seem
ed merely an extension of the English
form of government.
Wetherford was also moving in deep
thought and at last put his perplexity
into a question. What am ! to do?
I'm beginning to feel queer. reckon
the chances for my having smallpox
are purity fair. Maybe I'd better drop
down to Sulphur and report to the au-
thorities. I've got a day or two be-
fore the blossoms will begin to show
on me-"
Cavanagh studied him Closely. "Now,
don't get to thinking you've got 1t.
don't see how you could attach
germ. The high altitude. and the
winds up there ought to prevent in
lection. I'm not afraid for myself.
but it you're able perhaps we'd better
pull out tomorrow"
Later in the day Wetherford express
ed deeper detection. 81 don't see any
thing ahead Of me anyhow" he con-
fessed. III go beck to the pen I'll
die of lung trouble. and don't know
how Pm going to earn living in the
city. Mebbe the best thing could do
would be to take the pox and go un-
der. I'm afraid of big towns" he con-
tinued. II always was, even when
had money. Now that am old and
broke daren't 60. No city for me-"
Cavanagh's patience gave way. "But.
man, you can't stay here! I'm pack
Ing up to leave. Your only chance
Of getting out Of the country is to go
when go and in my company" His
voice was harsh and keen, and the old
man felt its edge, but he made no re-
ply. and this sad silence moved Cav
anagh to repentance. His irritability
warned him Of something deeply
changing in his own nature.
Approaching the brooding felon, he
spoke gently and sadly. "I'm sorry