“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?”