“Yes, the Supervisor got a letter yesterday enclosing his resignation, and asking to be relieved at once. And when I heard of it I asked the Supervisor to bring me down to see him; he’s too good a man to lose.”
“Why did he resign?”
“He seemed very bitter over the chief’s dismissal; but I hope to persuade him to stay in the service; he’s too valuable a man to lose just now when the war is so hot. I realize that his salary is too small; but there are other places for him. Perhaps when he knows that I have a special note to him from the chief he will reconsider. He’s quite capable of the Supervisor’s position, and Mr. Redfield is willing to resign in his favor. I’m telling you all this because Mr. Redfield has told me of your interest in Mr. Cavanagh—or rather his interest in you.”
Sam Gregg, entering the door at this moment, came directly to the Forester’s table. He was followed by the sheriff, a bearded old man with a soiled collar and a dim eye.
Gregg growled out, “You’d better keep your man Cavanagh in the hills, Mr. Forester, or somebody will take a pot-shot at him.”
“Why, what’s new?”
“His assistant is down with smallpox.”
“Smallpox!” exclaimed Dalton.
Every jaw was fixed and every eye turned upon the speaker.
“Smallpox!” gasped Lee.