The sheriff banged his hand upon the table. “That’s the whole mystery. I see it all now. He’s up there concealing this man. He’s given out this smallpox scare just to keep the officers away from him. Now you’ve got it!”
The thunder in his voice drew toward him all those who remained in the dining-room, and Lee found herself ringed about by a dozen excited men. But she did not flinch; she was too deeply concerned over Cavanagh’s fate to be afraid, and, besides, Redfield and the Forester were beside her.
The Supervisor was staggered by Gregg’s accusation, and by certain confirmatory facts in his own possession, but he defended Cavanagh bravely. “You’re crazy,” he replied. “Why should Ross do such a foolish thing? What is his motive? What interest would he have in this man Edwards, whom you call a tramp? He can’t be a relative and certainly not a friend of Cavanagh’s, for you say he is a convict. Come, now, your hatred of Cavanagh has gone too far.”
Gregg was somewhat cooled by this dash of reason, but replied: “I don’t know what relation he is, but these are facts. He’s concealing an escaped convict, and he knows it.”
Dalton put in a quiet word. “What is the use of shouting a judgment against a man like Cavanagh before you know the facts? He’s one of the best and ablest rangers on this forest. I don’t know why he has resigned, but I’m sure—”
“Has he resigned?” asked Gregg, eagerly.
“He has.”
“A damn good job for him. I was about to circulate a petition to have him removed.”
“If all the stockmen in the valley had signed a petition against him, it wouldn’t have done any good,” replied Dalton. “We know a good man when we see him. I’m here to offer him promotion, not to punish him.”
Lee, looking about at the faces of these men, and seeing disappointment in their faces, lost the keen sting of her own humiliation. “In the midst of such a fight as this, how can he give time or thought to me?” Painful as the admission was, she was forced to admit that she was a very humble factor in a very large campaign. “But suppose he falls ill!” Her face grew white and set, and her lips bitter. “That would be the final, tragic touch,” she thought, “to have him come down of a plague from nursing one of Sam Gregg’s sheep-herders.” Aloud she said: “His resignation comes just in time, doesn’t it? He can now be sick without loss to the service.”