To this the ranger made vocal answer, and they could soon see him moving athwart the hillsides, zigzagging in the trailer’s fashion, dropping down with incredible swiftness. He was alone, and leading his horse, but his celerity of movement and the tones of his voice denoted confidence and health.
The doctor laughed as he said: “I don’t think a very sick man could come down a mountain like that.”
“Oh, he isn’t sick yet,” said Redfield. “What we are afraid of is a possible development.”
The ranger, as he came rushing down the final slope, found his knees weakened as much by excitement as by weariness. To hear Lee’s clear voice down there, to know that she was waiting for him, was to feel himself the luckiest of men. Escaping contagion and being on his way to a larger position were as nothing compared to the lure of that girlish halloo. He saw the lamp shine afar, but he could not distinguish the girl’s form till he emerged from the clump of pine-trees which hid the bottom of the trail. Then they all shouted together, and Redfield, turning to Lee, warningly said:
“Now, my dear girl, you and I must not interfere with the doctor. We will start back to the house at once.”
“Not yet—not till we’ve seen him and talked with him,” she pleaded.
“I don’t think there’s a particle of danger,” said the doctor, “but perhaps you’d better not wait.”
Cavanagh came up with shining eyes and heavy breath. “I made it—but oh, I’m tired! I never was tired like this before in my life.” He looked at her as he spoke. “But I’m feeling fine.”
“This is Doctor French, Ross.”
“How are you doctor? I’m not shaking hands these days.”