"Is the plague getting worse?" Cartwright asked.
"No, I reckon it's better. Nobody has come down since the day before yestiddy. Thar's the doctor comin'. He kin tell ye."
A bearded man of middle age was approaching them in the saddle.
"Gentlemen, you must not stop in this neighborhood," he warned them. "There's an epidemic of smallpox here. We are trying to control it and every one must help."
"I am Peter Cartwright, the preacher sent of God to comfort the sick and bury the dead," said Samson's companion.
"We welcome you, but if you stop here you will have to stay until the epidemic is over."
"That I am prepared to do."
"Then I shall take you where you can find entertainment, such as it is."
"First, this man wishes to speak to Miss Kelso, the nurse," said Cartwright. "He is a friend of hers."
"You can see her but only at a distance," the Doctor answered. "I must keep you at least twenty feet away from her. Come with me."