He rose and walked past them. Ellis and Joe fell in behind as he strode toward the wagon. Ellis nudged Joe with his elbow. "Joe Tower," he said solemnly, "your explosions of temper are going to get us all into trouble."
Joe turned angrily to him and then, at the quizzical set of the boy's eyebrows, Joe grinned.
"Let me handle this," Ellis pleaded. "You can argue with a human being, but that man is no human being. He's a bundle of army regulations. Let me try, Joe." And then, before Joe could say yes or no, he called out, "There's a sick youngster in that wagon and you're not to bother her or her mother."
Major Dismuke halted. "What's the matter with the child?"
Joe was about to explain when Ellis took over. "It isn't smallpox," he said vehemently. "Don't get the idea that it's smallpox because it isn't!"
Major Dismuke whirled on Joe. "Did you bring a case of smallpox here?"
"I just told you it isn't!" Ellis remained vehement. "But if you're going to detain us we'd like to move her to the hospital, and get quarters for ourselves, until the youngster can travel."
Joe said bewilderedly, "Ellis—"
"I'm just telling him it isn't smallpox," Ellis asserted. "You know that yourself."
For the first time, Major Dismuke was uncertain. As every right-thinking soldier knew, regulations covered every situation connected with the Army. But these were civilians, they might have a case of smallpox with them, and he had no facilities to cope with a possible epidemic. For a long moment he was completely nonplussed. He said finally,