“Constable, we have much to do. Smallpox epidemic in the country north of us. Sweeping down this way. Very serious condition. We must move quickly. I’ll ask you to wait here while I write a message to be sent out by telegraph to Edmonton. Instruct Mr. Cooley, the operator, to repeat his message at least three times.”
The orderly saluted, but made no reply. Like a red-coated statue, he stood while Cameron wrote quickly. He received the message with another salute, turned on his heel, his spurs clattering as he strode to the door. The inspector breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well, that’s settled.”
His brow wrinkled with thought. Slowly he turned again to the work before him. He was busy when the door opened and the orderly reappeared. One look at the face of his subordinate told him that something was amiss.
“Yes, Whitehall, what’s the matter now?”
The orderly hesitated, clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry to report, sir, that we won’t be able to establish communication with Edmonton or outside points. The wires are down. Big forest fire raging to the south of us, sir. The operator says it will be days before the damage can be repaired.”
In his agitation, the inspector again rose to his feet. His eyes snapped.
“Tell Mr. O’Malley, our radio expert, I want to see him. Bring him here at once.”
Whitehall saluted and went out.