“Appalling! The reports I have received stagger me. The ratio of persons who die after incurring the disease is about four out of every six. The epidemic has spread out over a very wide area. It has already reached the Eskimo tribes on the eastern side of the barren lands. They’re dying like flies.”
“Do you think you’ll have sufficient medicine and men for the whole of the territory affected?”
“I doubt it. Nevertheless, we’ll do the best we can. If Kent and his two friends get through safely, I’m sending them up to the barrens with one physician and as much of the remedy as we can possibly spare.”
* * * * * * * *
Corporal Rand looked out across the valley. The opposite bank of the river flamed with the gold and bronze of autumn’s foliage. Though the season was getting late, the weather was glorious. Not a breath of wind. The sun shone from an unclouded, deep-azure sky. Large flocks of wild geese went honking overhead.
A little regretfully, Rand turned and retraced his steps. It would soon be time for the midday meal, and he was hungry. Tomorrow, he decided, he would see the inspector again and repeat his request. Perhaps he might be ordered out for duty. Perhaps he might be permitted to do his part in a worthy cause. In any event, once on the trail, he would soon forget his weakness, probably gain new strength, be more like his former self.
He spent the afternoon reading and loitering about, but just before sundown went outside in the hope that he might catch sight of the planes of the relief expedition. In this, however, he was disappointed, although he scanned the southern skies until long after twilight. He returned to the barracks troubled by a strange premonition. He tried to read, but threw down the book before he could become interested. He paced the rough floor of his room, puffing nervously at his pipe, his mind filled with a hundred vague alarms.
Reason, finally, came to his rescue. How foolish he was. The party would probably arrive during the night. His senseless worrying, no doubt, was caused by his recent illness and the nervous tension of being confined to the barracks. Shortly after midnight, when Constable Whitehall, the orderly, entered his room to wish him good-night, he had regained a great deal of his previous cheerfulness.
“Well, how are things?” he inquired of his visitor.
“All right, I guess, but the old man’s worrying about that expedition. Says it should have been here before this.”