The news quickly spread. Smallpox! Faces grew gray and anxious. One by one, the drivers slunk back to their places, while all talk ceased.
Finally, Sandy jerked his hand back in the direction of the cabin.
“We’ll see lots of that sort of thing before we return to the Mackenzie.”
“Yes, when we get to Keechewan. But I doubt if we’ll find another smallpox case this side of the Barrens,” said Dick. “Terrible business, isn’t it?”
Both, as if by a common impulse, looked up and stared over at the cabin. The red cloth fascinated them. It furled and fluttered softly, yet ominously, in the light breeze.
The boys wondered what Dr. Brady was doing. He had entered the cabin, closing the door after him. They both started as the door opened and their friend emerged. They saw him raise one arm, beckoning them to come closer. A little fearfully, Dick and Sandy obeyed. They were strangely excited. Stalking up before the door, they observed that the physician was very grave indeed.
“Well?” said Dick, the first one to speak.
Brady stepped away from the door and came toward them, his eyes evasive.
“There’s only one thing to do,” he announced in a curiously soft and gentle voice. “Set fire to the cabin. We’re too late.”
“Too late?” repeated Sandy.