“Yes, too late.”
“How—how many inside there?” whispered Dick.
“Two half-breed trappers—one young and one old.”
“And they both had it?” the boys asked in unison.
“Yes,” Dr. Brady’s mouth twitched at the corners. “They’re gone. We came too late. As I just said, there’s only one thing to do: Set fire to the cabin. Burn it down.”
“Burn it,” asked Sandy. “What for?”
“As a matter of precaution. To protect the lives of others. Now and again, some lone wanderer might chance this way.”
Sandy and Dick stood looking at the physician during an odd interval of silence. Of course, he knew best. They realized that. And it would save time. Dick touched Sandy’s shoulder and together the two friends moved toward the timber at the back of the house. They carried dry bark and branches, soon gathering a large pile, which they threw down in front of the door. Soon a fire was started. It mounted slowly at first, smouldering and cracking, but presently it leaped up, quickly spreading to every part of the building.
“That’s done,” Sandy sighed relievedly. “Let’s go back.”
It was a little awkward joining the party again. Yet no one questioned them. They were greeted with curious stares and frightened glances. At noon they were miles away and halted for a midday meal in the shelter of a spruce grove, through which there ran the wandering course of a tiny stream.