"Wh--what's that?" asked a trembling feminine voice from the doorway. "Who did you say had fever?"
During an instant of pregnant silence, the universe stood still for all those there present. The crisis was come more quickly than Donald had expected.
"Well, by heavens, Mac," blurted out Braithwaite, "I didn't know you did this sort of--er, were away on a vaca--"
"Answer her question," commanded Donald, bluntly; "and then I'll explain."
"Oh, yes, who's got the fever? It's the governor, the boss, the factor--er--Mr. Fitzpatrick. It's not what you call dangerous yet, but the chances are good, ma'am. Yes," he added, with evident relish, "the chances are good."
The cry that broke from the girl's lips halted any further essays at humor of this sort.
"Shut up, can't you, Braithwaite?" snarled Donald. "Can't you see it's Miss Fitzpatrick, and that she wants to know about her father?
"Yes, the lost one; I found her, or, rather, we met here quite by accident, with nothing on earth but the clothes we stood in, and a knife and an ax. We've been kicking along the best we could ever since in this cabin. That's all there is to it. Now what about the factor?
"Well, it was this way, Mac. There was a lively little argument goin' on out front, where some of our boys were tryin' to capture some of their'n. You see, the factor thought, if we captured those fellers, and brought 'em back to the fort prisoners, it would end the free tradin'. As I say, there had been quite a little argument out front, and the factor, he didn't like the way things were goin'--got a little r'iled, as he sometimes does, you remember. We-ell, darned if he didn't start out to tell 'em how to do it, when somebody plugs him with a rifle bullet in the collar-bone, and that's the end of his fightin' for a while. Of course, he's big and heavy and gettin' old, so the fever that set in came to be the most important part of the wound, but they think he'll pull through."
"Of course, Dr. Craven from the fort is there?" queried Jean, from the door.
"Yes, ma'am, he went along with the expedition, and it's good he did."
"How is the situation down there now?" Donald questioned.
"Well, for our side, it ain't no more'n so-so," was the somber admission; "an' mebbe that's stretchin' it."