"What I am doing may be all wrong," he admitted to Swenson, who came often to lean upon the hitching-pole and offer aid. "I have had no training as a nurse, but I must be doing something. The man is burning up, and hasn't much vitality to spare. I knew a ranger had to be all kinds of things, cowboy, horse-doctor, axe-man, carpenter, surveyor, and all the rest of it, but I didn't know that he had to be a trained nurse in addition."
"How do you feel yourself?" asked his subordinate, anxiously.
"Just tired; nothing more. I reckon I am going to escape. I should be immune, but you never can tell. The effect of vaccination wears off after a few years."
"The women folks over there are terribly worried, and the old lady has made me promise to call her in if you show the slightest signs of coming down."
"Tell her to rest easy. I am keeping mighty close watch over myself, and another night will tell the story so far as the old man is concerned. I wish I had a real doctor, but I don't expect any. It is a long hard climb up here for one of those tenderfeet."
He returned to his charge, and Swenson walked slowly away, back to the camp, oppressed with the sense of his utter helplessness.
Again and again during the day Lee Virginia went to the middle of the bridge, which was the dead-line, and there stood to catch some sign, some wave of the hand from her lover. Strange courtship! and yet hour by hour the tie which bound these young souls together was strengthened. She cooked for him in the intervals of her watch and sent small pencilled notes to him, together with the fish and potatoes, but no scrap of paper came back to her--so scrupulous was Cavanagh to spare her from the faintest shadow of danger.
Swenson brought verbal messages, it was true, but they were by no means tender, for Cavanagh knew better than to intrust any fragile vessel of sentiment to this stalwart young woodsman. Now that Lee knew the mysterious old man was dying, she longed for his release--for his release would mean her lover's release. She did not stop to think that it would be long, very long, before she could touch Cavanagh's hand or even speak with him face to face. At times under Swenson's plain speaking she grew faint with the horror of the struggle which was going on in that silent cabin.