"I'm afraid I can't unless mother goes," she replied, sadly.
Lize waved an imperative hand. "Fade away, child. I want to talk with Mr. Redfield alone. Go, see!"
Thus dismissed, Lee went back to the restaurant, where she found the Forester just sitting down to his luncheon. "Mr. Redfield will be out in a few minutes," she explained.
"Won't you join me?" he asked, in the frank accent of one to whom women are comrades. "The Supervisor has been telling me about you."
She took a seat facing him, feeling something refined in his long, smoothly shaven, boyish face. He seemed very young to be District Forester, and his eyes were a soft brown with small wrinkles of laughter playing round their corners.
He began at once on the subject of his visit. "Redfield tells me you are a friend of Mr. Cavanagh's; did you know that he had resigned?"
She faced him with startled eyes. "No, indeed. Has he done so?"
"Yes, the Supervisor got a letter yesterday enclosing his resignation, and asking to be relieved at once. And when I heard of it I asked the Supervisor to bring me down to see him; he's too good a man to lose."
"He seemed very bitter over the chief's dismissal; but I hope to persuade him to stay in the service; he's too valuable a man to lose just now when the war is so hot. I realize that his salary is too small; but there are other places for him. Perhaps when he knows that I have a special note to him from the chief he will reconsider. He's quite capable of the Supervisor's position, and Mr. Redfield is willing to resign in his favor. I'm telling you all this because Mr. Redfield has told me of your interest in Mr. Cavanagh--or rather his interest in you."
Sam Gregg, entering the door at this moment, came directly to the Forester's table. He was followed by the sheriff, a bearded old man with a soiled collar and a dim eye.
Gregg growled out, "You'd better keep your man Cavanagh in the hills, Mr. Forester, or somebody will take a pot-shot at him."
Every jaw was fixed and every eye turned upon the speaker.
Gregg resumed, enjoying the sensation he was creating. "Yes, that Basque herder of mine--the one up near Black Tooth--sent word he was sick, so I hunted up an old tramp by the name of Edwards to take his place. Edwards found the dago dying of pox, and skipped out over the range, leaving him to die alone. Cavanagh went up and found the dago dead, and took care of him--result is, he's full of germs, and has brought his apprentice down with it, and both of 'em must be quarantined right where they are."