Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch Part 21

"Well?"

"Surely you won't desert him!"

"About all we can do for the poor fellow is to bury him," muttered Jib.

"If there was no other reason than that he is a helpless fellow-being, we could not go away and leave him here unattended," declared the girl, gravely. "You know that well enough, Jib."

"Oh, we'll wait around. But he's got to die. He's so far gone that nothing can save him. And I oughtn't to go into the shack, either. That fever is contagious, and he's just full of it!"

"We must get help for him," cried Ruth, suddenly.

"What sort of help?" demanded the Indian.

"Why, the ranch is not so awfully far away, and I know that Mr. Hicks keeps a big stock of medicines. He will have something for this case."

"Then let's hustle back," said Jib, starting to climb into his saddle.

"But the coyote-and other savage beasts!" exclaimed Ruth.

"Gee! I forgot that," muttered Jib.

"One of us must stay here."

"Well-I can do that, I suppose. But how about you finding your way to the Rolling River outfit? I-don't-know."

"I'll stay here and watch," declared Ruth, firmly. "You ride for help-get medicine-tell Mr. Hicks to send for a doctor at Bullhide, too.

I have some money with me and I know my Uncle Jasper will pay whatever it costs to get a doctor to this man. Besides-there are other people interested."

"Why, Miss, I don't know about this," murmured Jib Pottoway. "It's risky to leave you here. Old Bill will be wild at me."

"I'm going to stay right here," declared Ruth, getting out of the saddle. "You can leave me your gun if you will--"

"Sure! I could do that. But I don't know what the boss'll say."

"It won't much matter what he says," said Ruth, with a faint smile. "I shall be here and he will be at Silver Ranch."

"Ugh!" muttered Jib. "But what'll he say to _me_?"

"I believe Mr. Hicks is too good-hearted to wish to know that we left this unfortunate young man here without care. It would be too cruel."

"You wait till I look about the camp," muttered Jib, without paying much attention to Ruth's last remark.

He left his pony and walked quickly up the overgrown trail that had once been the main street of Tintacker Camp. Ruth slipped out of the saddle and ran to the door of the sick man's hut. She laid her hand on the latch, hesitated a moment, and then pushed the door open. There was plenty of light in the room. The form on the bed, under a tattered old blanket, was revealed. Likewise the flushed, thin face lying against the rolled-up coat for a pillow.

"The poor fellow!" gasped Ruth. "And suppose it should be _her_ brother!

Suppose it _should_ be!"

Only for a few seconds did she stare in at the unfortunate fellow. His head began to roll from side to side on the hard pillow. He muttered some gibberish as an accompaniment to his fevered dreams. It was a young face Ruth saw, but so drawn and haggard that it made her tender heart ache.

"Water! water!" murmured the cracked lips of the fever patient.

"Oh! I can't stand this!" gasped the girl. She wheeled about and sent a long shout after Jib: "Jib! I say, Jib!"

"What's wantin'?" replied the Indian from around the bend in the trail.

"Bring some water! Get some fresh water somewhere."

"I get you!" returned the cowboy, and then, without waiting another instant, Ruth stepped into the infected cabin and approached the sufferer's couch.

The sick man's head moved incessantly; so did his lips. Sometimes what he said was audible; oftener it was just a hoa.r.s.e murmur. But when Ruth raised his head tenderly and took out the old coat to refold it for a pillow, he screamed aloud and seized the garment with both hands and with an awful strength! His look was maniacal. There were flecks of foam on his lips and his eyes rolled wildly. There was more than ordinary delirium in his appearance, and he fought for possession of the coat, shrieking in a cracked voice, the sound of which went straight to Ruth's heart.

The sound brought Jib on the run.

"What in all tarnation are you doing in that shack?" he shouted. "You come out o' there!"

"Oh, Jib," said she, as the man fell back speechless and seemingly lifeless on the bed. "We can't leave him alone like this."

"That whole place is infected. You come out!" the puncher commanded.

"There's no use scolding me now, Jib," she said, softly. "The harm is done, if it _is_ to be done. I'm in here, and I mean to stay with him till you get help and medicine."

"You-you--"

"Don't call me names, but get the water. Find a pail somewhere. Bring plenty of cool water. He is burning up with fever and thirst."

"Well, the hawse is stole, I reckon!" grunted the Indian. "But you'd ought to be shaken. What the boss says to me about this will be a-plenty."

"Get the water, Jib!" commanded Ruth Fielding. "See! he breathes so hard. I believe he is dying of thirst more than anything else."

Jib grabbed the canteen that swung at the back of his saddle, emptied the last of the stale water on the ground, and hurried away to where a thin stream tumbled down the hillside behind one of the old shaft openings. He brought the canteen back full-and it held two quarts.

"Just a little at first," said the girl, pouring some of the cool water into her own folding cup that she carried in her pocket. "He mustn't have too much. And you keep out of the house, Jib. No use in both of us running the risk of catching the fever. You'll have to ride for help, too. And you don't want to take the infection among the other boys."

"You _are_ a plucky one, Miss," admitted the cowboy. "But there's bound to be the piper to pay for this. They'll say it was my fault."

"I won't let 'em," declared Ruth. She raised the sick man's head again and put the cup to his lips. "I wish I had some clean cloths. Oh! let somebody ride over from the camp with food and any stimulants that there may be there. See if you can find some larger receptacle for water before you go."

"She's a cleaner!" muttered the Indian, shaking his head, and walking away to do her bidding.

CHAPTER XX-THE WOLF AT THE DOOR

Ruth had the old coat folded and under the sick man's head again when Jib returned with a rusty old bucket filled with water. He set it down just outside the open door of the cabin-and he did not come in.

"What d'ye s'pose he's got in the pocket of that coat that he's so choice of, Miss?" he asked, curiously.