Page:Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch.djvu/166

156 vised Jib, stepping softly out and closing the door of the shack.

"What is the matter, Jib?" cried Ruth. "He—he isn't dead?"

"Not yet," replied the Indian.

"What is it, then?"

"Mountain fever—or worse. It's catching—just as bad as typhoid. You mustn't go in there, Miss."

"But—but—he'll die!" cried the girl, all her sympathy aroused. "Nobody to help him"

"He's far gone. It's a desperate case, I tell you," growled Jib. "Ugh! I don't know what we'd better do. No wonder that kiote was trying to dig under the door. He knew—the hungry beast!"