[Frontispiece: LIFTING OFF HIS BROAD-BRIMMED HAT TO HER IN A GRACIOUS SWEEP]

 THE LIONS OF THE LORD

 A Tale of the Old West

 By HARRY LEON WILSON

 Author of "The Spenders"

 Illustrated by ROSE CECIL O'NEILL

 Published June, 1903

 TO MY WIFE

FOREWORD

In the days of '49 seven trails led from our Western frontier into theWonderland that lay far out under the setting sun and called to therestless. Each of the seven had been blazed mile by mile through themighty romance of an empire's founding. Some of them for long stretchesare now overgrown by the herbage of the plain; some have faded back intothe desert they lined; and more than one has been shod with steel. Butalong them all flit and brood the memory-ghosts of old, rich-coloureddays. To the shout of teamster, the yell of savage, the creaking oftented ox-cart, and the rattle of the swifter mail-coach, there go dimshapes of those who had thrilled to that call of the West;--strong, brave men with the far look in their eyes, with those magic rude toolsof the pioneer, the rifle and the axe; women, too, equally heroic, of astock, fearless, ready, and staunch, bearing their sons and daughters infortitude; raising them to fear God, to love their country, --and tolabour. From the edge of our Republic these valiant ones toiled into thedump of prairie and mountain to live the raw new days and weld them toour history; to win fertile acres from the wilderness and charm thedesert to blossoming. And the time of these days and these people, withtheir tragedies and their comedies, was a time of epic splendour;--morevital with the stuff and colour of life, I think, than any since thestubborn gray earth out there was made to yield its treasure. 

Of these seven historic highways the one richest in story is the oldSalt Lake Trail: this because at its western end was woven a romancewithin a romance;--a drama of human passions, of love and hate, of highfaith and low, of the beautiful and the ugly, of truth and lies; yetwith certain fine fidelities under it all; a drama so close-knit, soamazingly true, that one who had lightly designed to make a tale therewas dismayed by fact. So much more thrilling was it than any fiction hemight have imagined, so more than human had been the cunning of theMaster Dramatist, that the little make-believe he was pondering seemedclumsy and poor, and he turned from it to try to tell what had reallybeen. 

In this story, then, the things that are strangest have most of truth. The make-believe is hardly more than a cement to join the queerlywrought stones of fact that were found ready. For, if the writer has nowand again had to divine certain things that did not show, --yet must havebeen, --surely these are not less than truth. One of these deductions isthe Lute of the Holy Ghost who came in the end to be the Little Man ofSorrows: who loved a woman, a child, and his God, but sinned throughpride of soul;--whose life, indeed, was a poem of sin and retribution. Yet not less true was he than the Lion of the Lord, the Archer ofParadise, the Wild Ram of the Mountains, or the gaunt, gray woman whomhurt love had crazed. For even now, as the tale is done, comes a drylittle note in the daily press telling how such a one actually did theother day a certain brave, great thing it had seemed the imagined onemust be driven to do. Only he and I, perhaps, will be conscious of thestruggle back of that which was printed; but at least we two shall knowthat the Little Man of Sorrows is true, even though the cross where hefled to say his last prayer in the body has long since fallen and itsbars crumbled to desert dust. 

Yet there are others still living in a certain valley of the mountainswho will know why the soul-proud youth came to bend under invisibleburdens, and why he feared, as an angel of vengeance, that early cowboywith the yellow hair, who came singing down from the high divide intoAmalon where a girl was waiting in her dream of a single love; otherswho, to this day, will do not more than whisper with averted faces ofthe crime that brought a curse upon the land; who still live in terrorof shapes that shuffle furtively behind them, fumbling sometimes attheir shoulders with weak hands, striving ever to come in front and turnupon them. But these will know only one side of the Little Man ofSorrows who was first the Lute of the Holy Ghost in the Poet's roster oftitles: since they have lacked his courage to try the great issue withtheir God. 

New York City, May 1st, 1903. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. THE DEAD CITY

II. THE WILD RAM OF THE MOUNTAINS

III. THE LUTE OF THE HOLY GHOST BREAKS HIS FAST

IV. A FAIR APOSTATE

V. GILES RAE BEAUTIFIES HIS INHERITANCE

VI. THE LUTE OF THE HOLY GHOST IS FURTHER CHASTENED

VII. SOME INNER MYSTERIES ARE EXPOUNDED

VIII. A REVELATION FROM THE LORD AND A TOAST FROM BRIGHAM

IX. INTO THE WILDERNESS

X. THE PROMISED LAND

XI. ANOTHER MIRACLE AND A TEMPTATION IN THE WILDERNESS

XII. A FIGHT FOR LIFE

XIII. JOEL RAE IS TREATED FOR PRIDE OF SOUL

XIV. HOW THE SAINTS WERE BROUGHT TO REPENTANCE

XV. HOW THE SOULS OF APOSTATES WERE SAVED

XVI. THE ORDER FROM HEADQUARTERS

XVII. THE MEADOW SHAMBLES

XVIII. IN THE DARK OF THE AFTERMATH

XIX. THE HOST OF ISRAEL GOES FORTH TO BATTLE

XX. HOW THE LION OF THE LORD ROARED SOFT

XXI. THE BLOOD ON THE PAGE

XXII. THE PICTURE IN THE SKY

XXIII. THE SINNER CHASTENS HIMSELF

XXIV. THE COMING OF THE WOMAN-CHILD

XXV. THE ENTABLATURE OF TRUTH MAKES A DISCOVERY AT AMALON

XXVI. HOW THE RED CAME BACK TO THE BLOOD TO BE A SNARE

XXVII. A NEW CROSS TAKEN UP AND AN OLD ENEMY FORGIVEN

XXVIII. JUST BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD

XXIX. THE WILD RAM OF THE MOUNTAINS OFFERS TO BECOME A SAVIOUR ON MOUNT ZION

XXX. HOW THE WORLD DID NOT COME TO AN END

XXXI. THE LION OF THE LORD SENDS AN ORDER

XXXII. A NEW FACE IN THE DREAM

XXXIII. THE GENTILE INVASION

XXXIV. HOW THE AVENGER BUNGLED HIS VENGEANCE

XXXV. RUEL FOLLETT'S WAY OF BUSINESS

XXXVI. THE MISSION TO A DESERVING GENTILE

XXXVII. THE GENTILE ISSUES AN ULTIMATUM

XXXVIII. THE MISSION SERVICE IN BOX CAŅON IS SUSPENDED

XXXIX. A REVELATION CONCERNING THE TRUE ORDER OF MARRIAGE

XL. A PROCESSION, A PURSUIT, AND A CAPTURE

XLI. THE RISE AND FALL OF A BENT LITTLE PROPHET

XLII. THE LITTLE BENT MAN AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS

XLIII. THE GENTILE CARRIES OFF HIS SPOIL

ILLUSTRATIONS

Lifting off his broad-brimmed hat to her in a gracious sweep

"Her goal is Zion, not Babylon, sir--remember _that_!"

"_I'm_ the one will have to be caught"

"But you're not my really papa!"

Full of zest for the measure as any youth

"Oh, Man ... How I've longed for that bullet of yours!"

THE LIONS OF THE LORD

CHAPTER I. 

_The Dead City_

The city without life lay handsomely along a river in the early sunlightof a September morning. Death had seemingly not been long upon it, norhad it made any scar. No breach or rent or disorder or sign of violencecould be seen. The long, shaded streets breathed the still airs of utterpeace and quiet. From the half-circle around which the broad river bentits moody current, the neat houses, set in cool, green gardens, wereterraced up the high hill, and from the summit of this a stately marbletemple, glittering of newness, towered far above them in placidbenediction. 

Mile after mile the streets lay silent, along the river-front, up to thehilltop, and beyond into the level; no sound nor motion nor sign of lifethroughout their length. And when they had run their length, and theoutlying fields were reached, there, too, was the same brooding spell asthe land stretched away in the hush and haze. The yellow grain, heavy-headed with richness, lay beaten down and rotting, for there wereno reapers. The city, it seemed, had died calmly, painlessly, drowsily, as if overcome by sleep. 

From a skiff in mid-river, a young man rowing toward the dead cityrested on his oars and looked over his shoulder to the temple on thehilltop. There was something very boyish in the reverent eagerness withwhich his dark eyes rested upon the pile, tracing the splendid linesfrom its broad, gray base to its lofty spire, radiant with white andgold. As he looked long and intently, the colour of new life flushedinto a face that was pinched and drawn. With fresh resolution, he bentagain to his oars, noting with a quick eye that the current had carriedhim far down-stream while he stopped to look upon the holy edifice. 

Landing presently at the wharf, he was stunned by the hush of thestreets. This was not like the city of twenty thousand people he hadleft three months before. In blank bewilderment he stood, turning toeach quarter for some solution of the mystery. Perceiving at length thatthere was really no life either way along the river, he startedwonderingly up a street that led from the waterside, --a street which, when he had last walked it, was quickening with the rush of a mightycommerce. 

Soon his expression of wonder was darkened by a shade of anxiety. Therewas an unnerving quality in the trance-like stillness; and the mysteryof it pricked him to forebodings. He was now passing empty workshops, hesitating at door after door with ever-mounting alarm. Then he began tocall, but the sound of his voice served only to aggravate the silence. 

Growing bolder, he tried some of the doors and found them to yield, letting him into a kind of smothered, troubled quietness even moreoppressive than that outside. He passed an empty ropewalk, the hempstrewn untidily about, as if the workers had left hurriedly. He peeredcuriously at idle looms and deserted spinning-wheels--desertedapparently but the instant before he came. It seemed as if the peoplewere fled maliciously just in front, to leave him in this fearfullest ofall solitudes. He wondered if he did not hear their quick, furtivesteps, and see the vanishing shadows of them. 

He entered a carpenter's shop. On the bench was an unfinished door, aplane left where it had been shoved half the length of its edge, thefresh pine shaving still curling over the side. He left with an uncannyfeeling that the carpenter, breathing softly, had watched him from somehiding-place, and would now come stealthily out to push his plane again. 

He turned into a baker's shop and saw freshly chopped kindling piledagainst the oven, and dough actually on the kneading-tray. In a tanner'svat he found fresh bark. In a blacksmith's shop he entered next thefire was out, but there was coal heaped beside the forge, with theladling-pool and the crooked water-horn, and on the anvil was ahorseshoe that had cooled before it was finished. 

With something akin to terror, he now turned from this street of shopsinto one of those with the pleasant dwellings, eager to find somethingalive, even a dog to bark an alarm. He entered one of the gardens, clicking the gate-latch loudly after him, but no one challenged. He drewa drink from the well with its loud-rattling chain and clumsy, water-sodden bucket, but no one called. At the door of the house hewhistled, stamped, pounded, and at last flung it open with all the noisehe could make. Still his hungry ears fed on nothing but sinister echoes, the barren husks of his own clamour. There was no curt voice of a man, no quick, questioning tread of a woman. There were dead white ashes onthe hearth, and the silence was grimly kept by the dumb household gods. 

His nervousness increased. So vividly did his memory people the streetsand shops and houses that the air was vibrant with sound, --low-tonedconversations, shouts, calls, laughter, the voices of children, thecreaking of wagons, pounding hammers, the clangour of many works; yetall muffled away from him, as if coming from some phantom-land. Hiseyes, too, were kept darting from side to side by vague forms thatflitted privily near by, around corners, behind him, lurking always alittle beyond his eyes, turn them quickly as he would. Now, facing thestreet, he shouted, again and again, from sheer nervousness; but theechoes came back alone. 

He recalled a favourite day-dream of boyhood, --a dream in which hebecame the sole person in the world, wandering with royal libertythrough strange cities, with no voice to chide or forbid, free to chooseand partake, as would a prince, of all the wonders and delights thatboyhood can picture; his own master and the master of all the marvelsand treasures of earth. This was like the dream come true; but itdistressed him. It was necessary to find the people at once. He had afeeling that his instant duty was to break some malign spell that layupon the place--or upon himself. For one of them was surely bewitched. 

Out he strode to the middle of the street, between two rows of yellowingmaples, and there he shouted again and still more loudly to evoke someshape or sound of life, sending a full, high, ringing call up the emptythoroughfare. Between the shouts he scanned the near-by houses intently. 

At last, half-way up the next block, even as his lungs filled foranother peal, he thought his eyes caught for a short half-second themere thin shadow of a skulking figure. It had seemed to pass through agrape arbour that all but shielded from the street a house slightly morepretentious than its neighbours. He ran toward the spot, calling as hewent. But when he had vaulted over the low fence, run across the gardenand around the end of the arbour, dense with the green leaves andclusters of purple grapes, the space in front of the house was bare. Ifmore than a trick-phantom of his eye had been there, it had vanished. 

He stood gazing blankly at the front door of the house. Was it fancythat he had heard it shut a second before he came? that his nerves stillresponded to the shock of its closing? He had already imagined so manynoises of the kind, so many misty shapes fleeing before him with littlesoft rustlings, so many whispers at his back and hushed cries behind theclosed doors. Yet this door had seemed to shut more tangibly, with awarmer promise of life. He went quickly up the three wooden steps, turned the knob, and pushed it open--very softly this time. No oneappeared. But, as he stood on the threshold, while the pupils of hiseyes dilated to the gloom of the hall into which he looked, his earsseemed to detect somewhere in the house a muffled footfall and the soundof another door closed softly. 

He stepped inside and called. There was no answer, but above his head aboard creaked. He started up the stairs in front of him, and, as he didso, he seemed to hear cautious steps across a bare floor above. Hestopped climbing; the steps ceased. He started up, and the steps cameagain. He knew now they came from a room at the head of the stairs. Hebounded up the remaining steps and pushed open the door with a loud"Halloo!"

The room was empty. Yet across it there was the indefinable trail of apresence, --an odour, a vibration, he knew not what, --and where a bar ofsunlight cut the gloom under a half-raised curtain, he saw the motes inthe air all astir. Opposite the door he had opened was another, leading, apparently, to a room at the back of the house. From behind it, he couldhave sworn came the sounds of a stealthily moved body and softenedbreathing. A presence, unseen but felt, was all about. Not withouteffort did he conquer the impulse to look behind him at every breath. 

Determined to be no longer eluded, he crossed the room on tiptoe andgently tried the opposite door. It was locked. As he leaned against it, almost in a terror of suspense, he knew he heard again those littleseemings of a presence a door's thickness away. He did not hesitate. Still holding the turned knob in his hand, he quickly crouched back andbrought his flexed shoulder heavily against the door. It flew open witha breaking sound, and, with a little gasp of triumph, he was in the roomto confront its unknown occupant. 

To his dismay, he saw no one. He peered in bewilderment to the fartherside of the room, where light struggled dimly in at the sides of acurtained window. There was no sound, and yet he could acutely feel thatpresence; insistently his nerves tingled the warning of another'snearness. Leaning forward, still peering to sound the dim corners of theroom, he called out again. 

Then, from behind the door he had opened, a staggering blow was dealthim, and, before he could recover, or had done more than blindly crookone arm protectingly before his face, he was borne heavily to the floor, writhing in a grasp that centered all its crushing power about histhroat. 

CHAPTER II. 

_The Wild Ram of the Mountains_

Slight though his figure was, it was lithe and active and well-muscled, and he knew as they struggled that his assailant was possessed of nogreater advantage than had lain in his point of attack. In strength, apparently, they were well-matched. Twice they rolled over on thecarpeted floor, and then, despite the big, bony hands pressing about histhroat, he turned his burden under him, and all but loosened the killingclutch. This brought them close to the window, but again he was swiftlydrawn underneath. Then, as he felt his head must burst and his senseswere failing from the deadly grip at his throat, his feet caught in thefolds of the heavy curtain, and brought it down upon them in a cloud ofdust. 

As the light flooded in, he saw the truth, even before his now pantingand sneezing antagonist did. Releasing the pressure from his throat witha sudden access of strength born of the new knowledge, he managed togasp, though thickly and with pain, as they still strove:

"Seth Wright--wait--let go--wait, Seth--I'm Joel--Joel Rae!"

He managed it with difficulty. 

"Joel Rae--Rae--Rae--don't you see?"

He felt the other's tension relax. With many a panting, puffing "Hey!"and "What's that now?" he was loosed, and drew himself up into a chairby the saving window. His assailant, a hale, genial-faced man of forty, sat on the floor where the revelation of his victim's identity hadovertaken him. He was breathing hard and feeling tenderly of his neck. This was ruffled ornamentally by a style of whisker much in vogue at thetime. It had proved, however, but an inferior defense against theonslaught of the younger man in his frantic efforts to save his ownneck. 

They looked at each other in panting amazement, until the older manrecovered his breath, and spoke:

"Gosh and all beeswax! The Wild Ram of the Mountains a-settin' on theLute of the Holy Ghost's stomach a-chokin' him to death. My sakes! I'ma-pantin' like a tuckered hound--a-thinkin' he was a cussed milishymobocrat come to spoil his household!"

The younger man was now able to speak, albeit his breathing was stillheavy and the marks of the struggle plain upon him. 

"What does it mean, Brother Wright--all this? Where are the Saints weleft here--why is the city deserted--and why this--this?"

He shook back the thick, brown hair that fell to his shoulders, tenderly rubbed the livid fingerprints at his throat, and readjusted thecollar of his blue flannel shirt. 

"Thought you was a milishy man, I tell you, from the careless way youhollered--one of Brockman's devils come back a-snoopin', and I didn'tcrave trouble, but when I saw the Lord appeared to reely want me to copewith the powers of darkness, why, I jest gritted into you for theconsolation of Israel. You'd 'a' got your come-uppance, too, if you'd'a' been a mobber. You was nigh a-ceasin' to breathe, Joel Rae. Inanother minute I wouldn't 'a' give the ashes of a rye-straw for yourpart in the tree of life!"

"Yes, yes, man, but go back a little. Where are our people, the sick, the old, and the poor, that we had to leave till now? Tell me, quick. "

The older man sprang up, the late struggle driven from his mind, hisface scowling. He turned upon his questioner. 

"Does my fury swell up in me? No wonder! And you hain't guessed why?Well, them pitiful remnant of Saints, the sick, the old, the poor, waitin' to be helped yender to winter quarters, has been throwed outinto that there slough acrost the river, six hundred and forty of 'em. "

"When we were keeping faith by going?"

"What does a mobocrat care for faith-keepin'? Have you brought back thewagons?"

"Yes; they'll reach the other side to-night. I came ahead and made thelower crossing. I've seen nothing and heard nothing. Go on--tellme--talk, man!"

"Talk?--yes, I'll talk! We've had mobs and the very scum of hell to boilover here. This is Saturday, the 19th, ain't it? Well, Brockman marchedagainst this stronghold of Israel jest a week ago, with eight hundredmen. They had cannons and demanded surrender. We was a scant two hundredfightin' men, and the only artillery we had was what we made ourselves. We broke up an old steamboat shaft and bored out the pieces so's they'dtake a six-pound shot--but we wasn't goin' to give up. We'd learned ourlesson about mobocrat milishies. Well, Brockman, when he got our defy, sent out his Warsaw riflemen as flankers on the right and left, put theLima Guards to our front with one cannon, and marched his main bodythrough that corn-field and orchard to the south of here to the citylines. Then we had it hot. Brockman shot away all his cannon-balls--hehad sixty-one--and drew back while he sent to Quincy for more. He'dkilled three of our men. Sunday and Monday we swopped a few shots. Andthen Tuesday, along comes a committee of a hundred to negotiate peace. Well, Wednesday evening they signed terms, spite of all I could do. _I'd_ 'a' fought till the white crows come a-cawin', but the rest of 'emwasn't so het up with the Holy Ghost, I reckon. Anyway, they signed. Theterms wasn't reely set till Thursday morning, but we knew they would be, and so all Wednesday night we was movin' acrost the river, and it keptup all next day, --day before yesterday. You'd ought to 'a' been herethen; you wouldn't wonder at my comin' down on you like a thousand ofbrick jest now, takin' you for a mobocrat. You'd 'a' seen families druvright out of their homes, with no horses, tents, money, nor a day'sprovisions, --jest a little foolish household stuff they could carry intheir hands, --sick men and women carried on beds, mothers luggin' babiesand leadin' children. My sakes! but I did want to run some bullets andfill my old horn with powder for the consolation of Israel! They'relyin' out over there in the slough now, as many as ain't gone to glory. It made me jest plumb murderous!"

The younger man uttered a sharp cry of anguish. "What, oh, what has beenour sin, that we must be proved again? Why have we got to be chastened?"

"Then Brockman's force marched in Thursday afternoon, and hell was letloose. His devils have plundered the town, thrown out the bedridden thatjest couldn't move, thrown their goods out after 'em, burned, murdered, tore up. You come up from the river, and you ain't seen that yet--theyain't touched the lower part of town--and now they're bunkin' in thetemple, defacin' it, defilin' it, --that place we built to be a house ofrest for the Lord when he cometh again. They drove me acrost the riveryesterday, and promised to shoot me if I dast show myself again. Isneaked over in a skiff last night and got here to get my two pistolsand some money and trinkets we'd hid out. I was goin' to cross againto-night and wait for you and the wagons. "

"My God! and this is the nineteenth century in a land of liberty!"

"State of Illinois, U. S. A. , September 19, 1846--but what of that? We'rethe Lord's chosen, and over yender is a generation of vipers warned toflee from the wrath to come. But they won't flee, and so we're outcastsfor the present, driven forth like snakes. The best American blood is inour veins. We're Plymouth Rock stock, the best New England graft; thefathers of nine tenths of us was at Bunker Hill or Valley Forge orYorktown, but what of that, I ask you?"

The speaker became oratorical as his rage grew. 

"What did Matty Van Buren say to Sidney Rigdon and Elias Higbee whenthey laid our cause before him at Washington after our Missouripersecutions--when the wicked hatred of them Missourians had as a besomof fire swept before it into exile the whipped and plundered Saints ofJackson County? Well, he said: 'Gentlemen, your cause is just, but I cando nothing for you. ' That's what a President of the United States saidto descendants of _Mayflower_ crossers who'd been foully dealt with, andbeen druv from their substance and their homes, their wheat burned inthe stack and in the shock, and themselves butchered or put into thewilderness. And now the Lord's word to this people is to gether outagain. "

The younger man had listened in deep dejection. 

"Yes, it's to be the old story. I saw it coming. The Lord is proving usagain. But surely this will be the last. He will not again put usthrough fire and blood. "

He paused, and for a moment his quick brown eyes looked far away. 

"And yet, do you know, Bishop, I've thought that he might mean us tosave ourselves against this Gentile persecution. Sometimes I find ithard to control myself. "

The Bishop grinned appreciatively. 

"So I heer'd. The Lute of the Holy Ghost got too rambunctious back inthe States on the subject of our wrongs. And so they called you backfrom your mission?"

"They said I must learn to school myself; that I might hurt the cause bymy ill-tempered zeal--and yet I brought in many--"

"I don't blame you. I got in trouble the first and only mission I wenton, and the first time I preached, at that. When I said, 'Joseph wasordained by Peter, James, and John, ' a drunken wag in the audience gotup and called me a damned liar. I started for him. I never reached him, but I reached the end of my mission right there. The Twelve decided Iwas usefuller here at home. They said I hadn't got enough of the Lord'shumility for outside work. That was why they put me at the head of--thatlittle organisation I wanted you to join last spring. And it's done goodwork, too. You'll join now fast enough, I guess. You begin to see theneed of such doin's. I can give you the oath any time. "

"No, Bishop, I didn't mean that kind of resistance. It sounded toopractical for me; I'm still satisfied to be the Lute of the Holy Ghost. "

"You can be a Son of Dan, too. "

"Not yet, not yet. We must still be a little meek in the face ofHeaven. "

"You're in a mighty poor place to practise meekness. What'd you crossthe river for, anyway?"

"Why, for father and mother, of course. They must be safe at GreenPlains. Can I get out there without trouble?"

The Bishop sneered. 

"Be meek, will you? Well, mosey out to Green Plains and begin there. It's a _burned_ plains you'll find, and Lima and Morley all the same, and Bear Creek. The mobbers started out from Warsaw, and burned all intheir way, Morley first, then Green Plains, Bear Creek, and Lima. They'dset fire to the houses and drive the folks in ahead. They killed EdDurfee at Morley for talkin' back to 'em. "

"But father and mother, surely--"

"Your pa and ma was druv in here with the rest, like cattle to theslaughter. "

"You don't mean to say they're over there on the river bank?"

"Now, they are a kind of a mystery about that--why they wa'n't throwedout with the rest. Your ma's sick abed--she ain't ever been peart sincethe night your pa's house was fired and they had to walk in--but thatain't the reason they wa'n't throwed out. They put out others sicker. They flung families where every one was sick out into that slough. Iguess what's left of 'em wouldn't be a supper-spell for a bunch oflong-billed mosquitoes. But one of them milishy captains was certainlypartial to your folks for some reason. They was let to stay in PhinDaggin's house till you come. "

"And Prudence--the Corsons--Miss Prudence Corson?"

"Oh, ho! So she's the one, is she? Now that reminds me, mebbe I canguess the cute of that captain's partiality. That girl's been kind oflookin' after your pa and ma, and that same milishy captain's been kindof lookin' after the girl. She got him to let her folks go toSpringfield. "

"But that's the wrong way. "

"Well, now, I don't want to spleen, but I never did believe Vince Corsonwas anything more'n a hickory Saint--and there's been a lot of talk--butyou get yours from the girl. If I ain't been misled, she's got someready for you. "

"Bishop, will there be a way for us to get into the temple, for her tobe sealed to me? I've looked forward to that, you know. It would be hardto miss it. "

"The mob's got the temple, even if you got the girl. There's a versewrit in charcoal on the portal:--

 "'Large house, tall steeple, Silly priests, deluded people. '

"That's how it is for the temple, and the mob's bunked there. But thegirl may have changed her mind, too. "

The young man's expression became wistful and gentle, yet serenely sure. 

"I guess you never knew Prudence at all well, " he said. "But come, can'twe go to them? Isn't Phin Daggin's house near?"

"You may git there all right. But I don't want _my_ part taken out ofthe tree of life jest yet. I ain't aimin' to show myself none. Hark!"

From outside came the measured, swinging tramp of men. 

"Come see how the Lord is proving us--and step light. "

They tiptoed through the other rooms to the front of the house. 

"There's a peek-hole I made this morning--take it. I'll make me onehere. Don't move the curtain. "

They put their eyes to the holes and were still. The quick, rhythmic, scuffling tread of feet drew nearer, and a company of armed men marchedby with bayonets fixed. The captain, a handsome, soldierly young fellow, glanced keenly from right to left at the houses along the line of march. 

"We're all right, " said the Bishop, in low tones. "The cusses have beenhere once--unless they happened to see us. They're startin' in now downon the flat to make sure no poor sick critter is left in bed in any ofthem houses. Now's your chance if you want to git up to Daggin's. Go outthe back way, follow up the alleys, and go in at the back when you gitthere. But remember, 'Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in thepath that biteth the horse heels, so that his rider shall fallbackward!' In Clay County we had to eat up the last mule from the tipsof his ears to the end of the fly-whipper. Now we got to pass throughthe pinches again. We can't stand it for ever. "

"The spirit may move us against it, Brother Seth. "

"I wish to hell it would!" replied the Bishop. 

CHAPTER III. 

_The Lute of the Holy Ghost Breaks His Fast_

In his cautious approach to the Daggin house, he came upon herunawares--a slight, slender, shapely thing of pink and golden flame, asshe poised where the sun came full upon her. One hand clutched herflowing blue skirts snugly about her ankles; the other opened coaxinglyto a kitten crouched to spring on the limb of an apple-tree above her. The head was thrown back, the vivid lips were parted, and he heard herlaugh low to herself. Near by was a towering rose-bush, from which shehad broken the last red rose, large, full, and lush, its petals alreadyloosened. Now she wrenched away a handful of these, and flung themupward at the watchful kitten. The scarlet flecks drifted back aroundher and upon her. Like little red butterflies hovering in goldensunlight, they lodged in her many-braided yellow hair, or fluttered downthe long curls that hung in front of her ears. She laughed again underthe caressing shower. Then she tore away the remaining petals and tossedthem up with an elf-like daintiness, not at the crouched and expectantkitten this time, but so that the whole red rain floated tenderly downupon her upturned face and into the folds of the white kerchief crossedupon her breast. She waited for the last feathery petal. Her hiddenlover saw it lodge in the little hollow at the base of her bare, curvedthroat. He could hold no longer. 

Stepping from the covert that had shielded him, he called softly to her. 

"Prudence--Prue!"

She had reached again for the kitten, but at the sound of his low, vigorous note, she turned quickly toward him, colouring with a glow thatspread from the corner of the crossed kerchief up to the yellow hairabove her brow. She answered with quick breaths. 

"Joel--Joel--Joel!"

She laughed aloud, clapping her small hands, and he ran to her--overbeds of marigolds, heartsease, and lady's-slippers, through a row ofdrowsy-looking, heavy-headed dahlias, and past other withering flowers, all but choked out by the rank garden growths of late summer. Then hisarms opened and seemed to swallow the leaping little figure, though hiskisses fell with hardly more weight upon the yielded face than had therose-petals a moment since, so tenderly mindful was his ardour. Shesubmitted, a little as the pampered kitten had before submitted to herown pettings. 

"You dear old sobersides, you--how gaunt and careworn you look, and howhungry, and what wild eyes you have to frighten one with! At first Ithought you were a crazy man. "

He held her face up to his eager eyes, having no words to say, overcomeby the joy that surged through him like a mighty rush of waters. In themoment's glorious certainty he rested until she stirred nervously underhis devouring look, and spoke. 

"Come, kiss me now and let me go. "

He kissed her eyes so that she shut them; then he kissed herlips--long--letting her go at last, grudgingly, fearfully, unsatisfied. 

"You scare me when you look that way. You mustn't be so fierce. "

"I told him he didn't know you. "

"Who didn't know me, sir?"

"A man who said I wasn't sure of you. "

"So you _are_ sure of me, are you, Mr. Preacherman? Is it because we'vebeen sweethearts since so long? But remember you've been much away. I'veseen you--let me count--but one little time of two weeks in three years. You _would_ go on that horrid mission. "

"Is not religion made up of obedience, let life or death come?"

"Is there no room for loving one's sweetheart in it?"

"One must obey, and I am a better man for having denied myself and gone. I can love you better. I have been taught to think of others. I was sentto open up the gospel in the Eastern States because I had been endowedwith almost the open vision. It was my call to help in the setting up ofthe Messiah's latter-day kingdom. Besides, we may never question thecommands of the holy priesthood, even if our wicked hearts rebel insecret. "

"If you had questioned the right person sharply enough, you might havehad an answer as to why you were sent. "

"What do you mean? How could I have questioned? How could I haverebelled against the stepping-stone of my exaltation?"

His face relaxed a little, and he concluded almost quizzically:

"Was not Satan hurled from high heaven for resisting authority?"

She pouted, caught him by the lapels of his coat and prettily tried toshake him. 

"There--horrid!--you're preaching again. Please remember you're not onmission now. Indeed, sir, you were called back for being too--too--why, do you know, even old Elder Munsel, 'Fire-brand Munsel, ' they call him, said you were too fanatical. "

His face grew serious. 

"I'm glad to be called back to you, at any rate, --and yet, think of allthose poor benighted infidels who believe there are no longerrevelations nor prophecies nor gifts nor healings nor speaking withtongues, --this miserable generation so blind in these last days when thetime of God's wrath is at hand. Oh, I burn in my heart for them, nightafter night, suffering for the tortures that must come uponthem--thrice direful because they have rejected the message of Moroniand trampled upon the priesthood of high heaven, butchering the Saintsof the Most High, and hunting the prophets of God like Ahab of old. "

"Oh, dear, please stop it! You sound like swearing!" Her two hands wereclosing her ears in a pretty pretense. 

He seemed hardly to hear her, but went on excitedly:

"Yet I have done what man could do. I am never done doing. I wouldgladly give my body to be burned a thousand times if it would avail tosave them into the Kingdom. I have preached the word tirelessly--fanatically, they say--but only as it burned in my bones. I have toldthem of visions, dreams, revelations, miracles, and all the mercies ofthis last dispensation. And I have prayed and fasted. Just now comingfrom winter quarters, when I could not preach, I held twelve fasts andtwelve vigils. You will say it has weakened me, but it has weakened onlythe bonds that the flesh puts upon the spirit. Even so, I fell short ofmy vision--my tabernacle of flesh must have been too much profaned, though how I cannot dream--believe me, I have kept myself as high andclean as I knew. Yet there was promise. For only last night at the riverbank, the spirit came partially upon me. I was taken with a faintness, and I heard above my head a sound like the rustling of silken robes, and the spirit of God hovered over me, so that I could feel itsradiance. All in good time, then, it shall dwell within me, so that Imay know a way to save the worthy. "

He grasped her wrist and bent eagerly forward, with the same wild lookin his eyes that had before disquieted her. 

"Mark what I say now--I shall do great works for this generation; I amstrangely favoured of God; I have felt the spirit quicken wondrouslywithin me, and I know the Lord works not in vain; what great wonder ofgrace I shall do, what miracle of salvation, I know not, but remember, it shall be transcendent; tell it to no one, but I know in my innersecret heart it shall be a greater work than man hath yet done. "

He stopped and drew himself up, shaking his head, as if to shrug off thespell of his own feeling. 

"Now, now! stop it at once, and come to the house. I've been tendingyour father and mother, and I'm going to tend you. What you needdirectly is food. Your look may be holy, but I prefer full cheeks. Notanother word until you have eaten every crumb I put before you. "

With an air of captor, daintily fierce, she led him toward the house andup to the door, which she pushed open before him. 

"Come softly, your mother may be still asleep--no, your father istalking--listen!"

A querulous voice, rough with strong feeling, came from the inner room. 

"Here, I tell you, is the prophecy of Joseph to prove it, away back in1832: 'Verily thus saith the Lord concerning the wars that will shortlycome to pass, beginning at the rebellion of South Carolina, which willterminate in the death and misery of many souls. The days will come thatwar will be poured out upon all nations, beginning at that place; forbehold, the Southern States shall be divided against the NorthernStates, and the Southern States will call on other nations, even thenation of Great Britain, as it is called. ' Now will you doubt again, mother? For persecuting the Saints of the most high God, this republicshall be dashed to pieces like a potter's vessel. But we shall be safe. The Lord will gather Israel home to the chambers of the mountainsagainst the day of wrath that is coming on the Gentile world. For allflesh hath corrupted itself on the face of the earth, but the Saintsshall possess a purified land, upon which there shall be no curse whenthe Lord cometh. Then shall the heavens open--"

He broke off, for the girl came leading in the son, who, as soon as hesaw the white-haired old man with his open book, sitting beside thewasted woman on the bed, flew to them with a glad cry. 

They embraced him and smoothed and patted him, tremulously, feebly, withbroken thanks for his safe return. The mother at last fell back upon herpillow, her eyes shining with the joy of a great relief, while thefather was seized with a fit of coughing that cruelly racked his gauntframe and left him weak but smiling. 

The girl had been placing food upon the table. 

"Come, Joel, " she urged, "you must eat--we have all breakfasted, so youmust sit alone, but we shall watch you. "

She pushed him into the chair and filled his plate, in spite of hisprotests. 

"Not another word until you have eaten it all. "

"The very sight of it is enough. I am not hungry. "

But she coaxed and commanded, with her hands upon his shoulders, and helet himself be persuaded to taste the bread and meat. After a fewmouthfuls, taken with obvious disrelish, she detected the awakeningfervour of a famished man, and knew she would have to urge no more. 

As the son ate, the girl busied herself at the mother's pillow, whilethe father talked and ruminated by intervals, --a text, a word of cheerto the wasted mother, incidents of old days, memories of early revivals. In 1828, he had hailed Dylkes, the "Leatherwood God, " as the realMessiah. Then he had been successively a Freewill Baptist, aWinebrennerian, a Universalist, a Disciple, and finally an eloquent andmoving preacher in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Nowhe was a wild-eyed old dreamer with a high, narrow forehead depressed atthe temples, enfeebled, living much in the past. Once his voice would below, as if he spoke only to himself; again it would rise in warning toan evil generation. 

"The end of the world is at hand, laddie, " he began, after lookingfondly at his son for a time. "Joseph said there are those now livingwho shall not taste of death till Jesus comes. And then, oh, then--thegreat white day! There is strong delusion among the wicked in the day inwhich we live, but the seed of Abraham, the royal seed, the blessed seedof the Lord, shall be told off to its separate glory. The Lord willspread the curtains of Zion and gather it out to the fat valleys ofEphraim, and there, with resurrected bodies it shall possess thepurified earth. I shall be away for a time before then, laddie--and thedear mother here. Our crowns have been earned and will not long bewithheld. But you will be there for the glory of it, and who moredeserves it?"

"I pray to be made worthy of the exaltation, Father. "

"You are, laddie. The word and the light came to me when I preachedanother faith--for the spirit of Thomas Campbell had aforetime movedme--but you, laddie, you have been bred in the word and the truth. TheLord, as a mark of his favour, has kept you from the contamination ofdoubters, infidels, heretics, and apostates. You have been educatedunder the care of the priesthood, close here in Nauvoo the Beautiful, and who could more deserve the fulness of thrones, dominions, and ofpower--who of all those whose number the after-time shall unfold?"

He turned appealingly to the mother, whose fevered eyes rested fondlyupon her boy as she nodded confirmation of the words. 

"Did he not march all the way from Kirtland to Missouri with us in'34--the youngest soldier in the whole army of Zion? How old, laddie?--twelve, was it?--so he marched a hundred miles for every one ofhis little years--and so valiant--none more so--begging us to hasten andgive battle so he could fight upon the Lord's side. Twelve hundred mileshe walked to put back in their homes the persecuted Saints of JacksonCounty. But, ah! There he saw liberty strangled in her sanctuary. Do youmind, laddie, how in '38 we were driven by the mob from Jackson acrossthe river into Clay County? how they ran off our cattle, stole ourgrain? how your poor old mother's mother died from exposure that nightin the rain and sleet? how we lived on mast and corn, the winter, intents and a few dugouts and rickety huts--we who had the keys of St. Peter and the gifts of the apostolic age? Do you mind the sackings andburnings at Adam-Ondi-Ahman? Do you mind the wife of Joseph's brother, Don Carlos, she that was made by the soldiers to wade Grand River withtwo helpless babes in her arms? They would not even let her warmherself, before she started, at the flames of her own hut they hadfired. And, laddie, you mind Haun's mill. Ah, the bloody day!--you werethere, and one other, the sister, happy, beautiful as her in the Song ofSongs, when the brutes came--"

"Don't, father--stop there--you are making my throat shut against thefood. "

"Then you came to Far West in time to see Joseph and his brethren soldto the mobocrats by that devil's traitor, Hinkle, --you saw the fleeingSaints forced to leave their all, hunted out of Missouri intoIllinois--their houses burned, the cattle stolen, their wives anddaughters--"

"Don't, father! Be quiet again. You and mother must be fit for ourjourney, as fit as we younger folk. "

He glanced fondly across the table, where the girl had leaned her chinin her hands to watch him, speculatively. She avoided his eyes. 

"Yes, yes, " assented the old man, "and you know of our persecutionshere--how we had to finish the temple with our arms by our sides, evenas the faithful finished the walls of Jerusalem--and how we were drivenout by night--"

"Quiet, father!"

"Yes, yes. Ah, this gathering out! How far shall we go, laddie?"

"Four hundred miles to winter quarters. From there no one yet knows, --athousand, maybe two thousand. "

"Aye, to the Rockies or beyond, even to the Pacific. Joseph prophesiedit--where we shall be left in peace until the great day. "

The young man glanced quickly up. 

"Or have time to grow mighty, if we should not be let alone. Surely thisis the last time the Lord would have us meek under the mob. "

"Ho, ho! As you were twelve years ago, trudging by my side, valiant tofight if the Lord but wills it! But have no fear, boy. This time we gofar beyond all that may tempt the spoiler. We go into the desert, whereno humans are but the wretched red Lamanites; no beasts but the wildones of four feet to hunger for our flesh; no verdure, no nourishment tosustain us save the manna from on high, --a region of unknown perils andunnamed deserts. Truly we make the supreme test. I do not overcolour it. Prudence, hand me yonder scrap-book, there on the secretary. Here Ishall read you the words of no less a one than Senator Daniel Webster onthe floor of the Senate but a few months agone. He spoke on the proposalto fix a mail-route from Missouri to the mouth of the Columbia River inthat far-off land. Hear this great man who knows whereof he speaks. Heis very bitter. 'What do we want with this vast, worthless area--thisregion of savages and wild beasts, of deserts, of shifting sands andwhirlwinds of dust, of cactus and prairie-dogs? To what use could weever hope to put these great deserts or those endless mountain ranges, impenetrable and covered to their very base with eternal snows? What canwe ever hope to do with that Western coast, a coast of three thousandmiles, rock-bound, cheerless, uninviting, and not a harbour on it. Mr. President, I will never vote one cent from the public treasury to placethe Pacific Coast one inch nearer to Boston than it now is!'"

The girl had been making little impatient flights about the room, as ifawaiting an opportunity to interrupt the old man's harangue, but even asshe paused to speak, he began again:

"There, laddie, do you hear him?--arid deserts, shifting sand, snow andice, wild beasts and wilder men--that is where Israel of the last daysshall be hidden to wait for the second coming of God's Christ. There, having received our washings and anointings in the temple of God onearth, we shall wait unmolested, and spread the curtains of Zion in duecircumspection. And what a migration to be recorded in another sacredhistory ages hence! Surely the blood of our martyred Prophet hath notsmoked to heaven in vain. Where is there a parallel to this hegira? Theyfrom Egypt went from a heathen land, a land of idolatry, to a fertilehome chosen for them by the Lord. But we go from a fair, smiling land ofplenty and pretended Christianity into the burning desert. They havedriven us to the edge; now they drive us in. But God works his way amongthe peoples of earth, and we are strong. Who knows but that we shall inour march throw up a highway of holiness to the rising generation? Solet us round up our backs to the burden!"

"Amen!" replied the young man fervently, as he rose from the table. 

"And now we must be about our preparations for the journey. The time isshort--who is that?"

He sprang to the door. Outside, quick steps were heard approaching. Thegirl, who had risen in some confusion, stood blushing and embarrassedbefore him. The mother rose feebly on her elbow to reassure him. 

"'Tis Captain Girnway, laddie. Have no alarm--he has befriended us. Butfor him we should have been put out two days ago, without shelter andwithout care. He let us be housed here until you should come. "

There was a knock at the door, but Joel stood with his back to it. Thewords of Seth Wright were running roughshod through his mind. He lookedsharply at Prudence. 

"A mobocrat--our enemy--and you have taken favours from him--a minion ofthe devil?--shame!"

The girl looked up. 

"He was kind; you don't realise that he has probably saved their lives. Indeed, you must let him in and thank him. "

"Not I!"

The mother interposed hurriedly. 

"Yes, yes, laddie! You know not how high-handed they have been. Theyexpelled all but us, and some they have maltreated shamefully. This onehas been kind to us. Open the door. "

"I dare not face him--I may not contain myself!"

The knock was repeated more loudly. The girl went up to him and put herhands on his shoulders to draw him away. 

"Be reasonable, " she pleaded, in low tones, "and above all, be polite tohim. "

She put him gently aside and drew back the door. On the threshold smiledthe young captain he had watched from the window that morning, marchingat the head of his company. His cap was doffed, and his left hand restedeasily on the hilt of his sword. He stepped inside as one sure of hiswelcome. 

"Good morning, Miss Prudence, good morning, Mr. Rae, good morning, madam--good morning--"

He looked questioningly at the stranger. Prudence stepped forward. 

"This is Joel Rae, Captain Girnway. "

They bowed, somewhat stiffly. Each was dark. Each had a face to attractwomen. But the captain was at peace with the world, neatly uniformed, well-fed, clean-shaven, smiling, pleasant to look upon, while the otherwas unshaven, hollow-cheeked, gaunt, roughly dressed, a thing that hadbeen hunted and was now under ban. Each was at once sensible of thecontrast between them, and each was at once affected by it: the captainto a greater jauntiness, a more effusive affability; the other to astonier sternness. 

"I am glad to know you have come, Mr. Rae. Your people have worried alittle, owing to the unfortunate circumstances in which they have beenplaced. "

"I--I am obliged to you, sir, in their behalf, for your kindness to myfather and mother and to Miss Corson here. "

"You are a thousand times welcome, sir. Can you tell me when you willwish to cross the river?"

"At the very earliest moment that God and the mob will let us. To-morrowmorning, I hope. "

"This has not been agreeable to me, believe me--"

"Far less so to us, you may be sure; but we shall be content again whenwe can get away from all your whiggery, democratism, devilism, mobism!"

He spoke with rising tones, and the other flushed noticeably about thetemples. 

"Have your wagons ready to-morrow morning, then, Mr. Rae--at eight? Verywell, I shall see that you are protected to the ferry. There has been somuch of that tone of talk, sir, that some of our men have resented it. "

He turned pleasantly to Prudence. 

"And you, Miss Prudence, you will be leaving Nauvoo for Springfield, Isuppose. As you go by Carthage, I shall wish to escort you that farmyself, to make sure of your safety. "

The lover turned fiercely, seizing the girl's wrist and drawing hertoward him before she could answer. 

"Her goal is Zion, not Babylon, sir--remember _that_!"

She stepped hastily between them. 

"We will talk of that to-morrow, Captain, " she said, quickly, and added, "You may leave us now for we have much to do here in making ready forthe start. "

"Until to-morrow morning, then, at eight. "

He bowed low over the hand she gave him, gracefully saluted the others, and was gone. 

[Illustration: "HER GOAL IS ZION, NOT BABYLON, SIR--REMEMBER _THAT_!"]

CHAPTER IV. 

_A Fair Apostate_

She stood flushed and quick-breathing when the door had shut, he bendingtoward her with dark inquiry in his eyes. Before she spoke, he divinedthat under her nervousness some resolution lay stubbornly fixed. 

"Let us speak alone, " she said, in a low voice. Then, to the old people, "Joel and I will go into the garden awhile to talk. Be patient. "

"Not for long, dear; our eyes are aching for him. "

"Only a little while, " and she smiled back at them. She went aheadthrough the door by which they had first entered, and out into thegarden at the back of the house. He remembered, as he followed her, thatsince he had arrived that morning she had always been leading him, directing him as if to a certain end, with the air of meaning presentlyto say something of moment to him. 

They went past the rose-bush near which she had stood when he first sawher, and down a walk through borders of marigolds. She picked one ofthe flowers and fixed it in his coat. 

"You are much too savage--you need a posy to soften you. There! Now cometo this seat. "

She led him to a rustic double chair under the heavily fruited boughs ofan apple-tree, and made him sit down. She began with a vivaciousplayfulness, poorly assumed, to hide her real feeling. 

"Now, sobersides, it must end--this foolishness of yours--"

She stopped, waiting for some question of his to help her. But he saidnothing, though she could feel the burning of his eyes upon her. 

"This superstitious folly, you know, " she blurted out, looking up at himin sudden desperation. 

"Tell me what you mean--you must know I'm impatient. "

She essayed to be playful again, pouting her dimpled face near to histhat he might kiss her. But he did not seem to see. He only waited. 

"Well--this religion--this Mormonism--"

She shot one swift look at him, then went on quickly. 

"My people have left the church, and--I--too--they found things inJoseph Smith's teachings that seemed bad to them. They went toSpringfield. I would have gone, too, but I told them I wanted first tosee you and--and see if you would not come with us--at least for awhile, not taking the poor old father and mother through all that wretchedness. They consented to let me stay with your parents on condition thatCaptain Girnway would protect them and me. He--he--is very kind--and hadknown us since last winter and had seen me--us--several times. I hadn'tthe heart to tell your father; he was so set on going to the new Zion, but you _will_ come, won't you?"

"Wait a moment!" He put a hand upon her arm as if to arrest her speech. "You daze me. Let me think. " She looked up at him, wondering at hisface, for it showed strength and bitterness and gentleness all in onelook--and he was suffering. She put her hand upon his, from an instinctof pity. The touch recalled him. 

"Now--for the beginning. " He spoke with aroused energy, a little wistfulsmile softening the strain of his face. "You were wise to give me food, else I couldn't have solved this mystery. To the beginning, then: You, Prudence Corson, betrothed to me these three years and more; you havebeen buried in the waters of baptism and had your washings andanointings in the temple of the most high God. Is it not so? Your eyeswere anointed that they might be quick to see, your ears that they mightbe apt at hearing, your mouth that you might with wisdom speak the wordsof eternal life, and your feet that they might be swift to run in theways of the Lord. You accepted thereby the truth that the angel of Godhad delivered to Joseph Smith the sealing keys of power. You acceptedthe glorious articles of the new covenant. You were about to be sealedup to me for time and eternity. Now--I am lost--what is it?--yourfather and mother have left the church, and because of what?"

"Because of bad things, because of this doctrine they practise--thiswickedness of spiritual wives, plural wives. Think of it, Joel--that ifI were your wife you might take another. "

"I need not think of it. Surely you know my love. You know I could notdo that. Indeed I have heard at last that this doctrine so long gossipedof is a true one. But I have been away and am not yet learned in itsmysteries. But this much I do know--and it is the very corner-stone ofmy life: Peter, James, and John ordained Joseph Smith here on thisearth, and Joseph ordained the twelve. All other churches have beenestablished by the wisdom or folly of man. Ours is the only one on earthestablished by direct revelation from God. It has a priesthood, and thatpriesthood is a power we must reverence and obey, no matter what may beits commands. When the truth is taught me of this doctrine you speak of, I shall see it to be right for those to whom it is ordained. Andmeantime, outside of my own little life--my love for you, which would bealways single--I can't measure the revealed will of God with my littlemoral foot-rule. Joseph was endowed with the open vision. He saw Godface to face and heard His voice. Can the standards of society in itspresent corruption measure and pass upon the revelations of sowhite-souled a man?"

"I believe he was not white-souled, " she replied, in a kind, animatedway, as one who was bent upon saving him from error. "I told you I knewwhy you were sent away on mission. It was because you were my acceptedlover--and your white-souled Joseph Smith wanted me for himself. "

"I can't believe it--you couldn't know such a thing"--his faith made abrave rally--"but even so, if he sought you, why, the more honour toyou--and to me, if you still clung to me. "

"Listen. I was afraid to tell you before--ashamed--but I told my people. It's three years ago. I was seventeen. It was just after we had becomeengaged. My people were then strong in the faith, as you know. Onemorning after you had left for the East, Brigham Young and Heber Kimballcame to our house for me. They said the Prophet had long known me bysight, and wished to talk with me. Would I go with them to visit him andhe would bless and counsel me? Of course I was flattered. I put on myprettiest frock and fetchingest bonnet and set off with them, aftermamma had said yes. On the way they kept asking me if I was willing todo all the Prophet required. I said I was sure of it, thinking theymeant to be good and worshipful. Then they would ask if I was ready totake counsel, and they said, 'Many things are revealed unto us in theselast days that the world would scoff at, ' but that it had been given tothem to know all the mysteries of the Kingdom. Then they said, 'Youwill see Joseph and he will tell you what you are to do. '"

He was listening with a serious, confident eagerness, as if he knew shecould say nothing to dim the Prophet's lustre. 

"When we reached the building where Joseph's store was, they led meup-stairs to a small room and sent down to the store for the Prophet. When he came up they introduced me and left me alone in the little roomwith him. Their actions had seemed queer to me, but I remembered thatthis man had talked face to face with God, so I tried to feel better. But all at once he stood before me and asked me to be his wife. Think ofit! I was so frightened! I dared not say no, he looked at me so--I can'ttell you how; but I said it would not be lawful. He said, 'Yes, Prudence, I have had a revelation from God that it is lawful and rightfor a man to have as many wives as he wants--for as it was in the daysof Abraham, so it shall be in these days. Accept me and I shall take youstraight to the celestial Kingdom. Brother Brigham will marry us here, right now, and you can go home to-night and keep it secret from yourparents if you like. ' Then I said, 'But I am betrothed to Joel Rae, theson of Giles Rae, who is away on mission. ' 'I know that, ' he said--'Isent him away, and anyway you will be safer to marry me. You will thenbe absolutely sure of your celestial reward, for in the next world, youknow, I am to have powers, thrones, and dominions, while Brother Joelis very young and has not been tried in the Kingdom. He may fall awayand then you would be lost. '"

The man in him now was struggling with his faith, and he seemed about tointerrupt her, but she went on excitedly. 

"I said I would not want to do anything of the kind withoutdeliberation. He urged me to have it over, trying to kiss me, and sayinghe knew it would be right before God; that if there was any sin in it hewould take it upon himself. He said, 'You know I have the keys of theKingdom, and whatever I bind on earth is bound in heaven. Come, ' hesaid, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained. Let me call Brother Brigham toseal us, and you shall be a star in my crown for ever. '

"Then I broke down and cried, for I was so afraid, and he put his armsaround me, but I pushed away, and after awhile I coaxed him to give meuntil the next Sabbath to think it over, promising on my life to say notone word to any person. I never let him see me alone again, you may besure, and at last when other awful tales were told about him here, ofwickedness and his drunkenness--he told in the pulpit that he had beendrunk, and that he did it to keep them from worshipping him as a God--Isaw he was a bad, common man, and I told my people everything, and soonmy father was denounced for an apostate. Now, sir, what do you say?"

When she finished he was silent for a time. Then he spoke, very gently, but with undaunted firmness. 

"Prudence, dearest, I have told you that this doctrine is new to me. Ido not yet know its justification. But that I shall see it to besanctified after they have taught me, this I know as certainly as I knowthat Joseph Smith dug up the golden plates of Mormon and Moroni on thehill of Cumorah when the angel of the Lord moved him. It will besanctified for those who choose it, I mean. You know I could neverchoose it for myself. But as for others, I must not question. I knowonly too well that eternal salvation for me depends upon my acceptingmanfully and unquestioningly the authority of the temple priesthood. "

"But I know Joseph was not a good man--and they tell such absurd storiesabout the miracles the Elders pretend to work. "

"I believe with all my heart Joseph was good; but even if not--we havenever pretended that he was anything more than a prophet of God. And wasnot Moses a murderer when God called him to be a prophet? And as formiracles, all religions have them--why not ours? Your people wereMethodists before Joseph baptised them. Didn't Wesley work miracles?Didn't a cloud temper the sun in answer to his prayer? Wasn't his horsecured of a lameness by his faith? Didn't he lay hands upon the blindCatholic girl so that she saw plainly when her eyes rested upon the NewTestament and became blind again when she took up the mass book? Arethose stories absurd? My father himself saw Joseph cast a devil out ofNewell Knight. "

"And this awful journey into a horrid desert. Why must you go? Surelythere are other ways of salvation. " She hesitated a moment. "I have beentold that going to heaven is like going to mill. If your wheat is good, the miller will never ask which way you came. "

"Child, child, some one has tampered with you. "

She retorted quickly. 

"He did not tamper, he has never sought to--he was all kindness. "

She stopped, her short upper lip holding its incautious mate a prisoner. She blushed furiously under the sudden blaze of his eyes. 

"So it's true, what Seth Wright hinted at? To think that you, of allpeople--my sweetheart--gone over--won over by a cursed mobocrat--a fiendwith the blood of our people wet on his hands! Listen, Prue; I'm goinginto the desert. Even though you beg me to stay, you must haveknown--perhaps you hoped--that I would go. There are many reasons why Imust. For one, there are six hundred and forty poor hunted wretches overthere on the river bank, sick, cold, wet, starving, but enduring it allto the death for their faith in Joseph Smith. They could have kept theircomfortable homes here and their substance, simply by renouncinghim--they are all voluntary exiles--they have only to say 'I do notbelieve Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, ' and these same Gentileswill receive them with open arms, give them clothing, food, and shelter, put them again in possession of their own. But they are lying out overthere, fever-stricken, starving, chilled, all because they will not denytheir faith. Shall I be a craven, then, who have scarcely ever wantedfor food or shelter, and probably shall not? Of course you don't love meor you couldn't ask me to do that. Those faithful wretched ones arewaiting over there for me to guide them on toward a spot that willprobably be still more desolate. They could find their way, almost, bythe trail of graves we left last spring, but they need my strength andmy spirit, and I am going. I am going, too, for my own salvation. Iwould suffer anything for you, but by going I may save us both. Listen, child; God is going to make a short work on earth. We shall both see theend of this reign of sin. It is well if you take wheat to the mill, butwhat if you fetch the miller chaff instead?"

She made a little protesting move with her hands, and would have spoken, but he was not done. 

"Now, listen further. You heard my father tell how I have seen thispeople driven and persecuted since I was a boy. That, if nothing else, would take me away from these accursed States and their mobs. Hatred ofthem has been bred into my marrow. I know them for the most part to beunregenerate and doomed, but even if it were otherwise--if they had thetrue light--none the less would I be glad to go, because of what theyhave done to us and to me and to mine. Oh, in the night I hear suchcries of butchered mothers with their babes, and see the flames of thelittle cabins--hear the shots and the ribaldry and the cursings. Myfather spoke to you of Haun's mill, --that massacre back in Missouri. That was eight years ago. I was a boy of sixteen and my sister was ayear older. She had been left in my care while father and mother went onto Far West. You have seen the portrait of her that mother has. You knowhow delicately flower-like her beauty was, how like a lily, with apurity and an innocence to disarm any villainy. Thirty families hadhalted at the mill the day before, the mob checking their advance atthat point. All was quiet until about four in the afternoon. We werecamped on either side of Shoal Creek. Children were playing freely aboutwhile their mothers and fathers worked at the little affairs of apilgrimage like that. Most of them had then been three months on theroad, enduring incredible hardships for the sake of their religion--forhim you believe to be a bad, common man. But they felt secure nowbecause one of the militia captains, officious like your captain here, had given them assurance the day before that they would be protectedfrom all harm. I was helping Brother Joseph Young to repair his wagonwhen I glanced up to the opposite side of Shoal Creek and saw a largecompany of armed and mounted men coming toward our peaceful group atfull speed. One of our number, seeing that they were many and that wewere unarmed, ran out and cried, 'Peace!' but they came upon us andfired their volley. Men, women, and little children fell under it. Thosesurviving fled to the blacksmith's shop for shelter--huddling insidelike frightened sheep. But there were wide cracks between the logs, andup to these the mob went, putting their guns through to do their work atleisure. Then the plundering began--plundering and worse. "

He stopped, trembling, and she put out her hand to him in sympathy. Whenhe had regained control of himself, he continued. 

"At the first volley I had hurried sister to a place of concealment inthe underbrush, and she, hearing them search for the survivors after theshooting was over, thought we were discovered, and sprang up to runfurther. One of them saw her and shot. She fell half-fainting with abullet through her arm, and then half a dozen of them gathered quicklyabout her. I ran to them, screaming and striking out with my fists, butthe devil was in them, and she, poor blossom, lay there helpless, calling 'Boy, boy, boy!' as she had always called me since we werebabies together. Must I tell you the rest?--must I tell you--how thosedevils--"

"Don't, don't! Oh, _no_!"

"I thought I must die! They held me there--"

He had gripped one of her wrists until she cried out in pain and hereleased it. 

"But the sight must have given me a man's strength, for my strugglesbecame so troublesome that one of them--I have always been grateful forit--clubbed his musket and dealt me a blow that left me senseless. Itwas dark when I came to, but I lay there until morning, unable to domore than crawl. When the light came I found the poor little sisterthere near where they had dragged us both, and she was _alive_. Can yourealise how awful that was--that she had lived through it? God bethanked, she died before the day was out. 

"After that the other mutilated bodies, the plundered wagons, all seemedless horrible to me. My heart had been seared over. They had killedtwenty of the Saints, and the most of them we hurried to throw into awell, fearful that the soldiers of Governor Boggs would come back at anymoment to strip and hack them. O God! and now you have gone over to oneof them!"

"Joel, --dear, _dear_ Joel!--indeed I pity and sympathise--and carefor--but I cannot go--even after all you say. And don't you see it willalways be so! My father says the priesthood will always be in trouble ifit sets itself above the United States. Dear Joel, I can't go, indeed I_can't_ go!"

He spoke more softly now. 

"Thank God I don't realise it yet--I mean, that we must part. You tellme so and I hear you and my mind knows, but my heart hasn't sensed ityet--I can feel it now going stupidly along singing its old happy songof hope and gladness, while all this is going on here outside. But soonthe big hurt will come. Oh, Prue--Prue, girl!--can't you think what itwill mean to me? Don't you know how I shall sicken for the sight of you, and my ears will listen for you! Prudence, Prue, darling--yet I must notbe womanish! I have a big work to do. I have known it with a newclearness since that radiance rested above my head last night. The truthburns in me like a fire. Your going can't take that from me. It must beI was not meant to have you. With you perhaps I could not have had aheart single to God's work. He permitted me to love you so I could betried and proved. "

He looked at her fondly, and she could see striving and trembling in hiseyes a great desire to crush her in his arms, yet he fought it down, andcontinued more calmly. 

"But indeed I must be favoured more than common, to deserve that sogreat a hurt be put upon me, and I shall not be found wanting. I shallnever wed any woman but you, though, dear. If not you, never any other. "

He stood up. 

"I must go in to them now. There must be work to do against the startto-morrow. "

"Joel!"

"May the Lord deafen my ears to you, darling!" and squaring hisshoulders resolutely away from her, he left her on the seat and went in. 

The old man looked up from his Bible as his son entered. 

"It's sore sad, laddie, we can't have the temple for your sealing-vows. "

"Prudence will not be sealed to me, father. " He spoke dazedly, as ifanother like the morning's blow had been dealt him. "I--I am alreadysealed to the Spirit for time and eternity. "

"Was it Prudence's doings?" asked his mother, quickly. 

"Yes; she has left the church with her people. "

The long-faced, narrow-browed old man raised one hand solemnly. 

"Then let her be banished from Israel and not numbered in the books ofthe offspring of Abraham! And let her be delivered over to thebuffetings of Satan in the flesh!"

CHAPTER V. 

_Giles Rae Beautifies His Inheritance_

By eight o'clock the next morning, out under a cloudy sky, the Raes wereready and eager for their start to the new Jerusalem. Even the sickwoman's face wore a kind of soft and faded radiance in the excitement ofgoing. On her mattress, she had been tenderly installed in one of thetwo covered wagons that carried their household goods. The wagon inwhich she lay was to be taken across the river by Seth Wright, --for themoment no Wild Ram of the Mountains, but a soft-cooing dove of peace. Permission had been granted him by Brockman to recross the river on someneedful errands; and, having once proved the extreme sensitiveness, notto say irritability, of those in temporary command, he was now resolvedto give as little éclat as possible to certain superior aspects of hisown sanctity. He spoke low and deferentially, and his mien was that of amodest, retiring man who secretly thought ill of himself. 

He mounted the wagon in which the sick woman lay, sat well back underthe bowed cover, clucked low to the horses, and drove off toward theferry. If discreet behaviour on his part could ensure it there would beno conflict provoked with superior numbers; with numbers, moreover, composed of violent-tempered and unprincipled persecutors who werealready acting with but the merest shadow of legal authority. 

On the seat of the second wagon, whip in hand, was perched Giles Rae, his coat buttoned warmly to the chin. He was slight and feeble to theeye, yet he had been fired to new life by the certainty that now theywere to leave the territory of the persecuting Gentiles for a land to bethe Saints' very own. His son stood at the wheel, giving him finaldirections. At the gate was Prudence Corson, gowned for travel, reticulein hand, her prettiness shadowed, under the scoop of her bonnet, the toeof one trim little boot meditatively rolling a pebble over the ground. 

"Drive slowly, Daddy. Likely I shall overtake you before you reach theferry. I want but a word yet with Prudence; though"--he glanced over atthe bowed head of the girl--"no matter if I linger a little, sinceBrother Seth will cross first and we must wait until the boat comesback. Some of our people will be at the ferry to look after you, --and becareful to have no words with any of the mob--no matter what insult theymay offer. You're feeling strong, aren't you?"

"Ay, laddie, that I am! Strong as an ox! The very thought of being freeout of this Babylon has exalted me in spirit and body. Think of it, boy!Soon we shall be even beyond the limits of the United States--in aforeign land out there to the west, where these bloodthirsty ones can nolonger reach us. Thank God they're like all snakes--they can't jumpbeyond their own length!"

He leaned out of the wagon to shake a bloodless, trembling fist towardthe temple where the soldiers had made their barracks. 

"Now let great and grievous judgments, desolations, by famine, sword, and pestilence come upon you, generation of vipers!"

He cracked the whip, the horses took their load at his cheery call, andas the wagon rolled away they heard him singing:--

 "Lo, the Gentile chain is broken! Freedom's banner waves on high!"

They watched him until the wagon swung around into the street that fellaway to the ferry. Then they faced each other, and he stepped to herside as she leaned lightly on the gate. 

"Prue, dear, " he said, softly, "it's going hard with me. God must indeedhave a great work reserved for me to try me with such a sacrifice--somuch pain where I could least endure it. I prayed all the night to bekept firm, for there are two ways open--one right and one wrong; but Icannot sell my soul so early. That's why I wanted to say the lastgood-bye out here. I was afraid to say it in there--I am so weak foryou, Prue--I ache so for you in all this trouble--why, if I could feelyour hands in my hair, I'd laugh at it all--I'm so _weak_ for you, dearest. "

She tossed her yellow head ever so slightly, and turned the scoop of herbonnet a little away from his pain-lighted face. 

"I am not complimented, though--you care more for your religion than forme. "

He looked at her hungrily. 

"No, you are wrong there--I don't separate you at all--I couldn't--youand my religion are one--but, if I must, I can love you in spirit as Iworship my God in spirit--"

"If it will satisfy you, very well!"

"My reward will come--I shall do a great work, I shall have a Witnessfrom the sky. Who am I that I should have thought to win a crown withouttaking up a cross?"

"I am sorry for you. "

"Oh, Prue, there must be a way to save the souls of such as you, even intheir blindness. Would God make a flower like you, only to let it belost? There must be a way. I shall pray until I force it from the secretheavens. "

"My soul will be very well, sir!" she retorted, with a distinct trace ofasperity. "I am not a heathen, I'd thank you to remember--and when I'm awife I shall be my husband's only wife--"

He winced in acutest pain. 

"You have no right to taunt me so. Else you can't know what you havemeant to me. Oh, you were all the world, child--you, of your own dearself--you would have been all the wives in the world to me--there aremany, many of you, and all in a heavenly one--"

"Oh, forgive me, dearest, " she cried, and put out a little gloved handto comfort him. "I know, I know--all the sweetness and goodness of yourlove, believe me. See, I have kept always by me the little Bible yougave me on my birthday--I have treasured it, and I know it has made me abetter girl, because it makes me always think of your goodness--but Icouldn't have gone there, Joel--and it does seem as if you need not havegone--and that marrying is so odious--"

"You shall see how little you had to fear of that doctrine which God hasseen fit to reveal to these good men. I tell you now, Prue, I shall wedno woman but you. Nor am I giving you up. Don't think it. I am doing myduty and trusting God to bring you to me. I know He will do it--I tellyou there is the spirit of some strange, awful strength in me, whichtells me to ask what I will and it shall be given--to seek to doanything, how great or hard soever, and a giant's, a god's strength willrest in me. And so I know you will come. You will always think of meso, --waiting for you--somehow, somewhere. Every day you must think it, at any idle moment when I come to your mind; every night when you wakenin the dark and silence, you must think, 'Wherever he is, he is waitingfor me, perhaps awake as I am now, praying, with a power that willsurely draw me. ' You will come somehow. Perhaps, when I reach winterquarters, you will have changed your mind. One never knows how God mayfashion these little providences. But He will bring you safe to me outof that Gentile perdition. Remember, child, God has set his hand inthese last days to save the human family from the ruins of the fall, andsome way, He alone knows how, you will come to me and find me waiting. "

"As if you needed to wait for me when I am here now ready for you, willing to be taken!"

"Don't, don't, dear! There are two of me now, and one can't stand thepain. There is a man in me, sworn to do a man's work like a man, andduty to God and the priesthood has big chains around his heart draggingit across the river. But, low, now--there is a little, forlorn boy inme, too--a poor, crying, whimpering, babyish little boy, who dreamed ofyou and longed for you and was promised you, and who will never get wellof losing you. Oh, I know it well enough--his tears will never dry, hisheart will always have a big hurt in it--and your face will always be sofresh and clear in it!"

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into the face underthe bonnet. 

"Let me make sure I shall lose no look of you, from little tilted chin, and lips of scarlet thread, and little teeth like grains of rice, andeyes into which I used to wander and wonder so far--"

She looked past him and stepped back. 

"Captain Girnway is coming for me--yonder, away down the street. Hetakes me to Carthage. "

His face hardened as he looked over his shoulder. 

"I shall never wed any woman but you. Can you feel as deeply as that?Will you wed no man but me?"

She fluttered the cherry ribbons on the bonnet and fixed a stray curl infront of one ear. 

"Have you a right to ask that? I might wait a time for you to comeback--to your senses and to me, but--"

"Good-bye, darling!". 

"What, will you go that way--not kiss me? He is still two blocks away. "

"I am so weak for you, sweet--the little boy in me is crying for you, but he must not have what he wants. What he wants would leave his heartrebellious and not perfect with the Lord. It's best not, " he continued, with an effort at a smile and in a steadier tone. "It would mean so muchto me--oh, so very much to me--and so very little to you--and that's noreal kiss. I'd rather remember none of that kind--and don't think I waschurlish--it's only because the little boy--I will go after my fathernow, and God bless you!"

He turned away. A few paces on he met Captain Girnway, jaunty, debonair, smiling, handsome in his brass-buttoned uniform of the Carthage Grays. 

"I have just left the ferry, Mr. Rae. The wagon with your mother hasgone over. The other had not yet come down. Some of the men appear to bea little rough this morning. Your people are apt to provoke them bybeing too outspoken, but I left special orders for the good treatment ofyourself and outfit. "

With a half-smothered "thank you, " he passed on, not trusting himself tosay more to one who was not only the enemy of his people, but bent, seemingly, on deluding a young woman to the loss of her soul. He heardtheir voices in cheerful greeting, but did not turn back. With eyes tothe front and shoulders squared he kept stiffly on his way through thesilent, deserted streets to the ferry. 

Fifteen minutes' walk brought him to the now busy waterside. The ferry, a flat boat propelled by long oars, was landing when he came into view, and he saw his father's wagon driven on. He sped down the hill, pushedthrough the crowd of soldiers standing about, and hurried forward on theboat to let the old man know he had come. But on the seat was anotherthan his father. He recognised the man, and called to him. 

"What are you doing there, Brother Keaton? Where's my father?"

The man had shrunk back under the wagon-cover, having seemingly beenfrightened by the soldiers. 

"I've taken your father's place, Brother Rae. "

"Did he cross with Brother Wright?"

"Yes--he--" The man hesitated. Then came an interruption from theshore. 

"Come, clear the gangway there so we can load! Here are some more of thedamned rats we've hunted out of their holes!"

The speaker made a half-playful lunge with his bayonet at a gaunt, yellow-faced spectre of a man who staggered on to the boat with a childin his arms wrapped in a tattered blue quilt. A gust of the chilly windpicked his shapeless, loose-fitting hat off as he leaped to avoid thebayonet-point, and his head was seen to be shaven. The crowd on the banklaughed loud at his clumsiness and at his grotesque head. Joel Rae ranto help him forward on the boat. 

"Thank you, Brother--I'm just up from the fever-bed--they shaved my headfor it--and so I lost my hat--thank you--here we shall be warm if onlythe sun comes out. "

Joel went back to help on others who came, a feeble, bedraggled dozen orso that had clung despairingly to their only shelter until they weredriven out. 

"You can stay here in safety, you know, if you renounce Joseph Smith andhis works--they will give you food and shelter. " He repeated it to eachlittle group of the dispirited wretches as they staggered past him, butthey replied staunchly by word or look, and one man, in the throes of achill, swung his cap and uttered a feeble "Hurrah for the new Zion!"

When they were all on with their meagre belongings, he called again tothe man in the wagon. 

"Brother Keaton, my father went across, did he?"

Several of the men on shore answered him. 

"Yes"--"Old white-whiskered death's-head went over the river"--"Overhere"--"A sassy old codger he was"--"He got his needings, too"--"Got hisneedings--"

They cast off the line and the oars began to dip. 

"And you'll get your needings, too, if you come back, remember that!That's the last of you, and we'll have no more vermin like you. Now seewhat old Joe Smith, the white-hat prophet, can do for you in the Indianterritory!"

He stood at the stern of the boat, shivering as he looked at thecurrent, swift, cold, and gray under the sunless sky. He feared someindignity had been offered to his father. They had looked at one anotherqueerly when they answered his questions. He went forward to the wagonagain. 

"Brother Keaton, you're sure my father is all right?"

"I am sure he's all right, Brother Rae. "

Content with this, at last, he watched the farther flat shore of theMississippi, with its low fringe of green along the edge, where theywere to land and be at last out of the mob's reach. He repeated hisfather's words: "Thank God, they're like all snakes; they can't jumpbeyond their own length. "

The confusion of landing and the preparations for an immediate startdrove for the time all other thoughts from his mind. It had beendetermined to get the little band at once out of the marshy spot wherethe camp had been made. The teams were soon hitched, the wagons loaded, and the train ready to move. He surveyed it, a hundred poor wagons, manyof them without cover, loaded to the full with such nondescriptbelongings as a house-dwelling people, suddenly put out on the openroad, would hurriedly snatch as they fled. And the people made his heartache, even to the deadening of his own sorrow, as he noted theirwobegoneness. For these were the sick, the infirm, the poor, theinefficient, who had been unable for one reason or another to migratewith the main body of the Saints earlier in the season. Many of themwere now racked by fever from sleeping on the damp ground. These badefair not to outlast some of the lumbering carts that threatened at everyrough spot to jolt apart. 

Yet the line bravely formed to the order of Seth Wright as captain, andthe march began. Looking back, he saw peaceful Nauvoo, its houses andgardens, softened by the cloudy sky and the autumn haze, clusteringunder the shelter of their temple spire, --their temple and their houses, of which they were now despoiled by a mob's fury. Ahead he saw the roadto the West, a hard road, as he knew, --one he could not hope they shouldcross without leaving more graves by the way; but Zion was at the end. 

The wagons and carts creaked and strained and rattled under theirswaying loads, and the line gradually defined itself along the road fromthe confused jumble at the camp. He remembered his father again now, andhurried forward to assure himself that all was right. As he overtookalong the way the stumbling ones obliged to walk, he tried to cheerthem. 

"Only a short march to-day, brothers. Our camp is at Sugar Creek, ninemiles--so take your time this first day. "

Near the head of the train were his own two wagons, and beside the firstwalked Seth Wright and Keaton, in low, earnest converse. As he came upto them the Bishop spoke. 

"I got Wes' and Alec Gregg to drive awhile so we could stretch ourlegs. " But then came a quick change of tone, as they halted by the road. 

"Joel, there's no use beatin' about the bush--them devils at the ferryjest now drowned your pa. "

He went cold all over. Keaton, looking sympathetic but frightened, spokenext. 

"You ought to thank me, Brother Rae, for not telling you on the otherside, when you asked me. I knew better. Because, why? Because I knewyou'd fly off the handle and get yourself killed, and then your ma'd beleft all alone, that's why, now--and prob'ly they'd 'a' wound up bydumping the whole passle of us bag and baggage into the stream. And itwa'n't any use, your father bein' dead and gone. "

The Bishop took up the burden, slapping him cordially on the back. 

"Come, come, --hearten up, now! Your pa's been made a martyr--he'sbeautified his inheritance in Zion--whinin' won't do no good. "

He drew himself up with a shrug, as if to throw off an invisible burden, and answered, calmly:

"I'm not whining, Bishop. Perhaps you were right not to tell me overthere, Keaton. I'd have made trouble for you all. " He smiled painfullyin his effort to control himself. "Were you there, Bishop?"

"No, I'd already gone acrost. Keaton here saw it. "

Keaton took up the tale. 

"I was there when the old gentleman drove down singing, 'Lo, the Gentilechain is broken. ' He was awful chipper. Then one of 'em called him oldFather Time, and he answered back. I disremember what, but, any way, oneword fired another until they was cussin' Giles Rae up hill and downdale, and instead of keepin' his head shet like he had ought to havedone, he was prophesyin' curses, desolations, famines, and pestilenceson 'em all, and callin' 'em enemies of Christ. He was sassy--I can'tdeny that--and that's where he wa'n't wise. Some of the mobocrats wasdrunk and some was mad; they was all in their high-heeled boots one wayor another, and he enraged 'em more. So he says, finally, 'The Jewsfell, ' he says, 'because they wouldn't receive their Messiah, theShiloh, the Saviour. They wet their hands, ' he says, 'in the best bloodthat had flowed through the lineage of Judah, and they had to pay thecost. And so will you cowards of Illinois, ' he says, 'have to pay thepenalty for sheddin' the blood of Joseph Smith, the best blood that hasflowed since the Lord's Christ, ' he says. 'The wrath of God, ' he says, 'will abide upon you. ' The old gentleman was a powerful denouncer whenhe was in the spirit of it--"

"Come, come, Keaton, hurry, for God's sake--get on!"

"And he made 'em so mad, a-settin' up there so peart and brave before'em, givin' 'em as good as they sent--givin' 'em hell right to theirfaces, you might say, that at last they made for him, some of them thatyou could see had been puttin' a new faucet into the cider barrel. I sawthey meant to do him a mischief--but Lord! what could I do againstfifty, being then in the midst of a chill? Well, they drug him off theseat, and said, 'Now, you old rat, own up that Holy Joe was a dangedfraud;' or something like that. But he was that sanctified andstubborn--' Better to suffer stripes for the testimony of Christ, ' hesays, 'than to fall by the sin of denial!' Then they drug him to thebank, one on each side, and says, 'We baptise you in the holy name ofBrockman, ' and in they dumped him--backwards, mind you! I saw then theywas in a slippery place where it was deep and the current awful strong. But they hauled him out, and says again, 'Do you renounce Holy Joe Smithand all his works?' The poor old fellow couldn't talk a word for thechill, but he shook his head like sixty--as stubborn as you'd wish. Sothey said, 'Damn you! here's another, then. We baptise you in the nameof James K. Polk, President of the United States!' and in they threw himagain. Whether they done it on purpose or not, I wouldn't like to say, but that time his coat collar slipped out of their hands and down hewent. He came up ten feet down-stream and quite a ways out, and theyhooted at him. I seen him come up once after that, and then they see hecouldn't swim a stroke, but little they cared. And I never saw himagain. I jest took hold of the team and drove it on the boat, scared todeath for what you'd do when you come, --so I kept still and they keptstill. But remember, it's only another debt the blood of the Gentileswill have to pay--"

"Either here on earth or in hell, " said the Bishop. 

"And the soul of your poor pa is now warm and dry and happy in thepresence of his Lord God. "

CHAPTER VI. 

_The Lute of the Holy Ghost Is Further Chastened_

Listening to Keaton's tale, he had dimly seen the caravan of huntedcreatures crawl past him over the fading green of the prairie; thewagons with their bowed white covers; a heavy cart, jolting, creaking, lumbering mysteriously along, a sick driver hidden somewhere back underits makeshift cover of torn counterpanes; a battered carriage, reminiscent of past luxury, drawn by oxen; more wagons, some withoutcovers; a two-wheeled cart, designed in the ingenuity of desperation, laden with meal-sacks, a bundle of bedding, a sleeping child, and drawnby a little dry-dugged heifer; then more wagons with stooping figurestrudging doggedly beside them, here a man, there a woman leading achild. He saw them as shapes floating by in a dream, blurred andinconsequent. But between himself and the train, more clearly outlinedto his gaze, he saw the worn face of his father tossed on the cold, darkwaters, being swept down by the stream, the weak old hands clutching forsome support in the muddy current, the white head with the chin held upsinking lower at each failure, then at last going under, gulping, toleave a little row of bubbles down the stream. 

In a craze of rage and grief he turned toward the river, when he heardthe sharp voice of the Bishop calling him back. 

"It ain't any use, Joel. "

"Couldn't we find his body?"

"Not a chance in a thousand. It was carried down by the current. Itwould mean days and mebbe weeks. Besides, we need you here. Here's yourduty. Sakes alive! If we only had about twenty minutes with them cusseslike it was in the old days! When you're ready to be a Son of Dan you'llknow what I mean. But never mind, we'll see the day yet when Israel willbe the head and not the tail. "

"My mother? Has any one told her?"

"Wal, now, I'm right sorry about that, but it got out before you comeover. Tarlton McKenny's boy, Nephi, rowed over in a skiff and broughtthe news, and some of the women went and tattled it to your ma. I guessit upset her considerable. You go up and see her. "

He ran forward toward the head of the train, hearing as he went words ofsympathy hurried to him by those he passed. Mounting the wagon, heclimbed over the seat to where his mother lay. She seemed to sleep inspite of the jolting. The driver called back to him:

"She took on terrible for a spell, Brother Rae. She's only jest now gotherself pacified. "

He put his hand on her forehead and found it burning. She stirred andmoaned and muttered disjointed sentences. He heard his father's name, his sister's, and his own, and he knew she was delirious. He eased herbed as well as he could, and made a place for himself beside her wherehe could sit and take one of the pale, thin hands between his own andtry to endow her with some of his abundant life. He stayed by her untiltheir camping-place was reached. 

Once for a moment she opened her eyes with what seemed to him a morethan normal clearness and understanding and memory in them. Though shelooked at him long without speaking, she seemed to say all there was tosay, so that the brief span was full of anguish for him. He sighed withrelief when the consciousness faded again from her look, and she fell tobabbling once more of some long gone day in her girlhood. 

When the wagon halted he was called outside by the driver, who wishedinstructions regarding the camp to be made. A few moments later he wasback, and raised the side of the wagon cover to let in the light. Thelook on her face alarmed him. It seemed to tell unmistakably that thegreat change was near. Already she looked moribund. An irregular gaspingfor breath, an occasional delirious mutter, were the only signs of life. She was too weak to show restlessness. Her pinched and faded face wascovered with tiny cold beads. The pupils of her eyes were strangelydilated, and the eyes themselves were glazed. There was no pulse at herwrist, and from her heart only the faintest beating could be heard. Inquick terror he called to a boy working at a wagon near by. 

"Go for Bishop Wright and tell him to bring that apothecary with him. "

The two came up briskly a few moments later, and he stood aside for themin an agony of suspense. The Bishop turned toward him after a long lookinto the wagon. 

"She's gone to be with your pa, Joel. You can't do anything--onlyremember they're both happy now for bein' together. "

It made little stir in the busy encampment. There had been other deathswhile they lay out on the marshy river flats. Others of the sorry bandwere now sick unto death, and many more would die on the long marchacross the Iowa prairie, dropping out one by one of fever, starvation, exposure. He stood helpless in this chaos of woe, shut up withinhimself, knowing not where to turn. 

Some women came presently from the other wagons to prepare the body forburial. He watched them dumbly, from a maze of incredulity, feeling thatsome wretched pretense was being acted before him. 

The Bishop and Keaton came up. They brought with them the makeshiftcoffin. They had cut a log, split it, and stripped off its bark in twohalf-cylinders. They led him to the other side of the wagon, out ofsight. Then they placed the strips of bark around the body, bound themwith hickory withes, and over the rough surface the women made a littleshow of black cloth. 

For the burial they could do no more than consign the body to one of thewaves in the great billowy land sea about them. They had no tombstone, nor were there even rocks to make a simple cairn. He saw them bury her, and thought there was little to choose between hers and the grave of hisfather, whose body was being now carried noiselessly down in the bed ofthe river. The general locality would be kept by landmarks, by thebearing of valley bends, headlands, or the fork and angles of constantstreams. But the spot itself would in a few weeks be lost. 

When the last office had been performed, the prayer said, a psalm sung, and the black dirt thrown in, they waited by him in sympathy. Hisfeeling was that they had done a monstrous thing; that the mother he hadknown was somewhere alive and well. He stood a moment so, watching thesun sink below the far rim of the prairie while the white moon swunginto sight in the east. Then the Bishop led him gently by the arm to hisown camp. 

There cheer abounded. They had a huge camp-fire tended by the Bishop'snumerous children. Near by was a smaller fire over which the good man'sfour wives, able-bodied, glowing, and cordial, cooked the supper. Inlittle ways they sought to lighten his sorrow or to put his mind awayfrom it. To this end the Bishop contributed by pouring him drink from alarge brown jug. 

"Not that I approve of it, boy, but it'll hearten you, --some of the bestpeach brandy I ever sniffed. I got it at the still-house last week foruse in time of trouble, --and this here time is _it_. "

He drank the fiery stuff from the gourd in which it was given him, andchoked until they brought him water. But presently the warmth stolealong his cold, dead nerves so that he became intensely alive from headto foot, and strangely exalted. And when they offered him food he ateeagerly and talked. It seemed to him there had been a thousand mattersthat he had long wished to speak of; matters of moment in which he feltdeeply; yet on which he had strangely neglected to touch till now. 

He talked long with the Bishop when the women had climbed into theirwagon for the night. He amazed that good man by asking him if the Lordwould not be pleased to have them, now, as they were, go back to Nauvooand descend upon the Gentiles to smite them. The Bishop counselled himto have patience. 

"What could we do how with these few old fusees and cheap arms that wemanaged to smuggle across--to say nothing of half of us being downsick?"

"But we are Israel, and surely Israel's God--"

"The Lord had His chance the other day if He'd wanted it, when theytook the town. No, Joel, He means us to gether out and become strongenough to beat 'em in our own might. But you _wait_; our day will come, and all the more credit to us then for doin' it ourselves. Then we'llconsecrate the herds and flocks of the Gentile and his store and basket, his gold and silver, and his myrrh and frankincense. But for thepresent--well, we got to be politic and kind of modest about suchdoin's. The big Fan, the Sons of Dan, done good work in Missouri andbetter in Nauvoo, and it'll do still better where we're goin'. But wemust be patient. Only next time we'll get to work quicker. If theGentiles had been seen to quicker in Nauvoo, Joseph would be with usnow. We learned our lesson there. Now the Lord has unfurled a Standardof Zion for the gathering of Israel, and this time we'll fix theGentiles early. "

"Amen! Brother Seth. "

A look of deep hatred had clouded the older man's face as he spoke. Hecontinued. 

"Let the wrath of God abide upon 'em, and remember that we're bein'tried and proved for a purpose. And we got to be more practical. Youbeen too theoretical yourself and too high-flyin' in your notions. TheKingdom ain't to be set up on earth by faith alone. The Lord has got tohave _works_, like I told you about the other day. "

"You were right, Bishop, I need to be more practical. The olive-branchand not the sword would Ephraim extend to Japheth, but if--"

"If Japheth don't toe the mark the Lord's will must be worked uponhim. "

"So be it, Brother Seth! I am ready now to be a Son of Dan. "

The Bishop rose from in front of their fire and looked about. No one wasnear. Here and there a fire blazed, and the embers of many more could beseen dying out in the distance. The nearest camp was that of thefever-stricken man who had fled on to the boat that morning with hischild in his arms. They could see his shaven head in the firelight, anda woman hovering over him as he lay on the ground with a tattered quiltfixed over him in lieu of a tent. From another group came the strains ofan accordion and the chorus of a hymn. 

"That's right, " said the Bishop. "I knew you'd come to it. I saw thatlong ago. Brother Brigham saw it, too. We knew you could be relied on. You want the oath, do you?"

"Yes, yes, Brother Seth. I was ready for it this morning when they toldme about father. "

"Hold up your right hand and repeat after me:

"'In the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, I do covenant and agreeto support the first Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ ofLatter-day Saints, in all things right or wrong; I will faithfully guardthem and report to them the acts of all men as far as in my power lies;I will assist in executing all the decrees of the first President, Patriarch, or President of the Twelve, and I will cause all who speakevil of the Presidency or Heads of the Church to die the death ofdissenters or apostates, unless they speedily confess and repent, forpestilence, persecution, and death shall follow the enemies of Zion. Iwill be a swift herald of salvation and messenger of peace to theSaints, and I will never make known the secret purposes of this Societycalled the Sons of Dan, my life being the forfeiture in a fire ofburning tar and brimstone. So help me God and keep me steadfast. '"

He repeated the words without hesitation, with fervour in his voice, andthe light of a holy and implacable zeal in his face. 

"Now I'll give you the blessing, too. Wait till I get my bottle of oil. "

He stepped to the nearest wagon, felt under the cover, and came backwith a small bottle in his hand. 

"Stand jest here--so--now!"

They stood at the edge of the wavering firelight, and he put his hand onthe other's head. 

"'In the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and by the authority ofthe Holy Priesthood, the first President, Patriarch, and High Priest ofthe Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, representing the first, second, and third Gods in Heaven, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I donow anoint you with holy consecrated oil, and by the imposition of myhands do ordain and set you apart for the holy calling whereunto you arecalled; that you may consecrate the riches of the Gentiles to the Houseof Israel, bring swift destruction upon apostate sinners, and executethe decrees of Heaven without fear of what man can do with you. So moteit be. Amen. '

"There, boy, if I ain't mistaken, that's the best work for Zion that Idone for some time. Now be off to your rest!"

"Good night, Bishop, and thank you for being kind to me! The Church Poetcalled me the Lute of the Holy Ghost, but I feel to-night, that I mustbe another Lion of the Lord. Good night!"

He went out of the firelight and stumbled through the dark to his ownwagons. But when he came to them he could not stop. Under all theexhilaration he had been conscious of the great pain within him, druggedfor the moment, but never wholly stifled. Now the stimulus of the drinkhad gone, and the pain had awakened to be his master. 

He went past the wagons and out on to the prairie that stretched away, asea of silvery gray in the moonlight. As he walked, the whole stupendousload of sorrow settled upon him. His breath caught and his eyes burnedwith the tears that lay behind them. He walked faster to flee from it, but it came upon him more heavily until it made a breaking load, --theloss of his sister by worse than death, his father and mother driven outat night and their home burned, his father killed by a mob whose aim hadlacked even the dignity of the murderer's--for they had seeminglyintended but a brutal piece of horse-play; his mother dead fromexposure due to Gentile persecutions; the girl he had loved taken fromhim by Gentile persuasions. If only she had been left him so that now hecould put his head down upon her shoulder, slight as that shoulder was, and feel the supreme soothing of a woman's touch; if only the hurts hadnot all come at once! The pain sickened him. He was far out on theprairie now, away from the sleeping encampment, and he threw himselfdown to give way to his grief. Almost silently he wept, yet with sobsthat choked him and cramped him from head to foot. He called to hismother and to his father and to the sister who had gone before them, crying their names over and over in the night. But under all his sorrowhe felt as great a rage against the Gentile nation that had driven theminto the wilderness. 

When the spasm of grief had passed, he still lay there a long time. Thenbecoming chilled he walked again over the prairie, watching the moon godown and darkness come to make the stars brighter, and then the day showgray in the east. And as he walked against his sorrow, the burden of histhought came to be: "God has tried me more than most men; therefore heexpects more of me; and my reward shall be greater. New visions shall begiven to me, and a new power, and this poor, hunted, plundered remnantof Israel shall find me their staff. Much has been taken from me, butmuch will be given unto me. "

And under this ran a minor strain born of the rage that still burnedwithin him:

"But, oh, the day of wrath that shall dawn on yonder Gentiles!"

So did he chasten himself through the night; and when the morning camehe took his place in the train, strangely exalted by this new sense ofthe singular favour that was to be conferred upon him. 

For seven weeks the little caravan crept over the prairies of Iowa, andday after day his conviction strengthened that he had been chosen forlarge works. In this fervour he cheered the sick and the weak of theparty by picturing for them a great day to come when the Lord shouldexalt the valleys of humility and abase the mountains of Gentile pride;when the Saints should have their reward, and retribution should descendupon the wicked nation they were leaving behind. Scourges, afflictions, and depredations by fire, famine, and the tyrant's hand he besought themto regard as marks of Heaven's especial favour. 

The company came to look upon him as its cloud by day and its pillar offire by night. Old women--mothers in Israel--lavished attentions uponhim as a motherless boy; young women smiled at him with soft pity, andwere meek and hushed when he spoke. And the men believed that the thingshe told them concerning their great day to come were true revelationsfrom God. They did not hesitate to agree with the good Bishop Wright, who declared in words of pointed admiration, "When that young man getsall het up with the Holy Ghost, the Angel of the Lord jest _has_ to givedown!"

CHAPTER VII. 

_Some Inner Mysteries Are Expounded_

The hosts of Israel had been forced to tarry for the winter on the banksof the Missouri. A few were on the east side at Council Bluffs on theland of the Pottawattamie Indians. Across the river on the land of theOmahas the greater part of the force had settled at what was known asWinter Quarters. Here in huts of logs, turf, and other primitivematerials, their town had been laid out with streets and byways, a largecouncil-house, a mill, a stockade, and blockhouses. The Indians hadreceived them with great friendliness, feeling with them a common causeof grievance, since the heavy hand of the Gentile had pushed them alsoto this bleak frontier. 

To this settlement early in November came the last train from Nauvoo, its members wearied and wasted by the long march, but staunch in theirfaith and with hope undimmed. It was told in after years how there hadleaped from the van of this train a very earnest young man, who had atonce sought an audience with Brigham Young and certain other members ofthe Twelve who had chanced to be present at the train's arrival; andhow, being closeted with these, he had eagerly inquired if it might notbe the will of the Lord that they should go no farther into thewilderness, but stand their ground and give battle to the Gentilesforthwith. He made the proposal as one who had a flawless faith that theGod of Battles would be with them, and he appeared to believe thatsomething might be done that very day to force the matter to an issue. When he had made his proposal, he waited in a modest attitude to heartheir views of it. To his chagrin, all but two of those who had listenedlaughed. One of these two, Bishop Snow, --a man of holy aspect whom theChurch Poet had felicitously entitled the Entablature of Truth, --hadlooked at him searchingly, then put his hand upon his own head andshaken it hopelessly to the others. 

The other who had not laughed was Brigham himself. For to this great manhad been given the gift to look upon men and to know in one slow sweepof his wonderful eyes all their strength and all their weakness. He hadlistened with close attention to the remarkable plan suggested by thisfiery young zealot, and he studied him now with a gaze that was kind. Anoticeable result of this attitude of Brigham's was that those who hadlaughed became more or less awkwardly silent, while the Entablature ofTruth, in the midst of his pantomime, froze into amazement. 

"We'd better consider that a little, " said Brigham, finally. "You cantalk it over with me tonight. But first you go get your stuff unloadedand get kind of settled. There's a cabin just beyond my two up thestreet here that you can move into. " He put his large hand kindly on theother's shoulder. "Now run and get fixed and come to my house for supperalong about dark. "

Somewhat cooled by the laughter of the others, but flattered by thisconsideration from the Prophet, the young man had gone thoughtfully outto his wagons and driven on to the cabin indicated. 

"I _did_ think he was plumb crazy, " said Bishop Snow, doubtfully, as ifthe reasons for changing his mind were even yet less than compelling. 

"He _ain't_ crazy, " said Brigham. "All that's the matter with him, he'sgot more faith than the whole pack of us put together. You just rememberhe ain't like us. We was all converted after we got our second teeth, while he's had it from the cradle up. He's the first one we've caughtyoung. He's what the priesthood can turn out when they get a full swingwith the rising generation. We got to remember that. We old birds had tolearn to crow in middle life. These young ones will crow stronger;they'll out-crow us. But all the better for that. They'll be mightybrash at first, but all they need is to be held in a little, and thenthey'll be a power in the Kingdom. "

"Well, of course you're right, Brother Brigham, but that boy certainlyneeds a check-rein and a curb-bit right now, " said Snow. 

"He'll have his needings, " answered Brigham, shortly, and the informalcouncil dispersed. 

Brigham talked to him late that night, advancing many cogent reasons whyit should be unwise to make war at once upon the nation of Gentiles tothe east. Of these reasons the one that had greatest weight with hislistener was the assurance that such a course would not at present bepleasing in the sight of God. To others, touching upon the matter ofsuperior forces they might have to contend with, he was loftilyinattentive. 

Having made this much clear, Brigham went on in his fatherly way toimpress him anew with the sinfulness of all temporal governments outsidethe Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Again he learned fromthe lips of authority that any people presuming to govern themselves bylaws of their own making and officers of their own appointing, are inwicked rebellion against the Kingdom of God; that for seventeen hundredyears the nations of the Western Hemisphere have been destitute of thisKingdom and destitute of all legal government; and that the Lord was nowabout to rend all earthly governments, to cast down thrones, overthrownations, and make a way for the establishment of the everlastingKingdom, to which all others would have to yield, or be prostrated nevermore to rise. Thus was the rebuff of the afternoon gracefully atonedfor. 

From matters of civil government the talk ranged to affairs domestic. 

"Tell me, " said the young man, "the truth of this new order of celestialmarriage. " And Brigham had become animated at once. 

"Yes, " he said, "when the family organisation was revealed from Heaven, and Joseph began on the right and the left to add to his family, oh, dear, what a quaking there was in Israel! But there it was, plainenough. When you have received your endowments, keys, blessings, all thetokens, signs, and every preparatory ordinance that can be given to aman for his entrance through the celestial gate, then you can see it. "

He gazed a moment into the fire of hickory logs before which they sat, and then went on, more confidentially:

"Now you take that promise to Abraham--'Lift up your eyes and behold thestars. So shall thy seed be as numberless as the stars. Go to theseashore and look at the sand, and behold the smallness of the particlesthereof'--I am giving you the gist of the Lord's words, youunderstand--'and then realise that your seed shall be as numberless asthose sands. ' Now think for a minute how many particles there are, sayin a cubit foot of sand--about one thousand million particles. Think ofthat! In eight thousand years, if the inhabitants of earth increased onetrillion a century, three cubic yards of sand would still contain moreparticles than there would be people on the whole globe. Yet there yougot the promise of the Lord in black and white. Now how was Abraham tomanage to get a foundation laid for this mighty kingdom? Was he to getit all through one wife? Don't you see how ridiculous that is? Sarah sawit, and Sarah knew that unless seed was raised to Abraham he would comeshort of his glory. So what did Sarah do? She gave Abraham a certainwoman whose name was Hagar, and by her a seed was to be raised up untohim. And was that all? No. We read of his wife Keturah, and also of aplurality of wives which he had in the sight and favour of God, and fromwhom he raised up many sons. There, then, was a foundation laid for thefulfilment of that grand promise concerning his seed. "

He peered again into the fire, and added, by way of clenching hisargument: "I guess it would have been rather slow-going, if the Lord hadconfined Abraham to one wife, like some of these narrow, contractednations of modern Christianity. You see, they don't know that a man'sposterity in this world is to constitute his glory and kingdom anddominion in the world to come, and they don't know, either, that thereare thousands of choice spirits in the spirit world waiting totabernacle in the flesh. Of course, there are lots of these things thatyou ain't ready to hear yet, but now you know that polygamy is necessaryfor our exaltation to the fulness of the Lord's glory in the eternalworld, and after you study it you'll like the doctrine. I do; I canswallow it without greasing _my_ mouth!"

He prayed that night to be made "holy as Thy servant Brigham is holy;to hear Thy voice as he hears it; to be made as wise as he, as true ashe, even as another Lion of the Lord, so that I may be a rod and staffand comforter to these buffeted children of Thine. "

His prayer also touched on one of the matters of their talk. "But, OLord, teach me to be content without thrones and dominion in Thy Kingdomif to gain these I must have many wives. Teach me to abase myself, to bea servant, a lowly sweeper in the temple of the Most High, for I wouldrather be lowly with her I love than exalted to any place whatsoeverwith many. Keep in my sinful heart the face of her who has left me todwell among the Gentiles, whose hair is melted gold, whose eyes areazure deep as the sky, and whose arms once opened warm for me. Guard herespecially, O Lord, while she must company with Gentiles, for she is notwonted to their wiles; and in Thine own good time bring her headunharmed to its home on Thy servant's breast. "

He fasted often, that winter, waiting and watching for his greatWitness--something that should testify to his mortal eyes the directfavour of Heaven. He fasted and kept vigils and studied the mysteries;for now he was among the favoured to whom light had been given inabundance--men at whose feet he was eager to sit. He learned of baptismfor the dead; of the Godship of Adam, and his plurality of wives; of thelaws of adoption and the process by which the Saints were to people, and be Gods to, earths yet formless. 

There was much work out of doors to be done, and of this he performedhis share, working side by side with the tireless Brigham. But therewere late afternoons and long evenings in which he sat with the Prophetto his great advantage. For, strangely enough, the two men, so unlike, were drawn closely together--Brigham Young, the broad-headed, square-chinned buttress of physical vitality, the full-blooded, clarion-voiced Lion of the Lord, self-contained, watchful, radiating thepower that men feel and obey without knowing why, and Joel Rae, of thelong, narrow, delicately featured face, sensitive, nervous, glowing witha spiritual zeal, the Lute of the Holy Ghost, whose veins ran fireinstead of blood. One born to command, to domineer; the other tobelieve, to worship, and to obey. For the younger man it was a winter oflimitless aspiration and chastening discipline. In spite of the greatsorrows that weighed upon him, the sudden sweeping away of those he hadheld most dear and the blasting of his love hopes, he remembered itthrough all the eventful years that followed as a time of strangehappiness. Memories of it came gratefully to him even on the awful daywhen at last his Witness came; when, as he lay fainting in the desert, driven thence by his sin, the heavens unfolded and a vision wasvouchsafed him;--when the foundations of his world were shattered, thetables of the law destroyed, and but one little feather saved to hisfamished soul from the wings of the dove of truth. After all theseyears, the memory of this winter was a spot of joy that never failed toglow when he recalled it. 

At night he went to his bunk in the little straw-roofed hut and fellasleep to the howling of the wolves, his mind cradled in the thought ofhis mission. He had a part in the great work of bringing into harmonythe labours of the prophets and apostles of all ages. In due time, bythe especial favour of Heaven, he would be wrapped in a sea of vision, shown an eternity of knowledge, and be intrusted with singular powers. And he was content to wait out the days in which he must school, chasten, and prove himself. 

"You have built me up, " he confided to Brigham, one day. "I feel torejoice in my strength. " And Brigham was highly pleased. 

"That's good, Brother Joel. The host of Israel will soon be on the move, and I shouldn't wonder if the Lord had a great work for you. I can seeplaces where you'll be just the tool he needs. I mistrust we sha'n'thave everything peaceful even now. The priest in the pulpit is thorningthe politician against us, gouging him from underneath--he'd never daredo it openly, for our Elders could crimson his face with shame--and theminions of the mob may be after us again. If they do, I can see whereyou will be a tower of strength in your own way. "

"It's all of my life, Brother Brigham. "

"I believe it. I guess the time has come to make you an Elder. "

And so on a late winter afternoon in the quiet of the Council-House, Joel Rae was ordained an Elder after the order of Melchisedek; withpower to preach and administer in all the ordinances of the Church, tolay on hands, to confirm all baptised persons, to anoint the afflictedwith oil, and to seal upon them the blessings of health. 

In his hard, narrow bed that night, where the cold came through theunchinked logs and the wind brought him the wailing of the wolves, heprayed that he might not be too much elated by this extraordinarydistinction. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

_A Revelation from the Lord and a Toast from Brigham_

From his little one-roomed cabin, dark, smoky, littered with hay, oldblankets, and skins, he heard excited voices outside, one early morningin January. He opened the door and found a group of men discussing amiracle that had been wrought overnight. The Lord had spoken to Brighamand word had come to Zion to move toward the west. 

He hurried over to Brigham's house and by that good man was shown theword of the Lord as it had been written down from his lips. Withemotions of reverential awe he read the inspired document. 

"The Word and Will of the Lord Concerning the Camp of Israel in itsJourneyings to the West. " Such was its title. 

"Let all the people, " it began, "of the Church of Jesus Christ ofLatter-day Saints, be organised into companies with a covenant and apromise to keep all the statutes of the Lord our God. 

"Let the companies be organised with captains of hundreds and captainsof fifties and captains of tens, with a President and Counsellor attheir head under the direction of the Twelve Apostles. 

"Let each company provide itself with all the teams, wagons, provisions, and all other necessaries for the journey. 

"Let every man use all of his influence and property to remove thispeople to the place where the Lord shall locate a stake of Zion, and letthem share equally in taking the poor, the widows, and the fatherless, so that their cries come not up into the ears of the Lord against Hispeople. 

"And if ye do this with a pure heart, with all faithfulness, ye shall beblessed in your flocks and in your herds and in your fields and in yourfamilies. For I am the Lord your God, even the God of your fathers, theGod of Abraham, Isaac, and of Jacob. I am He who led the children ofIsrael out of the land of Egypt, and my arm is stretched out in theselast days to save my people of Israel. 

"Fear not thine enemies, for they are in my hands, and I will do mypleasure with them. 

"My people must be tried in all things, that they may be worthy toreceive the glory that I have in store for them, even the glory of Zion;and he that will not receive chastisement is not worthy of my Kingdom. So no more at present. Amen and Amen!"

This was what he had longed for each winter night when he had seen thesun go down, --the word of the Lord to follow that sun on over the riminto the pathless wilderness, infested by savage tribes and ravenousbeasts, abounding in terrors unknown. There was an adventure worth whilein the sight of God. It had never ceased to thrill him since he firstheard it broached, --the mad plan of a handful of persecuted believers, setting out from civilisation to found Zion in the wilderness, --to goforth a thousand miles from Christendom with nothing but stout arms anda very living faith in the God of Israel, and in Joseph Smith as hisprophet, meeting death in famine, plagues, and fevers, freezing in thesnows of the mountains, thirsting to death on the burning deserts, beingdevoured by ravening beasts or tortured to death by the sinfulLamanites; but persisting through it all with dauntless courage to afinal triumph so glorious that the very Gods would be compelled toapplaud the spectacle of their devoted heroism. 

And now he was face to face with the awful, the glorious, the divinelyordained fact. It was like standing before the Throne of Grace itself. Out over that western skyline was a spot, now hidden and defended by allthe powers of Satan, where the Ten Tribes would be restored, where Zionwould be rebuilt, where Christ would reign personally on earth athousand years, and from whence the earth would be renewed and receiveagain its paradisiac glory. The thought overwhelmed. 

"If we could only start at once!" he said to Bishop Wright, who hadread the revelation with him. But the canny Bishop's religious zeal washenceforth to be tempered by the wisdom of the children of darkness. 

"No more travelling in this kind of a time for the Saints, " the Bishopreplied. "We got our full of that when we first left Nauvoo. We had toscrape snow from the ground and set up tents when it was fifteen ortwenty below zero, and nine children born one night in that weather. Ofcourse it was better than staying at Nauvoo to be shot; but no one isgoing to shoot us here, so here we'll tarry till grass grows and waterruns. "

"But there was a chance to show devotion, Brother Seth. Think howprecious it must have been in the sight of the Lord. "

"Well, the Lord knows we're devoted now, so we'll wait till it fairs up. We'll have Zion built in good time and a good gospel fence built aroundit, elk-high and bull-tight, like we used to say in Missouri. But it's along ways over yender, and while I ain't ever had any revelationsmyself, I'm pretty sure the Lord means to have me toler'bly well fed, and my back kept bone-dry on the way. And we got to have fat horses andfat cattle, not these bony critters with no juice in 'em. Did you hearwhat Brother Heber got off the other day? He butchered a beef and wassawing it up when Brother Brigham passed by. 'Looks hard, BrotherHeber, ' says Brother Brigham. 'Hard, Brother Brigham? Why, I've had togrease the saw to make it work!' Yes, sir, had to grease his saw tomake it work through that bony old heifer. Now we already passed throughenough pinches not to go out lookin' for 'em any more. Why, I tell you, young man, if I knew any place where the pinches was at, you'd see mecomin' the other way like a bat out of hell!"

And so the ardent young Elder was compelled to curb his spirit until thetime when grass should grow and water run. Yet he was not alone infeeling this impatience for the start. Through all the settlement hadthrilled a response to the Lord's word as revealed to his servantBrigham. The God of Israel was to be with them on the march, and old andyoung were alike impatient. 

Early in April the life began to stir more briskly in the great campthat sprawled along either side of the swollen, muddy river. From dawnto dark each day the hills echoed with the noise of many works, thestreets were alive with men and women going and coming on endlesserrands, and with excited children playing at games inspired by theoccasion. Wagons were mended and loaded with provisions and tools, oxenshod, ox-bows renewed, guns put in order, bullets moulded, and thethousand details perfected of a migration so hazardous. They were busy, noisy, excited, happy days. 

At last, in the middle of April, the signs were seen to be right. Grassgrew and water ran, and their part, allotted by the Lord, was to bravethe dangers of that forbidding land that lay under the western sun. Then came a day of farewells and merry-making. In the afternoon, the daybeing mild and sunny, there was a dance in the bowery, --a great arbourmade of poles and brush and wattling. Here, where the ground had beentrodden firm, the age and maturity as well as the youth and beauty ofIsrael gathered in such poor festal array as they had been able to savefrom their ravaged stores. 

The Twelve Apostles led off in a double cotillion, to the moving strainsof a violin and horn, the lively jingle of a string of sleigh-bells, andthe genial snoring of a tambourine. Then came dextrous displays in thedances of our forbears, who followed the fiddle to the Fox-chase Inn orGarden of Gray's Ferry. There were French Fours, Copenhagen jigs, Virginia reels, --spirited figures blithely stepped. And the grave-faced, square-jawed Elders seemed as eager as the unthinking youths and maidensto throw off for the moment the burden of their cares. 

From midday until the April sun dipped below the sharp skyline of theOmaha hills, the modest revel endured. Then silence was called by agrim-faced, hard-voiced Elder, who announced:

"The Lute of the Holy Ghost will now say a word of farewell from ourpioneers to those who must stay behind. "

He stood before them erect, brave, confident; and the fire of his faithwarmed his voice into their hearts. 

"Children of Israel, we are going into the wilderness to lay thefoundations of a temple to the most high God, so that when his Son, ourelder Brother, shall come on earth again, He may have a place where Hecan lay His head and spend, not only a night or a day, but rest until Hecan say, 'I am satisfied!'--a place, too, where you can obtain theordinances of salvation for yourselves, your living, and your dead. Letyour prayers go with us. We have been thrust out of Babylon, but to oureternal salvation. We care no more for persecution than for the whistleof the north wind, the croaking of the crane that flies over our heads, or the crackling of thorns under a pot. True, some of our dearest, ourbest-loved, have dropped by the way; they have fallen asleep, but whatof that?--and who cares? It is as well to live as to die, or to die asto live--as well to sleep as to be awake. It is all one. They have onlygone a little before us; and we shall soon strike hands with them acrossthose poor, mean, empty graves back there on the forlorn prairies ofIowa. For you must let me clench this God's truth into your minds; thatyou stand now in your last lot, in the end of your days when the Son ofMan cometh again. Afflictions shall be sent to humble and to prove you, but oh! stand fast to your teachings so that not one of you may be lost. May sinners in Zion become afraid henceforth, and fearfulness surprisethe hypocrite from this hour! And now may the favour and blessing ofGod be manifest upon you while we are absent from one another!"

When the fervent amens had died away they sang the farewell hymn:--

 "Thrones shall totter, Babel fall, Satan reign no more at all;

 "Saints shall gain the victory, Truth prevail o'er land and sea;

 "Gentile tyrants sink to hell; Now's the day of Israel. "

The words of the young Elder were felt to be highly consoling; but atoast given by Brigham that night was longer talked of. It was at afarewell party at the house of Bishop Wright. On the hay-covered floorof the banquet-room, amid the lights of many candles hung from theceiling and about the walls in their candelabra of hollowed turnips, thegreat man had been pleased to prophesy blessings profusely upon theassembled guests. 

"I am awful proud, " he began, "of the way the Lord has favoured us. I amproud all the time of his Elders, his servants, and his handmaids. Andwhen they do well I am prouder still. I don't know but I'll get so proudthat I'll be four or five times prouder than I am now. As I once said toSidney Rigdon, our boat is an old snag boat and has never been out ofSnag-harbour. But it will root up the snags, run them down, split them, and scatter them to the four quarters. Our ship is the old ship ofZion; and nothing that runs foul of her can withstand her shock andfury. "

Then had followed the toast, which was long remembered for its dauntlessspirit. 

"Here's wishing that all the mobocrats of the nineteenth century were inthe middle of the sea, in a stone canoe, with an iron paddle; that ashark would swallow the canoe, and the shark be thrust into thenethermost part of hell, with the door locked, the key lost, and a blindman looking for it!"

CHAPTER IX. 

_Into the Wilderness_

Onto the West at last to build the house of God in the mountains. On towhat Daniel Webster had lately styled "a region of savages and wildbeasts, of deserts, of shifting sands and whirlwinds of dust, of cactusand prairie-dogs. "

The little band of pioneers chosen to break a way for the main body ofthe Saints consisted of a hundred and forty-three men, three women, andtwo children. They were to travel in seventy-three wagons, drawn byhorses and oxen. They knew not where they were to stop, but they weremen of eager initiative, fearless and determined; and their consolationwas that, while their exodus into the desert meant hardship and grievoussuffering, it also promised them freedom from Gentile interference. Itwas not a fat land into which they were venturing; but at least it was aland without a past, lying clean as it came from the hand of its maker, where they could be free to worship God without fearing the narrowjudgment of the frivolous. Instructed in the sacred mysteries revealedto Joseph Smith through the magic light of the Urim and Thummim, andsustained by the divine message engraved on the golden plates he had dugup from the hill of Cumorah, they were now ready to feel their wayacross the continent and blaze a trail to the new Jerusalem. 

They went in military style with due precautions against surprise by theLamanites--the wretched red remnant of Abraham's seed--that swarmed onevery side. 

Brigham Young was lieutenant-general; Stephen Markham was colonel; theredoubtable John Pack was first major, and Shadrach Roundy, second. There were two captains of hundreds and fourteen captains of tens. Theorders of the lieutenant-general required each man to walk constantlybeside his wagon, leaving it only by his officer's commands. To make theforce compact, the wagons were to move two abreast where they could. Every man was to keep his weapons loaded. If the gun was a caplock, thecap was to be taken off and a piece of leather put on to excludemoisture and dirt; if a flintlock, the filling was to be taken out andthe pan filled with tow or cotton. 

Their march was not only cautious but orderly. At five A. M. The buglesounded for rising, two hours being allowed for prayers and breakfast. At night each man had to retire to his wagon for prayer at eight-thirty, and to rest at nine. If they camped by a river they drew the wagons intoa semicircle with the river at its base. Other times the wagons made acircle, a fore-wheel of one touching a rear wheel of the next, thusproviding a corral for the stock. In such manner was the wisdom of theLord concerning this hegira supplemented in detail by the worldlyforethought of his servant Brigham. 

They started along the north bank of the Platte River under theauspicious shine of an April sun. A better route was along the southbank where grass was more plentiful and the Indians less troublesome. But along the south bank parties of migrating Gentiles might also bemet, and these sons of perdition were to be avoided at any cost--"atleast for the present, " said Brigham, in tones of sage significance. 

And so for two hundred miles they broke a new way over the plains, to beknown years after as "the old Mormon trail, " to be broadened later bythe gold-seekers of forty-nine, and still later to be shod with steel, when the miracle of a railway was worked in the desert. 

To Joel Rae, Elder after the order of Melchisedek, unsullied product ofthe temple priesthood, it was a time of wondrous soul-growth. In thatmysterious realm of pathless deserts, of illimitable prairies andboundless plains, of nameless rivers and colossal hills, a land ofdreams, of romance, of marvellous adventure, he felt strange powersgrowing within him. It seemed that in such a place the one who openedhis soul to heaven must become endowed with all those singular gifts hehad longed for. He looked confidently forward to the time when theyshould regard him as a man who could work miracles. 

At the head of Grand Island they came to vast herds of buffalo--restlessbrown seas of humped, shaggy backs and fiercely lowered heads. In theirfirst efforts to slay these they shot them full in the forehead, andwere dismayed to find that their bullets rebounded harmlessly. Theysolved the mystery later, discovering the hide on the skull of a deadbull to be an inch thick and covered with a mat of gnarled hair initself almost a shield against bullets. Joel Rae, with the divine rightof youth, drew for them from this circumstance an instructive parallel. 

So was the head of their own church protected against Gentile shafts bythe hide of righteousness and the matted hair of faith. 

The Indians killed buffalo by riding close and striking them with anarrow at the base of the spine; whereupon the beast would fallparalysed, to be hamstrung at leisure. Only by some such infernalstrategy, the young Elder assured them, could the Gentiles everhenceforth cast them down. 

For many days their way lay through these herds of buffalo--herds sofar-reaching that none could count their numbers or even see theirfarther line, lost in the distance over the swell of the plains. Oftentheir way was barred until a herd would pass, making the earth tremble, and with a noise like muffled thunder. They waited gladly, feeling thatthese were obstacles on the way to Zion. 

Thus far it had been a land of moderate plenty, one in which they were, at least, not compelled to look to Heaven for manna. Besides the buffalowhich the hunters learned to kill, they found deer, antelope, greatflocks of geese and splendid bronzed wild turkeys. Even the truculentgrizzly came to be numbered among their trophies. 

Day after day marched the bearded host, --farmers with ploughs, mechanicswith tools, builders, craftsmen, woodsmen, all the needed factors of acolony, led by the greatest coloniser of modern times, their one greataim being to make ready some spot in the wilderness for the secondadvent of the Messiah. All about them was the prairie, its long grassgently billowed by the spring breeze. On the far right, blue in thehaze, was a continuous range of lofty bluffs. On the left the waters ofthe Platte, muddied by the spring freshets, flowed over beds ofquicksand between groves of cottonwood that pleasantly fringed itsbanks. The hard labour and the constant care demanded by the dangersthat surrounded them prevented any from feeling the monotony of thelandscape. 

Besides the regular trials of the march there were wagons to be "snaked"across the streams, tires to be reset and yokes to be mended at each"lay-by, " strayed stock to be hunted, and a thousand contingenciessufficient to drive from their minds all but the one thought that theyhad been thrown forth from a Christian land for the offence ofworshipping God according to the dictates of their own consciences. 

Joel Rae, walking beside his wagon, meditated chiefly upon the manner inwhich his Witness would first manifest itself. The wonder came, in away, while he thus meditated. Late one afternoon the scouts thrown inadvance came hurrying back to report a large band of Indians strung outin battle array a few miles ahead. The wagons were at once formed fiveabreast, their one cannon was wheeled to the front, and the companyadvanced in close formation. Perceiving these aggressive manoeuvres, theIndians seemed to change their plan and, instead of coming on to attack, were seen to be setting fire to the prairie. 

The result might well have been disastrous, as the wind was blowingtoward the train. Joel Rae saw it; saw that the time had come for amiracle if the little company of Saints was to be saved a seriousrebuff. He quickly entered his wagon and began to pray. He prayed thatthe Lord might avert this calamity and permit the handful of faithfulones to proceed in peace to fashion His temple on earth. 

When he began to pray there had been outside a woful confusion ofsounds, --scared and plunging horses, bellowing oxen, excited menshouting to the stock and to one another, the barking of dogs and therattling of the wagons. Through this din he prayed, scarcely hearing hisown voice, yet feeling within himself the faith that he knew mustprevail. And then as he prayed he became conscious that these noiseshad subsided to a wonderful silence. A moment this lasted, and then heheard it broken by a mighty shout of gladness, followed by excited callsfrom one man to another. 

He looked out in calm certainty to observe in what manner the Lord hadconsented to answer his petition. He saw that the wind had veered and, even as he looked, large drops of rain came pounding musically upon hiswagon-cover. Far in front of them a long, low line of flame was crawlingto the west, while above it lurid clouds of smoke rolled away from them. In another moment the full force of the shower was upon them from a skythat half an hour before had been cloudless. Far off to the rightscurried the Indians, their feathery figures lying low upon the backs oftheir small ponies. His heart swelled within him, and he fell again tohis knees with many earnest words of thanksgiving for the intercession. 

They at once made camp for the night, and by Brigham's fire later in theevening Joel Rae confided the truth of his miracle to that good man, taking care not to utter the words with any delight or pride in himself. He considered that Brigham was unduly surprised by the occurrence;almost displeased in fact; showing a tendency to attribute the day'sgood fortune to phenomena wholly natural. Although the miracle hadseemed to him a small, simple thing, he now felt a little ashamed of hisperformance. He was pleased to note, however, that Brigham became moregracious to him after a short period of reflection. He praised himindeed for the merit which he seemed to have gained in the Lord's sight;taking occasion to remind him, however, that he, Brigham, had meant toproduce the same effects by a prayer of his own in due time to save thetrain from destruction; that he had chosen to wait, however, in order totry the faith of the Saints. 

"As a matter of fact, Brother Joel, " he concluded, "I don't know asthere is any limit to the power with which the Lord has blessed me. Itell you I feel equal to any miracle--even to raising the dead, Isometimes think--I feel that fired up with the Holy Ghost!"

"I am sure you will do even that, Brother Brigham. " And the young man'seyes swam with mingled gratitude and admiration. He resolved in hiswagon that night, that when the time came for another miracle, he wouldnot selfishly usurp the honour of performing it. He would not againforestall the able Brigham. 

By the first of June they had wormed their way over five hundred milesof plain to the trading post of Fort Laramie. Here they were at lastforced to cross the Platte and to take up their march along the Oregontrail. They were now in the land of alkaline deserts, of sage-brush andgreasewood, of sad, bleak, deadly stretches; a land where the favour ofHeaven might have to be called upon if they were to survive. Yet it wasa land not without inspiration, --a land of immense distances, of long, dim perspectives, and of dreamy visions in the far, vague haze. In sucha land, thought Joel Rae, the spirit of the Lord must draw closer to thechildren of earth. In such a land no miracle should be too difficult. And so it came that he was presently enabled to put in Brigham's way theopportunity of performing a work of mercy which he himself would havebeen glad to do, but for the fear of affronting the Prophet. 

A band of mounted Sioux had met them one day with friendly advances andstopped to trade. Among the gaudy warriors Joel Rae's attention wascalled to a boy who had lost an arm. He made inquiries, and found him tobe the son of the chief. The chief himself made it plain to Joel thatthe young man had lost his arm ten moons before in a combat with agrizzly bear. Whereupon the young Elder cordially bade the chief bringhis crippled son to their own great chief, who would, by the graciouspower of God, miraculously restore the missing member. 

A few moments later the three were before Brigham, who was standing byhis wagon; Joel Rae, glowing with a glad and confident serenity; thetawny chief with his sable braids falling each side of his painted face, gay in his head-dress of dyed eagle plumes, his buckskin shirt jewelledwith blue beads and elk's teeth, warlike with his bow and steel-pointedarrows; and the young man, but little less ornate than his splendidfather, stoical, yet scarce able to subdue the flash of hope in hiseyes as he looked up to the great white chief. 

Brigham looked at them questioningly. Joel announced their errand. 

"It's a rare opportunity, Brother Brigham, to bring light to thesewretched Lamanites. This boy had his arm torn off a year ago in a fightwith a grizzly. You know you told me that day I brought the rain-stormthat you could well-nigh raise the dead, so this will be easy for you. "

Brigham still looked puzzled, so the young man added with a flash ofenthusiasm: "Restore this poor creature's arm and the noise of themiracle will go all through these tribes;" he paused expectantly. 

It is the mark of true greatness that it may never be found unprepared. Now and again it may be made to temporise for a moment, cunninglyadopting one expedient or another to hide its unreadiness--but nevermore than briefly. 

Brigham had looked slowly from the speaker to the Indians and slowlyback again. Then he surveyed several bystanders who had been attractedto the group, and his eyelids were seen to work rapidly, as if insympathetic pace with his thoughts. Then all at once he faced Joel. 

"Brother Rae, have you reflected about this?"

"Why--Brother Brigham--no--not reflected--perhaps if we both prayed withhearts full of faith, the Lord might--"

"Brother Rae!"

There was sternness in the voice now, and the young man trembled beforethe Lion of the Lord. 

"You mistake me. I guess I'm a good enough servant of the Lord, so myown prayer would restore this arm without any of your help; yes, I guessthe Lord and me could do it without _you_--if we thought it was best. Now pay attention. Do you believe in the resurrection of the body?"

"I do, Brother Brigham, and of course I didn't mean to"--he was blushingnow. 

"Do you believe the day of judgment is at hand?"

"I do. "

"How near?"

"You and our priests and Elders say it will come in 1870. "

"Correct! How many years is that from now?"

"Twenty-three, Brother Brigham. "

"Yes, twenty-three. Now then, how many years are there to be afterthat?"

"How many--surely an eternity!"

"More than twenty-three years, then--much more?"

"Eternity means endless time. "

"Oh, it does, does it?"

There had been gradually sounding in his voice a ring of triumph whichnow became distinct. 

"Well, then, answer me this--and remember it shall be as you say to thebest of my influence with the Lord--you shall be responsible for thispoor remnant of the seed of Cain. Now, don't be rash! Is it better forthis poor creature to continue with his one arm here for thetwenty-three years the world is to endure, and then pass on to eternitywhere he will have his two arms forever; or, do you want me to renew hisarm now and let him go through eternity a freak, a monstrosity? Do youwant him to suffer a little inconvenience these few days he has here, ordo you want him to go through an endless hereafter with _three arms_?"

The young man gazed at him blankly with a dropped jaw. 

"Come, what do you say? I'm full of faith. Shall I--"

"No--no, Brother Brigham; don't--for God's sake, don't! Of course hewould be resurrected with three arms. You think of everything, BrotherBrigham!"

The Indians had meanwhile been growing puzzled and impatient. He nowmotioned them to follow him. 

By dint of many crude efforts in the sign language and an earnest use ofthe few words known to both, he succeeded, after a long time, in puttingthe facts before the chief and his son; They, after an animatedconversation, succeeded with much use of the sign language in conveyingto Joel Rae the information that the young man was not at all dismayedby the prospect of having three arms during the next life. He gathered, indeed, that both father and son would be rather elated than otherwiseby this circumstance, seeming to suspect that the extra member mustconfer superior prowess and high distinction upon its possessor. 

But he shook his head with much determination, and refused to take themagain before the great white chief. The thought troubled him exceedinglyand would not be gone--yet he knew not how to account for it--thatBrigham would not receive this novel view of the matter with anycordiality. 

When they were camped that night, Brigham made a suggestion to him. 

"Brother Rae, it ain't just the best plan in the world to come on a mansudden that way for so downright a miracle. A man can't be always firedup with the Holy Ghost, with all the cares of this train on his mind. You come and have a private talk with me beforehand after this, when yougot a miracle you want done. "

He prayed more fervently than ever that night to be made "wise and goodlike thy servant Brigham"--also for the gift of tongues to come upon himso that he might instruct the Indians in the threefold character of theGodhead and in other matters pertaining to their salvation. 

CHAPTER X. 

_The Promised Land_

So far on their march the Lord had protected them from all but ordinaryhardships. True, some members of the company had suffered from a feverwhich they attributed to the clouds of dust that enveloped the column ofwagons when in motion, and to the great change of temperature from dayto night. Again, the most of them were for many weeks without bread, saving for the sick the little flour they had and subsisting upon themeat provided by the hunters. Before reaching Fort Laramie, too, theirstock had become weakened for want of food; an extended drought, thevast herds of buffalo, and the Indian fires having combined to destroythe pasturage. 

This weakness of the animals made the march for many days not more thanfive or six miles a day. At the last they had fed to the stock not onlyall their grain but the most of their crackers and other breadstuffs. But these were slight matters to a persecuted people gathering out ofBabylon. 

Late in June they reached the South Pass. For many hundred miles theyhad been climbing the backbone of the continent. Now they had reachedthe summit, the dividing ridge between streams that flowed to theAtlantic and streams that flowed to the Pacific. From the level prairiesthey had toiled up into the fearsome Rockies where bleak, grim cragslowered upon them from afar, and distant summits glistening with snowwarned them of the perils ahead. 

Through all this time of marching the place where they should pitch thetent of Israel was not fixed upon. When Brigham was questioned aroundthe camp-fire at night, his only reply was that he would know the siteof their new home when he saw it. And it came to be told among the menthat he had beheld in vision a tent settling down from heaven andresting over a certain spot; and that a voice had said to him, "Here isthe place where my people Israel shall pitch their tents and spread widethe curtains of Zion!" It was enough. He would recognise the spot whenthey reached it. 

From the trappers, scouts, and guides encountered along the road theyhad received much advice as to eligible locations; and while this wasvarious as to sites recommended, the opinion had been unanimous that theSalt Lake Valley was impossible. It was, they were told, sandy, barren, rainless, destitute of timber and vegetation, infested with hordes ofhungry crickets, and roamed over by bands of the most savage Indians. Inshort, no colony could endure there. 

One by one the trappers they met voiced this opinion. There wasBordeaux, the grizzled old Frenchman, clad in ragged buckskin; MosesHarris; "Pegleg" Smith, whose habit of profanity was shocking; MilesGoodyear, fresh from captivity among the Blackfeet; and James Bridger. The latter had discovered Great Salt Lake twenty-five years before, andwas especially vehement in his condemnation of the valley. They hadhalted a day at his "fort, " two adjoining log houses with dirt roofs, surrounded by a high stockade of logs, and built on one of several smallislands formed by the branches of Black's Fork. Here they had found theold trapper amid a score of nondescript human beings, white men, Indianwomen, and half-breed children. 

Bridger had told them very concisely that he would pay them a thousanddollars for the first ear of corn raised in Salt Lake Valley. It is truethat Bridger seemed to have become pessimistic in many matters. For one, the West was becoming overcrowded and the price of furs was falling at arate to alarm the most conservative trapper. He referred feelingly tothe good old days when one got ten dollars a pound for prime beaverskins in St. Louis; but "now it's a skin for a plug of tobacco, andthree for a cup of powder, and other fancies in the same proportion. "And so, had his testimony been unsupported, they might have suspected hewas underestimating the advantages of the Salt Lake Valley. But, corroborated as he had been by his brother trappers, they began todescend the western slope of the Rockies strong in the opinion that thissame Salt Lake Valley was the land that had been chosen for them by theLord. 

They dared not, indeed, go to a fertile land, for there the Gentileswould be tempted to follow them--with the old bloody end. Only in adesert such as these men had described the Salt Lake Valley to be couldthey hope for peace. From Fort Bridger, then, their route bent to thesouthwest along the rocky spurs of the Uintah Mountains, whose snow-cladtops gleamed a bluish white in the July sun. 

By the middle of July the vanguard of the company began the descent ofEcho Caņon, --a narrow slit cut straight down a thousand feet into thered sandstone, --the pass which a handful of them was to hold a few yearslater against a whole army of the hated Gentiles. 

The hardest part of their journey was still before them. Their road hadnow to be made as they went, lying wholly among the mountains. Loftyhills, deep ravines with jagged sides, forbidding caņons, all butimpassable streams, rock-bound and brush-choked, --up and down, throughor over all these obstacles they had now to force a passage, cuttinghere, digging there; now double-locking the wheels of their wagons toprevent their crashing down some steep incline; now putting five teamsto one load to haul it up the rock-strewn side of some water-way. 

From Echo Caņon they went down the Weber, then toward East Caņon, adozen of the bearded host going forward with spades and axes as sappers. Sometimes they made a mile in five hours; sometimes they were lesslucky. But at length they were fighting their way up the choked EastCaņon, starting fierce gray wolves from their lairs in the rocks andhearing at every rod of their hard-fought way the swift and unnervingsong of the coiled rattlesnake. 

Eight fearful miles they toiled through this gash in the mountain; thenover another summit, --Big Mountain; down this dangerous slide, allwheels double-locked, on to the summit of another lofty hill, --LittleMountain; and abruptly down again into the rocky gorge afterwards tobecome historic as Immigration Caņon. 

Following down this gorge, never doubting they should come at last totheir haven, they found its mouth to be impassable. Rocks, brush, andtimber choked the way. Crossing to the south side, they went sheerly upthe steep hill--so steep that it was all but impossible for thestraining animals to drag up the heavy wagons, and so narrow that afalse step might have dashed wagon and team half a thousand feet on tothe rocks below. 

But at last they stood on the summit, --and broke into shouts of raptureas they looked. For the wilderness home of Israel had been found. Farand wide below them stretched their promised land, --a broad, openvalley hemmed in by high mountains that lay cold and far and still inthe blue haze. Some of these had slept since the world began under theircanopies of snow, and these flashed a sunlit glory into the eager eyesof the pilgrims. Others reared bare, scathed peaks above slopes thatwere shaggy with timber. And out in front lay the wondrous lake, --ashield of deepest glittering turquois held to the dull, gray breast ofthe valley. 

Again and again they cried out, "Hosanna to God and the Lamb!" and manyof the bearded host shed tears, for the hardships of the way hadweakened them. 

Then Brigham came, lying pale and wasted in his wagon, and when they sawhim gaze long, and heard him finally say, "Enough--drive on!" they knewthat on this morning of July 24, 1847, they had found the spot where invision he had seen the tent of the Lord come down to earth. 

Joel Rae had waited with a beating heart for Brigham's word ofconfirmation, and when he heard it his soul was filled to overflowing. He knew that here the open vision would enfold him; here the angel ofthe Lord would come to him fetching his great Witness. Here he wouldrise to immeasurable zeniths of spirituality. And here his people wouldbecome a mighty people of the Lord. He foresaw the hundred unwalledcities that Brigham was to found, and the green gardens that were tomake the now desert valley a fit setting for the temple of God. Herewas a stricken Rachel, a barren Sarah to be transformed by the touch ofthe Saints to a mother of many children. Here would the lambs of theLord be safe at last from the Gentile wolves--safe for a time at least, until so long as it might take the Lions of the Lord to come to theirgrowth. And that was to be no indefinite period; for had not Brighamjust said, with a snap of his great jaws and a cold flash of his blueeyes, "Let us alone ten years here, and we'll ask no odds of Uncle Samor the Devil!"

There on the summit they knelt to entreat the mercy of God upon theland. The next day, by their leader's direction, they consecrated thevalley to the Lord, and planted six acres of potatoes. 

CHAPTER XI. 

_Another Miracle and a Temptation in the Wilderness_

The floor of the valley was an arid waste, flat and treeless, a farsweep of gray and gold, of sage-brush spangled with sunflowers, patchedhere and there with glistening beds of salt and soda, or pools of thedeadly alkali. Here crawled the lizard and the rattlesnake; and therewas no music to the desolation save the petulant chirp of the cricket. At the sides an occasional stream tumbled out of the mountains to be allbut drunk away at once by the thirsty sands. Along the banks of thesewas the only green to be found, sparse fringes of willow and wild rose. On the borders of the valley, where the steeps arose, were littlepatches of purple and dusty brown, oak-bush, squaw-berry, a few dwarfedcedars, and other scant growths. At long intervals could be found amarsh of wire-grass, or a few acres of withered bunch-grass. But theseserved only to emphasise the prevailing desert tones. 

The sun-baked earth was so hard that it broke their ploughs when theytried to turn it. Not until they had spread water upon it from the riverthey had named Jordan could the ploughs be used. Such was the newCanaan, the land held in reserve by the Lord for His chosen people sincethe foundations of the world were laid. 

Dreary though it was, they were elated. Had not a Moses led them out ofbondage up into this chamber of the mountains against the day of wraththat was to consume the Gentile world? And would he not smite the rocksfor water? Would he not also be a Joshua to sit in judgment and divideto Israel his inheritance?

They waited not nor demurred, but fell to work. Within a week they hadexplored the valley and its caņons, made a road to the timber eightmiles away, built a saw-pit, sawed lumber for a skiff, ploughed, planted, and irrigated half a hundred acres of the parched soil, andbegun the erection of many dwellings, some of logs, some of adobes. Ground had also been chosen and consecrated by Brigham, whereon, in duetime, they would build up their temple to the God of Jacob. 

Meantime, they would continue to gather out of Babylon. During the latesummer and fall many wagons arrived from the Missouri, so that by thebeginning of winter their number was nearly two thousand. They livedrudely, a lucky few in the huts they had built; more in tents andwagon-boxes. Nor did they fail to thank Providence for the mild wintervouchsafed to them during this unprotected period, permitting them notonly to survive, but to continue their labours--of logging, home-building, the making of rough furniture, and the repairing ofwagons and tools. 

When the early spring came they were again quickly at the land withtheir seeds. Over five thousand acres were sown to needful produce. Whenthis began to sprout with every promise of a full harvest, their joy wasboundless; for their stock of breadstuffs and provisions had fallen lowduring the winter, and could not last later than harvest-time, even withrigid economy. 

But early in June, in the full flush of this springtide of promise, itappeared that the Lord was minded to chasten them. For into their broad, green fields came the ravenous crickets in wide, black streams down themountain sides. Over the growing grain they spread as a pall, and thetender sprouts were consumed to the ground. In their track they left nostalk nor growing blade. 

Starvation now faced the Saints. In their panic they sought to fight theall-devouring pest. While some went wildly through the fields killingthe crickets, others ran trenches and tried to drown them. Still othersbeat them back with sticks and brooms, or burned them by fires set inthe fields. But against the oncoming horde these efforts wereunavailing. Where hundreds were destroyed hundreds of thousandsappeared. 

Despair seized the Saints, the bitter despair of a cheated, famishedpeople--deluded even by their God. In their shorn fields they wept andcursed, knowing at last they could not stay the pest. 

Then into the fields came Joel Rae, rebuking the frenzied men and women. The light of a high faith was upon him as he called out to them:

"Have I not preached to you all winter the way to salvation in timeslike this? Does faith mean one thing in my mouth and another thing here?Why waste yourselves with those foolish tricks of fire and water? Theyonly make you forget Jehovah--you fools--you poor, blind fools--topalter so!"

He raised his voice, and the wondering group about him grew large. 

"Down, down on your knees and pray--pray--pray! I tell you the Lordshall _not_ suffer you to perish!"

Then, as but one or two obeyed him--

"So your hearts have been hardened? Then my own prayer shall save you!"

Down he knelt in the midst of the group, while they instinctively drewback from him on all sides. But as his voice rose, a voice that hadnever failed to move them, they, too, began to kneel, at first thosenear him, then others back of them, until a hundred knelt about him. 

He had not observed them, but with eyes closed he prayed on, pouring outhis heart in penitent supplication. 

"These people are but little children, after all, seeing not, gropingblindly, attempting weakly, blundering always, yet never faltering inlove for Thee. Now I, Thy servant, humble and lowly, from whom Thou hastalready taken in hardest ways all that his heart held dear, who willto-day give his body to be crucified, if need be, for this people--Iimplore Thee to save these blundering children now, in this very moment. I ask nothing for myself but that--"

As his words rang out, there had been quick, low, startled murmurs fromthe kneeling group about him; and now loud shouts interrupted hisprayer. He opened his eyes. From off toward the lake great flocks ofgulls had appeared, whitening the sky, and now dulling all other soundswith the beating of their wings and their high, plaintive cries. Quicklythey settled upon the fields in swirling drifts, so that the land allabout lay white as with snow. 

A groan went up, --"They will finish what the crickets have left. "

He had risen to his feet, looking intently. Then he gave an exultantshout. 

"No! No!--they are eating only the _crickets_!--the white birds aredevouring the black pests; the hosts of heaven and hell have met, andthe powers of light have triumphed once more over darkness! _Pray_--praynow with all your hearts in thanksgiving for this mercy!"

And again they knelt, many with streaming eyes, while he led them in aprayer of gratitude for this wondrous miracle. 

All day long the white birds fed upon the crickets, and when they leftat night the harvest had been saved. Thus had Heaven vouchsafed a secondmiracle to the Lute of the Holy Ghost. It is small wonder then if hisviews of the esteem in which he was held by that power were now greatlyenlarged. 

In August, thanks to the Heaven-sent gulls, they were able to celebratewith a feast their first "Harvest Home. " In the centre of the bigstockade a bowery was built, and under its shade tables were spread andrichly laden with the first fruits their labours had won from thedesert, --white bread and golden butter, green corn, watermelons, andmany varieties of vegetables. Hoisted on poles for exhibition wereimmense sheaves of wheat, rye, barley, and oats, coaxed from the aridlevel with the water they had cunningly spread upon it. 

There were prayers and public thanksgiving, songs and speeches anddancing. It was the flush of their first triumph over the desert. Untilnightfall the festival lasted, and at its close Elder Rae stood up toaddress them on the subject of their past trials and present blessings. The silence was instant, and the faces were all turned eagerly upon him, for it was beginning to be suspected that he had more than even priestlypower. 

"To-day, " he said, "the favour and blessing of God have been manifestupon us. But let us not forget our debts and duties in this feasting ofthe flesh. Afflictions are necessary to humble and prove us, and weshall have them as often as they are needed. Oh, never doubt it! I have, indeed, but one fear concerning this people in the valleys of themountains--but one trembling fear in the nerves of my spirit--and thatis lest we do not live the religion we profess. If we will only cleaveto that faith in our practise, I tell you we are at the defiance of allhell. But if we transgress the law God has given us, and trample Hismercies, blessings, and ordinances under our feet, treating them withthe indifference I have thought some occasionally do, not realisingtheir sins, I tell you that in consequence we shall be overcome, and theLord will let us be again smitten and scattered. Take it to heart. Maythe God of heaven fill you with the Holy Ghost and give you light andjoy in His Kingdom. "

When he was done many pressed forward to take his hand, the young andthe old, for they had both learned to reverence him. 

Near the outer edge of the throng was a red-lipped Juno, superblyrounded, who had gleaned in the fields until she was all a Gipsy brown, and her movements of a Gipsy grace in their freeness. She did not greetthe young Elder as did the others, seeming, indeed, to be unconscious ofhis presence. Yet she lingered near as they scattered off into the dusk, in little groups or one by one; and still she stood there when all weregone, now venturing just a glance at him from deep gray eyes set underblack brows, turning her splendid head a little to bring him into view. He saw the figure and came forward, peeringly. 

"Mara Cavan--yes, yes, so it is!" He took her hand, somewhat timidly, anobserver would have said. "Your father is not able to be out? I shallwalk down with you to see him--if you're ready now. "

She had been standing much like a statue, in guarded restraint, but athis words and the touch of his hand she seemed to melt and flow intoeager acquiescence, murmuring some hurried little words of thanks forher father, and stepping by his side with eyes down. 

They went out into the soft summer night, past the open doors whererejoicing groups still lingered, the young standing, the old sitting inchairs by the doors of their huts. Then they were out of the stockadeand off toward the southern end of the settlement. A big, golden moonhad come up over the jagged edge of the eastern hills, --a moon that leftthe valley in a mystic sheen of gold and blue, and threw their shadowsmadly into one as they walked. They heard the drowsy chirp of thecricket, now harmless, and the low cry of an owl. They felt thelanguorous warmth of the night, spiced with a hint of chilliness, andthey felt each other near. They had felt this nearness before. One ofthem had learned to fear it, to tremble for himself at the thought ofit. The other had learned to dream of it, and to long for it, and towonder why it should be denied. 

Now, as they stepped side by side, their hands brushed together, and hecaught hers in his grasp, turning to look full upon her. Her ecstasy waspoignant; she trembled in her walk. But she looked straightahead, --waiting. To both of them it seemed that the earth rocked undertheir feet. He looked long at her profile, softened in the magic light. She felt his eyes upon her, and still she waited, in a tremblingecstasy, stepping closely by his side. She felt him draw a long breath, and then another, quickly, --and then he spoke. 

In words that were well-chosen but somewhat hurried, he proceeded toinstruct her in the threefold character of the Godhead. The voice atfirst was not like his own, but as he went on it grew steadier. Aftershe drew her hand gently out of his, which she presently did, it seemedto regain its normal pitch and calmness. 

He saw her to the door of the cabin on the outskirts of the settlement, and there he spoke a few words of cheer to her ailing father. 

Then he was off into the desert, pacing swiftly into the grim, sandysolitude beyond the farthest cabin light and the bark of the outmostwatch-dog. Feverishly he walked, and far, until at last, as if naught inhimself could avail, he threw himself to the ground and prayed. 

"Keep me _good_! Keep me to my vows! Help me till my own strength grows, for I am weak and wanting. Let me endure the pain until this wickedfire within me hath burned itself out. Keep me for _her_!"

Back where the houses were, in the shadow of one of them, was theflushed, full-breathing woman, hurt but dumb, wondering, in her bruisedtenderness, why it must be so. 

Still farther back, inside the stockade, where the gossiping groups yetlingered, they were saying it was strange that Elder Rae waited so longto take him a wife or two. 

CHAPTER XII. 

_A Fight for Life_

The stream of Saints to the Great Basin had become well-nighcontinuous--Saints of all degrees of prosperity, from Parley Pratt, theArcher of Paradise, with his wealth of wives, wagons, and cattle, toBarney Bigler, unblessed with wives or herds, who put his earthly goodson a wheelbarrow, and, to the everlasting glory of God, trundled it fromthe Missouri River to the valley of the Great Salt Lake. Train aftertrain set out for the new Zion with faith that God would drop mannabefore them. 

Each train was a little migrating State in itself. And never was thenatural readiness of the American pioneer more luminously displayed. Atevery halt of the wagons a shoemaker would be seen searching for alapstone; a gunsmith would be mending a rifle, and weavers would be attheir wheels or looms. The women early discovered that the joltingwagons would churn their cream to butter; and for bread, very soon afterthe halt was made, the oven hollowed out of the hillside was heated, andthe dough, already raised, was in to bake. One mother in Israel broughtproudly to the Lake a piece of cloth, the wool for which she hadsheared, dyed, spun, and woven during her march. 

Nor did the marches ever cease to be fraught with peril and, hardship. There were tempests, droughts, famines, stampedes of the stock, prairiefires, and Indian forays. Hundreds of miles across the plain and throughthe mountains the Indians would trail after them, like sharks in thewake of a ship, tirelessly watching, waiting for the right moment tostampede the stock, to fire the prairie, or to descend upon stragglers. 

One by one the trains worked down into the valley, the tired Saintsmaking fresh their covenants by rebaptism as they came. In the waters ofthe River Jordan, Joel Rae made hundreds to be renewed in the Kingdom, swearing them to obey Brigham, the Lord's anointed, in all his orders, spiritual or temporal, and the priesthood or either of them, and allchurch authorities in like manner; to regard this obligation as superiorto all laws of the United States and all earthly laws whatsoever; tocherish enmity against the government of the United States, that theblood of Joseph Smith and the Apostles slain in that generation might beavenged; and to keep the matter of this oath a profound secret then andforever. And from these waters of baptism the purified Saints went totheir inheritances in Zion--took their humble places, and began to sweatand bleed in the upbuilding of the new Jerusalem. 

[Illustration: "_I'M_ THE ONE WILL HAVE TO BE CAUGHT"]

From a high, tented wagon in one such train, creaking its rough waydown Emigration Caņon, with straining oxen and tired but eager people, there had leaped one late afternoon the girl whose eyes were to call tohim so potently, --incomparable eyes, large and deep, of a velvetygrayness, under black brows splendidly bent. Nor had the eyes alonevoiced that call to his starved senses. He had caught the free, fearlessconfidence of her leap over the wheel, and her graceful abandon as shestood there, finely erect and full-curved, her head with its Greek linesthrown well back, and her strong hands raised to readjust the dusky hairthat tumbled about her head like a storm-cloud. 

Men from the train were all about, and others from the settlement, andthese spoke to her, some in serious greeting, some with jesting words. She returned it all in good part without embarrassment, --even the sallyof the winking wag who called out, "Now then, Mara Cavan! Here we are, and a girl like yourself ought to catch an Elder, at the very lowest. "

She laughed with easy good-nature, still fumbling in the dusk of blownhair at the back of her head, showing a full-lipped mouth, beautifullylarge, with strong-looking, white teeth. "I'll catch never a one myself, if you please, Nathan Tanner! I'll do no catching at _all_, now! _I'm_the one will have to be caught!"

Her voice was a contralto, with the little hint of roughness that madeit warm and richly golden; that made it fall, indeed, upon the ears ofthe listening Elder like a cathedral chime calling him to forget all andworship--forget all but that he was five and twenty with the hot bloodsurging and crowding and crying out in his veins. 

Now, having a little subdued the tossing storm-cloud of hair, she stoodwith one hand upon her hip and the other shading her eyes, lookingintently into the streets of the new settlement. And again there wasbantering jest from the men about, and the ready, careless response fromher, with gestures of an impishly reckless unconcern, of a fullreadiness to give and take in easy good-fellowship. But then, in thevery midst of a light response to one of the bantering men, her grayeyes met for the first time the very living look of the young Elderstanding near. She was at once confused, breaking off her speech with anawkward laugh, and looking down. But, his eyes keeping steadily uponher, she, as if defiantly, returned his look for a fluttering second, trying to make her eyes survey him slowly from head to foot with herlate cool carelessness; but she had to let them fall again, and he sawthe colour come under the clear skin. 

He knew by these tokens that he possessed a power over this splendidwoman that none of the other men could wield, --she had lowered her eyesto no other but him--and all the man in him sang exultantly under theknowledge. He greeted her father, the little Seumas Cavan of indomitablespirit, fresh, for all his march of a thousand miles, and he welcomedthem both to Zion. Again and again while he talked to them he caughtquick glances from the wonderful eyes;--glances of interest, ofinquiry, --now of half-hearted defiance, now of wondering submission. 

The succeeding months had been a time of struggle with him--a struggleto maintain his character of Elder after the Order of Melchisedek in thefull gaze of those velvety gray eyes, and in the light of her reckless, full-lipped smile; to present to the temptress a shield of austere pietywhich her softest glances should not avail to melt. For something in hermanner told him that she divined all his weakness; that, if sheacknowledged his power over her, she recognised her own power over him, a power equal to and justly balancing the other. Even when he discoursedfrom the pulpit, his glance would fasten upon hers, as if there were butthe one face before him instead of a thousand, and he knew that shemocked him in her heart; knew she divined there was that within himwhich strongly would have had her and himself far away--alone. 

Nor was the girl's own mind all of a piece. For, if she flaunted herselfbefore him, as if with an impish resolve to be his undoing, there werestill times when he awed her by his words of fire, and by his high, determined stand in some circle to which she knew she could never mount. That night when he walked with her in the moonlight, she knew he hadtrembled on the edge of the gulf fixed so mysteriously between them. Shehad even felt herself leaning over to draw him down with her own warmarms; and then all at once he had strangely moved away, widening thismysterious gulf that always separated them, leaving her solitary, hurt, and wondering. She could not understand it. Life called through them sostrongly. How could he breast the mighty rush? And why, why must it beso?

During the winter that now came upon them, it became even a greaterwonder to her; for it was a time when all of them were drawn closer in acommon suffering--a time of dark days which she felt they might havelightened for each other, and a time when she knew that more than evershe drew him. 

For hardly had the feast of the Harvest Home gone by when food once morebecame scarce. The heaven-sent gulls had, after all, saved but half acrop. Drought and early frost had diminished this; and those who came infrom the East came all too trustingly with empty meal-sacks. 

By the beginning of winter there were five thousand people in the valleyto be fed with miraculous loaves and fishes. Half of these were withoutdecent shelter, dwelling under wagon-covers or in flimsy tents, andforced much of the time to be without fuel; for wood had to be hauledthrough the snow from the distant caņons, and so was precious stuff. Forthree months the cutting winds came down from the north, and thepitiless winter snows raged about them. An inventory was early taken ofthe food-stuffs, and thereafter rations were issued alike to all, whether rich or poor. Otherwise many of the latter must have perished. It was a time of hard expedients, such as men are content to face onlyfor the love of God. They ranged the hills and benches to dig sego andthistle roots, and in the last days of winter many took the rawhidesfrom their roofs, boiling and eating them. When spring came, theywatched hungrily for the first green vegetation, which they gathered andcooked. Truly it seemed they had stopped in a desert as cruel in its wayas the human foes from whom they had fled. 

It was now that the genius of their leader showed. He was no longerBrigham Young, the preacher, but a father in Israel to his starvingchildren. When prayers availed not for a miracle, his indomitable spiritsaved them. Starvation was upon them and nakedness to the blast; yetwhen they desponded or complained, the Lion of the Lord was there tocheck them. He scolded, pleaded, threatened, roared prophecies, andovercame them, silencing every murmur. He made them work, and workedhimself, a daily example before them of tireless energy. He told themwhat to do, and how, both for their material salvation and theirspiritual; when to haul wood, and how to distinguish between false andtrue spirits; how to thatch roofs and in what manner the resurrectionwould occur; how to cook thistle roots to best advantage, and how Godwas man made perfect; he reminded them of the day of wrath, and toldthem mirthful anecdotes to make them laugh. He pictured God's anger uponthe sinful, and encouraged them to dance and to make merry; instructedthem in the mysteries of the Kingdom and instigated theatricalperformances to distract their minds. He was bland and bullying byturns; affable and gruff; jocose and solemn--always what he thoughttheir fainting spirits needed. He was feared and loved--feared first. They learned to dread the iron of his hand and the steel of hisheart--the dauntless spirit of him that left them no longer their ownmasters, yet kept them loving their bondage. Through the dreadful coldand famine, the five thousand of them ceased not to pray nor lost theirfaith--their great faith that they had been especially favoured of Godand were at the last to be saved alone from the wreck of the world. 

The efforts of Brigham to put heart into the people were ably secondedby Joel Rae. He was loved like Brigham, but not feared. He preached likeBrigham submission to the divine will as interpreted by the priesthood, but he was more extravagant than Brigham in his promises of blessings instore for them. He never resorted to vagueness in his pictures of whatthe Lord was about to do for them. He was literal and circumstantial toa degree that made Brigham and the older men in authority sometimeswrithe in public and chide him in private. They were appalled at thesweeping victories he promised the Saints over the hated Gentiles at anearly day. They suggested, too, that the Lord might withhold anabundance from them for a few years until He had more thoroughly triedthem. But their counsel seemed only to inflame him to fresh absurdities. In the very days of their greatest scarcity that winter, when almostevery man was dressed in skins, and the daily fare was thistle roots, hedeclared to them at a Sunday service:

"A time of plenty is at hand--of great plenty. I cannot tell you how Iknow these things. I do not know how they come to me. I pray--and theycome to life in my spirit; that is how I have found this fact: in lessthan a year States-goods of all needed kinds will be sold here cheaperthan they can be bought in Eastern cities. You shall have an abundanceat prices that will amaze you. "

And the people thrilled to hear him, partaking of his faith, rememberingthe gulls that ate the crickets, and the rain and wind that came to savethe pioneer train from fire. To the leaders such prophesying was merelyreckless, inviting further chastisements from heaven, and calculated tocause a loss of faith in the priesthood. 

And yet, wild as it was, they saw this latter prophecy fulfilled; fornow, so soon after the birth of this new empire, while it suffered andgrew weak and bade fair to perish in its cradle of faith, there was madefor it a golden spoon of plenty. 

Over across the mountains the year before, on the decayed granitebed-rock of the tail-race at the mill of one Sutter, a man had picked upa few particles of gold, the largest as big as grains of wheat. Thenews of the wonder had spread to the East, and now came frenzied hordesof gold-seekers. The valley of the mountains where the Saints had hopedto hide was directly in their path, and there they stopped their richlyladen trains to rest and to renew their supplies. 

The harvest of '49 was bountiful in all the valley; and thus was thewild prophecy of Joel Rae made sober truth. Many of the gold-seekers hadloaded their wagons with merchandise for the mining' camps; but in theirhaste to be at the golden hills, they now sold it at a sacrifice inorder to lighten their loads. The movement across the Sierras became awild race; clothing, provisions, tools, and arms--things most needful tothe half-clad, half-starved community on the shores of the lake--werebartered to them at less than half-price for fresh horses and lightwagons. Where a twenty-five dollar pack-mule was sold for two hundreddollars, a set of joiner's tools that had cost a hundred dollars back inSt. Louis would be bought for twenty-five. 

The next year the gain to the Saints was even greater, as the tide ofgold-seekers rose. Early that summer they sold flour to the oncominglegions for a dollar a pound, taking their pay in the supplies they mostneeded on almost their own terms. 

Thus was the valley of the mountains a little fattened, and thus wasJoel Rae exalted in the sight of men as one to whom the secrets ofheaven might at any time be unfolded. But the potent hand of Brighamwas still needed to hold the Saints in their place and in their faith. 

Many would have joined the rush for sudden riches. A few did so. Brighamissued a mild warning, in which such persons were described as"gainsayers in behalf of Mammon. " They were warned, also, that thevalley of the Sacramento was unhealthful, and that, in any event, "thetrue use of gold is for paving streets, covering houses, and makingculinary dishes; and when the Saints shall have preached the gospel, raised grain, and built cities enough, the Lord will open up the way fora supply of gold to the satisfaction of his people. "

A few greed-stung Saints persisted in leaving in the face of thisfriendly admonition. Then the Lion of the Lord roared: "Let such menremember that they are not wanted in our midst. Let them leave theircarcasses where they do their work. We want not our burying-groundspolluted with such hypocrites. Let the souls of them go down to hell, poverty-stricken and naked, and lie there until they are burned out likean old pipe!" The defections ceased from that moment, and Zion waspreserved intact. Brigham was satisfied. If he could hold them togetherunder the alluring tales of gold-finds that were brought over themountains, he had no longer any fear that they might fall away undermere physical hardship. And he held them, --the supreme test of his powerover the bodies and minds of his people. 

This passing of the gold-seekers was not, however, a blessing withoutdrawbacks. For the Saints had hoped to wax strong unobserved, unmolested, forgotten, in this mountain retreat. But now obscurity couldno longer be their lot. The hated Gentiles had again to be reckonedwith. 

First, the United States had expanded on the west to include theirterritory--the fruit of the Mexican War--the poor bleak desert they weremaking to blossom. Next, the government at Washington had sent toconstrue and administer their laws men who were aliens from theCommonwealth of Israel. True, Millard Fillmore had appointed Brighamgovernor of the new Territory--but there were chief justices andassociate justices, secretaries, attorneys, marshals, and Indian agentsfrom the wicked and benighted East; men who frankly disbelieved that thevoice of Brigham was as the voice of God, and who did not hesitate tolet their heresy be known. A stream of these came and went--trouble-mongers who despised and insulted the Saints, and returned toWashington with calumnies on their lips. It was true that Brigham hadcontinued, as was right, to be the only power in the Territory; but thenarrow-minded appointees of the Federal government persisted inmisconstruing this circumstance; refusing to look upon it as the justmark of Heaven's favour, and declaring it to be the arrogance of a merecivil usurper. 

Under such provocation Joel Rae longed more than ever to be a Lion ofthe Lord, for those above him in the Church endured too easily, heconsidered, the indignities that were put upon them by theseevil-minded Gentile politicians. He would have rejected them forthwith, as he believed the Lord would have had them do, --nay, as he believed theLord would sooner or later punish them for not doing. He would havethrust them into the desert, and called upon the Lord for strength tomeet the storm that would doubtless be raised by such a course. He wasimpatient when the older men cautioned moderation and the petty wiles ofdiplomacy. Yet he was not altogether discouraged; for even they lostpatience at times, and were almost as outspoken as he could have wished. 

Even Brigham, on one notable occasion, had thrilled him, when in thetabernacle he had bearded Brocchus and left him white and coweringbefore all the people, trembling for his life, --Brocchus, the unworthyAssociate Justice, who had derided their faith, insulted their prophet, and slandered their women. How he rejoiced in that moment when Brighamfor once lost his temper and let his eyes flash their hate upon thefrightened official. 

"But you, " Brigham had roared, "standing there white and shaking at thehornets' nest you have stirred up--you are a coward--and that is why youpraise men that are not cowards--why you praise Zachary Taylor!"

Brigham had a little time before declared that Zachary Taylor was deadand in hell, and that he, Brigham, was glad of it. 

"President Taylor you can't praise, " he had gone on to the graduallywhitening Brocchus. "What was he? A mere soldier with regular armybuttons on--no better to go at the head of troops than a dozen men Icould pick up between Leavenworth and Laramie. As to what you haveintimated about our morals--you miserable cringing coward, you--I won'tnotice it except to make my personal request of every brother andhusband present not to give your back what your impudence deserves. Youtalk of things you have on hearsay since you came among us. I'll talk ofhearsay, then--the hearsay that you are mad and will go home because wecan't make it worth your while to stay. What it would satisfy you to getout of us it wouldn't be hard to tell; but I know it's more than you'llget. We don't want you. You are such a baby-calf that we would have tosugar your soap to coax you to wash yourself on Saturday night. Go hometo your mammy, straightaway, and the sooner the better. "

This was the manner, thought Joel Rae, that Federal officials should betreated when they were out of sympathy with Zion--though he thought hemight perhaps have chosen words that would be more dignified had thetask been entrusted to him. He told Brigham his satisfaction with theaddress when the excited congregation had dispersed, and the alarmedBrocchus had gone. 

"That is the course we must take, Brother Brigham--do more of it. Unlesswe take our stand now against aggression, the Lord will surely smite usagain with famine and pestilence. " And Brigham had answered, in thetones of a man who knows, "Wait just a little!"

But there came famine upon them again; in punishment, declared Joel Rae, for their ungodly temporising with the minions of the United Statesgovernment. In '54 the grasshoppers ate their growing crops. In '55 theycame again with insatiate maws--and on what they left the drought andfrost worked their malignant spells. The following winter great numbersof their cattle and sheep perished on the range in the heavy snows. 

The spring of '56 found them again digging roots and resorting to allthe old pitiful makeshifts of famine. 

"This, " declared Joel Rae, to the starving people, "is a judgment ofHeaven upon us for permitting Gentile aggression. It is meant to clenchinto our minds the God's truth that we must stand by our faith with thearms of war if need be. "

"Brother Rae is just a little mite soul-proud, " Brigham thereuponconfided to his counsellors, "and I wouldn't wonder if the Lord would beglad to see some of it taken out of him. Anyway, I've got a job for himthat will just about do it. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

_Joel Rae Is Treated for Pride of Soul_

Brigham sent for him the next day and did him the honour to entrust tohim an important mission. He was to go back to the Missouri River andbring on one of the hand-cart parties that were to leave there thatsummer. The three years of famine had left the Saints in the valleypoor, so that the immigration fund was depleted. The oncoming Saints, therefore, who were not able to pay their own way, were this summer, instead of riding in ox-carts, to walk across the plains and mountains, and push their belongings before them in hand-carts. It had becomeBrigham's pet scheme, and the Lord had revealed to him that it wouldwork out auspiciously. Joel prepared to obey, though it was not withoutaversion that he went again to the edge of the Gentile country. 

He was full of bitterness while he was obliged to tarry on the banks ofthe Missouri. The hatred of those who had persecuted him and his people, bred into him from boyhood, flashed up in his heart with more fire thanever. Even when a late comer from Nauvoo told him that Prudence Corsonhad married Captain Girnway of the Carthage Grays, two years after theexodus from Nauvoo, his first feeling was one of blazing anger againstthe mobocrats rather than regret for his lost love. 

"They moved down to Jackson County, Missouri, too, " concluded hisinformant, thus adding to the flame. They had gone to set up their homein the very Zion that the Gentiles with so much bloodshed had wrestedfrom the Saints. 

Even when the first anger cooled and he could face the thing calmly inall its deeper aspects, he was still very bitter. While he had stanchlykept himself for her, cherishing with a single heart all the oldmemories of her dearness, she had been a wife these seven years, --thewife, moreover, of a mob-leader whose minions had put them out of theirhome, and then wantonly tossed his father like a dead branch into thewaters. She had loved this uniformed murderer--his little Prue--perhapsborne him children, while he, Joel Rae, had been all too scrupulouslytrue to her memory, fighting against even the pleased look at a woman;fighting--only the One above could know with what desperatevalour--against the warm-hearted girl with the gray eyes and the redlips, who laughed in her knowledge that she drew him--fighting her awayfor a sentimental figment, until she had married another. 

Now when he might have let himself turn to her, his heart freed of theimage of that yellow-haired girl so long cherished, this other was thewife of Elder Pixley--the fifth wife--and an unloving wife as he knew. 

She had sought him before the marriage, and there had been some whollyfrank and simple talk between them. It had ended by his advising her tomarry Elder Pixley so that she might be saved into the Kingdom, and byher replying, with the old reckless laugh, a little dry and strained, and with the wonderful gray eyes full upon him, --"Oh, I'll marry him!Small difference to me what man of them I marry at all, --now!"

And while he, by a mighty effort, had held down his arms and let herturn away, the woman for whose memory he did it was the wife of anenemy, caring nothing for his fidelity, sure to feel not more thanamused pity for him should she ever know of it. Surely, it had been abrave struggle--for nothing. 

But again the saving thought came that he was being tried for a purpose, for some great work. And now it seemed that the time of it must be near. As to what it was there could be little question: it must be to free hispeople forever from Gentile aggression or interference. Everythingpointed to that. He was to be entrusted with great powers, and be made aLion of the Lord to lead them to their rightful glory. 

He was eager to be back to the mountains where he could fitly receivethis new power, and becomingly make it known that he had been chosen ofHeaven to free them forever from the harassing Gentile. He feltinstinctively that a climax was close at hand--some dread moment ofturning that would try the faith of the Saints once for all--try his ownfaith as well, and at last bring his great Witness before him, if hissoul should survive the perilous ordeal. For he had never ceased to waitfor this heavenly Witness--something he needed--he knew not what--somegreat want of his soul unsatisfied despite all the teachings of thetemple priesthood. The hunger gnawed in his heart, --a hunger that onlyhis Witness could feed. 

When the hand-cart party came in across the prairies of Iowa he made allhaste to be off with it to the valley of the Lake. Several such partieshad left the Missouri earlier in the season. His own was to be the last. There were six hundred of them, young and old, men, women, and children. Their carts moved on two light wheels with two projecting shafts ofhickory joined by a cross-piece. He was indignant to learn that theGentiles along the route of their march across Iowa had tried to beguilethese people from their faith. And even while they were in camp on theMissouri there were still ungodly ones to warn them that they wereincurring grave dangers by starting across the plains so late in theseason. 

With rare fervour he rallied the company from these attacks, pointed outthe divine source of the hand-cart plan, prophesied blessings andabundance upon them for their faith in starting, and dwelt warninglyupon the sin they would be guilty of should they disobey their leaderand refuse to start. 

They responded bravely, and by the middle of August all was ready forthe march. He divided them into hundreds, allotting to each hundred fivetents, twenty hand-carts, and one wagon, drawn by three yokes of oxen, to carry the tents and provisions. Families with more young men thanwere needed to push their own carts helped families not so wellprovided; but many carts had to be pushed by young girls and women. 

He put the company on rations at the time of starting; ten ounces offlour to each adult, four ounces to children, with bacon, sugar, coffee, and rice served occasionally; for he had been unable to obtain a fullsupply of provisions. Even in the first days of the march some of themen would eat their day's allowance for breakfast, depending on thegenerosity of settlers by the way, so long as there were any, for whatfood they had until another morning. They were sternly rebuked by theirleader for thus, without shame, eating the bread of ungodliness. 

Their first trouble after leaving the Missouri was with the carts; theirconstruction in all its details had been dictated from on high, but thedust of the parched prairie sifted into the wooden hubs, and ground theaxles so that they broke. This caused delay for repairs, and as therewas no axle grease, many of them, hungry as they were, used their scantyallowance of bacon to grease the wheels. 

Yet in spite of these hardships they were cheerful, and in the earlydays of the march they sang with spirit, to the tune of "A Little MoreCider, " the hymn of the hand-cart written by one of their number:

 "Hurrah for the Camp of Israel! Hurrah for the hand-cart scheme! Hurrah, hurrah! 'tis better far Than the wagon and ox-team. 

 "Oh, our faith goes with the hand-carts, And they have our hearts' best love; 'Tis a novel mode of travelling Designed by the Gods above. 

 "And Brigham's their executive, He told us their design; And the Saints are proudly marching on Along the hand-cart line. 

 "Who cares to go with the wagons? Not we who are free and strong. Our faith and arms with a right good will Shall push our carts along. "

At Wood River the plains seethed with buffalo, a frightened herd ofwhich one night caused a stampede of their cattle. After that the frailcarts had to relieve the wagons of a part of their loads, in order thatthe remaining animals could draw them, each cart taking on a hundredmore pounds. 

Thus, overworked and insufficiently fed, they pushed valiantly on underburning suns, climbing the hills and wading the streams with theirburdens, the vigorous in the van. For a mile behind the train straggledthe lame and the sick. Here would be an aged sire in Israel walkingpainfully, supported by a son or daughter; there a mother carrying achild at her breast, with others holding by her skirts; a few went oncrutches. 

As they toiled painfully forward in this wise, they were heartened by avisit from a number of Elders who overtook them in returning to thevalley. These good men counselled them to be faithful, prayerful, andobedient to their leader in all things, prophesying that they shouldreach Zion in safety, --that though it might storm on their right and ontheir left, the Lord would open their way before them. They cried"Amen!" to this, and, at the request of the Elders, killed one of theirfew remaining cattle for them, cheering them as they drove on in themorning in their carriages. 

They took up the march with new courage; but then in a few days came anew danger to threaten them, --the cold. A rule made by Brigham hadlimited each cart's outfit of clothing and bedding to seventeen pounds. This had now become insufficient. As they advanced up the Sweetwater, the mountains on either side took on snow. Frequent wading of thestreams chilled them. Morning would find them numb, haggard, spiritless, unfitted for the march of the day. 

A week of this cold weather, lack of food, and overwork produced theireffect. The old and the weak became too feeble to walk; then they beganto die, peacefully, smoothly, as a lamp ceases to burn when the oil isgone. At first the deaths occurred irregularly; then they were frequent;soon it was rarely that they left a camp-ground without burying one ormore of their number. 

Nor was death long confined to the old and the infirm. Young men, strongat the start, worn out now by the rigours of the march, began to drop. Afather would pull his cart all day, perhaps with his children in it, anddie at night when camp was reached. Each day lessened their number. 

But they died full of faith, murmuring little, and having for theirchief regret, apparently, that they must be left on the plains ormountains, instead of resting in the consecrated ground of Zion--this, and that they must die without looking upon the face of their prophet, seer, and revelator. 

Their leader cheered them as best he could. He was at first puzzled atthe severity of their hardships in the face of past prophecies. Butlight at last came to him. He stopped one day to comfort a wan, weak manwho had halted in dejection by the road. 

"You have had trouble?" he asked him, and the man had answered, wearily:

"No, not what you could call trouble. When we left Florence my mothercould walk eighteen or twenty miles a day. She did it for weeks. Butthen she wore out, and I had to haul her in my cart; but it was only forthree days. She gave up and died before we started out, the morning ofthe fourth day. We buried her by the roadside without a coffin--that washard, to put her old, gray head right down into the ground with noprotection. It made us mourn, for she had always been such a goodfriend. Then we went on a few days, and my sister gave out. I carriedher in the cart a few days, but she died too. Then my youngest child, Ephraim, died. Then I fell sick myself, and my wife has pushed the cartwith me in it for two days. She looked so tired to-day that I got out torest her. But we don't call it trouble, only for the cold--my wife has achill every time she has to wade one of those icy streams. She's notvery used to rough life. "

As he listened to the man's tale, the truth came to him in a greatlight. Famine not sufficing, the Lord was sending this furtheraffliction upon them. He was going to goad them into asserting andmaintaining their independence of his enemies, the Gentiles. Theinspiration of this thought nerved him anew. Though they all died, tothe last child, he would live to carry back to Zion the message that nowburned within him. They had temporised with the Gentile and had grownlax among themselves. They must be aroused to repentance, and God wouldsave him to do the work. 

So, when the snow came at last, the final touch of hardship, drivingfuriously about the unprotected women and children, putting wild fearinto the heart of every man, he remained calm and sure and defiant. Thenext morning the snow lay heavily about them, and they had to digthrough it to bury five of their number in one grave. The morningbefore, they had issued their last ration of flour. Now he dividedamong the company a little hard bread they had kept, and waited in thesnow, for they could travel no further without food. 

One of their number was sent ahead to bring aid. After a day in whichthey ate nothing, supplies reached them from the valley; but now theywere so weakened that food could not fortify them against the extremecold that had set in. They wrapped themselves in their few poor quilts, and struggled bravely on into a white, stinging fog of snow. Eachmorning there were more and more of them to bury. And even the burialwas a mockery, for wolves were digging at the graves almost before thelast debilitated straggler had left the camping-place. The heavy snowscontinued, but movement was necessary. Into the white jaws of thebeautiful, merciless demon they went. 

Among the papers of a man he helped to bury, Joel Rae found a journalthat the dead man had kept until within a few days of his death. By thelight of his last candle he read it until late into the night. 

 * * * * *

"The weather grew colder each day; and many got their feet so badlyfrozen that they could not walk and had to be lifted from place toplace. Some got their fingers frozen; others their ears; and one womanlost her sight by the frost. These severities of the weather alsoincreased our number of deaths, so that we buried several each day. 

"The day we crossed the Rocky Ridge it was snowing a little--the windhard from the northwest, and blowing so keenly that it almost pierced usthrough. We had to wrap ourselves closely in blankets, quilts, orwhatever else we could get, to keep from freezing. Elder Rae this dayappointed me to bring up the rear. My duty was to stay behind everythingand see that nobody was left along the road. I had to bury a man who haddied in my hundred, and I finished doing so after the company hadstarted. In about half an hour I set out on foot alone to do my duty asrear-guard to the camp. The ascent of the ridge commenced soon afterleaving camp, and I had not gone far up it before I overtook the cartsthat the folks could not pull through the snow, here about knee-deep. Ihelped them along, and we soon overtook another. By all hands getting toone cart we could travel; so we moved one of the carts a few rods, andthen went back and brought up the others. After moving in this way forawhile, we overtook other carts at different points of the hill, untilwe had six carts, not one of which could be moved by the parties owningit. I put our collective strength to three carts at a time, took them ashort distance, and then brought up the other three. Thus by travellingover the hill three times--twice forward and once back--I succeededafter hours of toil in bringing my little company to the summit. Thecarts were then trotted on gaily down-hill, the intense cold stirring usto action. 

"One or two parties who were with these carts gave up entirely, and butfor the fact that we overtook one of our ox-teams that had been detainedon the road, they must have perished on the Rocky Ridge. One old mannamed James, a farmer from Gloucestershire, who had a large family, andwho had worked very hard all the way, I found sitting by the roadsideunable to pull his cart any farther. I could not get him into the wagon, as it was already overcrowded. He had a shotgun, which he had broughtfrom England, and which had been a great blessing to him and his family, for he was a good shot, and often had a mess of sage-hens or rabbits forhis family. I took the gun from his cart, put a bundle on the end of it, placed it on his shoulder, and started him out with his little boy, twelve years old. His wife and two daughters, older than the boy, tookthe cart along finely after reaching the summit. 

"We travelled along with the ox-team and overtook others, all so ladenwith the sick and helpless that they moved very slowly. The oxen hadalmost given out. Some of our folks with carts went ahead of the team, for where the roads were good they could out-travel oxen; but weconstantly overtook stragglers, some with carts, some without, who hadbeen unable to keep pace with the body of the company. We struggledalong in this weary way until after dark, and by this time our rearnumbered three wagons, eight hand-carts, and nearly forty persons. 

"With the wagons were Millen Atwood, Levi Savage, and William Woodward, captains of hundreds, faithful men who had worked all the way. Wefinally came to a stream of water which was frozen over. We could notsee where the company had crossed. If at the point where we struck thecreek, then it had frozen over since they passed it. We started one teamacross, but the oxen broke through the ice, and would not go over. Noamount of shouting and whipping could induce them to stir an inch. Wewere afraid to try the other teams, for even could they cross, we couldnot leave the one in the creek and go on. 

"There was no wood in the vicinity, so we could make no fire, and wewere uncertain what to do. We did not know the distance to the camp, butsupposed it to be three or four miles. After consulting about it, weresolved that some one should go on foot to the camp to inform thecaptain of our situation. I was selected to perform the duty, and I setout with all speed. In crossing the creek I slipped through the ice andgot my feet wet, my boots being nearly worn out. I had not gone far whenI saw some one sitting by the roadside. I stopped to see who it was, anddiscovered the old man, James, and his little boy. The poor old man wasquite worn out. 

"I got him to his feet and had him lean on me, and he walked a littledistance, but not very far. I partly dragged, partly carried, him ashort distance farther, but he was quite helpless, and my strengthfailed me. Being obliged to leave him to go forward on my own errand, Iput down a quilt I had wrapped around me, rolled him in it, and told thelittle boy to walk up and down by his father, and on no account to sitdown, or he would be frozen to death. He asked me very bravely why Godor Brigham Young had not sent us some food or blankets. 

"I again set out for the camp, running all the way and frequentlyfalling down, for there were many obstructions and holes in the road. Myboots were frozen stiff, so that I had not the free use of my feet, andit was only by rapid motion that I kept them from being badly frozen. Asit was, both feet have been nipped. 

"After some time, I came in sight of the camp-fires, which encouragedme. As I neared the camp, I frequently overtook stragglers on foot, allpressing forward slowly. I stopped to speak to each one, cautioning themall against resting, as they would surely freeze to death. Finally, about eleven P. M. , I reached the camp almost exhausted. I had exertedmyself very much during the day, and had not eaten anything sincebreakfast. I reported to Elder Rae the situation of the folks behind. Heimmediately got up some horses, and the boys from the valley startedback about midnight to help the ox-teams in. The night was very severe, and many of the animals were frozen. It was five A. M. Before the lastteam reached the camp. 

"I told my companions about the old man James and his little boy. Theyfound the little fellow keeping faithful watch over his father, who laysleeping in my quilt just as I left him. They lifted him into a wagon, still alive, but in a sort of stupor, and he died just as they got himup by the fire. His last words were an inquiry as to the safety of hisshotgun. 

"There were so many dead and dying that it was decided to lay by for theday. In the forenoon I was appointed to go around the camp and collectthe dead. I took with me two young men to assist me in the sad task, andwe collected together, of all ages and both sexes, thirteen corpses, allstiffly frozen. We had a large square hole dug, in which we buried thesethirteen people, three or four abreast and three deep. When they did notfit in, we put one or two crosswise at the head or feet of the others. We covered them with willows and then with the earth. When we buriedthese thirteen people, some of their relatives refused to attend theservices. They manifested an utter indifference about it. The numbnessand cold in their physical natures seemed to have reached the soul, andto have crushed out natural feeling and affection. Had I not myselfwitnessed it, I could not have believed that suffering could producesuch terrible results. But so it was. Two others died during the day, and we buried them in the same big grave, making fifteen in all. Even soit has been better for them than to stay where their souls would havebeen among the rejected at the day of resurrection. 

"But for Elder Rae, our leader, we should all have perished by now. Heis at times severe and stern with those who falter, but only for theirgood. He is all along the line, helping the women, who well-nigh worshiphim, and urging on the men. He cheers us by prophesying that we shallsoon prevail over all conditions and all our enemies. I think he mustnever sleep and never eat. At all hours of the night he is awake. As toeating, a girl in our hundred, Fidelia, daughter of Jabez Merrismith, who has been much attracted by him and stays near him when she can, called him aside the other day, so she has told me, and gave him abiscuit--_soaked, perfectly soaked, with bacon grease_. She had saved itfor many days. He took it and thanked her, but later she saw him givingit to the wife of Henry Glines, who is hauling Henry and the two babiesin the cart. She taxed him with not eating it himself; but he told herthat she had given him more than bread, which was the power to _give_bread. The _giving_ happiness, he told her, is always a little more thanthe _taking_ happiness, even when we are starving. He says the one kindof happiness always keeps a little ahead of the other. "

 * * * * *

December 1st, the remnant of the caravan reached the city of the Saints. Of six hundred setting out from the Missouri River, over one quarter haddied by the way. 

And to Joel Rae had now come another mission, --one that would not lethim wait, for the spirit was moving him strangely and strongly, --amission of reformation. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

_How the Saints Were Brought to Repentance_

He put his torch to the tinder of irreligion at the first Sunday meetingafter his return. There were no premonitions, no warnings, no signs. 

A few of the Elders had preceded him to rejoice at the escape of thelast hand-cart party from death in the mountains; and Brigham, aftergiving the newcomers some practical hints about their shelter during thewinter now upon them, had invited Elder Rae to address the congregation. 

He arose and came uncertainly forward, apparently weak, able hardly tostand without leaning upon the desk in front of him; his face waxen anddrawn, hollowed at the cheeks and temples, his long hands thin totransparency. Life was betrayed in him only by the eyes. These burneddarkly, far back under his brows, and flashed fiercely, as his glancedarted swiftly from side to side. 

At first he spoke weakly and slowly, his opening words almost inaudible, so that the throng of people before him leaned forward in sympatheticintentness, and silence became absolute in the great hall except forthe high quavering of his tones. But then came a miracle ofreinvigoration. Little by little his voice swelled until it was full, sonorous, richly warm and compelling, the words pouring from him with afluency that enchained. Little by little his leaning, drooping postureof weakness became one of towering strength, the head flung back, thegestures free and potent. Little by little his burning eyes seemed tosend their flash and glow through all his body, so that he became acreature of life and fire. 

They heard each word now, but still they leaned forward as when he spokeat first, inaudibly--caught thrilled and breathless in his spell, evento the Elders, Priests, and Apostles sitting near him. Nor was hismanner alone impressive. His words were new. He was calling them sinnersand covenant-breakers, guilty of pride, covetousness, contention, lying, stealing, moral uncleanness--and launching upon them the curse ofIsrael's God unless they should repent. 

"It has been told you again and again, " he thundered, "that if you wishto be great in the Kingdom of God you must be good. It has been told youmany times, and now I burn the words once more into the bones of yoursoul, that in this kingdom which the great Elohim has again set up onearth, no man, no woman, can become great without being good, withoutbeing true to his integrity, faithful to his trust, full of charity andgood works. 

"Hear it now: if you do not order your lives to do all the good youcan, if you are false to one trust, you shall be stripped naked beforeJehovah of all your anticipations of greatness. And you have failed inyour work; you have been false to your trust; you have been lax andwicked, and you have temporised, nay, affiliated with Gentiles. I haveasked myself if this, after all, may not have been the chief cause ofGod's present wrath upon us. The flesh is weak. I have had my own hoursof wrestling with Satan. We all know his cunning to take shapes thatmost weaken, beguile, and unman us, and small wonder if many of ussuccumb. But this other sin is wilful. Not only have Gentile officers, Federal officers, come among us and been let to insult, abuse, calumniate, and to trample upon our most sacred ordinances, but we haveconsorted, traded, and held relations with the Gentiles that pass by us. You have the term 'winter Mormons, ' a generation of vipers who comehere, marry your daughters in the fall, rest with you during the winter, and pass on to the gold fields in the spring, never to return. You, yourselves, coined the Godless phrase. But how can you utter it withoutcrimson faces? I tell you now, God is to make a short work upon thisearth. His lines are being drawn, and many of you before me will be leftoutside. The curtains of Zion have been spread, but you are gone beyondtheir folds. You are no longer numbered in the household of faith. Foryour weak souls the sealing keys of power have been delivered in vain. You have become waymarks to the kingdom of folly. This is truth I tellyou. It has been frozen and starved into me, but it will be burned intoyou. For your sins, the road between here and the Missouri River is aroad between two lines of graves. For your sins, from the little band Ihave just brought in, one hundred and fifty faithful ones fell asleep bythe wayside, and their bodies went to be gnawed by the wolves. How longshall others die for you? Forever, think you? No! Your last day is come. Repent, confess your sins in all haste, be buried again in the waters ofbaptism, then cast out the Gentile, and throw off his yoke, --andthereafter walk in trembling all your days, --for your wickedness hasbeen great. "

Such was the opening gun in what became known as the "reformation. " Theconditions had been ripe for it, and in that very moment a fever ofrepentance spread through the two thousand people who had cowered underhis words. Alike with the people below, the leaders about him had beenfired with his spirit, and when he sat down each of them arose in turnand echoed his words, denouncing the people for their sins and exhortingthem to repentance. 

After another hour of this excitement, priests and people became alikedemoralised, and the meeting broke up in a confusion of terror. 

As the doors of the tabernacle flew open, and the Saints pushed out ofthat stifling atmosphere of denunciation, a cry came to the lips of thedozen that first escaped:

"To the river--the waters of baptism!"

The words were being taken up by others until the cry had run backthrough the crowd to the leaders, still talking in excited groups aboutthe pulpit. These comprehended when they heard it, and straightway aline of conscience-stricken Saints was headed toward the river. 

There in the icy Jordan, on that chill December afternoon, when thesnows lay thick on the ground, the leaders stood and buried the sinfulones anew in the cleansing waters. From the sinners themselves camecries of self-accusation; from the crowd on the banks came the strainsof hymns to fortify them for the icy ordeal and the public confession. 

There in the freezing current stood Joel Rae until long after theDecember sun had gone below the Oquirrh hills, performing his office ofbaptism, and reviving hope in those his words had smitten with fear. 

His strength already depleted by the long march with the hand-cart partyand by the exhausting strain of the day, he was early chilled by thewater into which he plunged the repentant sinners. For the last hourthat he stood in the stream, his whole body was numb; he had ceased tofeel life in his feet, and his arms worked with a mechanical stiffnesslike the arms of some automaton over which his mind had control. 

For there was no numbness as yet in his mind. It was wonderfully clearand active. He had begun a great work. His words had been words of fire, and the flames of them had spread so that in a little while every sinnerin Zion should burn in them and be purified. Even the leaders--a greatwave of exultation surged through him at this thought--even Brigham hadfelt the glow, and henceforth would be a fiercer Lion of the Lord toresist the Godless Gentile. 

Long after sensation had left his body his thoughts were rushing in thisfever of realisation, while his chilled hands made new in the Kingdomsuch sinners as came there repenting. 

Not until night fell did the hymns cease and the crowd dwindle away. Theair grew colder, and he began to feel pain again, the water cuttingagainst his legs like a blade. Little groups were now hurrying off inthe darkness, and the last Saint he had baptised was standing for themoment, chill and dripping, on the bank. 

Seeing there was no one else to come, he staggered out of the streamwhere he had stood for three hours, finding his feet curiously clumsyand uncontrollable. Below him in the stream another Elder still waitedto baptise a man and woman; but those who had been above him in theriver were gone, and his own work was done. 

He ascended the bank, and stood looking back at the Elder who remainedin the stream. This man was now coming out of the water, havingperformed his office for the last one who waited. He called to JoelRae:

"Don't stand there, Brother Rae. Hurry and get to your fire and yourwarm drink and your supper, or you'll be bed-fast with the chills. "

"It has been a glorious day, Brother Maltby!"

"Truly, a great work has been begun, thanks to you--but hurry, man! youare freezing. Get to your fireside. We can't lose you now. "

With a parting word he turned and set off down the dark street, walkingunsteadily through the snow, for his feet had to be tossed ahead of him, and he could not always do it accurately. And the cold, now that he wasout of the water, came more keenly upon him, only it seemed to burn himthrough and through with a white heat. He felt his arms stiffening inhis wet sleeves, and his knees grow weak. He staggered on past a row ofcabins, from which the light of fires shone out on the snow. At almostevery step he stumbled out of the narrow path that had been trodden. 

"To your own fireside. " He recalled the words of Elder Maltby, andremembered his own lone, dark cabin, himself perhaps without strength tobuild a fire or to get food, perhaps without even strength to reach theplace, for he felt weaker now, all at once, and put his hand out tosupport himself against the fence. 

He had been hearing footsteps behind him, creaking rapidly over thepacked snow-path. He might have to ask for help to reach his home. Evenas the steps came close, he felt himself swaying. He leaned over on thefence, but to his amazement that swayed, too, and threw him back. Thenhe felt himself falling toward the street; but the creaking stepsceased, now by his side, and he felt under him something soft butfirm--something that did not sway as the fence had unaccountably done. With his balance thus regained, he discovered the thing that held him tobe a woman's arm. A woman's face looked close into his, and then shespoke. 

"You are so cold. I knew you would be. And I waited--I wanted to do foryou--let me!"

At once there came back to him the vision of a white-faced woman in thecrowd along the river bank, staring at him out of deep, gray eyes underheavy, black brows. 

"Mara--Mara!"

"Yes, yes--you are so cold!"

"But you must not stand so close--see, I am wet--you will be chilled!"

"But _you_ are already chilled; your clothes are freezing on you; andyou were falling just now. Can you walk?"

"Yes--yes--my house is yonder. "

"I know; it's far; it's beyond the square. You must come with me. "

"But your house is still farther!"

She had started him now, with a firm grasp of his arm, walking besidehim in the deep snow, and trying to keep him in the narrow path. 

"No--I am staying here with Hubert Plimon's two babies, while themother has gone to Provo where Hubert lies sick. See--the light there. Come with me--here's the gate--you shall be warmed. "

Slowly and with many stumblings, leaning upon her strong arm, he madehis way to the cabin door. She pushed it open before him and he felt thegreat warm breath of the room rush out upon him. Then he was inside, swaying again uncertainly upon his feet. In the hovering light that camefrom the fireplace he saw the bed in the far corner where the two smallchildren were sleeping, saw Mara with her back to the door, facing himbreathlessly, saw the heavy shadows all about; but he was conscious ofhardly more than the vast heavenly warmth that rolled out from the fireand enfolded him and made him drunk. 

Again he would have fallen, but she steadied him down on to a wide couchcovered with buffalo robes, beside the big fireplace; and here he fellat once into a stupor. She drew out the couch so that it caught more ofthe heat, pulled off the water-soaked boots and the stiffened coat, wrapped him in a blanket which she warmed before the fire, and coveredhim still again with one of the buffalo robes. 

She went then to bring food and to make a hot drink, which shestrengthened with brandy poured from a little silver flask. 

Presently she aroused him to drink the hot liquor, and then, afteranother blank of stupor, she aroused him again, to eat. He could takebut little of the food, but called for more of the drink, and felt thesoul of it thrill along his frozen nerves until they awoke, sharpened, alert, and eager. He lay so, with closed eyes a little time, floating inan ecstasy that seemed to be half stupor and half of keenestsensibility. Then he opened his eyes. She was kneeling by the couch onwhich he lay. He felt her soft, quick breathing, and noted the unnaturalshining of her eyes and lips where the firelight fell upon them. All atonce he threw out his arms and drew her to him with such a shudderingrush of power that she cried aloud in quick alarm--but the cry wassmothered under his kisses. 

For ages the transport seemed to endure, the little world of his senseswhirling madly through an illimitable space of sensuous light, his lipsmelting upon hers, his neck bending in the circle of pulsing warmth thather soft arms wove about it, his own arms crushing to his breast withfrenzied fervour the whole yielding splendour of her womanhood. A momentso, then he fell back upon the couch, all his body quivering under theecstasy from her parted lips, his triumphant senses rioting insolentlythrough the gray, cold garden of his vows. 

She drew a little back, her hands resting on his shoulders, and he sawagain the firelight shining in her eyes and upon her lips. Yet the eyeswere now lighted with a strange, sad reluctance, even while themutinous lips opened their inciting welcome. 

He was floating--floating midway between a cold, bleak heaven of denialand a luring hell of consent; floating recklessly, as if careless towhich his soul should go. 

His gaze was once more upon her face, and now, in a curiously coollittle second of observation, he saw mirrored there the same conflictingduality that he knew raged within himself. In her eyes glowed the pureflame of fear and protest--but on her mad lips was the curl ofprovocation. And as the man in him had waited carelessly, in a sensuousluxury of unconcern, for his soul to go where it might--far up or fardown--so now the woman waited before him in an incurious, unbiassedcalm--the clear eyes with their grave, stern "_No_!"--the parted lipsall but shuddering out their "_Yes_!"

Still he looked and still the leaning woman waited--waited to welcomewith impartial fervour the angel or the devil that might come forth. 

And then, as he lay so, there started with electric quickness, from somesudden coldness of recollection, the image of Prue. Sharp and vivid itshone from this chill of truth like a glittering star from the cleanwinter sky outside. Prue was before him with the tender blue of her eyesand the fleecy gold of her hair and her joy of a child--her littlefigure shrugging and nestling in his arms in happy faith--calling as shehad called to him that morning--"_Joel--Joel--Joel_!"

He shivered in this flood of cold, relentless light, yet unflinchinglydid he keep his face turned full upon the truth it revealed. 

And this was now more than the image of the sweetheart he had sworn tocherish--it was also the image of himself vowed to his great mission. Heknew that upon neither of these could he suffer a blemish to come if hewould not be forever in agony. With appalling clearness the thing waslined out before him. 

The woman at his side stirred and his eyes were again upon her. At onceshe saw the truth in them. Her parted lips came together in a straightline, shutting the red fulness determinedly in. Then there shone fromher eyes a glad, sweet welcome to the angel that had issued. 

His arms seemed to sicken, falling limply from her. She arose withoutspeaking, and busied herself a little apart, her back to him. 

He sat up on the couch, looking about the little room curiously, as onerecovering consciousness in strange surroundings. Then he began slowlyto pull on the wet boots that she had placed near the fire. 

When he stood up, put on his coat, and reached for his hat, she came upto him, hesitating, timid. 

"You are so cold! If you would only stay here--I am afraid you will besick. "

He answered very gently:

"It is better to go. I am strong again, now. "

"I would--I would not be near you--and I am afraid for you to go outagain in the cold. "

He smiled a little. "_Nothing_ can hurt me now--I am strong. "

He opened the door, breathing his fill of the icy air that rushed in. Hestepped outside, then turned to her. She stood in the doorway, the lightfrom the room melting the darkness about them. 

They looked long at each other. Then in a sudden impulse of gratitude, of generous feeling toward her, he put out his arm and drew her to him. She was cold, impassive. He bent over and lightly kissed her closed, unresponding lips. As he drew away, her hand caught his wrist for asecond. 

"I'm _glad_!" she said. 

He tried to answer, but could only say, "Good night, Mara!"

Then he turned, drew the wide collar of his coat well up, and went downthe narrow path through the snow. She stood, framed in the light of thedoorway, leaning out to look after him until he was lost in thedarkness. 

As she stepped back and closed the door, a man, who had halted by a treein front of the next house when the door first opened, walked on again. 

It had been a great day, but, for one cause or another, it came near tobeing one of the last days of the man who had made it great. 

Late the next afternoon, Joel Rae was found in his cabin by a messengerfrom Brigham. He had presumably lain there unattended since the nightbefore, and now he was delirious and sick unto death; raving of the sinsof the Saints, and of his great work of reformation. So tenderlysympathetic was his mind, said those who came to care for him, that inhis delirium he ranked himself among the lowest of sinners in Zion, imploring them to take him out and bury him in the waters of baptism sothat he might again be worthy to preach them the Word of God. 

He was at once given every care, and for six weeks was not left alonenight or day; the good mothers in Israel vying with each other in kindlyoffices for the sick Elder, and the men praying daily that he might notbe taken so soon after his great work had begun. 

The fifth wife of Elder Pixley came once to sit by his bedside, but whenshe heard him rave of some great sin that lay black upon his soul, beseeching forgiveness for it while the tears rained down his feveredface, she had professed that his suffering sickened her so she could notstay. Thereafter she had contented herself with inquiring at his dooreach day--until the day when they told her that the sickness was broken;that he was again rational and doubtless would soon be well. After thatshe went no more; which was not unnatural, for Elder Pixley was about toreturn from his three years' mission abroad, and there was much to do inthe community-house in preparation for the master's coming. 

But the long sickness of the young Elder did not in any manner stay thegreat movement he had inaugurated. From that first Sunday thereformation spread until it had reached every corner of the new Zion. The leaders took up the accusing cry, --the Elders, Bishops, HighPriests, and Counsellors. Missionaries were appointed for the outlyingsettlements, and meetings were held daily in every center, with ageneral renewing of covenants. 

Brigham, who had warmly seconded Joel Rae's opening discourse, was now, not unnaturally, the leader of the reformation, and in his preaching tothe Saints while Joel Rae lay sick he committed no faults of vagueness. For profane swearing he rebuked his people: "You Elders in Israel willgo to the caņons for wood, get a little brush-whipped, and then curseand swear--damn and curse your oxen and swear by Him who created you. You rip and curse as bad as any pirates ever did!"

For the sin of cattle-stealing he denounced them. A fence high enough tokeep out cattle-thieves, he told them, must be high enough to keep outthe Devil. 

Sometimes his grievance would have a personal basis, as when he toldthem: "I have gone to work and made roads to the caņon for wood; and Ihave cut wood down and piled it up, and then I have not got it. I wonderif any of you can say as much about the wood I have left there. I couldtell stories of Elders that found and took my wood that should makeprofessional thieves blush. And again I have proof to show that Bishopshave taken thousands of pounds of wheat in tithing which they have neverreported to the general tithing-office, --proof that they stole the wheatto let their friends speculate upon. "

Under this very pointed denunciation many of the flock complainedbitterly. But Brigham only increased the flow of his wrath upon them. "You need, " said he, "to have it rain pitchforks, tines downward, fromthis pulpit, Sunday after Sunday. "

Still there were rebellious Saints to object, and, as Brigham drew thelines of his wrath tighter, these became more prominent in thecommunity. When they voiced their discontent, they angered thepriesthood. But when they indicated their purpose to leave the valley, as many soon did, they gave alarm. An exodus must be prevented at anycost, and so the priesthood let it be known that migrations from thevalley would be considered as nothing less than apostasy. In Brigham'sown words: "The moment a person decides to leave this people, he is cutoff from every object that is desirable in time or eternity. Everypossession and object of affection will be taken from those who forsakethe truth, and their identity will eventually cease. "

But, as the reform wave swept on, it became apparent that these wordshad been considered merely figurative by many who were about to seekhomes outside the valley. From every side news came privately that thisfamily or that was preparing to leave. 

And so it came about that the first Sunday Joel Rae was able to walk tothe tabernacle, still weak and wasted and trembling, he heard a sermonfrom Brigham which made him question his own soul in an agony of terror. For, on this day, was boldly preached, for the first time in Zion, something which had never before been more than whispered among thehighest elect, --the doctrine of blood-atonement--of human sacrifice. 

"I am preaching St. Paul, this morning, " began Brigham, easily. "Hebrews, Chapter ix. , and Verse 22: 'And almost all things are by thelaw purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission. 'Also, and more especially, first Corinthians, Chapter v. , Verse 5: 'Todeliver such an one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, thatthe spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus. ' Remember thesewords of Paul's. The time has come when justice will be laid to the lineand righteousness to the plummet; when we shall take the old broadsword, and ask, 'Are you for God?' And if you are not heartily on the Lord'sside, you will be hewn down. "

There was a rustling movement in the throng before him, and he pauseduntil it subsided. 

"I tell you there are men and women amongst you who ought to come andask me to select a place and appoint a committee to shed their blood. Only in that way can they be saved, for water will not do. Their sinsare too deep for that. I repeat--there are covenant-breakers here, andwe need a place set apart and men designated to shed their blood fortheir own salvation. If any of you ask, do I mean you, I answer yes. Wehave tried long enough with you, and now I shall let the sword of theAlmighty be unsheathed, not only in words but in deed. I tell you thereare sins for which men cannot otherwise receive forgiveness in thisworld nor in the world to come; and if you guilty ones had your eyesopened to your true condition, you would be willing to have your bloodspilt upon the ground that the smoke thereof might go up to heaven foryour sins. I know when you hear this talk about cutting people off fromthe earth you will consider it strong doctrine; but it is to save them, and not destroy them. Take a person in this congregation who knows theprinciples of that kind of life and sees the beauties of eternity beforehim compared with the vain and foolish things of the world--and supposehe is overtaken in a gross fault which he knows will rob him of thatexaltation which he desires and which he now cannot obtain without theshedding of his blood; and suppose he knows that by having his bloodshed he will atone for that sin and be saved and exalted with the Gods. Is there a man or woman here but would say, 'Save me--shed my blood, that I may be exalted. ' And how many of you love your neighbour wellenough to save him in that way? That is what Christ meant by loving ourneighbours as ourselves. I could refer you to plenty of instances wheremen have been righteously slain to atone for their sin; I have seenscores and hundreds of people for whom there would have been a chance inthe last day if their lives had been taken and their blood spilt uponthe ground as a smoking incense to the Almighty, but who are now angelsto the Devil because it was not done. The weakness and ignorance of thenations forbids this law being in full and open force; yet, remember, ifour neighbour needs help we must help him. If his soul is in danger wemust save it. 

"Now as to our enemies--apostates and Gentiles--the tree that brings notforth good fruit shall be hewn down. 'What, ' you ask, 'do you believethat people would do right to put these traitors to death?' Yes! Whatdoes the United States government do with traitors? Examine the doingsof earthly governments on this point and you will find but one practiseuniversal. A word to the wise is enough; just remember that there aresins that the blood of a lamb, of a calf, or of a turtle-dove, cannotremit. "

Under this discourse Joel Rae sat terrified, with a bloodless face, cowering as he had made others to cower six weeks before. The wordsseemed to carry his own preaching to its rightful conclusion; but nowhow changed was his world!--a whirling, sickening chaos of sin andremorse. 

As he listened to Brigham's words, picturing the blood of the sinnersmoking on the ground, his thoughts fled back to that night, that nightof wondrous light and warmth, the last he could remember before thegreat blank came. 

Now the voice of Brigham came to him again: "And almost all things areby the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is noremission!"

Then the service ended, and he saw Bishop Wright pushing toward himthrough the crowd. 

"Well, well, Brother Rae you do look peaked, for sure! But you'll pickup fast enough, and just in time, too. Lord! what won't Brother Brighamdo when the Holy Ghost gets a strangle-holt on him? Now, then, " headded, in a lower tone, "if I ain't mistaken, there's going to be somework for the Sons of Dan!"

CHAPTER XV. 

_How the Souls of Apostates Were Saved_

The Wild Ram of the Mountains had spoken truly; there was work at handfor the Sons of Dan. When his Witness at last came to Joel Rae, he triedvainly to recall the working of his mind at this time; to remember wherehe had made the great turn--where he had faced about. For, once, heknew, he had been headed the way he wished to go, a long, plain road, reaching straight toward the point whither all the aspirations of hissoul urged him. 

And then, all in a day or in a night, though he had seen never a turn inthe road, though he had gone a true and straight course, suddenly he hadlooked up to find he was headed the opposite way. After facing his goalso long, he was now going from it--and never a turn! It was the wretchedparadox of a dream. 

The day after Brigham's sermon on blood-atonement, there had been ameeting in the Historian's office, presided over by Brigham. And herefor the first time Joel Rae found he was no longer looked upon as onetoo radical. Somewhat dazedly, too, he realised at this close range theseverely practical aspects of much that he had taught in theory. It wasstrange, almost unnerving, to behold his own teachings naked of theirpulpit rhetoric; to find his long-cherished ideals materialised byliteral-minded, practiced men. 

He heard again the oath he had sworn, back on the river-flat: "_I willassist in executing all the decrees of the First President, Patriarch, or President of the Twelve, and I will cause all who speak evil of thePresidency or Heads of the Church to die the death of dissenters orapostates_--" And then he had heard the business of the meetingdiscussed. Decisions were reached swiftly, and orders given in wordsthat were few and plain. Even had these orders been repugnant to him, they were not to be questioned; they came from an infallible priesthood, obedience to which was the first essential to his soul's salvation; andthey came again from the head of an organisation to which he was boundby every oath he had been taught to hold sacred. But, while they lefthim dazed, disconcerted, and puzzled, he was by no means certain thatthey were repugnant. They were but the legitimate extension of histeachings since childhood, and of his own preaching. 

In custody at Kayesville, twenty-five miles north of Salt Lake City, were six men who had been arrested by church authority while on theirway east from California. They were suspected of being federal spies. The night following the meeting which Joel Rae had attended, theseprisoners were attacked while they slept. Two were killed at once; twomore after a brief struggle; and the remaining two the following day, after they had been pursued through the night. The capable Bishop Wrightdeclared in confidence to Joel Rae that it reminded him of old days atNauvoo. 

The same week was saved Rosmas Anderson, who had incurred rejection fromIsrael and eternal wrath by his misbehaviour. Becoming submissive to thedecree of the Church, when it was made known to him by certain men whocame in the night, it was believed that his atonement would suffice toplace him once more in the household of faith. He had asked but half aday to prepare for the solemn ceremony. His wife, regretful but firm inthe faith, had provided clean garments for her sinful husband, and theappointed executioners dug his grave. They went for him at midnight. Bythe side of the grave they had let him kneel and pray. His throat hadthen been cut by a deft hand, and he was held so that his blood ran intothe grave, thus consummating the sacrifice to the God of Israel. Thewidow, obeying priestly instructions, announced that her husband hadgone to California. 

Then the soul of William Parrish at Springville was saved to eternalglory; also the soul of his son, Beason. For both of these sinful oneswere on the verge of apostasy; had plotted, indeed, and made secretpreparations to leave the valley, all of which were discovered bychurch emissaries, fortunately for the eternal welfare of the two mostconcerned. Yet a few years later, when the hated Gentiles had gainedsome shadow of authority in the new Zion, their minions were especiallybitter as to this feat of mercy, seeking, indeed, to indict theperformers of it. 

As to various persons who met death while leaving the valley, opinionwas divided on the question of their ultimate salvation. For it wasannounced concerning these, as their bodies were discovered from time totime, that the Indians had killed them. This being true, they had diedin apostasy, and their rejection from the Kingdom was assured. Yet afterawhile the Saints at large took hope touching the souls of these; forBishop Wright, the excellent and able Wild Ram of the Mountains, tookoccasion to remark one Sabbath in the course of an address delivered inthe tabernacle: "And it amazes me, brethren, to note how the spirit hasbeen poured out on the Lamanites. It really does seem as if an Injunjest naturally hates an apostate, and it beats me how they can tell 'emthe minute they try to sneak out of this valley of the Lord. They mustlie out in them hills jest a-waiting for apostates; and they won't haveanything else; they never touch the faithful. You wouldn't think theyhad so much fine feeling to look at 'em. You wouldn't suspect they wasso sensitive, and almost bigoted, you might say. But there it is--and Idon't believe the critters will let many of these vile apostates getbeyond the rocky walls of Zion. " Those who could listen between thewords began to suspect that the souls of such apostates had been dulysaved. 

Yet one apostate the very next day was rash enough to controvert theBishop's views. To a group of men in the public street at high noon andin a loud voice he declared his intention of leaving for California, andhe spoke evil of the Church. 

"I tell you, " he said, in tones of some excitement, "men are murderedhere. Their murder is planned by Bishops, Priests, Elders, and Apostles, by the President and his Counsellors, and then it is done by men theysend to do it. Their laying it on to the Indians don't fool me a minute. That's the kind of a church this is, and you don't ketch me staying init any longer!"

Trees had been early planted in the new settlement, and owing to thecare bestowed upon them by the thrifty colonists, many were now matured. From a stout limb of one of these the speaker was found hanging thefollowing morning. A coroner's jury hastily summoned from among theSaints found that he had committed suicide. 

Another whose soul was irrevocably lost was Frederick Loba, who hadrefused to take more than one wife in spite of the most explicit advicefrom his superiors that he could attain to but little glory either inthis world or that to come with less than three. He crowned his offenseby speaking disrespectfully of Brigham Young. Orders were issued to savehis soul; but before his tabernacle could be seized by those who wouldhave saved him, the wretched man had taken his one wife and fled to themountains. There they wandered many days in the most inclement weather, lost, famished, and several times but narrowly escaping the little bandthat had been sent in pursuit of them; whose members would, had theybeen permitted, not only have terminated their bodily suffering, butsaved their souls to a worthy place in the life to come. As it was, theywandered a distance of three hundred miles, and three days after theirlast food was eaten, the man carrying the woman in his arms the last sixmiles, they reached a camp of the Snake Indians. These, not sharing withtheir Utah brethren the prejudice against apostates, gave them afriendly welcome, and guided them to Fort Laramie, thereby destroyingfor the unhappy man and his wife their last chance of coming forth inthe final resurrection. But few at this time were so unlucky as thispair; for judgment had begun at the house of the Lord, and Israel wasattentively at work. 

It was now that Joel Rae became conscious that he was facing directlyaway from the glory he had so long sought and suffered for. Though asyet no blood for Israel had been shed in his actual presence, he hadattended the meetings of the Sons of Dan, and was kept aware of theiroperations. It seemed to him in after years that his faculties had atthis time been in trance. 

He was seized at length with an impulse to be away from it all. As thedays went by with their tragedies, he became half wild with restlessnessand a strange fear of himself. In spite of his lifelong training, heknew there was wrong in the air. He could not question the decrees ofthe priesthood, but this much became clear to him, --that only one thingcould carry with it more possibilities of evil than this course of theChurch toward dissenters--and that was to doubt that Brigham Young'svoice was as the voice of God. Not yet could he bring himself to this. But the unreasoning desire to be away became so strong that he knew hemust yield to it. 

Turning this in his mind one day he met a brother Elder, a man full ofzeal who had lately returned from a mission abroad. There had been, hesaid, a great outpouring of the spirit in Wales. 

"And what a glorious day has dawned here, " he continued. "Thank God, there is a way to save the souls of the blind! That reminds me--have youheard of the saving work Brother Pixley was obliged to do?"

"Brother Pixley?--no. " He heard his own voice tremble, in spite of hiseffort at self-control. The other became more confidential, steppingcloser and speaking low. 

"Of course, it ain't to be talked of freely, but you have a right toknow, for was it not your own preaching that led to this gloriousreformation? You see, Brother Pixley came back with me, after doinggreat works abroad. Naturally, he came full of love for his wives. Buthe had been here only a few days when he became convinced that one ofthem had forgotten him; something in her manner made him suspect it, forshe was a woman of singularly open, almost recklessly open, nature. Thena good neighbour came and told him that one night, while on his way forthe doctor, he had seen this woman take leave of her lover--had seen theman, whom he could not recognise, embrace her at parting. He taxed herwith this, and she at once confessed, though protesting that she had notsinned, save in spirit. You can imagine his grief, Brother Rae, for hehad loved the woman. Well, after taking counsel from Brigham, he talkedthe matter over with her very calmly, telling her that unless her bloodsmoked upon the ground, she would be cast aside in eternity. She reallyhad spiritual aspirations, it seems, for she consented to meet theordeal. Then, of course, it was necessary to learn from her the name ofthe man--and when all was ready for the sacrifice, Brother Pixleycommanded her to make it known. "

"Tell me which of Brother Pixley's wives it was. " He could feel thelittle cool beads of sweat upon his forehead. 

"The fifth, did I not say? But to his amazement and chagrin, she refusedto give him the name of the man, and he had no way of learning itotherwise, since there was no one he could suspect. He pointed out toher that not even her blood could save her should she die shielding him. But she declared that he was a good man, and that rather than bringdisgrace upon him she would die--would even lose her soul; that in truthshe did not care to live, since she loved him so that living away fromhim was worse than death. I have said she was a woman of a large nature, somewhat reckless and generous, and her mistaken notion of loyalty ledher to persist in spite of all the threats and entreaties of herdistressed husband. She even smiled when she told him that she wouldrather die than live away from this unknown man, smiled in a way thatmust have enraged him--since he had never won that kind of love from herfor himself--for then he let her meet the sacrifice without furthertalk. He drew her on to his knee, kissed her for the last time, thenheld her head back--and the thing was done. How sad it is that she didnot make a full confession. Then, by her willing sacrifice, she wouldhave gone direct to the circle of the Gods and Goddesses; but now, dyingas she did, her soul must be lost--"

"Which wife did you say--"

"The fifth--she that was Mara Cavan--but, dear me, Brother Rae! youshould not be out so soon! Why, man, you're weak as a cat! Come, I'llwalk with you as far as your house, and you must lie abed again untilyou are stronger. I can understand how you wished to be up as soon aspossible; how proud you must feel that your preaching has led to thisglorious awakening and made it possible to save the souls of many sinfulones--but you must be careful not to overtax yourself. "

Four days later, a white-faced young Elder applied to Brigham forpermission to go to the settlements on the south. He professed to besick, to have suffered a relapse owing to incautious exposure so soonafter his long illness. He seemed, indeed, not only to be weak, but tobe much distressed and torn in his mind. 

Brigham was gracious enough to accord the desired permission, addingthat the young Elder could preach the revived gospel and rebaptise onhis way south, thus combining work with recreation. He was also goodenough to volunteer some advice. 

"What ails you mostly, Brother Joel, is your single state. What you needis wives. You've been here ten years now, and it's high time. You'regiven to brooding over things that are other people's to brood on, andthen, you're naturally soul-proud. Now, a few wives will humble you andmake you more reasonable, like the rest of us. I don't want to be toodownright with you, like I am with some of the others, because I'vealways had a special kind of feeling for you, and so I've let you go on. But you think it over, and talk to me about it when you come back. It'shigh time you was building up your thrones and dominions in theKingdom. "

He started south the next day, riding down between the two mountainranges that bordered the valley, stopping at each settlement, breathingmore freely, resting more easily, as each day took him farther away. Yet, when he closed his eyes, there, like an echo, was the vision of awoman's face with shining eyes and lips, --a vision that after a fewseconds was washed away by a great wave of blood. 

But after a few days, certain bits of news caught up with him thathappily drove this thing from his sight for a time by stirring withinhim all his old dread of Gentile persecution. 

First he heard that Parley Pratt, the Archer of Paradise and one of theTwelve Apostles, had been foully murdered back in Arkansas while seekingto carry to their mother the children of his ninth wife. The father ofthese children, so his informant reported, had waylaid and shot him. 

Then came rumours of a large wagon-train going south through Utah on itsway to California. Reports said it was composed chiefly of Missourians, some of whom were said to be boasting that they had helped to expel theSaints from Jackson County in that State. Also in this train werereported to be several men from Arkansas who had been implicated in theassassination of Apostle Pratt. 

But news of the crowning infamy reached him the following day, --newsthat had put out all thought of his great sin and his bloody secret, news of a thing so monstrous that he was unable to give it credenceuntil it had been confirmed by other comers from the north. PresidentBuchanan, inspired by tales that had reached him of various deedsgrowing out of the reformation, and by the treatment which variousFederal officers were said to have received, had decided that rebellionexisted in the Territory of Utah. He had appointed a successor toBrigham Young as governor, so the report ran, and ordered an army tomarch to Salt Lake City for the alleged purpose of installing the newexecutive. 

Three days later all doubt of the truth of this story was banished. Wordthen came that Brigham was about to declare martial law, and that he hadpromised that Buchanan's army should never enter the valley. 

Now his heart beat high again, with something of the old swift fervour. The Gentile yoke was at last to be thrown off. War would come, and theLord would surely hold them safe while they melted away the Gentilehosts. 

He reached the settlement of Parowan that night, and when they told himthere that the wagon-train coming south--their ancient enemies who hadplundered and butchered them in Jackson County--was to be cut off beforeit left the basin, it seemed but right to him, the just vengeance ofHeaven upon their one-time despoilers, and a fitting first act in thewar-drama that was now to be played. 

Once more the mob was marching upon them to despoil and murder and putthem into the wilderness. But now God had nerved and strengthened themto defend the walls of Zion, even against a mighty nation. And as atoken of His favour and His wish, here was a company of their bitterestfoes delivered into their hands. Beside the picture was another; he sawhis sister, the slight, fair girl, in the grasp of the fiends at Haun'sMill; the face of his father tossing on the muddy current and suckedunder to the river-bottom; and the rough bark cylinder, festooned withblack cloth, holding the worn form of the mother whose breast had nursedhim. 

When he started he had felt that he could never again preach while thatsecret lay upon him, --that he could no longer rebuke sinnershonestly, --but this matter of war was different. 

He preached a moving sermon that day from a text of Samuel: "As thysword hath made women childless, so shall thy mother be childless amongwomen. " And when he was done the congregation had made the little dimlylighted meeting-house at Parowan ring with a favourite hymn:--

 "Up, awake, ye defenders of Zion! The foe's at the door of your homes; Let each heart be the heart of a lion, Unyielding and proud as he roams. Remember the wrongs of Missouri, Remember the fate of Nauvoo! When the God-hating foe is before ye, Stand firm and be faithful and true. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

_The Order from Headquarters_

He left Parowan the next morning to preach at one of the littlesettlements to the east. He was gone three days. When he came back theytold him that the train of Missourians had passed through Parowan and onto the south. He attended a military council held that evening in themeeting-house. Three days of reflection, while it had not cooled theanger he felt toward these members of the mob that had so brutallywronged his people, had slightly cooled his ardour for aggressivewarfare. 

It was rather a relief to know that he was not in a position of militaryauthority; to feel that this matter of cutting off a wagon-train was inthe hands of men who could do no wrong. The men who composed the councilhe knew to be under the immediate guidance of the Lord. Their names andoffices made this certain. There was George A. Smith, First Counsellorto Brigham, representing as such the second person of the Trinity, andalso one of the Twelve Apostles. There was Isaac Haight, President ofthe Cedar City Stake of Zion and High Priest of Southern Utah; therewere Colonel Dame, President of the Parowan Stake of Zion, PhilipKlingensmith, Bishop from Cedar City, and John Doyle Lee, Brigham's mosttrusted lieutenant in the south, a major of militia, probate judge, member of the Legislature, President of Civil Affairs at Harmony, andfarmer to the Indians under Brigham. 

When a call to arms came as a result of this council, and an officialdecree was made known that the obnoxious emigrant train was to be cutoff, he could not but feel that the deed had heavenly sanction. As toworldly regularity, the proceeding seemed to be equally faultless. Thecall was a regular military call by the superior officers to thesubordinate officers and privates of the regiment, commanding them tomuster, armed and equipped as directed by law, and prepared for fieldoperations. Back of the local militia officers was his Excellency, Brigham Young, not only the vicar of God on earth but governor of Utahand commander-in-chief of the militia. It seemed, indeed, a foretaste ofthose glorious campaigns long promised them, when they should go throughthe land of the Gentiles "like a lion among the flocks of sheep, cuttingdown, breaking in pieces, with none to deliver, leaving the landdesolate. "

The following Tuesday he continued south to Cedar City, the mostpopulous of the southern settlements. Here he learned of the campaign'sprogress. Brigham's courier had preceded the train on its way south, bearing written orders to the faithful to hold no dealings with itspeople; to sell them neither forage for their stock nor food forthemselves. They had, it was reported, been much distressed as a resultof this order, and their stock was greatly weakened. At Cedar City, itbeing feared that they might for want of supplies be forced to haltpermanently so near the settlement that it would be inconvenient todestroy them, they were permitted to buy fifty bushels of wheat and tohave it and some corn the Indians had sold them ground at the mill ofMajor Lee. 

As Joel's informant, the fiery Bishop Klingensmith, remarked, this wasnot so generous as it seemed, since, while it would serve to decoy themon their way toward San Bernardino, they would never get out of thevalley with it. The train had started on, but the animals were so weakthat three days had been required to reach Iron Creek, twenty milesbeyond, and two more days to reach Mountain Meadows, fifteen milesfurther south. 

Here at daybreak the morning before, Klingensmith told him, a band ofPiede Indians, under Lee's direction, had attacked the train, killingand wounding a number of the men. It had been hoped, explainedKlingensmith, that the train would be destroyed at once by the Indians, thus avoiding any call upon the militia; but the emigrants had behavedwith such effectiveness that the Indians were unable to complete thetask. They had corralled their wagons, dug a rifle-pit in the center, and returned the fire, killing one Indian and wounding two of thechiefs. The siege was being continued. 

The misgiving that this tale caused Joel Rae he put down to unmanlyweakness--and to an unfamiliarity with military affairs. A sight of theorder in Brigham's writing for the train's extermination would have sethis mind wholly at rest; but though he had not been granted this, he wasassured that such an order existed, and with this he was obliged to becontent. He knew, indeed, that an order from Brigham, either oral orwritten, must have come; otherwise the local authorities would neverhave dared to proceed. They were not the men to act without orders in amatter so grave after the years in which Brigham had preached his rightto dictate, direct, and control the affairs of his people from thebuilding of the temple "down to the ribbons a woman should wear, or thesetting up of a stocking. "

Late on the following day, Wednesday, while they were anxiously waitingfor news, a messenger from Lee came with a call for reinforcements. TheIndians, although there were three hundred of them, had been unable toprevail over the little entrenched band of Gentiles. Ten minutes afterthe messenger's arrival, the militia, which had been waiting under arms, set out for the scene in wagons. From Cedar City went every able-bodiedman but two. 

Joel Rae was with them, wondering why he went. He wanted not to go. Hepreferred that news of the approaching victory should be brought tohim; yet invisible hands had forced him, even while it seemed thatfrenzied voices--voices without sound--warned him back. 

The ride was long, but not long enough for his mind to clear. It wasstill clouded with doubts and questionings and fears when they at lastsaw the flaring of many fires with figures loitering or moving busilyabout them. As they came nearer, a strange, rhythmic throbbing crept tohis ears; nearer still, he resolved it into the slow, regular beatingsof a flat-toned drum. The measure, deliberate, incessant, changeless, --the same tones, the same intervals, --worked upon hisstrained nerves, at first soothingly and then as a pleasant stimulant. 

The wagons now pulled up near the largest camp fire, and the arrivalswere greeted by a dozen or so of the Saints, who, with Major Lee, hadbeen directing and helping the Indians in their assaults upon the enemy. Several of these had disguised themselves as Indians for the betterdeception of the besieged. 

At the right of their camp went the long line of the Indians' fires. From far down this line came a low ringing chant and the strangelyinsistent drum-beats. 

"They're mourning old Chief Moqueetus, " explained Lee. "He fell asleepbefore the fire just about dark, while his corn and potatoes werecooking, and he had a bad nightmare. The old fellow woke up screamingthat he had his double-hands full of blood, and he grabbed his gun andwas up on top of the hill firing down before he was really awake, Iguess. Anyway, one of the cusses got him--like as not the same one thatdid this to-day while I was peeking at them, " and he showed them abullet-hole in his hat. 

At fires near by the Indians were broiling beef cut from animals theyhad slaughtered belonging to the wagon-train. Still others were cuttingthe hides into strips to be made into lariats. As far down as the linecould be seen, there were dusky figures darting in and out of thefirelight. 

A council was at once called of the Presidents, Bishops, Elders, HighPriests, and the officers of the militia who were present. BishopKlingensmith bared his massive head in the firelight and opened thecouncil with prayer, invoking the aid of God to guide them aright. ThenMajor Higbee, presiding as chairman, announced the orders under whichthey were assembled and under which the train had been attacked. 

"It is ordered from headquarters that this party must be used up, exceptsuch as are too young to tell tales. We got to do it. They been actingterrible mean ever since we wouldn't sell them anything. If we let themgo on now, they been making their brag that they'll raise a force inCalifornia and come back and wipe us out--and Johnston's army alreadymarching on us from the east. Are we going to submit again to what wegot in Missouri and in Illinois? No! Everybody is agreed about that. Now the Indians have failed to do it like we thought they would, so wegot to finish it up, that's all. "

Joel Rae spoke for the first time. 

"You say except such as are too young to tell tales, Brother Higbee;what does that mean?"

"Why, all but the very smallest children, of course. "

"Are there children here?"

Lee answered:

"Oh, a fair sprinkling--about what you'd look for in a train of ahundred and thirty people. The boys got two of the kids yesterday; thefools had dressed them up in white dresses and sent them out with abucket for water. You can see their bodies lying over there this side ofthe spring. "

"And there are women?" he asked, feeling a great sickness come upon him. 

"Plenty of them, " answered Klingensmith, "some mighty fine women, too; Icould see one yesterday, a monstrous fine figure and hair shiny like acrow's wing, and a little one, powerful pretty, and one kind of betweenthe two--it's a shame we can't keep some of them, but orders is orders!"

"These women must be killed, too?"

"That's the orders from headquarters, Brother Rae. "

"From the military headquarters at Parowan, or from the spiritualheadquarters at Salt Lake?"

"Better not inquire how far back that order started, Brother Rae--not ofme, anyway. "

"But women and children--"

"The great Elohim has spoken from the heavens, Brother Rae--that'senough for me. I can't put my human standards against the revealed willof God. "

"But women and children--" He repeated the words as if he sought tocomprehend them. He seemed like a man with defective sight who has comesuddenly against a wall that he had thought far off. Higbee nowaddressed him. 

"Brother Rae, in religion you have to eat the bran along with the flour. Did you suppose we were going to milk the Gentiles and not ever shed anyblood?"

"But innocent blood--"

"There ain't a drop of innocent blood in the whole damned train. Andwhat are you, to be questioning this way about orders from on high? I'veheard you preach many a time about the sin of such doings as that. Youpreach in the pulpit about stubborn clay in the hands of the potterhaving to be put through the mill again, and now that you're out here inthe field, seems to me you get limber like a tallowed rag when an ordercomes along. "

"Defenseless women and little children--" He was still trying to regainhis lost equilibrium. Lee now interposed. 

"Yes, Brother Rae, as defenseless as that pretty sister of yours was inthe woods there, that afternoon at Haun's Mill. "

The reminder silenced him for the moment. When he could listen again, heheard them canvassing a plan of attack that should succeed withoutendangering any of their own numbers. He walked away from the group tosee if alone, out of the tumult and torrent of lies and half-truths, hecould not fetch some one great unmistakable truth which he feltinstinctively was there. 

And then his ears responded again to the slow chant and the constantmeasured beat of the flat-toned, vibrant drum. Something in its rhythmsearched and penetrated and swayed and seemed to overwhelm him. It cameas the measured, insistent beat of fate itself, relentless, inexorable;and all the time it was stirring in him vague, latent instincts ofsavagery. He wished it would stop, so that he might reason, yet dreadedthat it might stop at any moment. Fascinated by the weird rhythm and thehollow beat, he could not summon the will to go beyond its sway. 

He walked about the fires or lingered by the groups in consultationuntil the first signs of dawn. Then he climbed the low, rocky hill tothe east and peered over the top, the drum-beats still pulsing throughhim, still coercing him. As the light grew, he could make out thedetails of the scene below. He was looking down into a narrow valleyrunning north and south, formed by two ranges of rugged, rocky hillsfive hundred yards or so apart. To the north this valley widened; to thesouth it narrowed until it became a mere gap leading out into thedesert. 

Directly below him, half-way between the ranges of hills, was a circleof covered wagons wheel to wheel. In the center of this a pit had beendug, and here the besieged were finding such protection as they couldfrom the rifle-fire that came down from the hills on either side. Evennow he could see Indians lying in watch for any who might attempt toescape. The camp had been attacked on Monday morning after the wagonshad moved a hundred yards away from the spring. It was now Friday. Forfour days, therefore, with only what water they could bring by dashes tothe spring under fire, they had held their own in the pit. 

When it grew still lighter he descried, out on his left near the spring, two spots of white close together, and remembered Lee's tale the nightbefore of the two little girls sent for water. 

At that instant, the chanting and the beat of the drum stopped, and inthe silence a flood of light seemed to shine in upon his mind, showinghim in something of its true aspect the thing they were about to do. Notclearly did he see it, for he was still torn and dazed--and not in itsreal proportions, moreover; for he saw it against the background of histeaching from the cradle; the murder of their Prophet, the persecutionof the Saints, the outrages put upon his own family, the fate of hissister, the murder of his father, and the death of his mother; thecoming of an army upon them now to repeat these persecutions; thereported offenses of this particular lot of Gentiles. And then, too, hesaw it against his own flawless faith in the authority of thepriesthood, his implicit belief that whatsoever they ordered was to beobeyed as the literal command of God, his unshaken conviction that todisobey the priesthood was to commit the unforgivable sin of blasphemyagainst the Holy Ghost. "If you trifle with the commands of any of thepriesthood, " he himself had preached but a few days before, "you aretrifling with Brigham; if you trifle with Brigham, you are trifling withGod; and if you do that, you will trifle yourselves down to hell. "

Yet as he looked upon the doomed camp, lying still and quiet in the graylight, --in spite of breeding, training, habit of thought, and passionatebelief, he felt the horror of it, and a hope came to him out of thathorror. He hurried down the hill and searched among the groups ofIndians until he found Lee. 

"Major, isn't there a chance that Brother Brigham didn't order this?"

"Brother Rae, no one has said he did--it wouldn't be just wise. "

"But _did_ he--has any one seen the written order or heard who broughtthe oral order?"

"Brother Rae, look here, now--you know Brother Brigham. You know hisauthority, and you know Dame and Haight. You know they wouldn't eitherof them dare do as much as take another wife without asking Brighamfirst. Well, then, do you reckon they'd dare order this militia aroundin this reckless way to cut off a hundred and thirty people unless theyhad mighty good reason to know he wanted it?"

He stood before Lee with bent head; the hope had died. Lee went on:

"And look here, Elder, just as a friendly hint, I wouldn't do any moreof this sentimental talk. Why, in the last six months I've known men toget blood-atoned for less than you've said. "

He saw they were holding another council. Bishop Klingensmith again ledin prayer. He prayed for revelation, for the gifts of the spirit foreach of them, and for every order of the priesthood; that they mightprevail over the army marching against them; that Israel might grow andmultiply and cover the earth with cities and become a people so greatthat no man could number them; and that the especial favour of Heavenmight attend them on their righteous smiting of the Gentile host nowdelivered over to them by an all-wise Jehovah. 

The plan of assault was now again rehearsed, and its detailscommunicated to their Indian allies. By ten o'clock all was ready. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

_The Meadow Shambles_

They chose William Bateman to go forward with a flag of truce. He wasshort and plump, with a full, round, ingenuous face. He was chosen, sosaid Klingensmith, for his plausible ways. He could look right at youwhen he said anything; and the moment needed a man of this talent. Hewas to enter the camp and say to the people that the Mormons had come tosave them; that on giving up their arms they would be safely conductedto Cedar City, there to await a proper time for continuing theirjourney. 

From the hill to the west of the besieged camp they watched theplausible Bateman with his flag of truce meet one of the emigrants whocame out, also with a white flag, and saw them stand talking a littletime. Bateman then came back around the end of the hill that separatedthe two camps. His proposal had been gratefully accepted. The besiegedemigrants were in desperate straits; their dead were unburied in thenarrow enclosure, and they were suffering greatly for want of water. 

Major Higbee, in command of the militia, now directed Lee to enter thecamp and see that the plan was carried out. With him went two men withwagons. Lee was to have them load their weapons into one wagon, toseparate the adults from the children and wounded, who were to be putinto the other, and then march the party out. 

As Lee approached the corral its occupants swarmed out to meethim, --gaunt men, unkempt women and children, with the look of huntedanimals in their eyes. Some of the men cheered feebly; some were silentand plainly distrustful. But the women laughed and wept for joy as theycrowded about their deliverer; and wide-eyed children stared at him in afriendly way, understanding but little of it all except that thenewcomer was a desirable person. 

It took Lee but a little time to overcome the hesitation of the fewsuspicious ones. The plan he proposed was too plainly their only way ofescape from a terrible death. Their animals had been shot down or runoff so that they could neither advance nor retreat. Their ammunition wasalmost gone, so that they could not give battle. And, lastly, theirprovisions were low, with no chance to replenish them; for on the southwas the most to be dreaded of all American deserts, while on the norththey had for some reason unknown to themselves been unable to buy of theabundance through which they passed. 

Arrangements for the departure were quickly completed under Lee'ssupervision. In one wagon were piled the guns and pistols of theemigrants, together with half a dozen men who had been wounded in thefour days' fighting. In the other wagon a score of the smaller childrenwere placed, some with tear-stained faces, some crying, and some gravelyapprehensive. At Lee's command the two wagons moved forward. After thesethe women followed, marching singly or in pairs; some with littlebundles of their most precious belongings; some carrying babes too youngto be sent ahead in the wagon. A few had kept even their older childrento walk beside them, fearing some evil--they knew not what. 

One such, a young woman near the last of the line, was leading by thehand a little girl of three or four, while on her left there marched asturdy, pink-faced boy of seven or eight, whose almost white hair andeyebrows gave him a look of fright which his demeanour belied. Thewoman, looking anxiously back over her shoulder to the line of men, spoke warningly to the boy as the line moved slowly forward. 

"Take her other hand, and stay close. I'm afraid something willhappen-that man who came is not an honest man. I tried to tell them, butthey wouldn't believe me. Keep her hand in yours, and if anything doeshappen, run right back there and try to find her father. Remember now, just as if she were your own little sister. "

The boy answered stoutly, with shrewd glances about for possibledanger. 

"Of course I'll stay by her. I wouldn't run away. If I'd only had agun, " he continued, in tones of regretful enthusiasm, "I know I couldhave shot some of those Indians--but these, what do you callthem?--Mormons--they'll keep the Indians away now. "

"But remember--don't leave my child, for I'm afraid--something warnsme. "

Farther back the others had now fallen in, so that the whole company wasin motion. The two wagons were in the lead; then came the women; andsome distance back of these trailed the line of men. 

When the latter reached the place where the column of militia stooddrawn up in line by the roadside, they swung their hats and cheeredtheir deliverers; again and again the cheers rang in tones that werefull of gratitude. As they passed on, an armed Mormon stepped to theside of each man and walked with him, thus convincing the last doubterof their sincerity in wishing to guard them from any unexpected attackby the Indians. 

In such fashion marched the long, loosely extended line until the rearhad gone some two hundred yards away from the circle of wagons. At thehead, the two wagons containing the children and wounded had now fallenout of sight over a gentle rise to the north. The women also were wellahead, passing at that moment through a lane of low cedars that grewclose to the road on either side. The men were now stepping briskly, sure at last of the honesty of their rescuers. 

Then, while all promised fair, a call came from the head of the line ofmen, --a clear, high call of command that rang to the very rear of thecolumn:

_"Israel, do your duty!"_

Before the faces of the marching men had even shown surprise orquestioning, each Mormon had turned and shot the man who walked besidehim. The same instant brought piercing screams from the column of womenahead; for the signal had been given while they were in the lane ofcedars where the Indian allies of the Saints had been ambushed. Shotsand screams echoed and reëchoed across the narrow valley, and clouds ofsmoke, pearl gray in the morning sun, floated near the ground. 

The plan of attack had been well laid for quick success. Most of the menhad fallen at the first volley, either killed or wounded. Here and therealong the all but prostrate line would be seen a struggling pair, or oneof the emigrants running toward cover under a fire that always broughthim low before he reached it. 

On the women, too, the quick attack had been almost instantlysuccessful. The first great volume of mad shrieks had quickly died lowas if the victims were being smothered; and now could be heard only thesingle scream of some woman caught in flight, --short, despairingscreams, and others that seemed to be cut short--strangled at theirheight. 

Joel Rae found himself on the line after the first volley, drawn bysome dread power he could not resist. Yet one look had been enough. Heshut his eyes to the writhing forms, the jets of flame spitting throughthe fog of smoke, and turned to flee. 

Then in an instant--how it had come about he never knew--he wasstruggling with a man who shouted his name and cursed him, --a dark manwith blood streaming from a wound in his throat. He defended himselfeasily, feeling his assailant's strength already waning. Time after timethe man called him by name and cursed him, now in low tones, as theyswayed. Then the Saint whose allotted victim this man had been, havingreloaded his pistol, ran up, held it close to his head, fired, and ranback to the line. 

He felt the man's grasp of his shoulders relax, and his body growsuddenly limp, as if boneless. He let it down to the ground, looking atlast full upon the face. At first glance it told him nothing. Then afaint sense of its familiarity pushed up through many old memories. Sometime, somewhere, he had known the face. 

The dying man opened his eyes wide, not seeing, but convulsively, andthen he felt himself enlightened by something in their darkcolour, --something in the line of the brow under the black hair;--a facewas brought back to him, the handsome face of the jaunty militia captainat Nauvoo, the man who had helped expel his people, who had patronisedthem with his airs of protector, --the man who had--

It did not come to him until that instant--this man was Girnway. In theflash of awful comprehension he dropped, a sickened and nerveless heap, beside the dead man, turning his head on the ground, and feeling for anysign of life at his heart. 

Forward there, where the yells of the Indians had all but replaced thescreams of frantic women--butchered already perhaps, subjected to heknew not what infamy at the hands of savage or Saint--was theyellow-haired, pink-faced girl he had loved and kept so long imaged inhis heart; yet she might have escaped, she might still live--she mighteven not have been in the party. 

He sprang up and found himself facing a white-haired boy, who held alittle crying girl by a tight grasp of her arm, and who eyed himaggressively. 

"What did you hurt Prudence's father for? He was a good man. Did youshoot him?"

He seized the boy roughly by the shoulder. 

"Prudence--Prudence--where is she?"

"Here. "

He looked down at the little girl, who still cried. Even in that glancehe saw her mother's prettiness, her pink and white daintiness, and theyellow shine of her hair. 

"Her mother, then, --quick!"

The boy pointed ahead. 

"Up there--she told me to take care of Prudence, and when the Indianscame out she made me run back here to look for him. " He pointed to thestill figure on the ground before them. And then, making a brave effortto keep back the tears:

"If I had a gun I'd shoot some Indians;--I'd shoot you, too--you killedhim. When I grow up to be a man, I'll have a gun and come here--"

He had the child in his arms, and called to the boy:

"Come, fast now! Go as near as you can to where you left her. "

They ran forward through the gray smoke, stepping over and around bodiesas they went. When they reached the first of the women he would havestopped to search, but the boy led him on, pointing. And then, half-wayup the line, a little to the right of the road, at the edge of thecedars, his eye caught the glimpse of a great mass of yellow hair on theground. She seemed to have been only wounded, for, as he looked, she wasup on her knees striving to stand. 

He ran faster, leaving the boy behind now, but while he was still faroff, he saw an Indian, knife in hand, run to her and strike her down. Then before he had divined the intent, the savage had gathered the longhair into his left hand, made a swift circling of the knife with hisright, --and the thing was done before his eyes. He screamed in terror ashe ran, and now he was near enough to be heard. The Indian at his cryarose and for one long second shook, almost in his face as he camerunning up, the long, shining, yellow hair with the gory patch at theend. Before his staring eyes, the hair was twisting, writhing, andundulating, --like a golden flame licking the bronzed arm that held it. And then, as he reached the spot, the Indian, with a long yell ofdelight and a final flourish of his trophy, ran off to other prizes. 

He stood a moment, breathless and faint, looking with fearful eyes downat the little, limp, still figure at his feet. One slender, bare arm wasflung out as if she had grasped at the whole big earth in her lastagony. 

The spell of fear was broken by the boy, who came trotting up. He hadgiven way to his tears now, and was crying loudly from fright. Joel madehim take the little girl and sit under a cedar out of sight of the spot. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

_In the Dark of the Aftermath_

He was never able to recall the events of that day, or of the monthsfollowing, in anything like their proper sequence. The effort to do sobrought a pain shooting through his head. Up to the moment when theyellow hair had waved in his face, everything had kept a ghastlydistinctness. He remembered each instant and each emotion. After thatall was dark confusion, with only here and there a detached, inconsequent memory of appalling vividness. 

He could remember that he had buried her on the other side of the hillwhere a gnarled cedar grew at the foot of a ledge of sandstone, using aspade that an Indian had brought him from the deserted camp. By her sidehe had found the scattered contents of the little bundle she hadcarried, --a small Bible, a locket, a worn gold bracelet, and a pictureof herself as he had known her, a half-faded daguerreotype set in a giltoval, in a square rubber case that shut with a snap. The littlelimp-backed Bible had lain flung open on the ground in the midst of theother trinkets. He remembered picking these things up and retying themin the blue silk handkerchief, and then he had twice driven away anIndian who, finding no other life, came up to kill the two childrenhuddled at the foot of the cedar. 

He recalled that he had at some time passed the two wagons; one of themwas full of children, some crying, some strangely quiet and observant. The other contained the wounded men whom Lee and the two drivers haddispatched where they lay. 

He remembered the scene close about him where many of the women andolder children had fallen under knife and tomahawk. At intervals hadcome a long-drawn scream, terrifying in its shrillness, from some womanstruggling with Saint or savage. 

Later he remembered becoming aware that the bodies were being strippedand plundered; of seeing Lee holding his big white hat for valuables, while half a dozen men searched pockets and stripped off clothing. Thepicture of the naked bodies of a dozen well-grown children tangled inone heap stayed with him. 

Still later, when the last body had been stripped and the smallertreasures collected, he had known that these and the stock and wagonswere being divided between the Mormons and the Indians; a conflict withthese allies being barely averted, the Indians accusing the Saints ofwithholding more than their share of the plunder. 

After the division was made he knew that the Saints had all been calledtogether to take an oath that the thing should be kept secret. He knew, too, that he had gone over the spot that night, the moon lighting thenaked forms strewn about. Many of them lay in attitudes strangelylifelike, --here one resting its head upon its arm, there a white facefalling easily back as if it looked up at the stars. He could not recallwhy he had gone back, unless to be sure that he had made the grave underthe cedar secure from the wolves. 

Some of the men had camped on the spot. Others had gone to Hamblin'sranch, near the Meadows, where the children were taken. He had sent theboy there with them, and he could recall distinctly the struggle he hadwith the little fellow; for the boy had wished not to be taken from thegirl, and had fought valiantly with fists and feet and his sharp littleteeth. The little girl with her mother's bundle he had taken to anotherranch farther south in the Pine Mountains. He told the woman the childwas his own, and that she was to be kept until he came again. 

Where he slept that night, or whether he slept at all, he never knew. But he had been back on the ground in the morning with the others whocame to bury the naked bodies. He had seen heaps of them piled in littledepressions and the dirt thrown loosely over them, and he rememberedthat the wolves were at them all a day later. 

Then Dame and Haight and others of high standing in the Church had cometo look over the spot and there another oath of secrecy was taken. Anyinformer was to be "sent over the rim of the basin"--except that one oftheir number was to make a full report to the President at Salt LakeCity. Klingensmith was then chosen by vote to take charge of the goodsfor the benefit of the Church. Klingensmith, Haight, and Higbee, herecalled, had later driven two hundred head of the cattle to Salt LakeCity and sold them. Klingensmith, too, had put the clothing taken fromthe bodies, blood-stained, shredded by bullets and knives, into thecellar of the tithing office at Cedar City. Here there had been, a fewweeks later, a public auction of the property taken, the Bishop, whopresided as auctioneer, facetiously styling it "plunder taken at thesiege of Sebastopol. " The clothing, however, with the telltale marksupon it, was reserved from the auction and sold privately from thetithing office. Many stout wagons and valuable pieces of equipment hadthus been cheaply secured by the Saints round about Cedar City. 

He knew that the surviving children, seventeen in number, had been "soldout" to Saints in and about Cedar City, Harmony, and Painter's Creek, who would later present bills for their keep. 

He knew that Lee, whom the Bishops had promised a crown of glory for hiswork that day, had gone to Salt Lake City and made a confidential reportto Brigham; that Brigham had at first professed to regard the occurrenceas unfortunate for the Church, though admitting that no innocent bloodhad been shed; that he had sworn Lee never to tell the story again toany person, instructing him to make a written report of the affair tohimself, as Indian agent, charging the deed to the Indians. He was saidto have added on this point, after a period of reflection, "OnlyIndians, John, don't save even the little children. " He was reported tohave told Lee further, on the following day, that he had asked God totake the vision from his sight if the killing had been a righteousthing, and that God had done so, thus proving the deed in the sight ofheaven to have been a just vengeance upon those who had once made warupon the Saints in Missouri. 

With these and with many another disjointed memory of the day Joel Raewas cursed; of how Hamblin the following spring had gathered a hundredand twenty skulls on the ground where the wolves had left them, andburied them again; of how an officer from Camp Floyd had built a cairnon the spot and erected a huge cross to the memory of the slain; of howthe thing became so dire in the minds of those who had done it, thatmore than one man lost his reason, and two were known to have killedthemselves to be rid of the death-cries of women. 

But the clearest of all among the memories of the day itself was theprayer offered up as they stood amid the heaps of fresh earth, afterthey had sworn the oath of secrecy; how God had been thanked fordelivering the enemy into their hands, and how new faith and betterworks were promised to Him for this proof of His favour. 

The memory of this prayer stayed with him many years: "Bless BrotherBrigham--bless him; may the heavens be opened unto him, and angels visitand instruct him. Clothe him with power to defend Thy people and tooverthrow all who may rise against us. Bless him in his basket and inhis store; multiply and increase him in wives, children, flocks andherds, houses and lands. Make him very great to be a lawgiver and God toThy people, and to command them in all things whatsoever in the futureas in the past. "

Nor did he forget that, soon after he had listened to this prayer, andthe forces had dispersed, he had made two discoveries;--first, that hishair was whitening; second, that he could not be alone at night and keephis reason. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

_The Host of Israel Goes forth to Battle_

He went north in answer to the call for soldiers. He went gladly. Itpromised activity--and company. 

A score of them left Cedar City with much warlike talk, with manyringing prophecies of confusion to the army now marching against them, and to the man who had sent it. They cited Fremont, Presidentialcandidate of the newly organised Republican party the year before, withhis catch phrase, "The abolition of slavery and polygamy, the twinrelics of barbarism. " Fremont had been defeated. And there was StephenA. Douglas, once their staunch friend and advocate in Illinois; but theyear before he had turned against them, styling polygamy "the loathsomeulcer of the body politic, " asserting that the people of Utah were boundby oath to recognise only the authority of Brigham Young; that they wereforming alliances with Indians and organising Danite bands to rob andmurder American citizens; and urging a rigid investigation into theseenormities. For this slander Brigham had hurled upon him the anathemaof the priesthood, in consequence of which Douglas had failed to secureeven a nomination for the high office which he sought. 

And now Buchanan was in a way to draw upon himself that retributionwhich must ever descend upon the foes of Israel. Brigham was at last tounleash the dogs of war. They recalled his saying when they came intothe valley, "If they will let us alone for ten years, we will ask noodds of Uncle Sam or the Devil. " The ten years had passed and the Devilwas taking them at their word. One of them recalled the prophecy ofanother inspired leader, Parley Pratt, the Archer of Paradise: "Withinten years from now the people of this country who are not Mormons willbe entirely subdued by the Latter-day Saints or swept from the face ofthe earth; and if this prophecy fails, then you may know the Book ofMormon is not true. "

Their great day was surely at hand. Their God of Battles reigned. Allthrough the Territory the leaders preached, prayed, and taught nothingbut war; the poets made songs only of war; and the people sang onlythese. Public works and private were alike suspended, save themanufacture of new arms, the repairing of old, and the sharpening ofsabers and bayonets. 

On the way, to fire their ardour, they were met by Brigham'sproclamation. It recited that "for the last twenty-five years we havetrusted officials of the government from constables and justices tojudges, governors, and presidents, only to be scorned, held inderision, insulted, and betrayed. Our houses have been plundered andburned, our fields laid waste, our chief men butchered while under thepledged faith of the government for their safety; and our familiesdriven from their homes to find that shelter in the wilderness and thatprotection among hostile savages which were denied them in the boastedabodes of Christianity and civilisation. " It concluded by forbidding allarmed forces of every description to enter the Territory under anypretence whatever, and declaring martial law to exist until furthernotice. The little band hurried on, eager to be at the front. 

The day he reached Salt Lake City, Joel Rae was made major of militia. The following day, he attended the meeting at the tabernacle. He needed, for reasons he did not fully explain to himself, to receive freshassurance of Brigham's infallibility, of his touch with the Holy Ghost, of his goodness as well as his might; to be caught once more by thecompelling magnetism of his presence, the flash of his eye, and theinciting tones of his voice. All this he found. 

"Is there, " asked Brigham, "a collision between us and the UnitedStates? No, we have not collashed--that is the word that sounds nearestto what I mean. But the thread is cut between us and we will never gybeagain, no, never--worlds without end. I am not going to have theirtroops here to protect the priests and rabble in their efforts to driveus from the land we possess. The Lord does not want us to be driven. Hehas said to me, 'If you will assert your rights and keep mycommandments, you shall never again be brought into bondage by yourenemies. ' The United States says that their army is legal, but I saythat such a statement is false as hell, and that those States are asrotten as an old pumpkin that has been frozen seven times over and thenthawed in a harvest sun. We can't have that army here and havepeace--you might as well tell me you could make hell into apowder-house. And so we shall melt those troops away. I promise you ourenemies shall never 'slip the bow on old Bright's neck again. '"

Joel Rae was again under the sway of his old warlike feelings. Brighamhad revived his fainting faith. He went out into the noise and hurry ofwar preparations in a sort of intoxication. Underneath he never ceasedto be conscious of the dreadful specter that would not be gone--thatstood impassive and immovable as one of the mountains about him, waitingfor him to come to it and face it and live his day of reckoning, --theday of his own judgment upon himself. But he drank thirstily of themartial draught and lived the time in a fever of tumultuous drunkennessto the awful truth. 

He saw to it that he was never alone by day or night. Once a new thoughtand a sudden hope came to him, and he had been about to pray that in thecampaign he was entering he might be killed. But a second thoughtstayed him; he had no right to die until he had faced his own judgment. 

The army of Israel was now well organised. It had taken all able-bodiedmales between the ages of eighteen and forty-five. There were alieutenant-general, four generals, eleven colonels, and six majors. Inaddition to the Saints' own forces there were the Indians, for Brighamhad told a messenger who came to ascertain his disposition toward theapproaching army that he would "no longer hold the Indians by thewrist. " This messenger had suggested that, while the army might be keptfrom entering the valley that winter, it would assuredly march in, thefollowing spring. Brigham's reply had not lacked the point thatsharpened most of his words. 

"Before we shall suffer what we have in times gone by we will burn andlay waste our improvements, and you will find the desert here again. There will not be left one building, nor one foot of lumber, nor a stickor tree or particle of grass or hay that will burn. I will lay thisvalley utterly waste in the name of Israel's God. We have three years'provisions, which we will cache, and then take to the mountains. " Themessenger had returned to Fort Bridger and the measures of defense wentforward in the valley. 

Forces were sent into Echo Caņon, the narrow defile between themountains through which an army would have to pass. On the east side menwere put to building stone ramparts as a protection for riflemen. Onthe west, where the side was sloping, they dug pits for the samepurpose. They also built dams to throw large bodies of water along thewest side of the caņon so that an army would be forced to the east side;and here at the top of the cliff, great quantities of boulders wereplaced so that a slight leverage would suffice to hail them down uponthe army as it marched below. 

When word came that the invaders had crossed the Utah line, Brigham sentforward a copy of his proclamation and a friendly note of warning to theofficer in command. In this he directed that officer to retire from theTerritory by the same route he had entered it; adding, however, "shouldyou deem this impracticable and prefer to remain until spring in thevicinity of your present position at Black's Fork or Green River, youcan do so in peace and unmolested on condition that you deposit yourarms and ammunition with Lewis Robinson, Quartermaster-General of theTerritory, and leave as soon in the spring as the roads will permit youto march. And should you fall short of provisions they will be furnishedyou upon making the proper application. " The officer who received thisnote had replied somewhat curtly that the forces he commanded were inUtah by order of the President of the United States and that theirfuture movements would depend wholly upon orders issued by competentmilitary authority. Thus the issue was forced. 

In addition to the defense of Echo Caņon, certain aggressive moves weremade. To Joel Rae was allotted command of one of these. His orderspromised all he could wish of action. He read them and felt somethinglike his old truculent enthusiasm. 

"You will proceed with all possible dispatch, without injuring youranimals, to the Oregon Road near the bend of Bear River, north by eastof this place. When you approach the road, send scouts ahead toascertain if the invading troops have passed that way. Should they havepassed, take a concealed route and get ahead of them. On ascertainingthe locality of the troops, proceed at once to annoy them in everypossible way. Use every exertion to stampede their animals and set fireto their trains. Burn the whole country before them and on their flanks. Keep them from sleeping, by night surprises; blockade the road byfelling trees, or destroying river fords where you can. Watch foropportunities to set fire to the grass on their windward, so as toenvelope their trains if possible. Leave no grass before them that canbe burned. Keep your men concealed as much as possible, and guardagainst surprise. God bless you and give you success. 

"YOUR BROTHER IN CHRIST. "

Forty-four men were placed under his command to perform this work, andall of them were soon impressed, even to alarm, by the very evidentreliance of their leader upon the God of Israel rather than upon anymerely human wisdom of his own. 

The first capture was not difficult. After an all-night ride they cameup with a supply-train of twenty-five wagons drawn by oxen. The captainof this train was ordered to "go the other way" until he reached theStates. He started; but as he retraced his steps as often as they movedaway, they at length burned his train and left him. 

And then the recklessness of the new-fledged major became manifest. Hesent one of his captains with twenty men to capture or stampede themules of the Tenth Regiment, while he with the remainder of his forceset off toward Sandy Fork in search of more wagon-trains. When hisscouts late in the day reported a train of twenty-six wagons, he wasadvised by them that he ought not to attack it with so small a force;but to this advice he was deaf, rebuking the men for their little faith. 

He allowed the train to proceed until after dark, and then drewcautiously near. Learning, however, that the drivers were drunk, he hadhis force lie concealed for a time, fearing that they might provebelligerent and thus compel him to shed blood, which he wished not todo. 

At midnight the scouts reported that the train was drawn up in two linesfor the night and that all was quiet. He mounted his command and orderedan advance. Approaching the camp, they discovered a fact that the scoutshad failed to note; a second train had joined the first, and the littlehost of Israel was now confronted by twice the anticipated force. Thisdiscovery was made too late for them to retire unobserved. The men, however, expected their leader to make some inquiry concerning the roadand then ride on. But they had not plumbed the depth of his faith. 

As the force neared the camp-fire close to the wagons, the rear of thecolumn was lost in the darkness. What the teamsters about the fire sawwas an apparently endless column of men advancing upon them. Theirleader halted the column, called for the captain of the train, orderedhim to have his men stack their arms, collect their property, and standby under guard. Dismounting from his horse, he fashioned a torch anddirected one of the drivers to apply it to the wagons, in order that"the Gentiles might spoil the Gentiles. " By the time the teamsters hadsecured their personal belongings and a little stock of provisions forimmediate necessity the fifty wagons were ablaze. The following day, onthe Big Sandy, they destroyed another train and a few stragglingsutlers' wagons. 

And so the campaign went forward. As the winter came on colder, thescouts brought in moving tales of the enemy's discomfiture. ColonelAlexander of the Federal forces, deciding that the caņons could bedefended by the Saints, planned to approach Salt Lake City over aroundabout route to the north. He started in heavy snow, cutting a roadthrough the greasewood and sage-brush. Often his men made but threemiles a day, and his supply-train was so long that sometimes half of itwould be camped for the night before the rear wagons had moved. As therewas no cavalry in the force the hosts of Israel harassed them sorely onthis march, on one day consecrating eight hundred head of their oxen anddriving them to Salt Lake. 

Albert Sidney Johnston, commanding the expedition, had also sufferedgreatly with his forces. The early snows deprived his stock of forage, and the unusual cold froze many oxen and mules. 

Lieutenant-Colonel Cooke of the Second Dragoons, with whom travelled thenewly appointed governor, was another to suffer. At Fort Laramie so manyof his animals had dropped out that numbers of his men were dismounted, and the ambulances used to carry grain. Night after night they huddledat the base of cliffs in the fearful eddies of the snow, and heard abovethe blast the piteous cries of their famished and freezing stock. Dayafter day they pushed against the keen blades of the wind, toilingthrough frozen clouds and stinging ice blasts. The last thirty-fivemiles to Fort Bridger had required fifteen days, and at one camp onBlack's Fork, which they called the "camp of Death, " five hundredanimals perished in a night. 

Nor did the hardships of the troops end when they had all reached whatwas to be their winter quarters. Still a hundred and fifteen miles fromthe City of the Saints, they were poorly housed against the bitter cold, poorly fed, and insufficiently clothed, for the burning of the trains bythe Lord's hosts had reduced all supplies. 

Reports of this distress were duly carried to Brigham and published tothe Saints. Their soldiers had made good their resolve to prevent theFederal army from passing the Wasatch Mountains. Aggressive operationsceased for the winter, and the greater part of the militia returned totheir homes. A small outpost of fifty men under the command of MajorJoel Rae--who had earnestly requested this assignment--was left to guardthe narrows of Echo Caņon and to keep watch over the enemy during thewinter. This officer was now persuaded that the Lord's hand was withthem. For the enemy had been wasted away even by the elements from thetime he had crossed the forbidden line. 

In Salt Lake City that winter, the same opinion prevailed. They werehenceforth to be the free and independent State of Deseret. 

"Do you want to know, " asked Brigham, in the tabernacle, "what is to bedone with the enemy now on our borders? As soon as they start to comeinto our settlements, let sleep depart from their eyes until they sleepin death! Men shall be secreted along the route and shall waste themaway in the name of the God of Battles. The United States will have tomake peace with us. Never again shall we make peace with them. "

And they sang with fervour:--

 "By the mountains our Zion's surrounded, Her warriors are noble and brave; And their faith on Jehovah is founded, Whose power is mighty to save. Opposed by a proud, boasting nation, Their numbers compared may be few; But their Ruler is known through creation, And they'll always be faithful and true. "

CHAPTER XX. 

_How the Lion of the Lord Roared Soft_

But with the coming of spring some fever that had burned in the blood ofthe Saints from high to low was felt to be losing its heat. They hadheld the Gentile army at bay during the winter--with the winter's help. But spring was now melting the snows. Reports from Washington, moreover, indicated that a perverse generation in the States had declined toaccept the decrees of Israel's God without further proofs of theirauthenticity. 

With a view to determining this issue, Congress had voted more money fortroops. Three thousand men were to march to the reinforcement of thearmy of Johnston on Black's Fork; forty-five hundred wagons were totransport their supplies; and fifty thousand oxen and four thousandmules were to pull these wagons. War, in short, was to be waged uponthis Israel hidden in the chamber of the mountains. To Major Rae, watching on the outposts of Zion from behind the icy ramparts of EchoCaņon, the news was welcome, even enlivening. The more glory therewould be in that ultimate triumph which the Lord was about to secure forthem. 

In Brigham and the other leaders, however, this report induced deepthought. And finally, on a day, they let it be known that there could nolonger be any thought of actual war with the armies of the Gentile. JoelRae in Echo Caņon was incredulous. There must be battle given. The Lordwould make them prevail; the living God of Abraham, of Isaac, and ofJacob, would hold them up. And battle must be given for another reason, though he hardly dared let that reason be plain to himself. For only bycontinuing the war, only by giving actual battle to armed soldiers, byfighting to the end if need be--only so could that day in MountainMeadows be made to appear as anything but--he shuddered and could notname it. Even if actual war were to be fought on and on for years, hebelieved that day could hardly be justified; but at least it could bemade in years of fighting to stand less horribly high and solitary. Theymust fight, he thought, even if it were to lose all. But the Lord wouldstay them. How much more wicked and perverse, then, to reject theprivilege!

When he heard that the new governor, who had been in the snow withJohnston's army all winter, was to enter Salt Lake City and take hisoffice--a Gentile officer to sit on the throne of Brigham--he felt thatthe Ark of the Covenant had been thrown down. "Let us not, " he imploredBrigham in a letter sent him from Echo Caņon, "be again dragooned intoservile obedience to any one less than the Christ of God!"

But Brigham's reply was an order to pass the new governor through EchoCaņon. According to the terms of this order he was escorted through atnight, in a manner to convince him that he was passing between the linesof a mighty and far-flung host. Fires were kindled along the heights andthe small force attending him was cunningly distributed and duplicated, a few of its numbers going ahead from time to time, halting the rest ofthe party and demanding the countersign. 

Joel Rae found himself believing that he could now have been a fiercerLion of the Lord than Brigham was; for he would have fought, whileBrigham was stooping to petty strategies--as if God were needing to relyupon deceits. 

He was only a little appeased when, on going to Salt Lake City, helearned Brigham's intentions more fully. The new governor had beeninstalled; but the army of Johnston was to turn back. This was Brigham'sfirst promise. Soon, however, this was modified. The government, itappeared, was bent upon quartering its troops in the valley; and Zion, therefore, would be again led into the wilderness. The earlier promisewas repeated--and the earlier threat--to the peace commissioners nowsent on from Washington. 

"We are willing those troops should come into our country, but not stayin our city. They may pass through if need be, but must not bequartered within forty miles of us. And if they come here to disturbthis people, before they reach here this city will be in ashes; everyhouse and tree and shrub and blade of grass will be destroyed. Here aretwenty years' gathering, but it will all burn. You will have won backthe wilderness, barren again as on the day we entered it, but you willnot have conquered the people. Our wives and children will go to thecaņons and take shelter in the mountains, while their husbands and sonswill fight you. You will be without fuel, without subsistence foryourselves or forage for your animals. You will be in a strange land, while we know every foot of it. We will haunt and harass you and pickyou off by day and by night, and, as God lives, we will waste your armyaway. "

This was hopeful. Here at least was another chance to sufferpersecution, and thus, in a measure, atone for any monstrous wrong theymight have done. He hoped the soldiers would come despoiling, plundering, thus compelling them to use the torch and to flee. Anotherforced exodus would help to drive certain memories from his mind andsilence the cries that were now beginning to ring in his ears. 

Obedient to priestly counsel, the Saints declined, in the language ofBrigham, "to trust again in Punic faith. " In April they began to movesouth, starting from the settlements on the north. During that and thetwo succeeding months thirty thousand of them left their homes. Theytook only their wagons, bedding, and provisions, leaving their otherpossessions to the mercy of the expected despoiler. Before locking thedoors of their houses for the last time, they strewed shavings, straw, and other combustibles through the rooms so that the work of firing thecity could be done quickly. A score of men were left behind to apply thetorch the moment it became necessary, --should a gate be swung open or alatch lifted by hostile hands. Their homes and fields and orchards mightbe given back to the desert from which they had been won; but never tothe Gentile invaders. 

To the south the wagons crept, day after day, to some other unknowndesert which their prophet should choose, and where, if the Lord willed, they would again charm orchards and gardens and green fields from thegray, parched barrens. 

Late in June the army of Johnston descended Emigration Caņon, passedthrough the echoing streets of the all but deserted city and camped onthe River Jordan. But, to the deep despair of one observer, theseinvaders committed no depredation or overt act. After restinginoffensively two days on the Jordan, they marched forty miles south toCedar Valley, where Camp Floyd was established. 

Thus, no one fully comprehending how it had come about, peace was seensuddenly to have been restored. The people, from Brigham down, had beenoffered a free pardon for all past treasons and seditions if they wouldreturn to their allegiance to the Federal government; the new officersof the Territory were installed, sons of perdition in the seats of theLord's mighty; and sermons of wrath against Uncle Sam ceased for themoment to resound in the tabernacle. Early in July, Brigham ordered thepeople to return to their homes. They had offered these as a sacrifice, even as Abraham had offered Isaac, and the Lord had caught them a timelyram in the thicket. 

In the midst of the general rejoicing, Joel Rae was overwhelmed withhumiliation and despair. He was ashamed for having once wished to beanother Lion of the Lord. It was a poor way to find favour with God, hethought, --this refusing battle when it had been all but forced uponthem. It was plain, however, that the Lord meant to try themfurther, --plain, too, that in His inscrutable wisdom He had postponedthe destruction of the wicked nation to the east of them. 

He longed again to rise before the people and call them to repentanceand to action. Once he would have done so, but now an evil shadow layupon him. Intuitively he knew that his words would no longer come withpower. Some virtue had gone out of him. And with this loss of confidencein himself came again a desire to be away from the crowded center. 

Off to the south was the desert. There he could be alone; there face Godand his own conscience and have his inmost soul declare the truth abouthimself. In his sadness he would have liked to lead the people with him, lead them away from some evil, some falsity that had crept in aboutthem; he knew not what it was nor how it had come, but Zion had beendefiled. Something was gone from the Church, something from Brigham, something from himself, --something, it almost seemed, even from the Godof Israel. When the summer waned, his plan was formed to go to one ofthe southern settlements to live. Brigham had approved. The Churchneeded new blood there. 

He rode out of the city one early morning in September, facing to thesouth over the rolling valley that lay between the hills now flauntingtheir first autumn colours. He was in haste to go, yet fearful of whathe should meet there. 

A little out of the city he passed a man from the south, huddled high onthe seat under the bow of his wagon-cover, who sang as he went one ofthe songs that had been so popular the winter before:--

 "Old squaw-killer Harney is on the way The Mormon people for to slay. Now if he comes, the truth I'll tell, Our boys will drive him down to hell-- Du dah, du dah, day!"

He smiled grimly as the belated echo of war came back to him. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

_The Blood on the Page_

Along the level lane between the mountain ranges he went, a lane thatruns almost from Bear Creek on the north to the Colorado on the south, with a width of twenty miles or so. But for Joel Rae it became a ridedown the valley of lost illusions. Some saving grace of faith was gonefrom the people. He passed through sturdy little settlements, bowered ingardens and orchards, and girded about by now fertile acres where oncehad been the bare, gray desert. Slowly, mile by mile, the Saints hadpushed down the valley, battling with the Indians and the elements forevery acre of land they gained. Yet it seemed to him now that they hadachieved but a mere Godless prosperity. They had worked a miracle ofabundance in the desert--but of what avail? For the soul of their faithwas gone. He felt or heard the proof of it on every hand. 

Through Battle Creek, Provo, and Springville he went; through SpanishFork, Payson, Salt Creek, and Fillmore. He stopped to preach at eachplace, but he did it perfunctorily, and with shame for himself in hissecret heart. Some impalpable essence of spirituality was gone fromhimself and from the people. He felt himself wickedly agreeing with apessimistic elder at Fillmore, who remarked: "I tell you what, BrotherRae, it seems like when the Book of Mormon goes again' the Constitutionof the United States, there's sure to be hell to pay, and the Saintsallus has to pay it. " He could not tell the man in words of fire, asonce he would have done, that they had been punished for lack of faith. 

Another told him it was madness to have thought they could "whip" theUnited States. "Why, " said this one, "they's more soldiers back thereeast of the Missouri than there is fiddlers in hell!" By the orthodoxteachings of the time, the good man of Israel had thus indicated anoverwhelming host. 

He passed sadly on. They would not understand that they had laid by andforgotten their impenetrable armour of faith. 

Between Beaver and Paragonah that day, toiling intently along the dustyroad in the full blaze of the August sun, he met a woman, --a tall, strong creature with a broad, kind face, burned and seamed and hardenedby life in the open. Yet it was a face that appealed to him by its lookof simple, trusting earnestness. Her dress was of stout, gray homespun, her shoes were coarse and heavy, and she was bareheaded, her gray, straggling hair half caught into a clumsy knot at the back of her head. She turned out to pass him without looking up, but he stopped his horseand dismounted before her. It seemed to him that here was one whosefaith was still fresh, and to such a one he needed to talk. He called toher:

"You need something on your head; you are burned. "

She looked up, absently at first, as if neither seeing nor hearing him. Then intelligence came into her eyes. 

"You mean my Timothy needs something on his head--poor man! You see hebroke out of the house last night, because the Bishop told him I was totake another husband. Cruel! Oh, so cruel!--the poor foolish man, hebelieved it, and he cared so for me. He thought I was bringing home anew man with me--a new wedding for time and eternity, to build myself upin the Kingdom--a new wedding night--with him sitting off, cold andneglected. But something burst in his head. It made a roar like the millat Cedar Creek when it grinds the corn--just like that. So he went outinto the cold night--it was sleeting--thinking I'd never miss him, yousee, me being fondled and made over by the new man--wouldn't miss himtill morning. " A scowl of indignation darkened her face for an instant, and she paused, looking off toward the distant hills. 

"But that was all a lie, a mean lie! I don't see how he could havebelieved it. I think he couldn't have been right up here--" she pointedto her head. 

"But of course I followed him, and I've been following him all day. Hemust have got quite a start of me--poor dear--how could he think I'dbreak his heart? But I'll have him found by night. I must hurry, so goodday, sir!" She curtsied to him with a curious awkward sort of grace. Hestopped her again. 

"Where will you sleep to-night?"

"In his arms, thank God!"

"But if you happen to miss him--you might not find him until to-morrow. "

A puzzled look crossed her face, and then came the shadow of adisquieting memory. 

"Now you speak so, I remember that it wasn't last night he left--it wasthe night before--no?--perhaps three or four nights. But not as much asa fortnight. I remember my little baby came the night he left. I was somad to find him I suffered the mother-pains out in the cold rain--just alittle dead baby--I could take no interest in it. And there has been anight or two since then, of course. Sleep?--oh, I'll sleep some easyplace where I can hear him if he passes--sometimes by the road, in abarn, in houses--they let me sleep where I like. I must hurry now. He'swaiting just over that hill ahead. "

He saw her ascend the rise with a new spring in her step. When shereached the top, he saw her pause and look from side to side below her, then start hopefully down toward the next hill. 

A mile beyond, back of a great cloud of dust, He found a drove ofcattle, and back of these, hot and voiceful, came the good BishopWright. He described the woman he had just met, and inquired if theBishop knew her. 

The Wild Ram of the Mountain mopped his dusty, damp brow, took an easierseat in his saddle, and fanned himself. "Oh, yes, that's the first wifeof Elder Tench. When he took his second, eight or ten years ago, something went wrong with this one in her head. She left the house thesame night, and she's been on the go ever since. She don't do any harm, jest tramps back and forth between Paragonah and Parowan and Summit andCedar City. I always _have_ said that women is the contrary half of thehuman race and man is the sanifying half!"

The cattle were again in motion, and the Bishop after them with strongcries of correction and exhortation. 

Toward evening Joel Rae entered Paragonah, a loose group of log housesamid outlying fields, now shorn and yellow. Along the street in front ofhim many children followed and jeered in the wake of a man who slouchedsome distance ahead of them. As Joel came nearer, one boy, bolder thanthe others, ran forward and tugged sharply at the victim's ragged graycoat. At this he turned upon his pursuers, and Joel Rae saw hisface, --the face of an imbecile, with unsteady eyes and weakly droopingjaw. He raised his hand threateningly at his tormentors, and screamed atthem in rage. Then, as they fell back, he chuckled to himself. As Joelpassed him, he was still looking back at the group of children nowjeering him from a safe distance, his eyes bright for the moment, andhis face lighted with a weak, loose-lipped smile. 

"Who is that fellow, Bishop?" he asked of his host for the night, a fewmoments later, when he dismounted in front of the cabin. The Bishopshaded his eyes with his hand and peered up the road at the shamblingfigure once more moving ahead of the tormenting children. 

"That? Oh, that's only Tom Potwin. You heard about him, I guess. No?Well, he's a simple--been so four years now. Don't you recollect? He'sthe lad over at Manti who wouldn't give up the girl Bishop Warren Snowwanted. The priesthood tried every way to make him; they counselled him, and that didn't do; then they ordered him away on mission, but hewouldn't go; and then they counselled the girl, but she was stubborntoo. The Bishop saw there wasn't any other way, so he had him called toa meeting at the schoolhouse one night. As soon as he got there, thelights was blowed out, and--well, it was unfortunate, but this boy'sbeen kind of an idiot ever since. "

"Unfortunate! It was awful!"

"Not so awful as refusing to obey counsel. "

"What became of the girl?"

"Oh, she saw it wasn't no use trying to go against the Lord, so shemarried the Bishop. He said at the time that he knew she'd bring him badluck--she being his thirteenth--and she did, she was that hifalutin. Hehad to put her away about a year ago, and I hear she's living in adugout somewhere the other side of Cedar City, a-starving to death theytell me, but for what the neighbours bring her. I never did see why theBishop was so took with her. You could see she'd never make a worker, and good looks go mighty fast. "

He dreamed that night that the foundations of the great temple they werebuilding had crumbled. And when he brought new stones to replace theold, these too fell away to dust in his hands. 

The next evening he reached Cedar City. Memories of this locality beganto crowd back upon him with torturing clearness; especially of themorning he had left Hamblin's ranch. As he mounted his horse two of thechildren saved from the wagon-train had stood near him, --a boy of sevenand another a little older, the one who had fought so viciously with himwhen he was separated from the little girl. He remembered that theyounger of the two boys had forgotten all but the first of his name. Hehad told them that it was John Calvin--something; he could not rememberwhat, so great had been his fright; the people at the ranch, because ofhis forlorn appearance, had thereupon named him John Calvin Sorrow. 

These two boys had watched him closely as he mounted his horse, and theolder one had called to him, "When I get to be a man, I'm coming backwith a gun and kill you till you are dead yourself, " and the other, little John Calvin Sorrow, had clenched his fists and echoed the threat, "We'll come back here and kill you! Mormons is worse'n Indians!"

He had ridden quickly away, not noting that some of the men standing byhad looked sharply at the boys and then significantly at one another. One of those who had been present, whom he now met, told him of thesetwo boys. 

"You see, Elder, the orders from headquarters was to save only them thatwas too young to give evidence in a court. But these two was veryforward and knowing. They shouldn't have been kept in the first place. So two men--no need of naming names--took both of them out one night. They got along all right with the little one, the one they called JohnCalvin Sorrow--only the little cuss kicked and scrambled so that we bothhad to see to him for a minute, and when we was ready for the other, there he was at least ten rods away, a-legging it into the scrub oak. Well, they looked and looked and hunted around till daybreak, but he'dgot away all right, the moon going under a cloud. They tracked him quitea ways when it come light, till his tracks run into the trail of a bigband of Navajos that had been up north trading ponies and was going backsouth. He was the one that talked so much about you, but you needn'tever have any fear of his talking any more. He'd be done for one way oranother. "

For the first time in his life that night, he was afraid topray, --afraid even to give thanks that others were sleeping in the roomwith him so that he could hear their breathing and know that he was notalone. 

He was up betimes to press on to the south, again afraid to pray, anddreading what was still in store for him. For sooner or later he wouldhave to be alone in the night. Thus far since that day in the Meadows hehad slept near others, whether in cabins or in camp, in some freighter'swagon or bivouacking in the snows of Echo Caņon. Each night he had beenconscious, at certain terrible moments of awakening, that others werenear him. He heard their breathing, or in the silence a fire's light hadshown him a sleeping face, the lines of a form, or an arm tossed out. What would happen on the night he found himself alone, he knewnot--death, or the loss of reason. He knew what the torture wouldbe, --the shrieks of women in deadly terror, the shrill cries ofchildren, the low, tense curses of men, the rattle of shots, the yellsof Indians, the heavy, sickening smell of blood, the still forms fallenin strange positions of ease, the livid faces distorted to grins. He hadnot been able to keep the sounds from his ears, but thus far the thingsthemselves had stayed behind him, moving always, crawling, writhing, even stepping furtively close at his back, so that he could feel theirbreath on his neck. When the time came that these should move around infront of him, he thought it would have to be the end. They would gobefore him, a wild, bleeding, raving procession, until they tore hisheart from his breast. One sight he feared most of all, --a bronzed armwith a wide silver bracelet at the wrist, the hand clutching and wavingbefore him heavy strands of long, yellow hair with a gory patch at theend, --living hair that writhed and undulated to catch the light, coilingabout the arm like a golden serpent. 

His way lay through the Meadows, yet he hardly realised this until hewas fairly on the ground in the midst of a thousand evil signs of theday. Here, a year after, were skulls and whitening bones, some in heaps, some scattered through the sage-brush where the wolves had left them. Many of the skulls were pierced with bullet-holes, shattered as by heavyblows, or cleft as with a sharp-edged weapon. Even more terrifying thanthese were certain traces caught here and there on the low scrub oaksalong the way, --children's sunbonnets; shreds of coarse lace, muslin, and calico; a child's shoe, the tattered sleeve of a woman's dress--allfaded, dead, whipped by the wind. 

He pressed through it all with set jaws, trying to keep his eyes fixedupon the ground beyond his horse's head; but his ears were at the mercyof the cries that rang from every thicket. 

Once out of it, he rode hard, for it must not come yet--his first nightalone. By dusk he had reached the new settlement of Amalon, a little offthe main road in a valley of the Pine Mountains. Here he sought thehouse where he had left the child. When he had picketed his horse hewent in and had her brought to him, --a fresh little flower-likewoman-child, with hair and eyes that told of her mother, with remindersof her mother's ways as she stood before him, a waiting poise of thehead, a lift of the chin. They looked at each other in the candle-light, the child standing by the woman who had brought her, looking up at himcuriously, and he not daring to touch her or go nearer. She becameuneasy and frightened at last, under his scrutiny, and when the womanwould have held her from running away, began to cry, so that he gave theword to let her go. She ran quickly into the other room of the cabin, from which she called back with tears of indignation in her voice, "You're not my papa--not my _real_ papa!"

When the people were asleep, he sat before the blaze in the bigfireplace, on the hearth cleanly swept with its turkey-wing andbuffalo-tail. There was to be one more night of his reprieve fromsolitude. The three women of the house and the man were sleeping aroundthe room in bunks. The child's bed had been placed near him on the floorafter she slept, as he had asked it to be. He had no thought of sleepfor himself. He was too intensely awake with apprehension. On the floorbeside his chair was a little bundle the woman had brought him, --thebundle he had found loosened by her side, that day, with the trinketsscattered about and the limp-backed little Bible lying open where it hadfallen. 

He picked the bundle up and untied it, touching the contents timidly. Hetook up the Bible last, and as he did so a memory flooded back upon himthat sickened him and left him trembling. It was the book he had givenher on her seventeenth birthday, the one she had told him she waskeeping when they parted that morning at Nauvoo. He knew the truthbefore he opened it at the yellowed fly-leaf and read in faded ink, "From Joel to Prudence on this day when she is seventeen years old--June2d, 1843. "

In a daze of feeling he turned the pages, trying to clear his mind, glancing at the chapter headings as he turned, --"Abram is Justified byFaith, " "God Instructeth Isaac, " "Pharaoh's Heart Is Hardened, " "TheLaws of Murder, " "The Curses for Disobedience. " He turned rapidly and atlast began to run the leaves from between his thumb and finger, andthen, well over in the book something dark caught his eye. He turned theleaves back again to see what it was; but not until the book was openedflat before him and he held the page close to the light did he see whatit was his eye had caught. A wash of blood was across the page. 

He stared blankly at the reddish, dark stain, as if its spell had beenhypnotic. Little by little he began to feel the horror of it, remembering how he picked the book up from where it had fallen beforeher. Slowly, but with relentless certainty, his mind cleared to what hesaw. 

Now for the first time he began to notice the words that showed dimlythrough the stain, began to read them, to puzzle them out, as if theywere new to him:--

 "But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, "Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you. 

 "And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek, offer also the other; and him that taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat also. 

 "Give to every man that asketh of thee; and of him that taketh away thy goods ask them not again. 

 "And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise. "

Again and again he read them. They were illumined with a strangelyterrible meaning by the blood of her he had loved and sworn to keephimself clean for. 

He could no longer fight off the truth. It was facing him now in all itsnakedness, monstrous to obscenity, demanding its due measure from hisown soul's blood. He aroused himself, shivering, and looked out into theroom where the shadows lay heavy, and from whence came the breathing ofthe sleepers. He picked up the now sputtering candle, set in its holebored in a block of wood, and held it up for a last look at the littlewoman-child. He was full of an agony of wonder as he gazed, of piteousquestioning why this should be as it was. The child stirred and flungone arm over her eyes as if to hide the light. He put out the candle andset it down. Then stooping over, he kissed the pillow beside the child'shead and stepped lightly to the door. He had come to the end of hissubterfuges--he could no longer delay his punishment. 

Outside the moon was shining, and his horse moved about restlessly. Heput on the saddle and rode off to the south, galloping rapidly after hereached the highway. Off there was a kindly desert where a man couldtake in peace such punishment as his body could bear and his souldecree; and where that soul could then pass on in decent privacy to bejudged by its Maker. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

_The Picture in the Sky_

If something of the peace of the night-silence came to him as he rode, he counted it only the peace of surrender and despair. He knew now thathe had been cheated of all his great long-nursed hopes of some superiorexaltation. Nor this only; for he had sinned unforgivably and incurredperdition. He who had fasted, prayed, and endured, waiting for hisWitness, for the spreading of the heavens and the glory of the openvision, had overreached himself and was cast down. 

When at last he slowed his horse to a walk, it was the spring of theday. The moon had gone, and over on his left a soft grayness began toshow above the line of the hills. The light grew until it glowed withthe fire of opals; through the tree-tops ran little stirs ofwakefulness, and all about him were faint, furtive rustlings andwhispers of the new day. Then in this glorified dusk of the dawn asquirrel loosed his bark of alarm, a crested jay screamed in answer, andhe knew his hour of atonement was come. 

He pressed forward again toward the desert, eager to be on with it. Thepage with the wash of blood across it seemed to take on a new vividnessin the stronger light. Under the stain, the letters of the words weremagnified before his mind, --"_And as ye would that men should do toyou_--" It seemed to him that the blood through which they came heatedthe words so that they burned his eyes. 

An hour after daybreak the trail led him down out of the hills by alittle watercourse to the edge of the desert. Along the sides of thisthe chaparral grew thickly, and the spring by which he halted made alittle spot of green at the edge of the gray. But out in front of himwas the infinite stretch of death, far sweeps of wind-furrowed sandburning under a sun made sullen red by the clouds of fine dust in theair. Sparsely over the dull surface grew the few shrubs that couldsurvive the heat and dryness, --stunted, unlovely things of burr, spine, thorn, or saw-edged leaf, --all bent one ways by the sand blown againstthem, --bristling cactus and crouching mesquite bushes. 

In the vast open of the blue above, a vulture wheeled with sinisteralertness; and far out among the dwarfed growing things a coyote skulkedknowingly. The weird, phantom-like beauty of it stole upon him, torn ashe was, while he looked over the dry, flat reaches. It was a good placeto die in, this lifeless waste languishing under an angry sun. And heknew how it would come. Out to the south, as many miles as he shouldhave strength to walk, away from any road or water-hole, a great thirstwould come, and then delirium, perhaps bringing visions of cool runningwater and green trees. He would hurry toward these madly until hestumbled and fell and died. Then would come those cynical scavengers ofthe desert, the vulture wheeling lower, the coyote skulking nearer, pausing suspiciously to sniff and to see if he moved. Then a few poorbones, half-buried by the restless sand, would be left to whiten andcrumble into particles of the same desert dust he looked upon. As forhis soul, he shuddered to think its dissolution could not also be madeas sure. 

He stood looking out a long time, held by the weak spirit of a hope thatsome reprieve might come, from within or from on high. But he saw onlythe page wet with blood, and the words that burned through it into hiseyes; heard only the cries of women in their death-agony and thestealthy movements of the bleeding shapes behind him. There was no rayof hope to his eye nor note of it to his ear--only the cries and therustlings back of him, driving him out. 

At last he gave his horse water, tied the bridle-rein to the horn of thesaddle, headed him back over the trail to the valley and turned himloose. Then, after a long look toward the saving green of the hills, hestarted off through the yielding sand, his face white and haggard buthard-set. He was already weakened by fasting and loss of sleep, and theheat and dryness soon told upon him as the chill was warmed from themorning air. 

When he had walked an hour, he felt he must stop, at least to rest. Helooked back to see how far he had come. He was disappointed by thenearness of the hills; they seemed but a stone's throw away. If deliriumcame now he would probably wander back to the water. He lay down, determining to gather strength for many more miles. The sand was hotunder him, and the heat of a furnace was above, but he lay with his headon his arm and his hat pulled over his face. Soon he was half-asleep, sothat dreams would alternate with flashes of consciousness; or sometimesthey merged, so that he would dream he had wandered into a desert, orthat the stifling heat of a desert came to him amid the snows of EchoCaņon. He awakened finally with a cry, brushing from before his eyes amass of yellow hair that a dark hand shook in his face. 

He sat up, looked about a moment, and was on his feet again to thesouth, walking in the full glare of the sun, with his shadow nowstraight behind him. He went unsteadily at first, but soon felt newvigour from his rest. 

He walked another hour, then turned, and was again disappointed--it wassuch a little distance; yet he knew now he must be too far out to findhis way back when the madness came. So it was with a little sigh ofcontentment that he lay down again to rest or to take what might come. 

Again he lay with his head on his arm in the scorching sands, with hishat above his face, and again his dreams alternated with consciousnessof the desolation about him--alternated and mingled so that he no longerknew when he did not sleep. And again he was tortured to wakefulness, tothirst, and to heat, by the yellow hair brandished before him. 

He sat up until he was quite awake, and then sank back upon the sandagain, relieved to find that he felt too weak to walk further. His mindhad become suddenly cleared so that he seemed to see only realities, andthose in their just proportions. He knew he had passed sentence of deathupon himself, knew he had been led to sin by his own arrogance of soul. It came to him in all its bare, hard simplicity, stripped of theillusions and conceits in which his pride had draped it, thrusting sharpblades of self-condemnation through his heart. In that moment he doubtedall things. He knew he had sinned past his own forgiveness, even ifpardon had come from on high; knew that no agony of spear and thornsupon the cross could avail to take him from the hell to which his ownconscience had sent him. 

He was quite broken. Not since the long-gone night on the river-flatacross from Nauvoo had tears wet his eyes. But they fell now, and fromsheer, helpless grief he wept. And then for the first time in two dayshe prayed--this time the prayer of the publican:--

"_God be merciful to me, a sinner_. "

Over and over he said the words, chokingly, watering the hot sands withhis tears. When the paroxysm had passed, it left him, weak and prone, still faintly crying his prayer into the sand, "O God, be merciful tome, a sinner. "

When he had said over the words as long as his parched throat would lethim, he became quiet. To his amazement, some new, strange peace hadfilled him. He took it for the peace of death. He was glad to think itwas coming so gently--like a kind mother soothing him to his last sleep. 

His head on his arm, his whole tired body relaxing in this newrestfulness, he opened his eyes and looked off to the south, idlyscanning the horizon, his eyes level with the sandy plain. Thensomething made him sit quickly up and stare intently, his bared headcraning forward. To the south, lying low, was a mass of light clouds, volatile, changing with opalescent lights as he looked. A little to theleft of these clouds, while his head was on the sand, he thought hiseyes had detected certain squared lines. 

Now he scanned the spot with a feverish eagerness. At first there wasonly the endless empty blue. Then, when his wonder was quite dead and hewas about to lie down, there came a miracle of miracles, --a vision inthe clear blue of the sky. And this time the lines were coherent. He, the dying sinner, had caught, clearly and positively for one awfulsecond in that sky, the flashing impression of a cross. It faded assoon as it came, vanished while he gazed, leaving him in gasping, fainting wonder at the marvel. 

And then, before he could think or question himself, the sky once moreyielded its vision; again that image of a cross stayed for a second inhis eyes, and this time he thought there were figures about it. Somepicture was trying to show itself to him. Still reaching his bodyforward, gazing fearfully, his aroused body pulsing swiftly to thewonder of the thing, he began to pray again, striving to keep hisexcitement under. 

"O God, have mercy on me, a sinner!"

Slowly at first, it grew before his fixed eyes, then quickly, so that atthe last there was a complete picture where but an instant before hadbeen but a meaningless mass of line and colour. Set on a hill were manylow, square, flat-topped houses, brown in colour against the gray groundabout them. In front of these houses was a larger structure of the samematerial, a church-like building such as he had once seen in a picture, with a wooden cross at the top. In an open square before this churchwere many moving persons strangely garbed, seeming to be Indians. Theysurged for a moment about the door of the church, then parted to eitherside as if in answer to a signal, and he saw a procession of the samepeople coming with bowed heads, scourging themselves with short whipsand thorned branches. At their head walked a brown-cowled monk, holdingaloft before him a small cross, attached by a chain to his waist. As heled the procession forward, another crowd, some of them being otherbrown-cowled monks, parted before the church door, and there, clearlybefore his wondering eyes was erected a great cross upon which he sawthe crucified Saviour. 

He saw those in the procession form about the cross and fling themselvesupon the ground before it, while all the others round about knelt. Hesaw the monk, standing alone, raise the smaller cross in his hands abovethem, as if in blessing. High above it all, he saw the crucified one, the head lying over on the shoulder. 

Then he, too, flung himself face down in the sand, weeping hysterically, calling wildly, and trying again to utter his prayer. Once more he daredto look up, in some sudden distrust of his eyes. Again he saw theprostrate figures, the kneeling ones farther back, the brown-cowled monkwith arms upraised, and the face of agony on the cross. 

He was down in the sand again, now with enough control of himself to cryout his prayer over and over. When he next looked, the vision was gone. Only a few light clouds ruffled the southern horizon. 

He sank back on the sands in an ecstasy. His Witness had come--not as hethought it would, in a moment of spiritual uplift; but when he had beensunk by his own sin to fearful depths. Nor had it brought any message ofglory for himself, of gifts or powers. Only the mission of suffering andservice and suffering again at the end. But it was enough. 

How long he lay in the joy of the realisation he never knew, but sleepor faintness at last overcame him. 

He was revived by the sharp chill of night, and sat up to find his mindclear, alert, and active with new purposes. He had suffered greatly fromthirst, so that when he tried to say a prayer of thanksgiving he couldnot move his swollen tongue. He was weakened, too, but the freezing coldof the desert night aroused all his latent force. He struggled to hisfeet, and laid a course by the light of the moon back to the spring hehad left in the morning. How he reached the hills again he never knew, nor how he made his way over them and back to the settlement. But therehe lay sick for many days, his mind, when he felt it at all, tossingidly upon the great sustaining consciousness of that vision in thedesert. 

The day which he next remembered clearly, and from which he dated hisnew life, was one when he was back in the Meadows. He had ridden therein the first vagueness and weakness of his recovery, without purpose, yet feeling that he must go. What he found there made him believe he hadbeen led to the spot. Stark against the glow of the western sky as herode up, was a huge cross. He stopped, staring in wonder, believing itto be another vision; but it stayed before him, rigid, bare, anduncompromising. He left his horse and climbed up to it. At its base waspiled a cairn of stones, and against this was a slab with aninscription:--

"Here 120 Men, Women, and Children Were Massacred in Cold Blood Early inSeptember, 1857. "

On the cross itself was carved in deep letters:--

"Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. "

He fell on his knees at the foot and prayed, not weeping nor in anyfever of fear, but as one knowing his sin and the sin of his Church. Theburden of his prayer was, "O God, my own sin cannot be forgiven--I knowit well--but let me atone for the sins of this people and let me guidethem aright. Let me die on this cross a hundred deaths for each lifethey put out, or as many more as shall be needed to save them. "

He was strong in his faith again, conscious that he himself was lost, but burning to save others, and hopeful, too, for he believed that amiracle had been vouchsafed to him in the desert. 

Nor would the good _padre_, at the head of his procession of penitentsin his little mission out across the desert, have doubted less that itwas a miracle than did this unhappy apostle of Joseph Smith, had heknown the circumstance of its timeliness; albeit he had become familiarwith such phenomena of light and air in the desert. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

_The Sinner Chastens himself_

How to offer the greatest sacrifice--how to do the greatestservice--these had become his problems. He concerned himself no longerwith his own exaltation either in this world or the world to come. 

He resolved to stay south, fearing vaguely that in the North he would bein conflict with the priesthood. He knew not how; he felt that he wasstill sound in his faith, but he felt, too, some undefined antagonismbetween himself and those who preached in the tabernacle. For his homehe chose the settlement of Amalon, set in a rich little valley betweenthe shoulders of the Pine Mountains. 

Late in October there was finished for him on the outer edge of thetown, near the bank of a little hill-born stream, a roomy log-house, mud-chinked, with a water-tight roof of spruce shakes and a floor ofwhipsawed plank, --a residence fit for one of the foremost teachers inthe Church, an Elder after the Order of Melchisedek, an eloquentpreacher and one true to the blessed Gods. At one end of the cabin, asmall room was partitioned off and a bunk built in it. A chair and awater-basin on a block comprised its furniture. This room he reservedfor himself. 

As to the rest of the house, his ideas were at first cloudy. He knewonly that he wished to serve. Gradually, however, as his mind workedover the problem, the answer came with considerable clearness. Hethought about it much on his way north, for he was obliged to make thetrip to Salt Lake City to secure supplies for the winter, some neededarticles of furniture for the house, and his wagons and stock. 

He was helped in his thinking on a day early in the journey. Near asqualid hut on the outskirts of Cedar City he noticed a woman staggeringunder an armful of wood. She was bareheaded, with hair disordered, hercheeks hollowed, and her skin yellow and bloodless. He remembered thetale he had heard when he came down. He thought she must be that wife ofBishop Snow who had been put away. He rode up to the cabin as the womanthrew her wood inside. She was weak and wretched-looking in the extreme. 

"I am Elder Rae. I want to know if you would care to go to Amalon withme when I come back. If you do, you can have a home there as long as youlike. It would be easier for you than here. "

She had looked up quickly at him in much embarrassment. She smiled alittle when he had finished. 

"I'm not much good to work, but I think I'd get stronger if I hadplenty to eat. I used to be right strong and well. "

"I shall be along with my wagons in two weeks or a little more. If youwill go with me then I would like to have you. Here, here is money tobuy you food until I come. "

"You've heard about me, have you--that I'm a divorced woman?"

"Yes, I know. "

She looked down at the ground a moment, pondering, then up at him withsudden resolution. 

"I can't work hard and--I'm not--pretty any longer--why do you want tomarry me?"

Her question made him the more embarrassed of the two, and she saw asmuch, but she could not tell why it was. 

"Why, " he stammered, "why, --you see--but never mind. I must hurry onnow. In about two weeks--" And he put the spurs so viciously to hishorse that he was nearly unseated by the startled animal's leap. 

Off on the open road again he thought it out. Marriage had not been inhis mind when he spoke to the woman. He had meant only to give her ahome. But to her the idea had come naturally from his words, and hebegan to see that it was, indeed, not an unnatural thing to do. He dweltlong on this new idea, picturing at intervals the woman's lack of anycharm or beauty, her painful emaciation, her weakness. 

Passing through another village later in the day, he saw the youth whohad been so unfortunate as to love this girl in defiance of his Bishop. Unmolested for the time, the imbecile would go briskly a few steps andthen pause with an important air of the deepest concern, as if he wereengaged on an errand of grave moment. He was thinly clad and shiveringin the chill of the late October afternoon. 

Again, still later in the day, he overtook and passed the gaunt, graywoman who forever sought her husband. She was smiling as he passed her. Then his mind was made up. 

As he entered Brigham's office in Salt Lake City some days later, therepassed out by the same door a woman whom he seemed dimly to remember. The left half of her face was disfigured by a huge flaming scar, and hesaw that she had but one hand. 

"Who was that woman?" he asked Brigham, after they had chatted a littleof other matters. 

"That's poor Christina Lund. You ought to remember her. She was in yourhand-cart party. She's having a pretty hard time of it. You see, shefroze off one hand, so now she can't work much, and then she froze herface, so she ain't much for looks any longer--in fact, I wouldn't sayChristina was much to start with, judging from the half of her facethat's still good--and so, of course, she hasn't been able to marry. TheChurch helps her a little now and then, but what troubles her most isthat she'll lose her glory if she ain't married. You see, she ain't aworker and she ain't handsome, so who's going to have her sealed tohim?"

"I remember her now. She pushed the cart with her father in it from thePlatte crossing, at Fort Laramie, clear over to Echo Caņon, when all thefingers of one hand came off on the bar of the cart one afternoon; andthen her hand had to be amputated. Brother Brigham, she shouldn't becheated of her place in the Kingdom. "

"Well, she ain't capable, and she ain't a pretty person, so what can shedo?"

"I believe if the Lord is willing I will have her sealed to me. "

"It will be your own doings, Brother Rae. I wouldn't take it on myselfto counsel that woman to anybody. "

"I feel I must do it, Brother Brigham. "

"Well, so be it if you say. She can be sealed to you and be a star inyour crown forever. But I hope, now that you've begun to build up yourkingdom, you'll do a little better, next time. There's a lot of prettygood-looking young women came in with a party yesterday--"

"All in good time, Brother Brigham! If you're willing, I'll pick up mysecond on the way south. "

"Well, well, now that's good!" and the broad face of Brigham glowed withfriendly enthusiasm. "You know I'd suspicioned more than once that youwasn't overly strong on the doctrinal point of celestial marriage. Ihope your second, Brother Joel, is a little fancier than this one. "

"She'll be a better worker, " he replied. 

"Well, they're the most satisfactory in the long run. I've found thatout myself. At any rate, it's best to lay the foundations of yourkingdom with workers, the plainer the better. After that, a man canafford something in the ornamental line now and then. Now, I'll send forChristina and tell her what luck she's in. She hasn't had her endowmentsyet, so you might as well go through those with her. Be at theendowment-house at five in the morning. "

And so it befell that Joel Rae, Elder after the Order of Melchisedek, and Christina Lund, spinster, native of Denmark, were on the followingday, after the endowment-rites had been administered, married for timeand eternity. 

At the door of the endowment-house they were separated and taken torooms, where each was bathed and anointed with oil poured from a horn. Apriest then ordained them to be king and queen in time and eternity. After this, they were conducted to a large apartment, and left insilence for some moments. Then voices were heard, the voice of Elohim inconverse with Jehovah. They were heard to declare their intention ofvisiting the earth, and this they did, pronouncing it good, but decidingthat one of a higher order was needed to govern the brutes. Michael, theArchangel, was then called and placed on earth under the name of Adam, receiving power over the beasts, and being made free to eat of the fruitof every tree but one. This tree was a small evergreen, with bunches ofraisins tied to its branches. 

Discovering that it was not good for man to be alone, Brigham, as God, then caused a sleep to fall upon Adam, and fashioned Eve from one of hisribs. Then the Devil entered, in black silk knee-breeches, approachingwith many blandishments the woman who was enacting the rôle of Eve. Thesin followed, and the expulsion from the garden. 

After this impressive spectacle, Joel and the rapturous Christina weretaught many signs, grips, and passwords, without which one may not passby the gatekeepers of heaven. They were sworn also to avenge the murderof Joseph Smith upon the Gentiles who had done it, and to teach theirchildren to do the same; to obey without questioning or murmur thecommands of the priesthood; and never to reveal these secret rites underpenalty of having their throats cut from ear to ear and their hearts andtongues cut out. 

When this oath had been taken, they passed into a room containing along, low altar covered with red velvet. At one end, in an armchair, satBrigham, no longer in the rôle of God, but in his proper person ofProphet, Seer, and Revelator. They knelt on either side of this altar, and, with hands clasped above it in the secret grip last given to them, they were sealed for time and eternity. 

From the altar they went to the wagons and began their journey south. Christina came out of the endowment-house, glowing, as to one side ofher face. She was, also, in a state of daze that left her able to saybut little. Proud and happy and silent, her sole remark, the first dayof the trip, was: "Brigham--now--he make such a lovely, _bee-yoo-tiful_God in heaven!"

Nor, it soon appeared, was she ever talkative. The second day, too, shespoke but once, which was when a sudden heavy shower swept down from thehills and caught her some distance from the wagons, helping to drive thecattle. Then, although she was drenched, she only said: "It make downsomet'ing, I t'ink!"

For this taciturnity her husband was devoutly thankful. He had marriedher to secure her place in the Kingdom and a temporal home, and nototherwise did he wish to be concerned about her. He was glad to note, however, that she seemed to be of a happy disposition; which he did atcertain times when her eyes beamed upon him from a face radiant withgratitude. 

But his work of service had only begun. As they went farther south hebegan to make inquiries for the wandering wife of Elder Tench. He cameupon her at length as she was starting north from Beaver at dusk. Heprevailed upon her to stop with his party. 

"I don't mind to-night, sir, but I must be off betimes in the morning. "

But in the morning he persuaded her to stay with them. 

"Your husband is out of the country now, but he's coming back soon, andhe will stop first at my house when he does come. So stay with me thereand wait for him. "

She was troubled by this at first, but at last agreed. 

"If you're sure he will come there first--"

She refused to ride in the wagon, however, preferring to walk, andstrode briskly all day in the wake of the cattle. 

At Parowan he made inquiries for Tom Potwin, that other derelict, andwas told that he had gone south. Him, too, they overtook on the roadnext day, and persuaded to go with them to a home. 

When they reached Cedar City a halt was made while he went for the otherwoman--not without some misgiving, for he remembered that she was stillyoung. But his second view of her reassured him--the sallow, anemicface, the skin drawn tightly over the cheek-bones, the droopingshoulders, the thin, forlorn figure. Even the certainty that her life ofhardship was ended, that she was at least sure not to die of privation, had failed to call out any radiance upon her. They were married by alocal Bishop, Joel's first wife placing the hand of the second in hisown, as the ceremony required. Then with his wives, his charges, hiswagons, and his cattle he continued on to the home he had made at theedge of Amalon. 

Among the women there was no awkwardness or inharmony; they had allsuffered; and the two wives tactfully humoured the whims of the insanewoman. On the day they reached home, the husband took them to the doorof his own little room. 

"All that out there is yours, " he said. "Make the best arrangements youcan. This is my place; neither of you must ever come in here. "

They busied themselves in unpacking the supplies that had been brought, and making the house home-like. The big gray woman had already gone downthe road toward the settlement to watch for her husband, promising, however, to return at nightfall. The other derelict helped the women intheir work, doing with a childish pleasure the things they told him todo. The second wife occasionally paused in her tasks to look at him fromeyes that were lighted to strange depths; but he had for her only theunconcerned, unknowing look that he had for the others. 

At night the master of the house, when they had assembled, instructedthem briefly in the threefold character of the Godhead. Then, when hehad made a short prayer, he bade them good night and went to his room. Here he permitted himself a long look at the fair young face set in thelittle gilt oval of the rubber case. Then, as if he had forgottenhimself, he fell contritely to his knees beside the bunk and prayed thatthis face might never remind him of aught but his sin; that he mighthave cross after cross added to his burden until the weight should crushhim; and that this might atone, not for his own sins, which must bepunished everlastingly, but in some measure for the sins of hismisguided people. 

In the outer room his wives, sitting together before the big fireplace, were agreeing that he was a good man. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

_The Coming of the Woman-Child_

The next day he sent across the settlement for the child, waiting forher with mixed emotions, --a trembling merge of love and fear, withsomething, indeed, of awe for this woman-child of her mother, who hadcome to him so deviously and with a secret significance so mighty ofportent to his own soul. When they brought her in at last, he had tobrace himself to meet her. 

She came and stood before him, one foot a little advanced, several dollsclutched tightly under one arm, and her bonnet swinging in the otherhand. She looked up at him fearlessly, questioningly, but with no signof friendliness. He saw and felt her mother in all her being, in hereyes and hair, in the lines of her soft little face, and indefinably inher way of standing or moving. He was seized with a sudden fear that themother watched him secretly out of the child's eyes, and with thechild's lips might call to him accusingly, with what wild cries ofanguish and reproach he dared not guess. He strove to say something toher, but his lips were dry, and he made only some half-articulate sound, trying to force a smile of assurance. 

Then the child spoke, her serious, questioning eyes upon himunwaveringly. 

"Are you a damned Mormon?"

It broke the spell of awe that had lain upon him, so that he felt forthe moment only a pious horror of her speech. He called Christina totake charge of her, and Martha, the second wife, to put away her littlebundle of clothing, and Tom Potwin to fetch water for her bath. Hehimself went to be alone where he could think what must be done for her. From an entry in the little Bible, written in letters that seemed toshout to him the accusation of his crime, he had found that she must nowbe five years old. It was plainly time that he should begin to supplyher very apparent need of religious instruction. 

When she had become a little used to her surroundings later in the day, he sought to beguile her to this end, beginning diplomatically withother matters. 

"Come, tell me your name, dear. "

She allowed her attention to be diverted from her largest doll. 

"My name is Prudence--" She hesitated. 

"Prudence--what?"

"I--I lost my mind of it. " She looked at him hopefully, to be prompted. 

"Prudence Rae. "

She repeated the name, doubtingly, "Prudence Rae?"

"Yes--remember now--Prudence Rae. You are my little girl--Prudence Rae. "

"But you're not my really papa--he's went far off--oh, ten ninety milesfar!"

"No, Prudence--God is your Father in heaven, and I am your father onearth--"

"But not my _papa_!"

"Listen, Prudence--do you know what you are?"

The puzzled look she had worn fled instantly from her face. 

"I'm a generation of vipers. "

She made the announcement with a palpable ring of elation in her tones, looking at him proudly, and as if waiting to hear expressions ofastonishment and delight. 

"Child, child, who has told you such things? You are not that!"

She retorted, indignantly now, the lines drawing about her eyes insignal of near-by tears:

"I _am_ a generation of vipers--the Bishop said I was--he told thatother mamma, and I _am_ it!"

"Well, well, don't cry--all right--you shall be it--but I can tell yousomething much nicer. " He assumed a knowing air, as one who withheldknowledge of overwhelming fascinations. 

"Tell me--_what_?"

[Illustration: "BUT YOU'RE NOT MY REALLY PAPA!"]

And so, little by little, hardly knowing where to begin, but feelingthat any light whatsoever must profit a soul so benighted, he began toteach her. When she had been put to bed at early candle-light, he wentto see if she remembered her lesson. 

"What is the name of God in pure language?"

And she answered, with zest, "Ahman. "

"What is the name of the Son of God?"

"Son Ahman, --the greatest of all the parts of God excepting Ahman. "

"What is the name of man?"

"Sons Ahman. "

"That is good--my little girl shall be chosen of the Lord. "

He waited by her until sleep should come, but her mind had been stirred, and long after he thought she slept she startled him by asking, in avoice of entire wakefulness: "If I am a good little girl, and learn allthe _right_ things--_then_ can I be a generation of vipers?" Shelingered with relish on the phrase, giving each syllable withdistinctness and gusto. When he was sure that she slept, he leaned oververy carefully and kissed the pillow beside her head. 

In the days that followed he wooed her patiently, seeking constantly tofind some favour with her, and grateful beyond words when he succeededever so little. At first, he could win but slight notice of any sortfrom her, and that only at rare and uncertain intervals. But graduallyhis unobtrusive efforts told, and, little by little, she began to takehim into her confidence. The first day she invited him to play with herin one of her games was a day of rejoicing for him. She showed him thedolls. 

"Now, this is the mother and this is the little baby of it, and we willhave a tea-party. "

She drew up a chair, placed the two dolls under it, and pointed to theopening between the rungs. 

"Here is the house, and here is a little door where to go in at. Youmust be very, very particulyar when you go in. Now what shall we cook?"And she clasped her hands, looking up at him with waiting eagerness. 

He suggested cake and tea. But this answer proved to be wrong. 

"Oh, _no_!"--there was scorn in her tones--"Buffalo-hump and marrowbonesand vebshtulls and lemon-coffee. "

He received the suggestion cordially, and tried to fall in with it, butshe soon detected that his mind was not pliable enough for the game. Shewas compelled at last to dismiss him, though she accomplished theungracious thing tactfully. 

"Perhaps you have some farming to do out at the barn, because my dolliescan't _be_ very well with you at a tea-party, because you are too much. "

But she had shown a purpose of friendliness, and this sufficed him. Andthat night, before her bed-time, when he sat in front of the fire, shecame with a most matter-of-fact unconsciousness to climb into his lap. He held her a long time, trying to breathe gently and not daring to movelest he make her uncomfortable. Her head pillowed on his arm, she wassoon asleep, and he refused to give her up when Martha came to put herto bed. 

Though their intimacy grew during the winter, so that she called him herfather and came confidingly to him at all times, in tears or inlaughter, yet he never ceased to feel an aloofness from her, anawkwardness in her presence, a fear that the mother who looked from hereyes might at any moment call to him. 

That winter was also a time for the other members of the household toadapt themselves to their new life. The two wives attended capably tothe house. The imbecile boy, who had once loved one of them to his ownundoing, but who no longer knew her, helped them a little with the work, though for the most part he busied himself by darting off uponmysterious and important errands which he would appear to recallsuddenly, but which, to his bewilderment, he seemed never able tofinish. The other member of the household, Delight Tench, the gaunt, gray woman, still made sallies out to the main road to search for herdeceived husband; but they taught her after a little never to go farfrom the settlement, and to come back to her home each night. 

During the winter evenings, when they sat about the big fireplace, themaster of the house taught them the mysteries of the Kingdom as revealedby God to Joseph, and then to Brigham, who had been chosen by Joseph aswas Joshua by Moses to be a prophet and leader. 

In time Brigham would be gathered to his Father, and in the celestialKingdom, his wives having been sealed to him for eternity, he wouldbeget millions and myriads of spirits. During this period of increase hewould grow in the knowledge of the Gods, learning how to make mattertake the form he desired. Noting the vast increase in his family, hewould then say: "Let us go and make a world upon which my family ofspirits may live in bodies of grosser matter, and so gain valuableexperience. "

At the word of command, thereupon spoken by Brigham, the elements wouldcome together in a new world. This he would beautify, planting seedsupon it, telling the waters where to flow, placing fishes in them, putting fowls in the air and beasts in the field. Then, calling it allgood, he would say to his favourite wife: "Let us go down and inhabitthis new home. " And they would go down, to be called Adam and Eve bysome future Moses. 

Eve would presently be tempted by Satan to eat fruit from the one treethey had been forbidden to touch, and Brigham as Adam would then partakeof it, too, so she should not have to suffer alone. In a thousand yearsthey would die, after raising many tabernacles of flesh into which theirspirit children from the celestial world would have come to find abode. 

Brigham, going back to the celestial world, would keep watch over theseearthly children of his. Yet in their fallen nature they would in timeforget their father Brigham, the world whence they came, and the worldwhither they were going. Sometimes he would send messages to the purestof them, and at all times he would keep as near to them as they wouldlet him. At last he would lay a plan to bring them all again into hispresence. For he would now have become the God they should worship. Hewould send to these children of earth his oldest son, entrusted with themission of redeeming them, and only faith in the name of this son wouldsecure the favour of the father. 

Joel Rae instructed his wondering household, further, that such glory asthis would be reserved, not for Brigham alone, but for the least of theSaints. Each Saint would progress to Godhead, and go down with his Eveto make and people worlds without end. This, he explained, was why Godhad made space to be infinite, since nothing less could have room forthe numberless seed of man. In conclusion, he gave them the words of theHeaven-gifted Brigham: "Let all who hear these doctrines pause beforethey make light of them or treat them with indifference, for they willprove your salvation or your damnation. "

Yet often during that winter while he talked these doctrines he wouldfind his mind wandering, and there would come before his eyes a littleprinted page with a wash of blood across it, and he would be forced toread in spite of himself the verses that were magnified before his eyes. The priesthood of which he was a product dealt but little with the NewTestament. They taught from the Old almost wholly, when they wentoutside the Book of Mormon and the revelations to Joseph Smith--of theGod of Israel who was a God of Battle, loving the reek of blood and thesmell of burnt flesh on an altar--rather than of the God of theNazarene. 

He found himself turning to this New Testament, therefore, with acurious feeling of interest and surprise, dwelling long at a time uponits few, simple, forthright teachings, being moved by them in ways hedid not comprehend, and finding certain of the dogmas of his Churchsounding strangely in his ears even when his own lips were teachingthem. 

One of the verses he especially dreaded to see come before him: "Butwhoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it werebetter for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that hewere drowned in the depth of the sea. " He taught the child to pray, "OGod, let my father have due punishment for all his sins, but teach himnever to offend any little child from this day forth. "

He used to listen for this and to be soothed when he heard it. Sometimesthe words would come to him when he was shut in his room; for if neitherof the women was by her when she prayed, it was her custom to raise hervoice as high as she could, in the belief that otherwise her prayerwould not be heard by the Power she addressed. In high, piping tonesthis petition for himself would come through his door, following alwaysafter the request that the Lord would bless Brigham Young in his basketand in his store, multiplying and increasing him in wives, children, flocks and herds, houses and lands. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

_The Entablature of Truth Makes a Discovery at Amalon_

The house of Rae became a house of importance in the little settlementin the Pine Valley. It was not only the home of the highest Churchofficial in the community, but it was the largest and best-furnishedhouse, so that visiting dignitaries stayed there. It stood a little wayfrom the loose-edged group of cabins that formed the nucleus of thesettlement, on ground a little higher, and closer to the wooded caņonthat gashed the hills on the east. 

The style of house most common in the village was long, low-roofed, ofhewn logs, its front pierced by alternating doors and windows. From thenumber of these might usually be inferred the owner's current prospectsfor glory in the Kingdom; for behind each door would be a wife to exalthim, and to be exalted herself thereby in the sole way open to her, tothrones, dominion, and power in the celestial world. There were many ofthese long, profusely doored houses; but many, too, of less externalpromise; of two doors or even one. Yet in a hut of one door awell-wived Saint might be building up the Kingdom temporarily, until hecould provide a more spacious setting for the several stars in hiscrown. 

Then there was the capable Bishop Wright, whose long domestic barrackswere the first toward the main road beyond Bishop Coltrin's modesttwo-doored hut. The Wild Ram of the Mountains, having lately been sealedto his twelfth wife, and having no suitable apartment for her, hadingeniously contrived a sleeping-place in a covered wagon-box at the endof the house, --an apartment which was now being occupied, not withoutsome ungraceful remonstrance, by his first wife, a lady somewhat fardown in the vale of years and long past the first glamour of herenthusiasm for the Kingdom. It had been her mischance to occupypreviously in the community-house that apartment which the good man sawto be most suitable for his young and somewhat fastidious bride. Notwithout makeshifts, indeed, many of which partook of this infelicity, was the celestial order of marriage to be obeyed and the world broughtback to its primitive purity and innocence. 

And of all persons in any degree distressed about these or other mattersof faith, Joel Rae was made the first confidant and chief comforter. Inthe case just cited, for example, Bishop Wright had confessed to himthat, if anything could make him break asunder the cable of the Churchof Christ, it would be the perplexity inevitable to a maintenance ofdomestic harmony under the celestial order. The first wife alsodistressed this adviser with a moving tale of her expulsion from acomfortable room into the incommodious wagon-box. 

Many of these confidences, as the days went by, he found spirit-grievingin the extreme, so that he was often weary and longed for refuge in awilderness. Yet he never failed to let fall some word that might bemonitory or profitable to those who took him their troubles; nor did heforget to exult in these burdens that were put upon him, for he hadresolved that his cross should be made as heavy as he could bear. 

In addition to his duties as spiritual adviser to the community, it washis office to preach; also to hold himself at the call of the afflicted, to anoint their heads with oil and rebuke their fevers. He took anespecial pleasure in this work of healing, being glad to leave hisfields by day or his bed by night for the sickroom. By couches ofsuffering he watched and prayed, and when they began to say in Amalonthat his word of rebuke to fevers came with strange power, that histouch was marvellously healing, and his prayers strangely potent, heprayed not to be set up thereby, nor to forget that the power came, notby him but through him, because of his knowing his own unworthiness. Hefasted and prayed to be trusted still more until he should be worthy ofthat complete power which the Master had said came only by prayer andfasting. 

The conscientious manner in which he performed his offices wasfavourably commented upon by Bishop Wright. This good man believed therehad been a decline of late in the ardour of the priesthood. 

"I tell you, Elder, I wish they was all as careful as you be, butthey're falling into shiftless ways. If I'm sick and have to depend onmyself, all right. I'll dose up with lobelia or gamboge, or put ablister-plaster on the back of my neck or take a drink of catnip tea orcomposition, and then the cure of my misery is with the Lord God ofHosts. But if I send for an administrator, it's different. He takes theresponsibility and I want him to fulfil every will of the Lord. When anElder comes to administer to me and is afraid of greasing his fingers orof dropping a little oil on his vest, and says, 'Oh, never mind the oil!there ain't any virtue in the olive-oil; besides, I might grease mygloves, ' why I feel like telling such a Godless critter to walk off. When God says anoint with oil, _anoint_, I don't care if it runs downhis beard as it ran down Aaron's. And I don't want to talk anybody downor mention any names; but, well, next time when I got a cold and ElderBeil Wardle is the only administrator free, why, I'll just stand or fallby myself. A basin of water-gruel, hot, with half a quart of old rum init and lots of brown sugar, is better than all _his_ anointing. "

To make his days busier there were the affairs of the Church to oversee, for he was now President of the local Stake of Zion; reports of theteachers to consider in council meeting, of their weekly visits to eachfamily, and of the fidelity of each of its members to the Kingdom. Andthere were the Deacons and Priests of the Aaronic Order and other Eldersand Bishops of the Order of Melchisedek to advise with upon the temporaland spiritual affairs of Israel; to labour and pray with PeregrineNoble, who had declared that he would no longer be as limber as atallowed rag in the hands of the priesthood, and to deliver him over tothe buffetings of Satan in the flesh if he persisted in his blasphemy;to rebuke Ozro Cutler for having brazenly sought to pay on his tithingsome ten pounds of butter so redolent of garlic that the store hadrefused to take it from him in trade; to counsel Mary Townsley that PyeTownsley would come short of his glory before God if she remainedrebellious in the matter of his sealing other jewels to his crown; toteach certain unillumined Saints something of the ethics of unbrandedcattle; and to warn settlers against isolating themselves in theoutlying valleys where they would be a temptation to the red sons ofLaman. 

Again there was the rite of baptism to be administered, --not an onerousoffice in the matter of the living, but apt to become so in the case ofthe dead; for the whole world had been in darkness and sin since theapostolic gifts were lost, ages ago, and the number of dead whose soulsnow waited for baptism was incalculable; and not until the living hadbeen baptised for them could they enter the celestial Kingdom. Inconsequence, all earnest souls were baptised tirelessly for their lovedones who had gone behind the veil before Peter, James, and John ordainedJoseph Smith. 

But the unselfish did not confine their efforts to friends andrelatives. In the village of Amalon that winter and spring, Amarintha, third wife of Sarshell Sweezy, bethought her to be baptised for QueenAnne; whereupon Ezra Colver at once underwent the same rite for thislamented queen's husband, Prince George of Denmark; thereby securing theprompt admission of the royal couple to the full joys of the Kingdom. 

Attention being thus turned to royalty, the first Napoleon and his firstconsort were baptised into heaven by thoughtful proxies; then QueenElizabeth and Henry the Eighth. Eric Glines, being a liberal-minded man, was baptised for George Washington, thus adding the first President ofthe Gentile nation to the galaxy of Mormon Saints reigning in heaven. Gilbroid Sumner thereupon won the fervent commendation of his Elder bysubmitting twice to burial in the waters of baptism for the two thieveson the cross. 

From time to time the little settlement was visited by officials of theChurch who journeyed south from Salt Lake City; perhaps one of thepowerful Twelve Apostles, those who bind on earth that which is bound inheaven; or High Priests, Counsellors, or even Brigham himself with hisfavourite wife and a retinue of followers in stately procession. 

Late in the spring, also, came the Patriarch in the Church, Uncle JohnYoung, eldest brother of Brigham. It was the office of this good man todispense blessings to the faithful; blessings written and preservedreverently in the family archives as charms to ward off misfortune. Through all the valleys Uncle John was accustomed to go on his missionof light. When he reached a settlement announcement was made of hisheadquarters, and the unblessed were invited to wait upon him. 

The cynical had been known to complain that Uncle John was a hard man todeal with, especially before money was current in the Territory, whenblessings had to be paid for in produce. Many a Saint, these said, hadlong gone unblessed because the only produce he had to give chanced tomeet no need of Uncle John. Further, they gossiped, if paid in butter orfine flour or fat turkeys when these were scarce, Uncle John was certainto give an unusually strong blessing, perhaps insuring, on top offreedom from poverty and disease, the prolongation of life until thecoming of the Messiah. Yet it is not improbable that all these taleswere insecurely based upon a single instance wherein one StarlingDriggs, believing himself to stand in urgent need of a blessing, hadoffered to pay Uncle John for the service in vinegar. It had beenunexceptionable vinegar, as Uncle John himself admitted, but being ahundred miles from home, and having no way to carry it, the Patriarchhad been obliged to refuse; which had seemed to most people not to havebeen more than fell within the lines of reason. 

As for the other stories, it is enough to say that Uncle John washimself abundantly blessed with wives and children needing to be fed, that the labourer is worthy of his hire, and that it was sometimesvexatious to follow rapid fluctuations in the market value of butter, eggs, beef, potatoes, beet-molasses, and the like. Certain it is thatafter money came to circulate it was a much more satisfactory businessall around; two dollars a blessing--flat, and no grievances on eitherside, with a slight reduction if several were blessed in one family. When Uncle John laid his hands upon a head after that, every one knewthe exact pecuniary significance of the act. 

When the Patriarch stopped at Amalon that spring, at the house of JoelRae, there were many blessings to be made, and from morning until nightfor several days he was busy with the writing of them. Two members ofthe household he interested to an uncommon degree, --the child, Prudence, who forthwith began daily to promise her dolls that they should nottaste of death till Christ came, and Tom Potwin, the imbecile, whobecame for some unknown reason covetous of a blessing for himself. Hestayed about the Patriarch most of the time, bothering him with appealsfor one of his blessings. But Uncle John, though a good man, had beengifted by Heaven with slight imagination, and Tom Potwin would doubtlesshave had to go without this luxury but for a chance visitor to thehouse one day. 

This was no less a person than Bishop Snow, he who had once been TomPotwin's rival for the hand of her who was now the second Mrs. Rae. Withhis portly figure, his full, florid face with its massive jaw, and hisheavy locks of curling white hair, the good Bishop seemed indeed to havedeserved the title put upon him years ago by the Church Poet, --TheEntablature of Truth. 

He alighted from his wagon and greeted Uncle John, busy with the writingof his blessings in the cool shade just outside the door. 

"Good for you, Uncle John! Be a fountain of living waters to the thirstyin Zion. Say, who's that?" and he pointed to Tom Potwin who had beenwistfully watching the pen of the Patriarch as it ran over his paper. Uncle John regarded the Bishop shrewdly. 

"You ought to know, Brother Snow. 'Tain't so long since you and him weretogether. "

The Bishop looked closely again, and the boy now returned his gaze withhis own weakly foolish look. 

"Well! If it ain't that Tom Potwin. The Lord certainly hardened _his_heart against counsel to his own undoing. I tried every way in theworld--say, what's he doing here?"

"Oh, Brother Rae has given him a home here along with that first womanof Brother Tench's. The crazy loon has been bothering me all week togive him a blessing. "

The Entablature of Truth chuckled, being not without a sense of humour. 

"Well, say, give him one if he wants it. Here--here's your twodollars--write him a good one now. "

Uncle John took the money, and at once began writing upon a clean sheetof paper. The boy stood by watching him eagerly, and when the Patriarchhad finished the document took it from him with trembling hands. TheBishop spoke to him. 

"Here, boy, let's see what Uncle John gives us for our money. "

With some misgiving the owner of the blessing relinquished it into theBishop's hand, watching it jealously, though listening with delightwhile his benefactor read it. 

"Patriarchal blessing of Tom Potwin by John Young, Patriarch, given atAmalon June 1st, 1859. Brother Tom Potwin, in the name of Jesus ofNazareth and by authority of the Holy Priesthood in me vested, I conferupon thee a Patriarch's blessing. Thou art of Ephraim through the loinsof Joseph that was sold into Egypt. And inasmuch as thou hast obeyed therequirements of the Gospel thy sins are forgiven thee. Thy name iswritten in the Lamb's book of life never more to be blotted out. Thouart a lawful heir to all the blessings of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob inthe new and everlasting covenant. Thou shalt have a numerous posteritywho shall rise up to call thee blessed. Thou shalt have power overthine enemies. They that oppose thee shall yet come bending unto thee. Thou shalt come forth in the morning of the first resurrection, and nopower shall hinder except the shedding of innocent blood or theconsenting thereto. I seal thee up to eternal life in the name of theFather and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen and amen!"

The worthy Bishop handed the paper back to the enraptured boy, andturned to Joel Rae, who now came up. 

"Hello, Brother Rae. I hear you took on that thirteenth woman of mine. Much good it'll do you! She was unlucky for me, sure enough--rambunctious when she was healthy, and lazy when she was sick!"

When they came out of the house half an hour later, he added in tones ofconfidential warning:

"Say, you want to look out for her--I see she's getting the red back inher blood!"

CHAPTER XXVI. 

_How the Red Came Back to the Blood to be a Snare_

The watchful eyes of the Bishop had seen truly. Not only was the redcoming back to the blood of Martha, but the fair flesh to her meagreframe, the spring of youth to her step and living fire to her voice andthe glance of her eyes. Her husband was pleased. He had made a newcreature of the poor, worn wreck found by the wayside, weak, emaciated, reeling under her burden. He rejoiced to know he had done a trueservice. He was glad, moreover, to know that she made an admirablemother to the little woman-child. Prudence, indeed, had brought themcloser to each other, slowly, subtly, in little ways to disarm the mosttimid caution. 

And this mothering and fathering of little Prudence was a work by nomeans colourless or uneventful. The child had displayed a grievouscapacity for remaining unimpressed by even the best-weighed opinions ofher protector. She was also appallingly fluent in and partial to theidioms and metaphors of revealed religion, --a circumstance that wouldnot infrequently cause the sensitive to shudder. 

Thus, when she chose to call her largest and least sightly doll the HolyGhost, the ingenuity of those about her was taxed to rebuke her in waysthat would be effective without being harsh. It was felt, too, that heroffence had been but slightly mitigated when she called the same doll, thereafter, "Thou son of perdition and shedder of innocent blood. " Notuntil this disfigured effigy became Bishop Wright, and the remainingdolls his more or less disobedient wives, was it felt that she hadapproached even remotely the plausible and the decorous. 

A glance at some of the verses she was from time to time constrained tolearn will perhaps indicate the line of her transgressions, and yetavert a disclosure of details that were often tragic. She was taughtthese verses from a little old book bound in the gaudiest of Dutch giltpaper, as if to relieve the ever-present severity of the text and thedistressing scenes portrayed in the illustrating copperplates. Forexample, on a morning when there had been hasty words at breakfast, arising from circumstances immaterial to this narrative, she might bemade to learn:--

 "That I did not see Frances just now I am glad, For Winifred says she looked sullen and sad. When I ask her the reason, I know very well That Frances will blush the true reason to tell. 

 "And I never again shall expect to hear said That she pouts at her milk with a toast of white bread, When both are as good as can possibly be-- Though Betsey, for breakfast, perhaps may have tea. "

With no sort of propriety could be set down in printed words theoccurrence that led to her reciting twenty times, somewhat defiantly inthe beginning, but at last with the accents and expression ofcountenance proper to remorse, the following verses:--

 "Who was it that I lately heard Repeating an improper word? I do not like to tell her name Because she is so much to blame. "

Indeed, she came to thunder the final verse with excellent gestures ofcondemnatory rage:--

 "Go, naughty child! and hide your face, I grieve to see you in disgrace; Go! you have forfeited to-day All right at trap and ball to play. "

Nor is it necessary to go back of the very significant lines themselvesto explain the circumstance of her having the following for a half-day'sburden:--

 "Jack Parker was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole employ; And much it grieved his friends to find His thoughts so wickedly inclined. 

 "But all such boys unless they mend May come to an unhappy end, Like Jack, who got a fractured skull Whilst bellowing at a furious bull. "

Nor is there sufficient reason to say why she was often counselled toregard as her model:--

 "Miss Lydia Banks, though very young, Will never do what's rude or wrong; When spoken to she always tries To give the most polite replies. "

And painful, indeed, would it be to relate the events of one sad daywhich culminated in her declaiming at night, with far more thanperfunctory warmth, and in a voice scarce dry of tears:--

 "Miss Lucy Wright, though not so tall, Was just the age of Sophy Ball; But I have always understood Miss Sophy was not half so good; For as they both had faded teeth, Their teacher sent for Doctor Heath. 

 "But Sophy made a dreadful rout And would not have hers taken out; While Lucy Wright endured the pain, Nor did she ever once complain. Her teeth returned quite sound and white, While Sophy's ached both day and night. "

Yet her days were by no means all of reproof nor was her reproof everharsher than the more or less pointed selections from the moral versescould inflict. Under the watchful care of Martha she flourished and washappy, her mother in little, a laughing whirlwind of tender flesh, tireless feet, dancing eyes, hair of sunlight that was darkening as shegrew older, and a mind that seemed to him she called father a miracle ofunfoldment. It was a mind not so quickly receptive as he could havewished to the learning he tried patiently to impart; he wondered, indeed, if she were not unduly frivolous even for a child of six; forshe would refuse to study unless she could have the doll she calledBishop Wright with her and pretend that she taught the lesson to him, finding him always stupid and loth to learn. He hoped for better thingsfrom her mind as she aged, watching anxiously for the buddings of reasonand religion, praying daily that she should be increased in wisdom as instature. He had become so used to the look of her mother in her facethat it now and then gave him an instant of unspeakable joy. But thesound of his own voice calling her "Prudence" would shock him from thisas with an icy blast of truth. 

When the children of Amalon came to play with her, the little Nephis, Moronis, Lehis, and Juabs, he saw she was a creature apart from them, ofanother fashion of mind and body. He saw, too, that with some nativeintuition she seemed to divine this, and to assume command even of thoseolder than herself. Thus Wish Wright and his brother, Welcome, both herseniors by several years, were her awe-bound slaves; and the twindaughters of Zebedee Bloom obeyed her least whim without question, evenwhen it involved them in situations more or less delicate. With herquick ear for rhythm she had been at once impressed by theirnames--impressed to a degree that savoured of fascination. She wouldseat the two before her, range the other children beside them, and thenlead the chorus in a spirited chant of these names:--

 "Isa Vinda Exene Bloom! Ella Minda Almarine Bloom!"

repeating this a long time until they were all breathless, and thesolemn twins themselves were looking embarrassed and rather foolishlypleased. 

As he observed her day by day in her joyous growth, it was inevitablethat he came more and more to observe the woman who was caring for her, and it was thus on one night in late summer that he awoke to an awfultruth, --a truth that brought back the words of the woman's formerhusband with a new meaning. 

He had heard Prudence say to her, "You are a pretty mamma, " and suddenlythere came rushing upon him the sum of all the impressions his eyes hadtaken of her since that day when the Bishop had spoken. He trembled andbecame weak under the assault, feeling that in some insidious way hisstrength had been undermined. He went out into the early evening to bealone, but she, presently, having put the child to bed, came and stoodnear, silently in the doorway. 

He looked and saw she was indeed made new, restored to the lustre andfulness of her young womanhood. He remembered then that she had longbeen silent when he came near her, plainly conscious of his presence butwith an apparent constraint, with something almost tentative in hermanner. With her return to health and comeliness there had come back toher a thousand little graces of dress and manner and speech. She drewhim, with his starved love of beauty and his need of companionship; drewhim with a mighty power, and he knew it at last. He remembered how hehad felt and faintly thrilled under a certain soft suppression in hertones when she had spoken to him of late; this had drawn him, and thenew light in her eyes and her whole freshened womanhood, even before heknew it. Now that he did know it he felt himself shaken and all butlost; clutching weakly at some support that threatened every moment togive way. 

And she was his wife, his who had starved year after year for the lighttouch of a woman's hand and the tones of her voice that should be forhim alone. He knew now that he had ached and sickened in his yearningfor this, and she stood there for him in the soft night. He knew she waswaiting, and he knew he desired above all things else to go to her; thatthe comfort of her, his to take, would give him new life, new desires, new powers; that with her he would revive as she had done. He waitedlong, indulging freely in hesitation, bathing his wearied soul in hernearness--yielding in fancy. 

Then he walked off into the night, down through the village, past thelight of open doors, and through the voices that sounded from them, outon to the bare bench of the mountain--his old refuge intemptation--where he could be safe from submitting to what his soul hadforbidden. He had meant to take up a cross, but before his very eyes ithad changed to be a snare set for him by the Devil. 

He stayed late on the ground in the darkness, winning the battle forhimself over and over, decisively, he thought, at the last. But when hewent home she was there in the doorway to meet him, still silent, butwith eyes that told more than he dared to hear. He thought she had insome way divined his struggle, and was waiting to strengthen the oddsagainst him, with her face in the light of a candle she held above herhead. 

He went by her without speaking, afraid of his weakness, and rushed tohis little cell-like room to fight the battle over. As a last source ofstrength he took from its hiding-place the little Bible. And as it fellopen naturally at the blood-washed page a new thing came, a new torture. No sooner had his eyes fallen on the stain than it seemed to him to cryout of itself, so that he started back from it. He shut the book and thecries were stilled; he opened it and again he heard them--far, loudcries and low groans close to his ear; then long piercing screamsstifled suddenly too low, horrible gurglings. And before him came theinscrutable face with the deep gray eyes and the shining lips, lifting, with love in the eyes, above a gashed throat. 

He closed the book and fell weakly to his knees to pray brokenly, andalmost despairingly: "Help me to keep down this self within me; let itask for nothing; fan the fires until they consume it! _Bow me, bend me, break me, burn me out--burn me out_!"

In the morning, when he said, "Martha, the harvest is over now, and Iwant you to go north with me, " she prepared to obey without question. 

He talked freely to her on the way, though it is probable that he leftin her mind little more than dark confusion, beyond the one clear factof his wish. As to this, she knew she must have no desire but to comply. Reaching Salt Lake City, they went at once to Brigham's office. Whenthey came out they came possessed of a document in duplicate, recitingthat they both did "covenant, promise, and agree to dissolve all therelations which have hitherto existed between us as husband and wife, and to keep ourselves separate and apart from each other from this timeforth. "

This was the simple divorce which Brigham was good enough to grant tosuch of the Saints as found themselves unhappily married, and wished it. As Joel Rae handed the Prophet the fee of ten dollars, which it was hiscustom to charge for the service, Brigham made some timely remarks. Hesaid he feared that Martha had been perverse and rebellious; that herfirst husband had found her so; and that it was doubtless for the goodof all that her second had taken the resolution to divorce her. He wasafraid that Brother Joel was an inferior judge of women; but he hadsurely shown himself to be generous in the provision he was making forthe support of this contumacious wife. 

They parted outside the door of the little office, and he kissed her forthe first time since they had been married--on the forehead. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

_A New Cross Taken up and an Old Enemy Forgiven_

Christina would now be left alone with the cares of the house, and heknew he ought to have some one to help her. The fever of sacrifice wasalso upon him. And so he found another derelict, to whom he was sealedforever. 

At a time of more calmness he might have balked at this one. She was across, to be sure, and it was now his part in life to bear crosses. Butthere were plenty of these, and even one vowed to a life of sacrifice, he suspected, need not grossly abuse the powers of discrimination withwhich Heaven had seen fit to endow him. But he had lately been on theverge of a seething maelstrom, balancing there with unholy desire andwickedly looking far down, and the need to atone for this sin excitedhim to indiscretions. 

It was not that this star in his crown was in her late thirties and lessthan lovely. He had learned, indeed, that in the game which, for thechastening of his soul, he now played with the Devil, it were best tochoose stars whose charms could excite to little but conduct of asaintlike seemliness. The fat, dumpy figure of this woman, therefore, and her round, flat, moonlike face, her mouse-coloured wisps of hair cutsquarely off at the back of her neck, were points of a merit that was inits whole effect nothing less than distinguished. 

But she talked. Her tones played with the constancy of an ever-livingfountain. Artlessly she lost herself in the sound of their music, untilshe also lost her sense of proportion, of light and shade, of simple, Christian charity. Her name was Lorena Sears, and she had come in withone of the late trains of converts, without friends, relatives, ormeans, with nothing but her natural gifts and an abiding faith in thesaving powers of the new dispensation. And though she was so alive inher faith, rarely informed in the Scriptures, bubbling with enthusiasmfor the new covenant, the new Zion, and the second coming of theMessiah, there had seemed to be no place for her. She had not been askedin marriage, nor had she found it easy to secure work to supportherself. 

"She's strong, " said Brigham, to his inquiring Elder, "and a goodworker, but even Brother Heber Kimball wouldn't marry her; and betweenyou and me, Brother Joel, I never knew Heber to shy before at anythingthat would work. You can see that, yourself, by looking over hishousehold. "

But, after the needful preliminaries, and a very little coy hesitationon the part of the lady, Lorena Sears, spinster, native of Elyria, Ohio, was duly sealed to, for time and eternity, and became a starforever in the crown of, Joel Rae, Elder after the Order of Melchisedekin the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and President of theAmalon Stake of Zion. 

In the bustle of the start south there were, of necessity, moments inwhich the crown's new star could not talk; but these blessed respiteswere at an end when at last they came to the open road. 

At first, as her speech flowed on, he looked sidelong at her, in atrouble of fear and wonder; then, at length, absently, trying to put hismind elsewhere and to leave her voice as the muted murmur of a distanttorrent. He succeeded fairly well in this, for Lorena combined admirablyin herself the parts of speaker and listener, and was not, he thankfullynoted, watchful of his attention. 

But in spite of all he could do, sentences would come to seize upon hisears: "... No chance at all back there for a good girl with any heartin her unless she's one of the doll-baby kind, and, thank fortune, Inever was _that_! Now there was Wilbur Watkins--his father was presidentof the board of chosen freeholders--Wilbur had a way of saying, 'Lorena's all right--she weighs a hundred and seventy-eight pounds onthe big scales down to the city meatmarket, and it's most of it heart--ahundred and seventy-eight pounds and most all heart--and she'd be aprize to anybody, ' but then, that was his way, --Wilbur was a good dealof a take-on, --and there was never anything between him and me. And whenthe Elder come along and begun to preach about the new Zion and tellabout the strange ways that the Lord had ordered people to act out here, something kind of went all through me, and I says, 'That's the place for_me_!' Of course, the saying is, 'There ain't any Gawd west of theMissouri, ' but them that says it ain't of the house of Israel--lots offolks purtends to be great Bible readers, but pin 'em right down andwhat do you find?--you find they ain't really studied it--not what youcould call _pored_ over it. They fuss through a chapter here andthere, and rush lickety-brindle through another, and ain't got theblessed truth out of any of 'em--little fine points, like where the Lordhardened Pharaoh's heart every time, for why?--because if He hadn't 'a'done it Pharaoh would 'a' give in the very first time and spoiled thewhole thing. And then the Lord would visit so plumb natural andcommonlike with Moses--like tellin' him, 'I appeared unto Abraham, untoIsaac, and unto Jacob by the name of God Almighty, for by my nameJehovah was I not known unto them. ' I thought that was awful cute andfriendly, stoppin' to talk about His name that way. Oh, I've spent hoursand hours over the blessed Book. I bet I know something you don't, now--what verse in the Bible has every letter in the alphabet in itexcept 'J'? Of course you wouldn't know. Plenty of preachers don't. It'sthe twenty-first verse of the seventh chapter of the book of Ezra. Andthe Book of Mormon--I do love to git set down in a rocker with my shoesoff--I'm kind of a heavy-footed person to be on my feet all day--andthat blessed Book in my hands--such beautiful language it uses--thatverse I love so, 'He went forth among the people waving the rent of hisgarment in the air that all might see the writing which he had wroteupon the rent, '--that's sure enough Bible language, ain't it? And yetsome folks say the Book of Mormon ain't inspired. And that lovely versein Second Niphi, first chapter, fourteenth verse: 'Hear the words of atrembling parent whose limbs you must soon lay down in the cold andsilent grave from whence no traveller can return. ' Back home theschool-teacher got hold of that--he's an awful smarty--and he says, 'Oh, that's from Shakespeare, ' or some such book, just like that--and I justgive him one look, and I says, 'Mr. Lyman Hickenlooper, if you'll takenotice, ' I says, 'you'll see those words was composed by the angelMoroni over two thousand years ago and revealed to Joseph Smith in thesacred light of the Urim and Thummim, ' I says, and the plague-onedsmarty snickered right in my face--and say, now, what did you and yoursecond git a separation for?"

He was called back by the stopping of her voice, but she had to repeather question before he understood it. The Devil tempted him in thatmoment. He was on the point of answering, "Because she talked toomuch, " but instead he climbed out of the wagon to walk. He walked mostof the three hundred miles in the next ten days. Nights and mornings hefalsely pretended to be deaf. 

He found himself in this long walk full of a pained discouragement; notquestioning or doubting, for he had been too well trained ever to doeither. But he was disturbed by a feeling of bafflement, as might be aground-mole whose burrow was continually destroyed by an enemy it couldnot see. This feeling had begun in Salt Lake City, for there he had seenthat the house of Israel was no longer unspotted of the world. Since thearmy with its camp-followers had come there was drunkenness and vice, the streets resounded with strange oaths, and the midnight murder wascommon. Even Brigham seemed to have become a gainsayer in behalf ofMammon, and the people, quick to follow his lead, were indulging inungodly trade with Gentiles; even with the army that had come to invadethem. And more and more the Gentiles were coming in. He heard strangetales of the new facilities afforded them. There was actually a systemof wagon-trains regularly hauling freight from the Missouri to thePacific; there was a stage-route bringing passengers and mail fromBabylon; even Horace Greeley had been publicly entertained inZion, --accorded honour in the Lord's stronghold. There was talk, too, ofa pony-express, to bring them mail from the Missouri in six days; and afew visionaries were prophesying that a railroad would one day come bythem. The desert was being peopled all about them, and neighbours wereforcing a way up to their mountain retreat. 

It seemed they were never to weld into one vast chain the broken linksof the fated house of Abraham; never to be free from Gentilecontamination. He groaned in spirit as he went--walking well ahead ofhis wagon. 

But he had taken up a new cross and he had his reward. The first nightafter they reached home he took the little Bible from its hiding-placeand opened it with trembling hands. The stain was there, red in thecandle-light. But the cries no longer rang in his ears as on that othernight when he had been sinful before the page. And he was glad, knowingthat the self within him had again been put down. 

Then came strange news from the East--news of a great civil war. Thetroops of the enemy at Camp Floyd hurried east to battle, and even thename of that camp was changed, for the Gentile Secretary of War, saidgossip from Salt Lake City, after doing his utmost to cripple hiscountry by sending to far-off Utah the flower of its army, had nowhimself become not only a rebel but a traitor. 

Even Johnston, who had commanded the invading army, denouncing theSaints as rebels, had put off his blue uniform for a gray and washimself a rebel. 

When the news came that South Carolina had actually flung the palmettoflag to the breeze and fired the first gun, he was inclined to exult. For plainly it was the Lord's work. There was His revelation given toJoseph Smith almost thirty years before: "Verily, thus saith the Lordconcerning the wars that will come to pass, beginning at the rebellionof South Carolina. " And ten years later the Lord had revealed to Josephfurther concerning this prophecy that this war would be "previous to thecoming of the Son of Man. " Assuredly, they were now near the time whenother Prophets of the Church had said He would come--the year 1870. Hethrilled to be so near the actual moving of the hand of God, andsomething of the old spirit revived within him. 

From Salt Lake City came news of the early fighting and of meetings forpublic rejoicing held in the tabernacle, with prophecies that theGentile nation would now be rent asunder in punishment for its rejectionof the divine message of the Book of Mormon and its persecution of theprophets of God. In one of these meetings of public thanksgiving Brighamhad said from the tabernacle pulpit: "What is the strength of this manLincoln? It is like a rope of sand. He is as weak as water, --anignorant, Godless shyster from the backwoods of Illinois. I feeldisgraced in having been born under a government that has so littlepower for truth and right. And now it will be broken in pieces like apotter's vessel. "

These public rejoicings, however, brought a further trial upon theSaints. The Third California Infantry and a part of the Second Cavalrywere now ordered to Utah. The commander of this force was one Connor, an officer of whom extraordinary reports were brought south. It was saidthat he had issued an order directing commanders of posts, camps, anddetachments to arrest and imprison "until they took the oath ofallegiance, all persons who from this date shall be guilty of utteringtreasonable sentiments against the government of the United States. "Even liberty of opinion, it appeared, was thus to be strangled in theselast days before the Lord came. 

Further, this ill-tempered Gentile, instead of keeping decently remotefrom Salt Lake City, as General Johnston had done, had marched histroops into the very stronghold of Zion, despite all threats of armedopposition, and in the face of a specific offer from one Prophet, Seer, and Revelator to wager him a large sum of money that his forces wouldnever cross the River Jordan. To this fair offer, so reports ran, theGentile officer had replied that he would cross the Jordan if hellyawned below it; that he had thereupon viciously pulled the ends of agrizzled, gray moustache and proceeded to behave very much as an officerwould be expected to behave who was commonly known as "old Pat Connor. "

Knowing that the forces of the Saints outnumbered his own, and that hewas, in his own phrase, "six hundred miles of sand from reinforcements, "he had halted his command two miles from the city, formed his columnwith an advance-guard of cavalry and a light battery, the infantry andthe commissary-wagons coming next, and in this order, with bayonetsfixed, cannon shotted, and two bands playing, had marched brazenly inthe face of the Mormon authorities and through the silent crowds ofSaints to Emigrant Square. Here, in front of the governor's residence, where flew the only American flag to be seen in the whole great city, hehad, with entire lack of dignity, led his men in three cheers for thecountry, the flag, and the Gentile governor. 

After this offensive demonstration, he had perpetrated the supremeindignity by going into camp on a bench at the base of Wasatch Mountain, in plain sight of the city, there in the light of day training his gunsupon it, and leaving a certain twelve-pound howitzer ranged preciselyupon the residence of the Lion of the Lord. 

Little by little these galling reports revived the military spirit in anElder far to the south, who had thought that all passion was burned outof him. But this man chanced to open a certain Bible one night to a pagewith a wash of blood across it. From this page there seemed to come suchcries and screams of fear in the high voices of women and children, suchsounds of blows on flesh, and the warm, salt smell of blood, that heshut the book and hastily began to pray. He actually prayed for thepreservation of that ancient first enemy of his Church, the governmentof the United States. Individually and collectively, as a nation, asStates, and as people, he forgave them and prayed the Lord to hold themundivided. 

Then he knew that an astounding miracle of grace had been wrought withinhim. For this prayer for the hostile government was thus far hisgreatest spiritual triumph. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

_Just Before the End of the World_

The years of the Civil War passed by, and the prayer of Joel Rae wasanswered. But the time was now rapidly approaching when the Son of Manwas to come in person to judge Israel and begin his reign of a thousandyears on the purified earth. The Twelve, confirmed by Brigham, had longheld that this day of wrath would not be deferred past 1870. In the mindof Joel Rae the time had thus been authoritatively fixed. The date hadbeen further confirmed by the fulfilment of Joseph's prophecy of war. The great event was now to be prepared for and met in all readiness. 

It was at this time that he betrayed in the pulpit a leaning towardviews that many believed to be heterodox. "A likely man is a likelyman, " he preached, "and a good man is a good man--whether in this Churchor out of it. " He also went so far as to intimate that being in theChurch would not of itself suffice to the attainment of glory; thatthere were, to put it bluntly, all kinds of fish in the gospel net;sinners not a few in Zion who would have to be forgiven their misdeedsseventy times seven on that fateful day drawing near. 

Bishop Wright, who followed him on this Sabbath, was bold to speak toanother effect. 

"Me and my brethren, " he insisted, "have received our endowments, keys, and blessings--all the tokens and signs that can be given to man for hisentrance through the celestial gate. If you have had these in the houseof the Lord, when you depart this life you will be able to walk back tothe presence of the Father, passing the angels that stand as sentinels;because why?--because you can give them the tokens, signs, and gripspertaining to the holy priesthood and gain your eternal exaltation inspite of earth and hell. But how about the likely and good man outsidethis Church who has rejected the message of the Book of Mormon and ain'tgot these signs and passwords? If he's going to be let in, too, why havedoorkeepers, and what's the use of the whole business? Why in time didthe Lord go to all this trouble, any way, if Brother Rae is right? Whywas Joseph Smith visited by an angel clad in robes of light, who toldhim where the golden plates had been hid up by the Lord, and the Urimand Thummim, and who laid hands on him and give him the Holy Ghost? Andafter all that trouble He's took, do you think He's going to leteverybody in? Not much, Mary Ann! The likely men may come the roots onsome of our soft-hearted Elders, but they won't fool the Lord's Christand His angel gatekeepers. "

Elder Beil Wardle, on the other hand, showed a tendency to side withthe liberalism of Brother Rae. He cited the fact that not allrevelations were from God. Some were from perverse human spirits andsome from the very Devil himself. There was Elder Sidney Roberts, whohad once suffered a revelation that a certain brother must give him asuit of finest broadcloth and a gold watch, the best to be had; andanother revelation directing him to salute all the younger sisters, married or single, with a kiss of holiness. Urged to confess that theserevelations were from the Devil, he had refused, and so had been cut offand delivered over to the buffetings of Satan in the flesh. 

"And you can't always be sure of the Holy Ghost, either, " he continued. "When the Lord pours out the Holy Ghost on an individual, he will havespasms, and you would think he was going to have fits; but it don't makehim get up and go pay his debts--not by a long shot. Of course I don'tfeel to mention any names, but what can you expect, anyway? A flock of athousand sheep has got to be mighty clean if some of them ain't smutty. This is a large flock of sheep that has come up into this valley of themountains, and some of them have got tag-locks hanging about them. Butit don't seem to pester the Lord any. He sifted us good in Missouri, andHe put us into another sieve at Nauvoo, and I reckon His sieve will bebrought along with Him on the day of judgment. And if there are somelost sheep in the fold of Zion, maybe, on the other hand, there's someoutside the fold that will be worth saving; that will be broke off fromthe wild olive-tree and grafted on to the tame olive-tree to partake ofits sap and fatness. "

Joel Rae would have taken more comfort in this championship of his viewsif it were not for his suspicion that Elder Wardle sometimes spoke in atone of levity, and had indeed more than once been reckoned as adoubter. It was even related of him that a perverted sense of humour hadonce inspired him to deliver an irreverent and wholly immaterial addressin pure Choctaw at a service where many others of the faithful had beenmoved to speak in tongues; and that an earnest sister, believing theHoly Ghost to be strong upon her, had thereupon arisen and interpretedhis speech to be the Lord's description of the glories of their newtemple, which it had not been at all. Such a man might have a goodheart, as he knew Elder Wardle to have; but he must be an inferior guideto the Father's presence. He was even less inclined to trust him whenWardle announced confidentially at the close of the meeting that day, "Brother Wright talks a good deal jest to hear his head roar. You'dthink he'd been the midwife at the borning of the world, and helped tonurse it and bring it up--he's that knowing about it. My opinion is hedon't know twice across or straight up about the Lord's secret doings!"

Yet if he had sought to render a little elastic the rigid teachings ofthe priesthood, he had done so innocently. The foundations of his faithwere unshaken; for him the rock upon which his Church was built hadnever been more stable. As to doubting its firmness, he would as soonhave blasphemed the Holy Ghost or disputed the authority of Brigham, with whom was the sacred deposit of doctrine and all temporal andspiritual power. 

So he sighed often for those Gentile sheep on whom the wrath of God wasso soon to fall. Even with the utmost stretching of the divine mercy, the greater part of them must perish; and for the lost souls of these hegrieved much and prayed each day. 

It was more than ten years since that day in the Meadows, and the blightthere put upon his person had waxed with each year. His hair showed nowbut the faintest sprinkle of black, his shoulders were bent and roundedas if bearing invisible burdens, and his face had the look of droopingin grief and despair, as one who was made constantly to look upon allthe suffering of all the world. Yet he wore always, except when alone, anot unpleasant little effort of a smile, as if he would conceal hispain. But this deceived few. The women of the settlement had come tocall him "the little man of sorrows. " Even his wife, Lorena, had divinedthat his mind was not one with hers; that, somehow, there was a gulfbetween them which her best-meant cheerfulness could not span. In ameasure she had ceased to try, doing little more than to sing, when hewas near, some hymn which she considered suitable to his condition. Onefavourite at such times began:--

 "Lord, we are vile, conceived in sin, And born unholy and unclean; Sprung from the man whose guilty fall Corrupts his race and taints us all. 

 "Soon as we draw our infant breath, The seeds of sin grow up for death; The law demands a perfect heart, But we're defiled in every part. "

She would sing many verses of this with appealing unction, so long as hewas near; yet when he came upon her unawares he might hear her voicingsome cheerful, secular ballad, like--

 "As I went down to Coffey's mills Some pleasure for to see, I fell in love with a railroad-er, He fell in love with me. "

The stolid Christina listened entranced to all of Lorena's songs, charmed by the melody not less than she was awed by her sister-wife'ssuperior gifts of language. The husband, too, listened not withoutresignation, reflecting that, when Lorena did not sing, she talked. Forthe unspeaking Christina he had learned to feel an admiration thatbordered upon reverence, finding in her silence something spirituallygreat. Yet of the many-worded Lorena he was never heard to complainthrough all the years. The nearest he approached to it was on a daywhen Elder Beil Wardle had sought to condole with him on the afflictionof her ready speech. 

"That woman of yours, " said this observant friend, "sure takes largepie-bites out of any little talk that happens to get going. "

"She _does_ have the gift of continuance, " her husband had admitted. Buthe had added, hastily, "Though her heart is perfect with the Lord. "

The fact that she was sealed to him for eternity, and that she believedshe would constitute one of his claims to exaltation in the celestialworld, were often matters of pious speculation with him. He wondered ifhe had done right by her. She deserved a husband who would be saved intothe kingdom, while he who had married her was irrevocably lost. 

There had been a time when he read with freshened hope the promises offorgiveness in that strange New Testament. Once he had even believedthat these might save him; that he was again numbered with the elect. But when this belief had grown firm, so that he could seem to rest hisweight upon it, he felt it fall away to nothing under him, and the truthhe had divined that day in the desert was again bared before him. He sawthat how many times soever God might forgive the sins of a man, it wouldavail that man nothing unless he could forgive himself. He knew at lastthat in his own soul was fixed a gauge of right, unbending andimplacable when wrong had been done, waiting to be reckoned with at thevery last even though the great God should condone his sin. It seemed tohim that, however surely his endowments took him through the gates ofthe Kingdom, with whatsoever power they raised him to dominion; eventhough he came into the Father's presence and sat a throne of his own bythe side of Joseph and Brigham, that there would still ring in his earsthe cries of those who had been murdered at the priesthood's command;that there would leap before his eyes fountains of blood from thebreasts of living women who knelt and clung to the knees of theirslayers--to the knees of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-daySaints; that he would see two spots of white in the dim light of amorning where the two little girls lay who had been sent for water; thathe would see the two boys taken out to the desert, one to die at once, the other to wander to a slower death; that before his sinful eyes wouldcome the dying face of the woman who had loved him and lost her soulrather than betray him. He knew that, even in celestial realms exaltedbeyond the highest visions of their priesthood, his soul would stillburn in this fire that he could not extinguish within his own breast. Heknew that he carried hell as an inseparable part of himself, and thatthe forgiveness of no other power could avail him. He no longer fearedGod, but himself alone. 

From this fire of his own building it seemed to him that he could obtainsurcease only by reducing the self within him. As surely as he let itfeel a want, all the torture came back upon him. When his pride liftedup its head, when he desired any satisfaction for himself, when he wastempted for a moment to lay down his cross, the cries came back, the seaof blood surged before him, and close behind came the shapes thatcrawled or moved furtively, ever about to spring in front and turn uponhim. Small wonder, then, that his shoulders bent beneath unseen burdens, that his air was of one who suffered for all the world, and that theycalled him "the little man of sorrows. "

With this knowledge he learned to permit himself only one great love, alove for the child Prudence. He was sure that no punishment could comethrough that. It was his day-star and his life, the one pleasure thatbrought no suffering with it. She was a child of fourteen now, ahalf-wild, firm-fleshed, glowing creature of the out-of-doors, who hadlost with her baby softness all her resemblance to her mother. Her hairand eyes had darkened as she grew, and she was to be a larger woman, graver, deeper, more reserved; perhaps better calculated for the Kingdomby reason of a more reflective mind. He adored her, and was awed by hereven when he taught her the truths of revealed religion. He closed hiseyes at night upon a never-ending prayer for her soul; and opened themeach day to a love of her that grew insidiously to enthrall him while hewas all unconscious of its power--even while he knew with an awfulcertainty that he must have no treasure of his own which he could notwillingly relinquish at the first call. She, in turn, loved andconfided in her father, the shy, bent, shrunken little man with thesmile. 

"He always smiles as if he'd hurt himself and didn't want to show itbefore company, " were the words in which she announced one of her earlydiscoveries about him. But she liked and ruled him, and came to him forcomfort when she was hurt or when Lorena scolded. For the third wife didnot hesitate to characterise the child as "ready-made sin, " and todeclare that it took all her spare time, "and a lot that ain't spare, "to neat up the house after her. "And her paw--though Lord knows who hermaw was--a-dressing her to beat the cars; while he ain't never made overme since the blessed day I married him--not that _much_! But, thankheavens, it can't last very long, with the Son of Man already started, like you might say. "

CHAPTER XXIX. 

_The Wild Ram of the Mountains Offers to Become a Saviour on Mount Zion_

In the valley of which Amalon was the centre, they made ready for theend of the world. It is true that in the north, as the appointed yeardrew nigh, an opinion had begun to prevail that the Son of Man mightdefer his coming; and presently it became known that Brigham himself wasdoubtful about the year 1870, and was inspiring others to doubt. But inAmalon they were untainted by this heresy, choosing to rely upon whatBrigham had said in moments more inspired. 

He had taught that Joseph was to be the first person resurrected; thatafter his frame had been knit together and clothed with immortal fleshhe would resurrect those who had died in the faith, according to theirrank in the priesthood; then all his wives and children. ResurrectedElders, having had the keys of the resurrection conferred upon them byJoseph, would in turn call from the grave their own households; and whenthe last of the faithful had come forth, another great work would beperformed; the Gentiles would then be resurrected to act as servantsand slaves to the Saints. In his lighter moments Brigham had been wontto name a couple of Presidents of the United States who would then actas his valets. 

Some doubt had been expressed that the earth's surface could contain theresurrected host, but Apostle Orson Pratt had removed this. He cited theprophet who had foretold that the hills should be laid low, the valleysexalted, and the crooked places made straight. With the earth thus freeof mountains and waste places, he had demonstrated that there would bean acre and a quarter of ground for each Saint that had ever lived fromthe morning of creation to the day of doom. And, lest some carpingmathematician should dispute his figures, he had declared that if, byany miscalculation, the earth's surface should not suffice for theSaints and their Gentile slaves, the Lord "would build a gallery aroundthe earth. " Thus had confusion been brought to the last quibbler inZion. 

It was this earlier teaching that the faithful of Amalon clung to, perhaps not a little by reason that immediately over them was aspiritual guide who had been trained from infancy to know that salvationlay in belief, --never in doubt. For a sign of the end they believed thaton the night before the day of it there would be no darkness. This wouldbe as it had been before the birth of the Saviour, as told in the Bookof Mormon: "At the going down of the sun there was no darkness, and thepeople began to be astonished because there was no darkness when thenight came; and there was no darkness in all that night, but it was aslight as if it were midday. "

They talked of little but this matter in that small pocket of theintermountain commonwealth, in Sabbath meetings and around the hearthsat night. The Wild Ram of the Mountains thought all proselyting shouldcease in view of the approaching end; that the Elders on mission shouldwithdraw from the vineyard, shake the dust from their feet, and seal upthe rebellious Gentiles to damnation. To this Elder Beil Wardle hadreplied, somewhat testily:

"Well, now, since these valleys of Ephraim have got a little fattened awhole lot of us have got the sweeny, and our skins are growing too tighton our flesh. " He had been unable to comprehend that the Gentiles were arejected lot, the lost sheep of the house of Israel. On this occasion ithad required all the tact of Elder Rae to soothe the two good men intoan amiable discussion of the time when Sidney Rigdon went to the thirdheaven and talked face to face with God. They had agreed in the end, however, that they were both of the royal seed of Abraham, and were onthe grand turnpike to exaltation. 

To these discussions and sermons the child, Prudence, listened withintense interest, looking forward to the last day as an occasionproductive of excitement even superior to that of her trips to Salt LakeCity, where her father went to attend the October conference, and whereshe was taken to the theatre. 

Of any world outside the valley she knew but little. Somewhere, far overto the east, was a handful of lost souls for whom she sometimes indulgedin a sort of luxurious pity. But their loss, after all, was a part ofthe divine plan, and they would have the privilege of serving theglorified Saints, even though they were denied Godhood. Shehalf-believed that even this mission of service was almost more of glorythan they merited; for, in the phrasing of Bishop Wright, they "made ahell all the time and raised devils to keep it going. " They had slainthe Prophets of the Lord and hunted his people, and the best of themwere lucky, indeed, to escape the fire that burns unceasingly; a firehotter than any made by beech or hickory. Still she sometimes wonderedif there were girls among them like her; and she had visions of herselfas an angel of light, going down to them with the precious message ofthe Book of Mormon, and bringing them into the fold. 

One day in this spring when she was fourteen, the good Bishop Wright, onhis way down from Box Caņon with a load of wood, saw her striding up theroad ahead of him. Something caught his eye, either in her step whichhad a child's careless freedom, or in the lines of her swinging figurethat told of coming womanhood, or in the flashing, laughing appeal ofher dark eyes where for the moment both woman and child looked out. Heset the brake on his wagon and waited for her to pass. She came by witha smile and a word of greeting, to which his rapt attention preventedany reply except a slight nod. When she had passed, he turned and lookedafter her until she had gone around the little hill on the road thatentered the caņon. 

After the early evening meal that day, along the many-roomed house ofthis good man, from door to door there ran the words, starting from herwho had last been sealed to him:

"He's making himself all proud!"

They knew what it meant, and wondered whom. 

A little later the Bishop set out, his face clean-shaven to the ruffleof white whisker that ran under his chin from ear to ear, his scant hairsmooth and shining with grease from the largest bear ever trapped in thePine Mountains, and his tall form arrayed in his best suit of homespun. As he went he trolled an ancient lay of love, and youth was in his step. For there had come all day upon this Prince of Israel those subtleessences distilled by spring to provoke the mating urge. At the Raehouse he found only Christina. 

"Where's Brother Joel, Sister Rae?"

"Himself has gone out there, " Christina had answered with a wave of herhand, and using the term of respect which she always applied to herhusband. 

He went around the house, out past the stable and corrals and across theirrigating ditch to where he saw Joel Rae leaning on the rail fenceabout the peach orchard. Far down between two rows of the blossomingtrees he could see the girl reaching up to break off a pink-sprayedbough. He quickened his pace and was soon at the fence. 

"Brother Joel, --I--the--"

The good man had been full of his message a moment before, but now hestammered and hesitated because of something cold in the other's eye asit seemed to note the unwonted elegance of his attire. He took a quickbreath and went on. 

"You see the Lord has moved me to add another star to my crown. "

"I see; and you have come to get me to seal you?"

"Well, of course I hadn't thought of it so soon, but if you want to doit to-night--"

"As soon as you like, Bishop, --the sooner the better if you are to savethe soul of another woman against the day of desolation. Where is she?"and he turned to go back to the house. But the Bishop still paused, looking toward the orchard. 

"Well, the fact is, Brother Joel, you see the Lord has made me feel tohave Prudence for another star in my crown of glory--your daughterPrudence, " he repeated as the other gazed at him with a sudden change ofmanner. 

"My daughter Prudence--little Prue--that child--that _baby_?"

"_Baby_?--she's fourteen; she was telling my daughter Mattie so jest theother day, and the Legislatur has made the marrying age twelve forgirls and fifteen for boys, so she's two years overtime already. Ofcourse, I ain't fifteen, but I'm safer for her than some young cub. "

"But Bishop--you don't consider--"

"Oh, of course, I know there's been private talk about her; nobody knowswho her mother was, and they say whoever she was you was never marriedto her, so she couldn't have been born right, but I ain't bigoted likesome I could name, and I stand ready to be her Saviour on Mount Zion. "

He waited with something of noble concession in his mien. 

The other seemed only now to have fully sensed the proposal, and, withreal terror in his face, he began to urge the Bishop toward the house, after looking anxiously back to where the child still lingered with themist of pink blossoms against the leafless boughs above her. 

"Come, Brother Seth--come, I beg of you--we'll talk of it--but it can'tbe, indeed it can't!"

"Let's ask _her_, " suggested the Bishop, disinclined to move. 

"Don't, _don't_ ask her!" He seized the other by the arm. 

"Come, I'll explain; don't ask her now, at any rate--I beg of you as agentleman--as a gentleman, for you are a gentleman. "

The Bishop turned somewhat impatiently, then remarked with a dignifiedseverity:

"Oh, I can be a gentleman whenever it's _necessary_!"

They went across the fields toward the house, and the Bishop spokefurther. 

"There ain't any need to get into your high-heeled boots, Brother Rae, jest because I was aiming to save her to a crown of glory, --a girlthat's thought to have been born on the wrong side of the blanket!"

They stopped by the first corral, and Joel Rae talked. He talked rapidlyand with power, saying many things to make it plain that he wasdetermined not to look upon the Wild Ram of the Mountains as anacceptable son-in-law. His manner was excited and distraught, terrifiedand indignant, --a manner hardly justified by the circumstances, aboutwhich there was nothing extraordinary, nothing not pleasing to God andin conformity to His revealed word. Bishop Wright indeed was puzzled toaccount for the heat of his manner, and in recounting the interviewlater to Elder Wardle, he threw out an intimation about strong drink. "To tell you the truth, " he said, "I suspicion he'd jest been putting anew faucet in the cider barrel. "

When Prudence came in from the blossoming peach-trees that night herfather called her to him to sit on his lap in the dusk while thecrickets sang, and grow sleepy as had been her baby habit. 

"What did Bishop Wright want?" she asked, after her head was pillowed onhis arm. Relieved that it was over, now even a little amused, he toldher:

"He wanted to take my little girl away, to marry her. "

She was silent for a moment, and then:

"Wouldn't that be fine, and we could build each other up in theKingdom. "

He held her tighter. 

"Surely, child, you couldn't marry him?"

"But of course I could! Isn't he tried in the Kingdom, so he is sure tohave all those thrones and dominions and power?"

"But child, child! That old man with all his wives--"

"But they say old men are safer than young men. Young men are not triedin the Kingdom. I shouldn't like a young husband anyway--they alwayswant to play rough games, and pull your hair, and take things away fromyou, and get in the way. "

"But, baby, --don't, _don't_--"

"Why, you silly father, your voice sounds as if you were almostcrying--please don't hold me so tight--and some one must save me beforethe Son of Man comes to judge the quick and the dead; you know a womancan't be saved alone. I think Bishop Wright would make a fine husband, and I should have Mattie Wright to play with every day. "

"And you would leave me?"

"Why, that's so, Daddy! I never thought--of course I can't leave mylittle sorry father--not yet. I forgot that. I couldn't leave you. Nowtell me about my mother again. "

He told her the story she already knew so well--how beautiful her motherwas, the look of her hair and eyes, her slenderness, the music of hervoice, and the gladness of her laugh. 

"And won't she be glad to see us again. And she will come beforeChristina and Lorena, because she was your first wife, wasn't she?"

He was awake all night in a fever of doubt and rebellion. By the lightof the candle, he read in the book of Mormon passages that had oftenpuzzled but never troubled him until now when they were brought home tohim; such as, "And now it came to pass that the people Nephi under thereign of the second king began to grow hard in their hearts, andindulged themselves somewhat in wicked practises, like unto David ofold, desiring many wives--"

Again he read, "Behold, David and Solomon truly had many wives, whichthing was abominable before me, saith the Lord. "

Still again, "For there shall not be any man among you have save itshall be one wife. "

Then he turned to the revelation on celestial marriage given years afterthese words were written, and in the first paragraph read:

"Verily, thus saith the Lord unto you my servant Joseph, that inasmuchas you have inquired of my hand to know and understand wherein I, theLord, justified my servants Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as also Moses, David, and Solomon, my servants, as touching the principle and doctrineof their having many wives--"

He turned from one to the other; from the many explicit admonitions andcommands against polygamy, the denunciations of the patriarchs for theirindulgence in the practise, to this last passage contradicting theothers, and vexed himself with wonder. In the Book of Mormon, David wassaid to be wicked for doing this thing. Now in the revelation to Josephhe read, "David's wives were given unto him of me, by the hand ofNathan, my servant. "

He recalled old tales that were told in Nauvoo by wicked apostates andthe basest of Gentile scandalmongers; how that Joseph in the day of hisgreat power had suffered the purity of his first faith to becometainted; how his wife, Emma, had upbraided him so harshly for his sinsthat he, fearing disgrace, had put out this revelation as the word ofGod to silence her. He remembered that these gossips had said therevelation itself proved that Joseph had already done, before hereceived it, that which it commanded him to do, citing the clause, "Andlet my handmaid, Emma Smith, receive all those that have been given untomy servant Joseph, and who are virtuous and pure before me. "

They had gossiped further, that still fearing her rebellion, he hadworded a threat for her in the next clause, "And I command my handmaid, Emma Smith, to abide and cleave unto my servant Joseph and to none else. But if she will not abide this commandment she shall be destroyed, saith the Lord; for I am the Lord thy God, and will destroy her if sheabide not in my law ... And again verily I say, let mine handmaidforgive my servant Joseph his trespasses and then shall she be forgivenher trespasses. "

This was the calumny the Gentile gossips back in Nauvoo would have hadthe world believe, --that this great doctrine of the Church had beengiven to silence the enraged wife of a man detected in sin. 

But in the midst of his questionings he seemed to see a truth, --thatanother snare had been set for him by the Devil, and that this time ithad caught his feet. He, who knew that he must have nothing for himself, had all unconsciously so set his heart upon this child of her motherthat he could not give her up. And now so fixed and so great was hislove that he could not turn back. He knew he was lost. To cling to herwould be to question, doubt, and to lose his faith. To give her up wouldkill him. 

But at least for a little while he could put it off. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

_How the World Did not Come to an End_

In doubt and fear, the phantom of a dreadful certainty creeping alwayscloser, the final years went by. When the world came to be in its verylast days, when the little bent man was drooping lower than ever, andPrudence was seventeen, there came another Prince of Israel to save herinto the Kingdom while there was yet a time of grace. On this occasionthe suitor was no less a personage than Bishop Warren Snow, a holy manand puissant, upon whom the blessed Gods had abundantly manifested theirfavour. In wives and children, in flocks and herds, he was rich; while, as to spiritual worth, had not that early church poet styled him theEntablature of Truth?

But Prudence Rae, once so willing to be saved by the excellent Wild Ramof the Mountains, had fled in laughing confusion from this laterbenefactor, when he had made plain one day the service he sought to doher soul. A moment later he had stood before her father in all his yearsof patriarchal dignity, hale, ruddy, and vast of girth. 

"She's a woman now, Brother Snow, --free to choose for herself, " thefather had replied to his first expostulations. 

"Counsel her, Brother Rae. " In the mind of the Bishop, "counsel, "properly applied, was a thing not long to be resisted. 

"She would treat my counsel as shortly as she treated your proposal, Brother Snow. "

The Entablature of Truth glanced out of the open door to where TomPotwin could be seen, hastening importantly upon his endless andmysterious errands, starting off abruptly a little way, stoppingsuddenly, with one hand raised to his head, as if at that instantremembering a forgotten detail, and then turning with new impetus towalk swiftly in the opposite direction. 

"There ain't any one else after her, is there, Brother Rae, --any ofthese young boys?"

"No, Bishop--no one. "

"Well, if there is, you let me know. I'll be back again, Brother Rae. Meantime, counsel her--counsel her with authority. "

The Entablature of Truth had departed with certain little sidewisenoddings of his head that seemed to indicate an unalterable purpose. 

The girl came to her father, blushing and still laughing confusedly, when the rejected one had mounted his horse and ridden away. 

"Oh, Daddy, how funny!--to think of marrying him!"

He looked at her anxiously. "But you wanted to marry Bishop Wright--atleast, you--"

She laughed again. "How long ago--years ago--I must have been a baby. "

"You were old enough to point out that he would save you in theafter-time. "

"I remember; I could see myself sitting by him on a throne, with theSaints all around us on other thrones, and the Gentiles kneeling toserve us. We were in a big palace that had a hundred closets in it, andin every closet there hung a silk dress for me--a hundred silk dresses, each a different colour, waiting for me to wear them. "

"But have you thought sufficiently--now? The time is short. Bishop Snowcould save you. "

"Yes--but he would kiss me--he wanted to just now. " She put both handsover her mouth, with a mocking little grimace that the Entablature ofTruth would not have liked to see. 

"He would be certain to exalt you. "

She took the hands away long enough to say, "He would be certain to kissme. "

"You may be lost. "

"I'd _rather_!"

And so it had ended between them. Ever since a memorable visit to SaltLake City, where she had gone to the theatre, she had cherished someentirely novel ideas concerning matrimony. In that fairyland of delightsshe had beheld the lover strangely wooing but one mistress, the husbandstrangely cherishing but one wife. There had been no talk of "theKingdom, " and no home portrayed where there were many wives. That lover, swearing to cherish but one woman for ever, had thrilled her to newconceptions of her own womanhood, had seemed to meet some need of herown heart that she had not until then been conscious of. Ever after, shehad cherished this ideal of the stage, and refused to consider theother. Yet she had told her father nothing of this, for with herwomanhood had come a new reserve--truths half-divined and others clearlyperceived--which she could not tell any one. 

He, in turn, now kept secret from her the delight he felt at herrefusal. He had tried conscientiously to persuade her into the path ofsalvation, when his every word was a blade to cut at his heart. Nor washe happy when she refused so definitely the saving hand extended to her. To know she was to come short of her glory in the after-time was anguishto him; and mingling with that anguish, inflaming and aggravating it, were his own heretical doubts that would not be gone. 

In a sheer desperation of bewilderment he longed for the end, longed toknow certainly his own fate and hers--to have them irrevocably fixed--sothat he might no more be torn among many minds, but could begin to payhis own penalties in plain suffering, uncomplicated by this torturingnecessity to choose between two courses of action. 

And the time was, happily, to be short. With the first day of 1870 hebegan to wait. With prayer and fasting and vigils he waited. Now wasthe day when the earth should be purified by fire, the wicked swept fromthe land, and the lost tribes of Israel restored to their own. Now wasto come the Son of Man who should dwell in righteousness with men, reigning over them on the purified earth for a thousand years. 

He watched the mild winter go, with easy faith; and the early springcome and go, with a dawning uneasiness. For the time was passing withnever the blast of a trumpet from the heavens. He began to see then thathe alone, of all Amalon, had kept his faith pure. For the others hadfoolishly sown their fields, as if another crop were to beharvested, --as if they must continue to eat bread that was earth-grown. Even Prudence had strangely ceased to believe as he did. Something fromthe outside had come, he knew not what nor how, to tarnish the fair goldof her certainty. She had not said so, but he divined it when heshrewdly observed that she was seeking to comfort him, to support hisown faith when day after day the Son of Man came not. 

"It will surely be in another month, Daddy--perhaps next week--perhapsto-morrow, " she would say cheerfully. "And you did right not to put inany crops. It would have been wicked to doubt. "

He quickly detected her insincerity, seeing that she did not at allbelieve. As the summer came and went without a sign from the heavens, she became more positive and more constant in these assurances. As theevening drew on, they would walk out along the unsown fields, now grownrankly to weeds, to where the valley fell away from their feet to thewest. There they could look over line after line of hills, each a littledimmer as it lay farther into the blue through which they saw it, fromthe bold rim of the nearest shaggy-sided hill to the farthest featheryprofile all but lost in the haze. Day after day they sat together hereand waited for the sign, --for the going down of the sun upon a nightwhen there should be no darkness; when the light should stay until thesun came back over the eastern verge; when the trumpet should windthrough the hills, and when the little man's perplexities, if not hispunishment, should be at an end. 

And always when the dusk came she would try to cheer him to new hope forthe next night, counting the months that remained in the year, thelittle time within which the great white day _must_ be. Then they wouldgo back through the soft light of the afterglow, he with his bentshoulders and fallen face, shrunk and burned out, except for the eyes, and she in the first buoyant flush of her womanhood, free and strong andvital, a thing of warmth and colour and luring curve, restraining herquick young step to his, as she suppressed now a world of strange newfancies to his soberer way of thought. When they reached home again, herwords always were: "Never mind, Daddy--it must come soon--there's onlya little time left in the year. "

It was on these occasions that he knew she was now the stronger, that hewas leaning on her, had, in fact, long made her his support--fearfully, lest she be snatched away. And he knew at last that another change hadcome with her years; that she no longer confided in him unreservedly, asthe little child had. He knew there were things now she could not givehim. She communed with herself, and her silences had come between them. She looked past him at unseen forms, and listened as if for echoes thatshe alone could hear, waiting and wanting, knowing not her wants--yetdriven to aloofness by them from the little bent man of sorrows, whosewhole life she had now become. 

His hope lasted hardly until the year ended. Before the time was over, there had crept into his mind a conviction that the Son of Man would notcome; that the Lord's favour had been withdrawn from Israel. He knew thecause, --the shedding of innocent blood. They might have made war;indeed, many of the revelations to Joseph discriminated even betweenmurder and that murder in which innocent blood should be shed; but thetruth was plain. They had shed innocent blood that day in the Meadows. Now the Lord's favour was withdrawn and His coming deferred, perhapsanother thousand years. The torture of the thing came back to him withall its early colouring, so that his days and nights were full ofanguish. He no longer dared open the Bible to that reddened page. Thecries already rang in his ears, and he knew not what worse torture mightcome if he looked again upon the stain; nor could he free himself fromthese by the old expedient of prayer, for he could no longer pray withan honest heart; he was no longer unselfish, could no longer kneel inperfect submission; he was wholly bound to this child of her mother, andthe peace of absolute and utter sacrifice could not come back to him. Full of unrest, feeling that somehow the end, at least for him, couldnot be far off, he went north to the April Conference. He took Prudencewith him, not daring to leave her behind. 

She went with high hopes, alive with new sensations. Another world layoutside her valley of the mountains, and she was going to peep over theedge at its manifold fascinations. She had been there before as a child;now she was going as a woman. She remembered the city, bigger andgrander than fifty Amalons, with magnificent stores filled with exoticnovelties and fearsome luxuries from the land of the wicked Gentile. Sherecalled even the strange advertisements and signs, from John and EnochReese, with "All necessary articles of comfort for the wayfarer, such asflour, hard bread, butter, eggs and vinegar, buckskin pants andwhip-lashes, " to the "Surgeon Dentist from Berlin and Liverpool, " whowould "Examine and Extract Teeth, besides keeping constantly on hand asupply of the Best Matches, made by himself. " From William Hennefer, announcing that, "In Connection with my Barber Shop, I have just openedan Eating House, where Patrons will be Accommodated with every EdibleLuxury the Valley Affords, " to William Nixon, who sold goods for cash, flour, or wheat "at Jacob Hautz's house on the southeast corner ofCouncil-House Street and Emigration Square, opposite to Mr. OrsonSpencer's. "

She remembered the hunters and trappers in bedraggled buckskin, theplainsmen with revolvers in their belts, wearing the blue army cloak, the teamsters in leathern suits, and horsemen in fur coats and caps, buffalo-hide boots with the hair outside, and rolls of blankets behindtheir high Mexican saddles. 

More fondly did she recall two wonderful evenings at the theatre. Firsthad been the thrilling "Robert Macaire, " then the romantic "Pizarro, " inwhich Rolla had been a being of such overwhelming beauty that she hadfelt he could not be of earth. 

This time her visit was an endless fever of discovery in a realm ofmagic and mystery, of joys she had supposed were held in reserve forthose who went behind the veil. It was a new and greater city she cameto now, where were buildings of undreamed splendour, many of themreaching dizzily three stories above the earth. And the shops were morefascinating than ever. She still shuddered at the wickedness of theGentiles, but with a certain secret respect for their habits of luxuryand their profusion of devices for adornment. 

And there were strange new faces to be seen, people surely of adifferent world, of a different manner from those she had known, wearing, with apparent carelessness, garments even more strangelyelegant than those in the shop windows, and speaking in strange, softaccents. She was told that these were Gentiles, tourists across thecontinent, who had ventured from Ogden to observe the wonders of the newZion. The thought of the railroad was in itself thrilling. To be so nearthat wonderful highway to the land of the evil-doers and to a land, alas! of so many strange delights. She shuddered at her own wickedness, but fell again and again, and was held in bondage by the allurementsabout her. So thrilled to her soul's center was she that the pleasure ofit hurt her, and the tears would come to her eyes until she felt shemust be alone to cry for the awful joy of it. 

The evening brought still more to endure, for they went to the play. Itwas a play that took her out of herself, so that the crowd was lost toher from the moment the curtain went up in obedience to a little bellthat tinkled mysteriously, --either back on the stage or in her ownheart, she was not sure which. 

It was a love story; again that strangely moving love of one man for onewoman, that seemed as sweet as it was novel to her. But there was warbetween the houses in the play, and the young lover had to make a wayto see his beloved, climbing a high wall into her garden, climbing toher very balcony by a scarf she flung down to him. To the young womanfrom Amalon, these lovers' voices came with a strange compulsion, sothat they played with her heart between them. She was in turn the youth, pleading in a voice that touched every heart string from low to high;then she was the woman, soft and timid, hesitating in moments ofdelicious doubt, yet almost fearful of her power to resist, --half-wishing to be persuaded, half-frightened lest she yield. 

When the moment of surrender came, she became both of them; and, whenthey parted, it was as if her heart went in twain, a half with each, both to ache until they were reunited. Between the acts she awoke toreality, only to say to herself: "So much I shall have to thinkabout--so much--I shall never be able to think about it enough. "

Feverishly she followed the heart-breaking tragedy to its close, suffering poignantly the grief of each lover, suffering death for each, and feeling her life desolated when the end came. 

But then the dull curtain shut her back into her own little world, wherethere was no love like that, and beside the little bent man she went outinto the night. 

The next morning had come a further delight, an invitation to a ballfrom Brigham. Most of the day was spent in one of the shops, choosing agown of wondrous beauty, and having it fitted to her. 

[Illustration: FULL OF ZEST FOR THE MEASURE AS ANY YOUTH]

When she looked into the little cracked mirror that night, she saw astrange new face and figure; and, when she entered the ballroom, shefelt that others noted the same strangeness, for many looked at heruntil she felt her cheeks burn. Then Brigham arose from a sofa, where hehad been sitting with his first wife and his last. He came gallantlytoward her; Brigham, whom she knew to be the most favoured of God onearth and the absolute ruler of all the realm about her--an affable, unpretentious yet dignified gentleman of seventy, who took her handwarmly in both his own, looked her over with his kindly blue eyes, andwelcomed her to Zion in words of a fatherly gentleness. Later, when hehad danced with some of his wives, Brigham came to dance with her, lightof foot and full of zest for the measure as any youth. 

Others danced with her, but during it all she kept finding herself backbefore the magic square that framed the land where a man loved but onewoman. She remembered that Brigham sat with four of his wives in one ofthe boxes, enthusiastically applauding that portrayal of a single love. As the picture came back to her now, there seemed to have been somethingincongruous in this spectacle. She observed the seamed and hardenedfeatures of his earliest wife, who kept to the sofa during the evening, beside the better favoured Amelia, whom the good man had last married, and she thought of his score or so of wives between them. 

Then she knew that what she had seen the night before had been thetruth; that she could love no man who did not love her alone. She triedto imagine the lover in the play going from balcony to balcony, sighingthe same impassioned love-tale to woman after woman; or to imagine himwith many wives at home, to whom would be taken the news of his death inthe tomb of his last. So she thought of the play and not of the ball, stepping the dances absently, and, when it was all over, she fellasleep, rejoicing that, before their death, the two dear lovers had beensealed for time and eternity, so that they could awaken together in theKingdom. 

They went home the next day, driving down the valley that rolled inbillows of green between the broken ranges of the Wasatch and theOquirrh. It was no longer of the Kingdom she thought, nor of Brigham andhis wives; only of a clean-limbed youth in doublet and hose, a plumedcap, and a silken cloak, who, in a voice that brought the tears back ofher eyes, told of his undying love for one woman--and of the soft, tender woman in the moonlight, who had trusted him and let herself go tohim in life and in death. 

The world had not ended. She thought that, in truth, it could not haveended yet; for had she not a life to live?

CHAPTER XXXI. 

_The Lion of the Lord Sends an Order_

They reached home in very different states of mind. The girl was eagerfor the solitude of her favourite nook in the caņon, where she coulddream in peace of the wonderland she had glimpsed; but the little bentman was stirred by dread and chilled with forebodings. To him, as wellas to the girl, the change in the first city of Zion had been a thing towonder at. But what had thrilled her with amazed delight brought pain tohim. Zion was no longer held inviolate. 

And now the truth was much clearer to him. Not only had the Lorddeferred His coming, but He had set His hand again to scatter Israel forits sin. Instead of letting them stay alone in their mountain retreatuntil the beginning of His reign on earth, He had brought the Gentilesupon them in overwhelming numbers. Where once a thousand miles ofwilderness lay between them and Gentile wickedness, they were now hemmedabout with it, and even it polluted the streets of the holy city itself. 

Far on the east the adventurous Gentile had first pushed out of thetimber to the richly grassed prairies; then, later, on to the plains, scorched brown with their sparse grass, driving herds of cattle ahead, and stopping to make farms by the way. And now on the west, on the east, and on the north, the Lord had let them pitch their tents and buildtheir cabins, where they would barter their lives for gold and flocksand furs and timber, for orchard fruits and the grains of the field. Little by little they had ventured toward the outer ramparts of Israel, their numbers increasing year by year, and the daring of theironslaughts against the desert and mountain wastes. With the rifle andthe axe they had made Zion but a station on the great highway betweenthe seas; a place where curious and irreverent Gentiles stopped to gazein wonder at and perhaps to mock the Lord's chosen; a place that wouldbecome but one link in a chain of Gentile cities, that would be forcedto conform to the meretricious customs of Gentile benightedness. 

It had been a fine vengeance upon them for their sin; one not unworthyof Him who wrought it. It had come so insidiously, with such apparentnaturalness, little by little--a settler here, a settler there; here anacre of gray desert charmed to yellow wheat; there a pouch of shininggold washed from the burning sands; another wagon-train with hopeful menand faithful women; a cabin, two cabins, a settlement, a schoolhouse, aland of unwalled villages, --and democracy; a wicked government of menset up in the very face and front of God-governed Israel. 

At first they had come with ox-teams, but this was slow, and the bigKentucky mules brought them faster; then had come the great rollingConcord stages with their six horses; then the folly of an electrictelegraph, so that instant communication might be had with far-offBabylon; and now the capstone in the arch of the Lord's vengeance, --arailway, --flashing its crowded coaches over the Saints' old trail insixty easy hours, --a trail they had covered with their oxen in ninetydays of hardship. The rock of their faith would now be riven, the veilof their temple rent, and their leaders corrupted. 

Even of Brigham, the daring already told tales that promised this lastthing should come to pass; how he was become fat-souled, grasping, andtricky, using his sacred office to enlarge his wealth, seizing thecaņons with their precious growths of wood, the life-giving waterways, and the herding-grounds; taking even from the tithing, of which herendered no stewardship, and hiding away millions of the dollars forwhich the faithful had toiled themselves into desert graves. Truly, thought Joel Rae, that bloody day in the Meadows had been cunninglyavenged. 

One morning, a few weeks after he had reached home from the north, hereceived a call from Seth Wright. 

"Here's a letter Brother Brigham wanted me to be sure and give you, "said this good man. "He said he didn't know you was allowing to startback so soon, or he'd have seen you in person. "

He took the letter and glanced at the superscription, written inBrigham's rather unformed but plain and very decided-looking hand. 

"So you've been north, Brother Seth? What do you think of Israel there?"

The views of the Wild Ram of the Mountains partook in certain ways ofhis own discouragement. 

"Zion has run to seed, Brother Rae; the rank weeds of Babylon is a-goin'to choke it out, root and branch! We ain't got no chance to live a pureand Godly life any longer, with railroads coming in, and Gentiles withtheir fancy contraptions. It weakens the spirit, and it plays the veryhob with the women. Soon as they git up there now, and see them newstyles from St. Looey or Chicago, they git downright daft. No morehomespun for 'em, no more valley tan, no more parched corn for coffee, nor beet molasses nor unbolted flour. Oh, I know what I'm talkin'about. "

The tone of the good man became as of one who remembers hurts put uponhis own soul. He continued:

"You no sooner let a woman git out of the wagon there now than she'scrazy for a pink nubia, and a shell breastpin, and a dress-pattern, anda whole bolt of factory and a set of chiny cups and saucers and some ofthis here perfumery soap. And _that_ don't do 'em. Then they let out ayell for varnished rockin'-cheers with flowers painted all over 'em indifferent colours, and they tell you they got to have bristlescarpet--bristles on it that long, prob'ly!" The injured man indicated alength of some eighteen or twenty inches. 

"Of course all them grand things would please our feelings, but theytake a woman's mind off of the Lord, and she neglects her work in thefield, and then pretty soon the Lord gets mad and sics the Gentiles onto us again. But I made my women toe the mark mighty quick, I told 'emthey could all have one day a week to work out, and make a littlepin-money, hoein' potatoes or plantin' corn or some such business, andevery cent they earned that way they could squander on this herepink-and-blue soap, if they was a mind to; but not a York shilling of mymoney could they have for such persuasions of Satan--not while we gotplenty of soap-grease and wood-ashes to make lye of and a soap-kittlethat cost four eighty-five, in the very Lord's stronghold. I dress mywomen comfortable and feed 'em well--not much variety but plenty _of_, and I've done right by 'em as a husband, and I tell 'em if they want tobe led away now into the sinful path of worldliness, why, I ain't goin'to have any ruthers about it at all! But you be careful, Brother Rae, about turning your women loose in one of them ungodly stores up there. That reminds me, you had Prudence up to Conference, and I guess youdon't know what that letter's about. "

"Why, no; do you?"

"Well, Brother Brigham only let a word or two drop, but plain enough; hedon't have to use many. He was a little mite afraid some one down herewould cut in ahead of him. "

Joel Rae had torn open the big blue envelope in a sudden fear, and nowhe read in Brigham's well-known script:--

"DEAR BROT. JOEL:--

"I was ancus to see more of your daughter, and would of kept her hear atmy house if you had not hurried off. I will let you seal her to me whenI come to Pine valle next, late this summer or after Oct. Conference. Ifanything happens and I am to bisy will have you bring her hear. Tell herof this and what it will mean to her in the Lord's kingdom and do notlet her company with gentiles or with any of the young brethren aroundthere that might put Notions into her head. Try to due right and neverfaint in well duing, keep the faith of the gospel and I pray the Lord tobless you. BRIGHAM YOUNG. "

The shrewd old face of the Bishop had wrinkled into a smile of quietobservation as the other read the letter. In relating the incident tothe Entablature of Truth subsequently, he said of Joel Rae at the momenthe looked up from this letter: "He'll never be whiter when he's dead! Isee in a minute that the old man had him on the bark. "

"You know what's in this, Brother Seth--you know that Brigham wantsPrudence?" Joel Rae had asked, looking up from the letter, upon whichboth his hands had closed tightly. 

"Well, I told you he dropped a word or two, jest by way of keeping offthe Princes of Israel down here. "

"I must go to Salt Lake at once and talk to him. "

"Take her along; likely he'll marry her right off. "

"But I can't--I couldn't--Brother Seth, I wish her not to marry him. "

The Bishop stared blankly at him, his amazement freezing upon his lips, almost, the words he uttered. 

"Not--want--her--to marry--Brother Brigham Young, Prophet, Seer, andRevelator, President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saintsin all the world!"

"I must go up and talk to him at once. "

"You won't talk him out of it. Brother Brigham has the habit ofprevailing. Of course, he's closer than Dick's hat-band, but she'll havethe best there is until he takes another. "

"He may listen to reason--"

"Reason?--why, man, what more reason could he want, --with that splendidyoung critter before him, throwing back her head, and flashing her big, shiny eyes, and lifting her red lips over them little whiteteeth--reason enough for Brother Brigham--or for other people I couldname!"

"But he wouldn't be so hard--taking her away from me--"

Something in the tones of this appeal seemed to touch even the heart ofthe Wild Ram of the Mountains, though it told of a suffering he couldnot understand. 

"Brigham is very sot in his ways, " he said, after a little, with acurious soft kindness in his voice, --"in fact, a _sotter_ man I neverknew!"

He drove off, leaving the other staring at the letter now crumpled inhis hand. He also said, in his subsequent narrative to the Entablatureof Truth: "You know I've always took Brother Rae for jest a natural born_not_, a shy little cuss that could be whiffed around by anything andeverything, but when I drove off he had a plumb ornery fighting look inthem deep-set eyes of his, and blame me if I didn't someway feel sorryfor him, --he's that warped up, like an old water-soaked sycamore plankthat gits laid out in the sun. "

But this look of belligerence had quickly passed from the face of JoelRae when the first heat of his resentment had cooled. 

After that he merely suffered, torn by his reverence for Brigham, whorepresented on earth no less a power than the first person of theTrinity, and by the love for this child who held him to a past madebeautiful by his love for her mother, --by a thousand youthful dreams andfancies and wayward hopes that he had kept fresh through all the years;torn between Brigham, whose word was as the word of God, and Prudencewho was the living flower of her dead mother and all his dead hopes. 

Could he persuade Brigham to leave her? The idea of refusing him, if heshould persist, was not seriously to be thought of. For twenty-fiveyears he, in common with the other Saints, had held Brigham's lightestcommand to be above all earthly law; to be indeed the revealed will ofGod. His kingship in things material no less than in things spiritualhad been absolute, undisputed, undoubted--indeed, gloried in by thepeople as much as Brigham himself gloried when he declared it in and outof the tabernacle. Their blind obedience had been his by divine right, by virtue of his iron will, his matchless courage, his tireless spirit, and his understanding of their hearts and their needs, born of hiscommon suffering with them. Nothing could be done without his sanction. No man could enter a business, or change his home from north to south, without first securing his approval; even the merchants who went east orwest for goods must first report to him their wishes, to see if he hadcontrary orders for them! From the invitation list of a ball to thefinancing of a corporation, his word was law; in matters of marriage aswell--no man daring even to seek a wife until the Prophet had approvedhis choice. The whole valley for five hundred miles was filled with hispower as with another air that the Saints must breathe. In hisoft-repeated own phrase, it was his God-given right to dictate allmatters, "even to the ribbons a woman should wear, or the setting up ofa stocking. " And his people had not only submitted blindly to his rule, but had reverenced and even loved him for it. 

Twenty-five years of such allegiance, preceded by a youth in which thesame gospel of obedience was bred into his marrow--this was not to bethrown off by a mere heartache; not to be more than striven against, half-heartedly, in the first moment of anguish. 

He thought of Brigham's home in the Lion House, the score or so ofplain, elderly women, hard-working, simple-minded; the few favourites ofhis later years, women of sightlier exteriors; and he pictured the longdining-room, where, at three o'clock each afternoon, to the sound of abell, these wives and half a hundred children marched in, while theProphet sat benignantly at the head of the table and blessed the meal. He tried to fix Prudence in this picture, but at every effort he saw, not her, the shy, sweet woman, full of surprised tenderness, but acreature hardened, debased, devoid of charm, dehumanised, a brood-beastof the field. 

And yet this was not rebellion. His mind was clear as to that. He couldnot refuse, even had refusal not been to incur the severest penaltiesboth in this world and in the world to come. The habit of obedience wasall-powerful. 

Presently he saw Prudence coming across the fields in the lateafternoon from the road that led to the caņon. He watched her jealouslyuntil she drew near, then called her to him. In a few words he told hervery gravely the honour that was to be done her. 

When she fully understood, he noted that her mind seemed to attain anunusual clearness, her speech a new conciseness; that she was displayinga force of will he had never before suspected. 

Her reply, in effect, was that she would not marry Brigham Young if allthe angels in heaven came to entreat her; that the thought was not apretty one; and that the matter might be considered settled at that verymoment. "It's too silly to talk about, " she concluded. 

Almost fearfully he looked at her, yielding a little to her spirit ofrebellion, yet trying not to yield; trying not to rejoice in the amusedflash of her dark eyes and the decision of her tones. But then, as helooked, and as she still faced him, radiant in her confidence, he felthimself going with her--plunging into the tempting wave of apostasy. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

_A New Face in the Dream_

In a settled despair the little bent man waited for the end. Already hefelt himself an outcast from Israel. In spirit he had disobeyed thevoice of Brigham, which was the voice of God; exulting sinfully in spiteof himself in this rebellion. Praying to be bowed and bent and broken, to have all trace of the evil self within him burned out, he had now letthat self rise up again to cry out a want. Praying that crosses mightdaily be added to his burden, he had now refused to take up one thebearing of which might have proved to Heaven the extinction of his lastselfish desire. He had been put to the test, as he prayed to be, and hehad failed miserably to meet it. And now he knew that even his life waswaning with his faith. 

During the year when he waited for the end of the world, he had beennerved to an unwonted vigour. Now he was weak and fit for no furthercombat. He waited, with an indifference that amazed him, for the daywhen he should openly defy Brigham, and have penalties heaped upon him. 

First he would be ordered on a mission to some far corner of the world. It would mean that he must go alone, "without purse or scrip, " leavingPrudence. He would refuse to go. Thereupon he would be sternlydisfellowshiped. Then, having become an apostate, he would be a fairmark for many things, perhaps for simple persecution--perhaps for bloodatonement. He had heard Brigham himself say in the tabernacle that hewas ready to "unsheathe his bowie knife" and send apostates "to hellacross lots. "

He was ready to welcome that. It were easier to die now than to live;and, as for being cut off from his glory in the after-time, he hadalready forfeited that; would miss it even if he died in fellowship withBrigham and full of churchly honours; would miss it even if the power onhigh should forgive him, --for he himself, he knew, could not forgive hisown sin. So it was little matter about his apostasy, and Prudence shouldbe saved from a wifehood that, ever since he had pictured her in it, hadseemed to him for the first time unspeakably bad. 

They talked but little about it that day, after her first abruptrefusal. There was too much for each of them to think of. He was obligedto dwell upon the amazing fact that he must lie in hell until he couldwin his own forgiveness, regardless of what gentle pardoning might behis from God. This, to him, simple and obvious truth, was now his dailytorture. 

As for Prudence, she had to be alone to dream her dreams of a love thatshould be always single. Brigham's letter, far from disturbing these, had brought them a zest hitherto lacking. Neither the sacrilege ofrefusing him, its worldly unwisdom, nor its possible harm to the littlebent man of sorrows, had as yet become apparent to her. Each day, whensuch duties as were hers in the house had been performed, she walked outto be alone, --always to Box Caņon, that green-sided cleft in themountain, with the brook lashing itself to a white fury over theboulders at the bottom. She would go up out of the hot valley into itscool freshness and its pleasant wood smells, and there, in the softenedblue light of a pine-hung glade, she would rest, and let her fancy buildwhat heaven-reaching towers it would. On some brown bed of pine-needles, or on a friendly gray boulder close by the water-side, where she couldgive her eyes to its flow and foam, and her ears to its music, --musiclike the muffled tinkling of little silver bells in the distance, --shewould let herself go out to her dream with the joyous, reckless abandonof falling water. 

It was commonly a dream of a youth in doublet and hose, a plumed cap, and a cloak of purple satin, who came in the moonlight to the balcony ofhis love, and sighed his passion in tones so moving that she thought anangel must have yielded--as did the girl in the balcony who had let downthe scarf to him. She already knew how that girl's heart must havefluttered at the moment, --how she must have felt that the hands weremad, wicked, uncontrollable hands, no longer her own. 

There was one place in the dream that she managed not without someingenuity. It had to be made plain that the lover under the window didnot come from a long, six-doored house, with a wife behind each door;that this girl, pale in the moonlight, with quickening heart andrebellious hands on the scarf, and arms that should open to him, was tobe not only his first wife but his last; that he was never even toconsider so much as the possibility of another, but was to cleave untoher, and to love her with a single heart for all the days of her lifeand his own. 

There were various ways of bringing this circumstance forward. Usuallyshe had Brigham march on at the head of his great family and counsel theyouth to take more wives, in order that he should be exalted in theKingdom. Whereupon the young man would fold his love in his arms andspeak words of scorn, in the same thrilling manner that he spoke hisother words, for any exaltation which they two could not share alone. Brigham, at the head of his wives, would then slink off, much abashed. 

She had come naturally to see her own face as the face of this happilyloved girl in the dream. She knew no face for the youth. There was nonein Amalon; not Jarom Tanner, six feet three, who became a helpless, grinning child in her presence; nor Moroni Peterson, who became asolemn and ghastly imbecile; nor Ammaron Wright, son of the Bishop, whohad opened the dance of the Young People's Auxiliary with prayer, andlater tried to kiss her in a dark corner of the room. So the face of theother person in her dream remained of an unknown heavenly beauty. 

And then one afternoon in early May a strange youth came singing downthe caņon; came while she mused by the brook-side in her best-loveddream. Long before she saw him, she heard his music, a young, clear, care-free voice ringing down from the trail that went over the mountainsto Kanab and into Kimball Valley; one of the ways that led out to theworld that she wondered about so much. It was a voice new to her, andthe words of his ballad were also new. At first she heard them fromafar:--

 "There was a young lady came a-tripping along, And at each side a servant-O, And in each hand a glass of wine To drink with the Gypsy Davy-O. 

 "And will you fancy me, my dear, And will you be my Honey-O? I swear by the sword that hangs by my side You shall never want for money-O. 

 "Oh, yes, I will fancy you, kind sir, And I will be your Honey-O, If you swear by the sword that hangs by your side I shall never want for money-O. "

The singer seemed to be making his way slowly. Far up the trail, she hadone fleeting glimpse of a man on a horse, and then he was hid again inthe twilight of the pines. But the music came nearer:--

 "Then she put on her high-heeled shoes, All made of Spanish leather-O, And she put on her bonnie, bonnie brown, And they rode off together-O. 

 "Soon after that, her lord came home Inquiring for his lady-O, When some of the servants made this reply, She's a-gone with the Gypsy Davy-O. 

 "Then saddle me my milk-white steed, For the black is not so speedy-O, And I'll ride all night and I'll ride all day Till I overtake my lady-O. "

She stood transfixed, something within her responding to the hiddensinger, as she had once heard a closed piano sound to a voice that sangnear it. Soon she could get broken glimpses of him as he wound down thetrail, now turning around the end of a fallen tree, then passing behinda giant spruce, now leaning far back while the horse felt a waycautiously down some sharp little declivity. The impression wasconfused, --a glint of red, of blue, of the brown of the horse, a figureswaying loosely to the horse's movements, and then he was out of sightagain around the big rock that had once fallen from high up on the sideof the caņon; but now, when he came from behind that, he would besquarely in front of her. This recalled and alarmed her. She began topick a way over the boulders and across the trail that lay between herand the edge of the pines, hearing another verse of the song, almost ather ear:--

 "He rode all night and he rode all day, Till he came to the far deep water-O, Then he stopped and a tear came a-trickling down his cheek, For there he saw his lady-O. "

Before she could reach a shelter in the pines, while she was poised forthe last step that would take her out of the trail, he was out frombehind the rock, before her, almost upon her, reining his horse backupon its haunches, --then in another instant lifting off hisbroad-brimmed hat to her in a gracious sweep. It was the first time shehad seen this simple office performed outside of the theatre. 

She looked up at him, embarrassed, and stepped back across the narrowtrail, her head down again, so that he was free to pass. But instead ofpassing, she became aware that he had dismounted. 

When she looked up, he was busily engaged in adjusting something abouthis saddle, with an expression of deepest concern in his blue eyes. Hishat was on the ground and his yellow hair glistened where the band hadpressed it about his head. 

"It's that latigo strap, " he remarked, in a tone of some annoyance. "I've had to fix it every five miles since I left Kanab!" Then lookingup at her with a friendly smile: "Dandy most stepped on you, I reckon. "

The amazement of it was that, after her first flurry at the sound ofhis voice and his half-seen movements up the trail, it should now seemall so commonplace. 

"Oh, no, I was well out of his way. "

She started again to cross the trail, stepping quickly, with her eyesdown, but again his voice came, less deliberate this time, and withwords in something less than intelligible sequence. 

"Excuse me, Miss--but--now how many miles to--what's the name of thenearest settlement--I suppose you live hereabouts?"

"What did you say?"

"I say is there any place where I could get to stop a day or so inAmalon?"

"Oh--I didn't understand--I think so; at least, my father sometimes--butthere's Elder Wardle, he often takes in travellers. "

"You say your father--"

"Not always--I don't know, I'm sure--" she looked doubtful. 

"Oh, all right! I'll ask him, --if you'll show me his place. "

"It's the first place on the left after you leave the caņon--with thebig peach orchard--I'm not going home just yet. "

He stroked the muzzle of the horse. 

"Oh, I'm in no hurry, I'm just looking over the country a little. Yourfather's name is--"

"Ask for Elder Rae--or one of his wives will say if they can keep youover night. "

She caught something new in his glance, and felt the blood in her face. 

"I must go now--you can find your way--I must go. "

"Well, if you _must_ go, "--he picked up his hat, --"but I'll see youagain. You'll be coming home this evening, I reckon?"

"The first house on the left, " she answered, and stepped once moreacross the trail and into the edge of the pines. She went with the samemien of importance that Tom Potwin wore on his endless errands; and withquite as little reason, too; for the direction in which she had startedso earnestly would have led her, after a few steps, straight up agranite cliff a thousand feet high. As she entered the pines she heardhim mount his horse and ride down the trail, and then the rest of hissong came back to her:--

 "Will you forsake your houses and lands, Will you forsake your baby-O? Will you forsake your own wedded lord To foller a Gypsy Davy-O?

 "Yes, I'll forsake my houses and lands, Yes, I'll forsake my baby-O, For I am bewitched, and I know the reason why; It's a follering a Gypsy Davy-O. 

 "Last night I lay on a velvet couch Beside my lord and baby-O; To-night I shall lie on the cold, cold ground, In the arms of a Gypsy Davy-O. 

 "To-night I shall lie on the cold, cold ground, In the arms of a Gypsy Davy-O!"

When his voice died away and she knew he must be gone, she came outagain to her nook beside the stream where, a moment before, her dreamhad filled her. But now, though nothing had happened beyond the ridingby of a strange youth, the dream no longer sufficed. In place of themoonlit balcony was the figure of this young stranger swaying with hishorse down between the hollowed shoulders of the Pine Mountains andreining up suddenly to sweep his broad hat low in front of her. She wassurprised by the clearness with which she could recall the details ofhis appearance, --a boyish-looking fellow, with wide-open blue eyes and asunbrowned face under his yellow hair, the smallest of moustaches, and asmile of such winning good-humour that it had seemed to force her ownlips apart in answer. 

Around the broad, gray hat had been a band of braided silver; when hestepped, the spurs on his high-heeled boots had jingled and clanked ofsilver; around his neck with a knot at the back and the corners flappingdown on the front of his blue woollen shirt, had been a white-dottedhandkerchief of scarlet silk; and about his waist was knotted a longscarf of the same colour; dogskin "chapps" he had worn, fronted with thethick yellowish hair outside; his saddle-bags, back of the saddle, showing the same fur; his saddle had been of stamped Spanish leatherwith a silver capping on the horn and on the circle of the cantle; andon the right of the saddle she had seen the coils of a lariat ofplaited horsehair. 

The picture of him stayed in her mind, the sturdy young figure, --ratherloose-jointed but with an easy grace of movement, --and the engagingnaturalness of his manner. But after all nothing had happened save thepassing of a stranger, and she must go alone back to her dream. Yet nowthe dream might change; a strange youth might come riding out of theeast, sitting a sorrel horse with a star and a white hind ankle, a longrangy neck and strong quarters; and he--the youth--would wear a broad, gray hat, with a band of silver filigree, a scarlet kerchief at histhroat, a scarlet sash at his waist, and yellow dogskin "chapps. "

Still, she thought, he could hardly have a place in the dream. The realyouth of the dream had been of an unearthly beauty, with a rose-leafcomplexion and lustrous curls massed above a brow of marble. Thestranger had not been of an unearthly beauty. To be sure, he was verygood to look at, with his wide-open blue eyes and his yellow hair, andhe had appeared uncommonly fresh and clean about the mouth when hesmiled at her. But she could not picture him sighing the right words oflove under a balcony in the moonlight. He had looked to be too intenselybusiness-like. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

_The Gentile Invasion_

When she came across the fields late in the afternoon, the strangeyouth's horse was picketed where the bunch-grass grew high, and theyoung man himself talked with her father by the corral bars. She hadnever realised how old her father was, how weak, and small, and bent, until she saw him beside this erect young fellow. Her heart went out tothe older man with a new sympathy as she saw his feebleness so sharplyin relief against the well-blooded, hard-muscled vigour of the younger. When she would have passed them, her father called to her. 

"Prudence, this is Mr. Ruel Follett. He will stay with us to-night. "

The sombrero was off again and she felt the blue eyes seeking hers, though she could not look up from the ground when she had given herlittle bow. She heard him say:

"I already met your daughter, sir, at the mouth of the caņon. "

She went on toward the house, hearing them resume their talk, thestranger saying, "That horse can sure carry all the weight you want toput on him and step away good; he'll do it right at both ends, too--Dandy will--and he's got a mighty tasty lope. "

Later she brought him a towel when he had washed himself in the tinbasin on the bench outside the house. He had doffed the "chapps" andhung them on a peg, the scarlet kerchief was also off, his shirt wasopen at the neck, and soap and water had played freely over his head. Hetook the towel from her with a sputtering, "Thank you, " and with a pairof muscular, brown hands proceeded to scour himself dry until the yellowhair stood about him as a halo--without, however, in the leastsuggesting the angelic or even saintly: for his face, from the frictioninflamed to a high degree, was now a mass of red with two inquiringspots of blue near the upper edge. But then the clean mouth opened inits frank smile, and her own dark lashes had to fall upon her cheeksuntil she turned away. 

At supper and afterwards Mr. Follett talked freely of himself, or seemedto. He was from the high plains and the short-grass country, whereverthat might be--to the east and south she gathered. He had grown up inthat country, working for his father, who had been an overlandfreighter, until the day the railroad tracks were joined at Promontory. He, himself, had watched the gold and silver spikes driven into the tieof California mahogany two years before; and then, though they stillkept a few wagon trains moving to the mining camps north and south ofthe railroad, they had looked for other occupations. 

Now their attention was chiefly devoted to mines and cattle. There weregreat times ahead in the cattle business. His father remembered whenthey had killed cattle for their hides and tallow, leaving the meat tothe coyotes. But now, each spring, a dozen men, like himself, under aherd boss, would drive five thousand head to Leavenworth, putting themthrough ten or twelve miles a day over the Abiline trail, keeping themfat and getting good prices for them. There was plenty of room for thebusiness. "Over yonder across the hills, " as Mr. Follett put it. Therewas a herding ground four hundred miles wide, east and west, and athousand miles north and south, covered with buffalo grass, especiallytoward the north, that made good stock feed the year around. He himselfhad, in winter, followed a herd that drifted from Montana to Texas; andin summer he had twice ranged from Corpus Christi to Deadwood. 

Down in the Panhandle they were getting control of a ranch that wouldcover five thousand square miles. Some day they would have every one ofits three million acres enclosed with a stout wire fence. It would be abig ranch, bigger than the whole state of Connecticut--bigger thanDelaware and Rhode Island "lumped together", he had been told. Here theywould have the "C lazy C" brand on probably a hundred and fiftythousand head of cattle. He thought the business would settle down tothis conservative basis with the loose ends of it pulled together; withcloser attention paid to branding, for one thing; branding the calves, so they would no longer have to rope a full-grown steer, and tie it witha scarf such as he wore about his waist. 

But they were also working some placer claims up around Helena, anddeveloping a quartz prospect over at Carson City. And the freighting wasby no means "played out. " He, himself, had driven a six-mule team withone line over the Santa Fé trail, and might have to do it again. Theresources of the West were not exhausted, whatever they might say. A manwith a head on him would be able to make a good living there for someyears to come. 

Both father and daughter found him an agreeable young man in spite ofhis being an alien from the Commonwealth of Israel. He remained withthem three days looking over the country about Amalon, talking with itspeople and making himself at least not an object of suspicion andaversion, as the casual Gentile was apt to be. Prudence found herselfusually at ease with him; he was so wholly likable and unassuming. Yetat times he seemed strangely mature and reserved to her, so that she wasjust a little awed. 

He told her in their evenings many wonder-tales of that outside worldwhere the wicked Gentiles lived; of populous cities on the western edgeof it, and of vast throngs that crowded the interior clear over to theAtlantic Ocean. She had never realised before what a small handful ofpeople the Lord had set His hand to save, and what vast numbers He hadmade with hearts that should be hardened to the glorious articles of thenew covenant. 

The wastefulness of it rather appalled her. Out of the world with itsmyriad millions, only the few thousand in this valley of the mountainshad proved worthy of exaltation. And this young man was doubtless a fairsample of them, --happy, unthinking, earning perdition by merecarelessness. If only there were a way to save them--if only there werea way to save even this one--but she hardly dared speak to him of herreligion. 

When he left he told them he was making a little trip through thesettlements to the north, possibly as far as Cedar City. He did not knowhow long he would be gone, but if nothing prevented he might be backthat way. He shook hands with them both at parting, and though he spokeso vaguely about a return, his eyes seemed to tell Prudence that hewould like very much to come. He had talked freely about everything butthe precise nature of his errand in the valley. 

In her walks to the caņon she thought much of him when he had gone. Shecould not put his face into the dream because he was too real andimmanent. He and the dream would not blend, even though she had decidedthat his fresh-cheeked, clear-eyed face, with its clean smile and theyellow hair above it was almost better to look at than the face of theyouth in the play. It was not so impalpable; it satisfied. So she musedabout them alternately, the dream and the Gentile, --taking perhaps awarmer interest in the latter for his aliveness, for the grasp of hishand at parting, which she, with astonishment, had felt her own handcordially returning. 

Her father talked much of the young man. In his prophetic eye thisfearless, vigorous young stranger was the incarnate spirit of thatGentile invasion to which the Lord had condemned them for their sins. Hehad come, resourceful, determined, talking of mighty enterprises, ofcattle, and gold, and wheat, of wagon-trains, and railroad, --an eloquentforerunner of the Gentile hordes that should come west upon theshoulders of Israel, and surround, assimilate, and reduce them, untilthey should lose all their powers and gifts and become a mere sect amongsects, their name, perhaps, a hissing and a scorn. He foresaw theinvasion of which this self-poised, vital youth of three or four andtwenty was a sapper; and he knew it was a just punishment from on highfor the innocent blood they had shed. Yet now he viewed it ratherimpersonally, for he felt curiously disconnected from the affairs of theChurch and the world. 

He no longer preached on the Sabbath, giving his ill-health as anexcuse. In truth he felt it would not be honest since, in his secretheart, he was now an apostate. But with his works of healing he busiedhimself more than ever, and in this he seemed to have gained new power. Weak as he was physically, gray-haired, bloodless, fragile, with whatseemed to be all of his remaining life burning in his deep-set eyes, heyet laid his hands upon the sick with a success so marked that his famespread and he was sent for to rebuke plagues and fevers from as far awayas Beaver. 

For two weeks they heard nothing of the wandering Gentile, and Prudencehad begun to wonder if she would ever see him again; also to wonder whyan uncertainty in the matter should seem to be of importance. 

But one evening early in June they saw him walking up in the dusk, thelight sombrero, the scarlet kerchief against the blue woollen shirt, theholster with its heavy Colt's revolver at either hip, the easy movingfigure, and the strong, yet boyish face. 

He greeted them pleasantly, though, the girl thought, with somerestraint. She could not hear it in his words, but she felt it in hismanner, something suppressed and deeply hidden. They asked where hishorse was and he replied with a curious air of embarrassment:--

"Well, you see, I may be obliged to stop around here a quite some while, so I put up with this man Wardle--not wanting to impose upon youall--and thanking you very kindly, and not wishing to intrude--so I justcame to say 'howdy' to you. "

They expressed regret that he had not returned to them, Joel Rae urginghim to reconsider; but he declined politely, showing a desire to talk ofother things. 

They sat outside in the warm early evening, the young man and Prudencenear each other at one side of the door, while Joel Rae resumed hischair a dozen feet the other side and lapsed into silence. The two youngpeople fell easily into talk as on the other evenings they had spentthere. Yet presently she was again aware, as in the moment of hisgreeting, that he laboured under some constraint. He was uneasy andshifted his chair several times until at length it was so placed that hecould look beyond her to where her father had tilted his own chairagainst the house and sat huddled with his chin on his breast. He talkedabsently, too, at first, of many things and without sequence; and whenhe looked at her, there was something back of his eyes, plain even inthe dusk, that she had not seen there before. He was no longer theingenuous youth who had come to them from off the Kanab trail. 

In a little while, however, this uneasiness seemed to vanish and he wasspeaking naturally again, telling of his life on the plains with aboyish enthusiasm; first of the cattle drives, of the stampede of a herdby night, when the Indians would ride rapidly by in the dark, dragging abuffalo-robe over the ground at the end of a lariat, sending thefrightened steers off in a mad gallop that made the earth tremble. Theywould have to ride out at full speed in the black night, over groundtreacherous with prairie-dog holes, to head and turn the herd offrenzied cattle, and by riding around and around them many times getthem at last into a circle and so hold them until they became quietagain. Often this was not until sunrise, even with the lullabys theysang "to put them to sleep. "

Then he spoke of adventures with the Indians while freighting over theSanta Fé trail, and of what a fine man his father, Ezra Calkins, was. Itwas the first time he had mentioned the name and her ear caught it atonce. 

"Your father's name is Calkins?"

"Yes--I'm only an adopted son. "

Unconsciously she had been letting her voice fall low, making their chatmore confidential. She awoke to this now and to the fact that he haddone the same, by noting that he raised his voice at this time with acasual glance past her to where her father sat. 

"Yes--you see my own father and mother were killed when I was eightyears old, and the people that murdered them tried to kill me too, but Iwas a spry little tike and give them the slip. It was a bad country, andI like to have died, only there was a band of Navajos out tradingponies, and one morning, after I'd been alone all night, they picked meup and took care of me. I was pretty near gone, what with being scaredand everything, but they nursed me careful. They took me away off to thesouth and kept me about a year, and then one time they took me with themwhen they worked up north on a buffalo hunt. It was at Walnut Creek onthe big bend of the Arkansas that they met Ezra Calkins coming alongwith one of his trains and he bought me of those Navajos. I remember hegave fifty silver dollars for me to the chief. Well, when I told him allthat I could remember about myself--of course the people that did thekilling scared a good deal of it out of me--he took me to Kansas Citywhere he lived, and went to law and made me his son, because he'd lost aboy about my age. And so that's how we have different names, he tellingme I'd ought to keep mine instead of taking his. "

She was excited by the tale, which he had told almost in one breath, andnow she was eager to question, looking over to see if her father wouldnot also be interested; but the latter gave no sign. 

"You poor little boy, among those wretched Indians! But why were yourfather and mother killed? Did the Indians do it?"

"No, not Indians that did it--and I never did know why they killedthem--they that _did_ do it. "

"But how queer! Don't you know who it was?"

Before answering, he paused to take one of the long revolvers from itsholster, laying it across his lap, his right hand still grasping it. 

"It was tiring my leg where it was, " he explained. "I'll just restmyself by holding it here. I've practised a good smart bit with thesepistols against the time when I'd meet some of them that did it--thatkilled my father and mother and lots of others, and little children, too. "

"How terrible! And it wasn't Indians?"

"No--I _told_ you that already--it wasn't Indians. "

"Don't you know who it was?"

"Oh, yes, I know all of them I want to know. The fact is, up there atCedar City I met some people that got confidential with me one day, andtold me a lot of their names. There was Mr. Barney Carter and Mr. SamWoods, and they talked right freely about some folks. I found out what Iwas wanting to know, being that they were drinking men. "

He had moved slightly as he spoke and she glanced at the revolver stillheld along his knee. 

"Isn't that dangerous--seems to me it's pointed almost toward father. "

"Oh, not a bit dangerous, and it rests me to hold it there. You see itwas hereabouts this thing happened. In fact, I came down here lookingfor a big man, and a little girl that I remembered, whose father andmother were killed at the same time mine was. This little girl was aboutthree or four, I reckon, and she was taken by one of the murderers. Heseemed like an awful big man to me. By the way, that's mean whiskey yourBishop sells on the sly up at Cedar City. Why, it's worse than Taoslightning. Well, this Barney Carter and Mr. Sam Woods, they would drinkit all right, but they said one drink made a man ugly and two made himso downright bad that he'd just as lief tear his wife's best bonnet topieces as not. But they seemed to like me pretty well, and they drank alot of this whiskey that the Bishop sold me, and then they got talkingpretty freely about old times. I gathered that this man that took thelittle girl is a pretty big man around here. Of course I wasn'texpecting anything like that; I thought naturally he'd be a low-downsort to have been mixed up in a thing like that. "

He spoke his next words very slowly, with little pauses. 

"But I found out what his name was--it was--"

He stopped, for there had been an indistinct sound from where her fathersat, now in the gloom of the evening. She called to him:

"Did you speak, father?"

There was no reply or movement from the figure in the chair, and Follettresumed:

"I guess he was just asleep and dreaming about something. Well, anyway--I--I found out afterwards by telling it before him, that Mr. Barney Carter and his drunken friend had given me his name right, thoughI could hardly believe it before. "

"What an awful, awful thing! What wickedness there is in the world!"

"Oh, a tolerable lot, " he assented. 

He had been all animation and eagerness in the telling of the story, buthad now become curiously silent and listless; so that, although she waseager with many questions about what he had said, she did not ask them, waiting to see if he would not talk again. But instead of talking, hestayed silent and presently began to fidget in his chair. At last hesaid, "If you'll excuse us, Miss Prudence, your pa and I have got alittle business matter to talk over--to-night. I guess we can go downhere by the corral and do it. "

But she arose quickly and bade him good night. "I hope I shall see youto-morrow, " she said. 

She bent over to kiss her father as she went in, and when she had doneso, warned him that he must not sit in the night air. 

"Why your face is actually wet with a cold sweat. You ought to come inat once. "

"After a very little, dear. Go to bed now--and always be a good girl!"

"And you've grown so hoarse sitting here. "

"In a little while, --always be a good girl!"

She went in with a parting admonition: "Remember your cough--goodnight!"

When she had gone neither man stirred for the space of a minute. Thelittle man, huddled in his seat, had not changed his position; he stillsat with his chair tilted back against the house, his chin on hisbreast. 

The other had remained standing where the girl left him, the revolver inhis hand. After the minute of silence he crossed over and stood infront of the seated man. 

"Come, " he said, gruffly, "where do you want to go?"

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

_How the Avenger Bungled His Vengeance_

At last he stood up, slowly, unsteadily, grasping Follett by the arm forsupport. He spoke almost in a whisper. 

"Come back here first--to talk--then I'll go with you. "

He entered the house, the young man following close, suspicious, narrowly watchful. 

"No fooling now, --feel the end of that gun in your back?" The other madeno reply. Inside the door he took a candle from the box against the walland lighted it. 

"Don't think I'm trying anything--come here. "

They went on, the little bent man ahead, holding the candle well up. Hisroom was at the far end of the long house. When they reached it, heclosed the door and fixed the candle on the table in some of its owngrease. Then he pointed Follett to the one stool in the little cell-likeroom, and threw himself face down on the bed. 

Follett, still standing, waited for him to speak. After a moment'ssilence he grew impatient. 

"Come, come! What would you be saying if you were talking? I can't waithere all night. "

But the little man on the bed was still silent, nor did he stir, andafter another wait Follett broke out again. 

"If you want to talk, _talk_, I tell you. If you don't want to, I cansay all I have to say, _quick_. "

Then the other turned himself over on the bed and half sat up, leaningon his elbow. 

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but you see I'm so weak"--the strainedlittle smile came to his face--"and tremble so, there's so much to thinkof--do _you_ hear those women scream--_there_! did you hear that?--butof course not. Now--wait just a moment--have you come to kill me?"

"You and those two other hellions--the two that took me and that boy outthat night to bury us. "

"Did you think of the consequences?"

"I reckoned you'd be called paid for, any time any one come gunning foryou. I didn't think there'd _be_ any consequences. "

"Hereafter, I mean; to your soul. What a pity you didn't wait a littlelonger! Those other two are already punished. "

"Don't lie to me now?"

The little smile lighted his face again. 

"I have a load of sin on me--but I don't think I ever did lie to anyone--I guess I never was tempted--"

"Oh, you've _acted_ lies enough. "

[Illustration: "OH, MAN ... HOW I'VE LONGED FOR THAT BULLET OF YOURS!"]

"You're right--that's so. But I'm telling youtruth now--those two men had both been in the Meadows that day and itkilled them. One went crazy and ran off into the desert. They found hisbones. The other shot himself a few years ago. Those of us that live arealready in hell--"

He sat up, now, animated for the moment. 

"--in hell right here, I tell you. I'd have welcomed you, or any otherman that would kill me, any time this fifteen years. I'd have gone outto meet you. Do you think I like to hear the women scream? Do you thinkI'm not crazed myself by this thing--right back of me here, _now_--crawling, bleeding, breathing on me--trying to come here in frontwhere I must _see_ it? Don't you see God has known how to punish meworse than you could, just by keeping me alive and sane? Oh, man! youdon't know how I've longed for that bullet of yours, right here throughthe temples where the cries sound worst. I didn't dare to do itmyself--I was afraid I'd make my punishment worse if I tried to shirk;but I used to hope you would come as you said you would. I wonder Ididn't know you at once. "

He put his hands to his head and fell back again on the pillow, with alittle moan. 

"Well, it ain't strange I didn't know _you_. I was looking for a bigman. You seemed as big as a house to me that day. I forgot that I'dgrown up and you might be small. When those fellows got tight up thereand let on like it was you that some folks hinted had took a child andkept it out of that muss, I couldn't hardly believe it; and everybodyseeming to regard you so highly. And I couldn't believe this big girlwas little Prue Girnway that I remembered. It seemed like you two wouldhave to be a great big man and a little bit of a baby girl with yellowhair; and now I find you're--say, Mister, _honestly_, you're such apoor, broke-down, little coot it seems a'most like a shame to put abullet through you, in spite of all your doings!"

The little man sat up again, with new animation in his eyes, --the sameeager boyishness that he had somehow kept through all his years. 

"_Don't_!" he exclaimed, earnestly. "Let me beg you, don't kill me! Foryour own sake--not for mine. I'm a poor, meatless husk. I'll die soon atbest, and I'm already in a hell you can't make any hotter. Let me do youthis service; let me persuade you not to kill me. Have you ever killed aman?"

"No, not yet; I've allowed to a couple of times, but it's never comejust that way. "

"You ought to thank God. Don't ever. You'll be in hell as sure as youdo, --a hell right here that you must carry inside of you forever--thateven God can't take out of you. Listen--it's a great secret, worthmillions. If you're so bad you can't forgive yourself, you have tosuffer hell-fire no matter how much the Lord forgives you. It soundsqueer, but there's the limit to His power. He's made us so nearly in Hisimage that we have to win our own forgiveness; why, you can seeyourself, it _had_ to be that way; there would have been no dignityto a soul that could swallow all its own wickedness so long as the Lordcould. God has given us to know good and evil for ourselves--and we haveto take the consequences. Look at me. I suffer day and night, and alwaysmust. God has forgiven me, but I can't forgive myself, for my own sinand my people's sin, --for my preaching was one of the things that ledthem into that meadow. I know that Christ died for us, but that can'tput out this fire that I _have_ to build in my own soul. I tell you aman is like an angel, he can be good or bad; he has a power for heavenbut the same power for hell--"

"See here, I don't know anything about all this hell-talk, but I doknow--"

"I tell you death is the very last thing I have left to look forward to, but if you kill me it will be your own undoing. You will never get meout of your eyes or your ears, poor wreck as I am--so feeble. You cansee what my punishment has been. A little while ago I was young, andstrong, and proud like you, fearing nothing and wanting everything, butsomething was wrong. I was climbing up as I thought, and then all atonce I saw I had been climbing down--down into a pit I never could getout of. You will be there if you kill me. " He sank back on the bedagain. 

Follett slowly put the revolver into its holster and sat down on the lowstool. 

"I don't know anything about all this hell-talk, but I see I can't killyou--you're such a poor, miserable cuss. And I thought you were a bigstrong man, handy with a gun and all that, and like as not I'd have tomake a quick draw on you when the time come. And now look at you! Why, Mister, I'm doggoned if I ain't almost _sorry_ for you! You sure havebeen getting your deservance good and plenty. Say, what in God's namedid you all do such a hellish thing for, anyway?"

"We had been persecuted, hunted, and driven, our Prophet murdered, ourwomen and children butchered, and another army was on the way. "

"Well, that was because you were such an ornery lot, always settingyourself up against the government wherever you went, and actingscandalous--"

"We did as the Lord directed us--"

"Oh, shucks!"

"And then we thought the time had come to stand up for our rights; thatthe Lord meant us to be free and independent. "

"Secesh, eh?" Follett was amused. "You handful of Mormons--Uncle Samcould have licked you with both hands tied behind him. Why, you crazyfool, he'd have spit on you and drowned every last one of you, oldBrigham Young and all. Fighting the United States! A few dozenwomen-butchers going to do what the whole South couldn't! Well, I _am_danged. "

He mused over it, and for awhile neither spoke. 

"And the nearest you ever got to it was cutting up a lot of women andchildren after you'd cheated the men into giving up their guns!"

The other groaned. 

"There now, that's right--don't you see that hurts worse than killing?"

"But I certainly wish I could have got those other two that took us offinto the sage-brush that night. I didn't guess what for, but the firstthing I knew the other boy was scratching, and kicking, and hollering, and like to have wriggled away, so the cuss that was with me ran up tohelp. Then I heard little John making kind of a squeally noise in histhroat like he was being choked, and that was all I wanted. I legged itinto the sage-brush. I heard them swearing and coming after me, and ranharder, and, what saved me, I tripped and fell down and hurt myself, soI lay still and they lost track of me. I was scared, I promise you that;but after they got off a ways I worked in the other direction by spellstill I got to a little wady, and by sunup they weren't in sight anylonger. When I saw the Indians coming along I wasn't a bit scared. Iknew _they_ weren't Mormons. "

"I used to pray that you might come back and kill me. "

"I used to wish I would grow faster so I could. I was always laying outto do it. "

"But see how I've been punished. Look at me--I'm fifty. I ought to be inmy prime. See how I've been burnt out. "

"But look here, Mister, what about this girl? Do you think you've beendoing right by keeping her here?"

"No, no! it was a wrong as great as the other. "

"Why, they're even passing remarks about her mother, those that don'tknow where you got her, --saying it was some one you never married, because the book shows your first wife was this one-handed woman here. "

"I know, I know it. I meant to let her go back at first, but she tookhold of me, and her father and mother were both dead. "

"She's got a grandfather and grandmother, alive and hearty, back atSpringfield. "

"She is all that has kept me alive these last years. "

"She's got to go back to her people now. She'll want to bad enough whenshe knows about this. "

"About this? Surely you won't tell her--"

"Look here now, why not? What do you expect?"

"But she loves me--she _does_--and she's all I've got. Man, man! don'tpile it all on me just at the last. "

He was off the bed and on his knees before Follett. 

"Don't put it all on me. I've rounded up my back to the rest of it, butkeep this off; please, please don't. Let her always think I'm not bad. Give me that one thing out of all the world. "

He tried to reach the young man's hand, but was pushed roughly away. 

"Don't do that--get up--stop, I tell you. That ain't any way to do. There now! Lie down again. What do you _want_? I'm not going to leavethat ain't any way to do. There now! Lie down again. What do you want?I'm not going to leave that girl with you nor with your infernalChurch. You understand that. "

"Yes, yes, I know it. It was right that you should be the one to comeand take her away. The Lord's vengeance was well thought out. Oh, howmuch more he can make us suffer than you could with your clumsykillings! She must go, but wait--not yet--not yet. Oh, my God! Icouldn't stand it to see her go. It would cut into my heart and leave meto bleed to death. No, no, no--don't! Please don't! Don't pile it all onme at the last. The end has come anyway. Don't do that--don't, don't!"

"There, there, be still now. " There was a rough sort of soothing inFollett's voice, and they were both silent a moment. Then the young manwent on:

"But what do you expect? Suppose everything was left to you, Mister. Come now, you're _trying_ to talk fair. Suppose I leave it to you--onlyyou know you can't keep her. "

"Yes, it can't be, but let her stay a little while; let me see her a fewtimes more; let me know she doesn't think I'm bad; and promise never totell her all of it. Let her always think I was a good man. Do promise methat. I'd do it for you, Follett. It won't hurt you. Let her think I wasa good man. "

"How long do you want her to stay here?--a week, ten days?"

"It will kill me when she goes!"

"Oh, well, two weeks?"

"That's good of you; you're kinder at your age than I was--I shall diewhen she goes. "

"Well, I wouldn't want to live if I were you. "

"Just a little longer, knowing that she cares for me. I've never beenfree to have the love of a woman the way you will some day, though I'vehungered and sickened for it--for a woman who would understand and beclose. But this girl has been the soul of it some way. See here, Follett, let her stay this summer, or until I'm dead. That can't be along time. I've felt the end coming for a year now. Let her stay, believing in me. Let me know to the last that I'm the only man who hasbeen in her heart, who has won her confidence and her love. Oh, I meanfair. You stay with us yourself and watch. Come--but look there, _look_, man!"

"Well, --what?"

"That candle is going out, --we'll be in the dark"--he grasped theother's arm--"in the dark, and now I'm afraid again. Don't leave mehere! It would be an awful death to die. Here's that thing now on thebed behind me. It's trying to get around in front where I'll have to seeit--get another candle. No--don't leave me, --this one will go out whileyou're gone. " All his strength went into the grip on Follett's arm. Thecandle was sputtering in its pool of grease. 

"There, it's gone--now don't, don't leave me. It's trying to crawl overme--I smell the blood--"

"Well--lie down there--it serves you right. There--stop it--I'll staywith you. "

Until dawn Follett sat by the bunk, submitting his arm to the other'sfrenzied grip. From time to time he somewhat awkwardly uttered littlewords that were meant to be soothing, as he would have done to afrightened child. 

When morning brought the gray light into the little room, the hauntedman fell into a doze, and Follett, gently unclasping the hands from hisarm, arose and went softly out. He was cramped from sitting still solong, and chilled, and his arm hurt where the other had gripped it. Hepulled back the blue woollen sleeve and saw above his wrist livid markswhere the nails had sunk into his flesh. 

Then out of the room back of him came a sharp cry, as from one who hadawakened from a dream of terror. He stepped to the door again and lookedin. 

"There now--don't be scared any more. The daylight has come; it's allright--all right--go to sleep now--"

He stood listening until the man he had come to kill was again quiet. Then he went outside and over to the creek back of the willows to bathein the fresh running water. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

_Ruel Follett's Way of Business_

By the time the women were stirring that morning, Follett galloped up onhis horse. Prudence saw him from the doorway as he turned in from themain road, sitting his saddle with apparent carelessness, his arms loosefrom the shoulders, shifting lightly with the horse's motion, as one whohad made the center of gravity his slave. It was a style of riding thatwould have made a scandal in any riding-school; but it seemed to be wellcalculated for the quick halts, sudden swerves, and acute anglesaffected by the yearling steer in his moments of excitement. 

He dismounted, glowing from his bath in the icy water of the creek andfrom the headlong gallop up from Beil Wardle's corral. 

"Good morning, Miss Prudence. "

"Good morning, Mr. Follett. Will you take breakfast with us directly?"

"Yes, and it can't be too directly for me. I'm wolfish. Miss Prudence, your pa and me had some talk last night, and I'm going to bunk in withyou all for awhile, till I get some business fixed up. "

She smiled with unaffected gladness, and he noticed that her freshmorning colour was like that of the little wild roses he had latelybrushed the dew from along the creek. 

"We shall be glad to have you. "

"It's right kind of you; I'm proud to hear you say so. " He had taken offthe saddle with its gay coloured Navajo blanket, and the bridle ofplaited rawhide with its conchos and its silver bit. Now he rubbed theback of his horse where the saddle had been, ending with a slap thatsent the beast off with head down and glad heels in the air. 

"There now, Dandy! don't bury your ribs too deep under that new grass. "

"My father will be glad to have you and Dandy stay a long time. "

He looked at her quickly, and then away before he spoke. It was a lookthat she thought seemed to say more than the words that followed it. 

"Well, the fact is, Miss Prudence, I don't just know how long I'll haveto be in these parts. I got some particular kind of business that'slasting longer than I thought it would. I reckon it's one of those jobswhere you have to let it work itself out while you sit still and watch. Sometimes you get business on hand that seems to know more about itselfthan you do. "

"That's funny. "

"Yes, it's like when they first sent me out on the range. They werecutting out steers from a big bunch, and they put me on a little blueroan to hold the cut. Well, cattle hate to leave the bunch, so thosethey cut out would start to run back, and I had to head and turn them. Idid it so well I was surprised at myself. No sooner did a steer headback than I had the spurs in and was after it, and I'd always get itstopped. I certainly did think I was doing it high, wide, and handsome, like you might say; only once or twice I noticed that the pony stoppedshort when the steer did without my pulling him up, as if he'd seen thestop before I did. And then pretty soon after, a yearling that was justthe--excuse me--that was awful spry at dodging, led me a chase, the ponystopped stiff-legged when the steer did, and while I was leaning one wayhe was off after the steer the other way so quick that I just naturallyslid off. I watched him head and turn that steer all by himself, andthen I learned something. It seemed like he went to sleep when I got onhim. But after that I didn't pay any attention to the cattle. I let himkeep the whole lookout, and all I did was to set in the saddle. He was awise old cow-pony. He taught me a lot about chasing steers. He wasalways after one the minute it left the cut, and he'd know just thesecond it was going to stop and turn; he'd never go a foot farther thanthe steer did, and he'd turn back just as quick. I knew he knew I wasgreen, but I thought the other men didn't, so I just set quiet andplayed off like I was doing it all, when I wasn't really doing a thingbut holding on. He was old, and they didn't use him much except whenthey wanted a rope-horse around the corral. And he'd made a lifelongstudy of steers. He knew them from horns to tail, and by saying nothingand looking wise I thought I'd get the credit of being smart myself. It's kind of that way now. I'm holding tight and looking wise about somebusiness that I ain't what you could call up in. "

He carried the saddle and bridle into the house, and she followed him. They found Lorena annoyed by the indisposition of her husband. 

"Dear me suz! Here's your pa bed-fast again. He's had a bad night andwon't open the door to let me tell him if he needs anything. He says hewon't even take spoon victuals, and he won't get up, and his chest don'thurt him so that ain't it, and I never was any hand to be natteringaround a body, but he hadn't ought to go without his food like he does, when the Father himself has a tabernacle of flesh like you or me--thoughthe Holy Ghost has not--and it's probably mountain fever again, so I'llmake some composition tea and he's just _got_ to take it. Of course Inever had no revelations from the Lord and never did I claim to have, but you don't need the Holy Ghost coming upon you to tell you the plaindoings of common sense. "

Whatever the nature of Mr. Follett's business, his confidence in thesoundness of his attitude toward it was perfect. He showed no sign ofabstraction or anxiety; no sign of aught but a desire to live agreeablyin the present, --a present that included Prudence. When the earlybreakfast was over they went out about the place, through thepeach-orchard and the vineyard still dewy, lingering in the shade of aplum-tree, finding all matters to be of interest. For a time theywatched and laughed at the two calves through the bars of the corral, cavorting feebly on stiffened legs while the bereaved mothers castlanguishing glances at them from outside, conscious that their milk wasbeing basely diverted from the rightful heirs. They picked many blossomsand talked of many things. There was no idle moment from early morninguntil high noon; and yet, though they were very busy, they achievedabsolutely nothing. 

In the afternoon Prudence donned her own sombrero, and they went to thecaņon to fish. From a clump of the yellowish green willows that fringedthe stream, Follett cut a slender wand. To this he fixed a line and atiny hook that he had carried in his hat, and for the rest of thedistance to the caņon's mouth he collected such grasshoppers as lingeredtoo long in his shadow. Entering the caņon, they followed up the stream, clambering over broken rocks, skirting huge boulders, and turning asideto go around a gorge that narrowed the torrent and flung it down in alittle cascade. 

Here and there Follett would flicker his hook over the surface of ashaded pool, poise it at the foot of a ripple, skim it across an eddy, cast it under a shelf of rock or dangle it in some promising nook by thewillow roots, shielding himself meanwhile as best he could; here behinda boulder, there bending a willow in front of him, again lying flat onthe bank, taking care to keep even his shadow off the stream and to gosilently. 

From where she followed, Prudence would see the surface of the waterbreak with a curling gleam of gold, which would give way to a bubblingsplash; then she would see the willow rod bend, see it vibrate andthrill and tremble, the point working slowly over the bank. Then perhapsthe rod would suddenly straighten out for a few seconds only to bendagain, slowly, gently, but mercilessly. Or perhaps the point continuedto come in until it was well over the bank and the end of the line closeby. Then after a frantic splashing on the margin of the stream theconquered trout would be gasping on the bank, a thing of shiveringgleams of blended brown and gold and pink. At first she pitied the fishand regretted the cruelty of man, but Follett had other views. 

"Why, " he said, "a trout is the crudest beast there is. Look at ittrying to swallow this poor little hopper that it thought tumbled intothe water by accident. It just loves to eat its stuff alive. And itisn't particular. It would just as lief eat its own children. Now youtake that one there, and say he was ten thousand times as big as he is, and you were coming along here and your foot slipped and Mr. Trout waslying behind this rock here--_hungry_. Say! What a mouthful you'd make, pink dress and all--he'd have you swallowed in a second, and then he'dsneak back behind the rock there, wiping his mouth, and hoping yourlittle sister or somebody would be along in a minute and fall in too. "

"Ugh!--Why, what horrible little monsters! Let me catch one. "

And so she fished under his direction. They lurked together in theshadows of rocks, while he showed her how to flicker the bait in thecurrent, here holding her hand on the rod, again supporting her whileshe leaned out to cast around a boulder, each feeling the other'sbreathless caution and looking deep into each other's eyes throughseconds of tense silence. 

Such as they were, these were the only results of the lesson; resultsthat left them in easy friendliness toward each other. For the fish werenot deceived by her. He would point out some pool where very probably ahungry trout was lying in wait with his head to the current, and shewould try to skim the lure over it. More than once she saw the fish darttoward it, but never did she quite convince them. Oftener she saw themflit up-stream in fright, like flashes of gray lightning. Yet at lengthshe felt she had learned all that could be taught of the art, and thatfurther failure would mean merely a lack of appetite or spirit in thefish. So she went on alone, while Follett stopped to clean the dozentrout he had caught. 

While she was in sight he watched her, the figure bending lithe as therod she held, moving lightly, now a long, now a short step, halfkneeling to throw the bait into an eddy; then off again with determinedstrides to the next likely pool. When he could no longer see her, hefell to work on his fish, scouring their slime off in the dry sand. 

When she returned, she found him on his back, his hat off, his armsflung out above his head, fast asleep. She sat near by on a smooth rockat the water's edge and waited--without impatience, for this was thefirst time she had been free to look at him quite as she wished to. Shestudied him closely now. He seemed to her like some young power of thatfar strange eastern land. She thought of something she had heard him sayabout Dandy: "He's game and fearless and almighty prompt, --but he's kindand gentle too. " She was pleased to think it described the master aswell as the horse. And she was glad they had been such fine playmatesthe whole day long. When the shadow moved off his face and left it inthe slanting rays of the sun, she broke off a spruce bough and proppedit against the rock to shield him. 

And then she sighed, for they could be playmates only in forgetfulness. He was a Gentile, and by that token wicked and lost; unless--and in thatmoment she flushed, feeling the warmth of a high purpose. 

She would save him. He was worth saving, from his crown of yellow hairto the high heels of his Mexican boots. Strong, clean, gentle, and--shehesitated for a word--interesting--he must be brought into the Kingdom, and she would do it. She looked up again and met his wide-open eyes. 

They both laughed. "I sat up with your pa last night, " he said, ashamedof having slept. "We had some business to palaver about. "

He had tied the fish into a bundle with aspen leaves and damp mossaround them, and now they went back down the stream. In the flush of hernew rôle as missionary she allowed herself to feel a secret motherlytenderness for his immortal soul, letting him help her by hand or armover places where she knew she could have gone much better alone. 

Back at the house they were met by the little bent man, who had tossedupon his bed all day in the fires of his hell. He looked searchingly atthem to be sure that Follett had kept his secret. Then, relieved by thefrank glance of Prudence, he fell to musing on the two, so young, sofresh, so joyous in the world and in each other, seeing them side byside with those little half-felt, timidly implied, or unconsciouslyexpressed confidences of boy and girl; sensing the memory of his ownlost youth's aroma, his youth that had slipped off unrecked in the hazeof his dreams of glory. For this he felt very tenderly toward them, wishing that they were brother and sister and his own. 

That evening, while they sat out of doors, she said, very resolutely:

"I'm going to teach Mr. Follett some truth tomorrow from the Book ofMormon. He says he has never been baptised in any church. "

Follett looked interested and cordial, but her father failed to displaythe enthusiasm she had expected, and seemed even a little embarrassed. 

"You mean well, daughter, but don't be discouraged if he is slow to takeour truth. Perhaps he has a kind of his own as good as ours. A woman Iknew once said to me, ' Going to heaven is like going to mill; if yourwheat is good the miller will never ask how you came. '"

"But, Father, suppose you get to mill and have only chaff?"

"That is the same answer I made, dear. I wish I hadn't. "

Later, when Prudence had gone, the two men made their beds by the firein the big room. Follett was awakened twice by the other putting wood onthe fire; and twice more by his pitiful pleading with something at hisback not to come in front of him. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

_The Mission to a Deserving Gentile_

Not daunted by her father's strange lack of enthusiasm, Prudence arosewith the thought of her self-imposed mission strong upon her. Nor wasshe in any degree cooled from it by a sight of the lost sheep stridingup from the creek, the first level sunrays touching his tousled yellowhair, his face glowing, breathing his full of the wine-like air, andjoyously showing in every move his faultless attunement with all outsidehimself. The frank simplicity of his greeting, his carelessunenlightenment of his own wretched spiritual state, thrilled her likean electric shock with a strange new pity for him. She prayed on thespot for power to send him into the waters of baptism. When the day hadbegun, she lost no time in opening up the truth to him. 

If the young man was at all amazed by the utter wholeness of herconviction that she was stooping from an immense height to pluck himfrom the burning, he succeeded in hiding it. He assumed with her at oncethat she was saved, that he was in the way of being lost, and that hisbehooving was to listen to her meekly. Her very evident alarm for hislost condition, her earnest desire to save him, were what he felt movedto dwell upon, rather than a certain spiritual condescension which hecould not wholly ignore. 

After some general counsel, in the morning, she took out her old, dog-eared "Book of Mormon, " a first edition, printed at Palmyra, NewYork, in 1830, "By Joseph Smith, Jr. , Author and Proprietor, " and ledthe not unworthy Gentile again to the caņon. There in her favourite nookof pines beside the stream, she would share with him as much of theLord's truth as his darkened mind could be made conscious of. 

When at last she was seated on the brown carpet under the pines, herback to a mighty boulder, the sacred record in her lap, and the Gentileprone at her feet, she found it no easy task to begin. First he must bebrought to repent of his sins. She began to wonder what his sins couldbe, and from that drifted into an idle survey of his profile, the lineof his throat as his head lay back on the ground, and the strong brownhand, veined and corded, that curled in repose on his breast. Shechecked herself in this; for it could be profitable neither to her soulnor to his. 

"I'll teach you about the Book of Mormon first, " she ventured. 

"I'd like to hear it, " said Follett, cheerfully. 

"Of course you don't know anything about it. "

"It isn't my fault, though. I've been unfortunate in my bringing up, that's all. " He turned on his side and leaned upon his elbow so he couldlook at her. 

"You see, I've been brought up to believe that Mormons were about as badas Mexicans. And Mexicans are so mean that even coyotes won't touchthem. Down at the big bend on the Santa Fé Trail they shot a Mexican, old Jesus Bavispee, for running off cattle. He was pretty well dried outto begin with, but the coyotes wouldn't have a thing to do with him, andso he just dried up into a mummy. They propped him up by the ford there, and when the cowboys went by they would roll a cigarette and light itand fix it in his mouth. Then they'd pat him on the head and tell himwhat a good old boy he was--_star bueno_--the only good Mexican aboveground--and his face would be grinning all the time, as if it tickledhim. When they find a Mexican rustling cattle they always leave himthere, and they used to tell me that the Mormons were just as bad andought to be fixed that way too. "

"I think that was horrible!"

"Of course it was. They were bigoted. But I'm not. I know right wellthere must be good Mexicans alive, though I never saw one, and I supposeof course there must be--"

"Oh, you're worse than I thought!" she cried. "Come now, do try. I wantyou to be made better, for my sake. " She looked at him with realpleading in her eyes. He dropped back to the ground with a thrill ofsearching religious fervour. 

"Go on, " he said, feelingly. "I'm ready for anything. I have kind of agood feeling running through me already. I do believe you'll be apowerful lot of benefit to me. "

"You must have faith, " she answered, intent on the book. "Now I'll tellyou some things first. "

Had the Gentile been attentive he might have learned that the Book ofMormon is an inspired record of equal authority with the JewishScriptures, containing the revelations of Jehovah to his Israel of thewestern world as the Bible his revelations to Israel in the Orient, --theveritable "stick of Joseph, " that was to be one with "the stick ofJudah;" that the angel Moroni, a messenger from the presence of God, appeared to Joseph Smith, clad in robes of light, and told him wherewere hid the plates of gold on which were graven this fulness of theeverlasting gospel; how that Joseph, after a few years of preparation, was let to take these sacred plates from the hill of Cumorah; also aninstrument called the Urim and Thummim, consisting of two stones set ina silver bow and made fast to a breast-plate, this having been preparedby the hands of God for use in translating the record on the plates; howJoseph, seated behind a curtain and looking through the Urim and Thummimat the characters on the plates, had seen their English equivalents overthem, and dictated these to his amanuensis on the other side of thecurtain. 

He might have learned that when the book was thus translated, the angelMoroni had reclaimed the golden plates and the Urim and Thummim, leaving the sacred deposit of doctrine to be given to the world byJoseph Smith; that the Saviour had subsequently appeared to Joseph; alsoPeter, James, and John, who laid hands upon him, ordained him, gave himthe Holy Ghost, authorised him to baptise for the remission of sins, andto organise the Kingdom of God on earth. 

"Do you understand so far?" she asked. 

"It's fine!" he answered, fervently. "I feel kind of a glow coming overme already. "

She looked at him closely, with a quick suspicion, but found his profileuninforming; at least of anything needful at the moment. 

"Remember you must have faith, " she admonished him, "if you are to winyour inheritance; and not question or doubt or find fault, or--or makefun of anything. It says right here on the title-page, 'And now if therebe faults, it be the mistake of men; wherefore condemn not the things ofGod that ye may be found spotless at the judgment seat of Christ. ' Therenow, remember!"

"Who's finding fault or making fun?" he asked, in tones that seemed tobe pained. 

"Now I think I'd better read you some verses. I don't know just where tobegin. "

"Something about that Urim and Thingamajig, " he suggested. 

"Urim and Thummim, " she corrected--"now listen. "

Again, had the Gentile remained attentive, he might have learned howthe Western Hemisphere was first peopled by the family of one Jared, who, after the confusion of tongues at Babel, set out for the new land;how they grew and multiplied, but waxed sinful, and finally exterminatedone another in fierce battles, in one of which two million men wereslain. 

At this the fallen one sat up. 

"'And it came to pass that when they had all fallen by the sword, saveit were Coriantumr and Shiz, behold Shiz had fainted with loss of blood. And it came to pass when Coriantumr had leaned upon his sword and resteda little, he smote off the head of Shiz. And it came to pass, after hehad smote off the head of Shiz, that Shiz raised up on his hands andfell; and after he had struggled for breath he died. '"

The Gentile was animated now. 

"Say, that Shiz was all right, --raised up on his hands and struggled forbreath after his head was cut off!"

Hereupon she perceived that his interest was become purely carnal. Soshe refused to read of any more battles, though he urged her warmly todo it. She returned to the expedition of Jared, while the lost sheepfell resignedly on his back again. 

"'And the Lord said, Go to work and build after the manner of bargeswhich ye have hitherto built. And it came to pass that the brother ofJared did go to work, and also his brethren, and built barges after themanner which they had built, after the instructions of the Lord. Andthey were small, and they were light upon the water, like unto thelightness of a fowl upon the water; and they were built like unto amanner that they were exceeding tight, even that they would hold waterlike unto a dish; and the bottom thereof was tight like unto a dish, andthe ends thereof were peaked; and the top thereof was tight like unto adish; and the length thereof was the length of a tree; and the doorthereof when it was shut was tight like unto a dish. And it came to passthat the brother of Jared cried unto the Lord, saying--'"

She forgot him a little time, in the reading, until it occurred to herthat he was singularly quiet. She glanced up, and was horrified to seethat he slept. The trials of Jared's brother in building the boats thatwere about the length of a tree, combined with his broken rest of thenight before, had lured him into the dark valley of slumber where hissoul could not lave in the waters of truth. But something in thesleeping face softened her, and she smiled, waiting for him to awaken. He was still only a waymark to the kingdom of folly, but she had made abeginning, and she would persevere. He must be saved into the householdof faith. And indeed it was shameful that such as he should depend fortheir salvation upon a chance meeting with an unskilled girl likeherself. She wondered somewhat indignantly how any able-bodied Saintcould rest in the valley while this man's like were dying in sin forwant of the word. As her eye swept the sleeping figure, she was evenconscious of a little wicked resentment against the great plan itself, which could under any circumstances decree such as he to perdition. 

He opened his eyes after awhile to ask her why she had stopped reading, and when she told him, he declared brazenly that he had merely closedhis eyes to shut out everything but her words. 

"I heard everything, " he insisted, again raised upon his elbows. "' Itwas built like unto a dish, and the length was about as long as atree--'"

"What was?"

"The Urim and Thummim. "

When he saw that she was really distressed, he tried to cheer her. 

"Now don't be discouraged, " he said, as they started home in the lateafternoon. "You can't expect to get me roped and hog-tied the very firstday. There's lots of time, and you'll have to keep at it. When I was akid learning to throw a rope, I used to practise on the skull of a steerthat was nailed to a post. At first it didn't look like I could ever doit. I'd forget to let the rope loose from my left hand, or I wouldn'tmake the loop line out flat around my head, or she'd switch off to oneside, or something. But at last I'd get over the horns every time. ThenI learned to do it running past the post; and after that I'd go downaround the corral and practise on some quiet old heifer, and so on. Theonly thing is--never give up. "

"But what good does it do if you won't pay attention?"

"Oh, well, I can't learn a new religion all at once. It's like riding anew saddle. You put one on and 'drag the cinches up and lash them, andyou think it's going to be fine, and you don't see why it isn't. But youfind out that you have to ride it a little at a time and break it in. Now, you take a fresh start with me to-morrow. "

"Of course I'm going to try. "

"And it isn't as if I was regular out-and-out sinful. My adopted father, Ezra Calkins, _he's_ a good man. But, now I think of it, I don't knowwhat church he ever did belong to. He'll go to any of 'em, --don't makeany difference which, --Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Catholic; he sayshe can get all he's looking for out of any of 'em, and he kind of likesto change off now and then. But he's a good man. He won't hire any onethat cusses too bad or is hard on animals, and he won't even let thefreighters work on Sunday. He brought me up not to drink or gamble, orgo round with low folks and all like that, and not to swear except whenyou're driving cattle and have to. 'Keep clean inside and out, ' he says, 'and then you're safe, ' he says. 'Then tie up to some good church forcompany, if you want to, not thinking bad of the others, just becauseyou didn't happen to join them. Or it don't hurt any to graze a littleon all the ranges, ' he says. And he sent me to public school and broughtme up pretty well, so you can see I'm not plumb wicked. Now after youget me coming, I may be easier than you think. "

She resolved to pray for some special gift to meet his needs. If he werenot really sinful, there was all the more reason why he should be savedinto the Kingdom. The sun went below the western rim of the valley asthey walked, and the cooling air was full of the fresh summer scentsfrom field and garden and orchard. 

Down the road behind them, a half-hour later, swung the tall, loose-jointed figure of Seth Wright, his homespun coat across his arm, his bearskin cap in his hand, his heated brow raised to the coolingbreeze. His ruffle of neck whiskers, virtuously white, looked in thedying sunlight quite as if a halo he had worn was dropped under hischin. A little past the Rae place he met Joel returning from thevillage. 

"Evening, Brother Rae! You ain't looking right tol'lable. "

"It's true, Brother Seth. I've thought lately that I'm standing in theend of my days. "

"Peart up, peart up, man! Look at me, --sixty-eight years come December, never an ache nor a pain, and got all my own teeth. Take another wife. That keeps a man young if he's got jedgment. " He glanced back toward theRae house. 

"And I want to speak to you special about something--this young dandyGentile you're harbouring. Course it's none of my business, but Iwouldn't want one of my girls companying with a Gentile--off up in thatcaņon with him, at that--fishing one day, reading a book the next, walking clost together, --and specially not when Brigham had spoke forher. Oh, I know what I'm talking about! I had my mallet and frow upthere two days now, just beyond the lower dry-fork, splitting out shakesfor my new addition, and I seen 'em with my own eyes. You know whatyoung folks is, Elder. That reminds me--I'm going to seal up thatsandy-haired daughter of Bishop Tanner's next week some time; soon as weget the roof on the new part. But I thought I'd speak to you aboutthis--a word to the wise!"

The Wild Ram of the Mountains passed on, whistling a lively air. Thelittle bent man went with slow, troubled steps to his own home. He didknow the way of young people, and he felt that he was beginning to knowthe way of God. Each day one wall or another of his prison house moved alittle in upon him. In the end it would crush. He had given upeverything but Prudence; and now, for his wicked clinging to her, shewas to be taken from him; if not by Brigham, then by this Gentile, whowould of course love her, and who, if he could not make her love him, would be tempted to alienate her by exposing the crime of the man shebelieved to be her father. The walls were closing about him. When hereached the house, they were sitting on the bench outside. 

"Sometimes, " Follett was saying, "you can't tell at first whether athing is right or wrong. You have to take a long squint, like whenyou're in the woods on a path that ain't been used much lately and hasgot blind. Put your face right close down to it and you can't see a signof a trail; it's the same as the ground both sides, covered with leavesthe same way and not a footprint or anything. But you stand up and lookalong it for fifty feet, and there she is so plain you couldn't miss it. Isn't that so, Mr. Rae?"

Prudence went in, and her father beckoned him a little way from thedoor. 

"You're sure you will never tell her anything about--anything, until I'mgone?--You promised me, you know. "

"Well, didn't I promise you?"

"Not under any circumstances?"

"You don't keep back anything about 'circumstances' when you make apromise, " retorted Mr. Follett. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

_The Gentile Issues an Ultimatum_

June went; July came and went. It was a hot summer below, where thevalley widens to let in Amalon; but up in the little-sunned aisle of BoxCaņon it was always cool. There the pines are straight and reach theirheads far into the sky, each a many-wired harp to the winds that comedown from the high divide. Their music is never still; now a low, ominous rush, soft but mighty, swelling as it nears, the rush of awinged host, rising swiftly to one fearsome crescendo until the listenercowers instinctively as if under the tread of many feet; then dying awayto mutter threats in the distance, and to come again more fiercely; or, it may be, to come with a gentler sweep, as if pacified, even yearning, for the moment. Or, again, the same wind will play quieter airs throughthe green boughs, a chamber-music of silken rustlings, of feathered fansjust stirring, of whisperings, and the sighs of a woman. 

It is cool beneath these pines, and pleasant on the couches of brownneedles that have fallen through all the years. Here, in the softenedlight, amid the resinous pungence of the cones and the green boughs, where the wind above played an endless, solemn accompaniment to thecareless song of the stream below, the maiden Saint tried to save intothe Kingdom a youthful Gentile of whom she discovered almost daily somefresh reason why he should not be lost. The reasons had become so manythat they were now heavy upon her. And yet, while the youth submittedmeekly to her ministry, appearing even to crave it, he was undeniablyeither dense or stubborn--in either case of defective spirituality. 

She was grieved by the number of times he fell asleep when she read fromthe Book of Mormon. The times were many because, though she knew it not, he had come to be, in effect, a night-nurse to the little bent manbelow, who was now living out his days in quiet desperation, and hisnights in a fear of something behind him. Some nights Follett would haveunbroken rest; but oftener he was awakened by the other's grip on hisarm. Then he would get up, put fresh logs on the fire or light a candleand talk with the haunted man until he became quiet again. 

After a night like this it was not improbable that he would fall asleepin very sound of the trumpet of truth as blown, by the grace of God, through the seership of Joseph Smith. Still he had learned much in thecourse of the two months. She had taught him between naps that, forfourteen hundred years, to the time of Joseph Smith, there had been ageneral and awful apostasy from the true faith, so that the world hadbeen without an authorised priesthood. She had also taught him to be illat ease away from her, --to be content when with her, whether they talkedof religion or tried for the big, sulky three-pounder that had his lairat the foot of the upper Cascade. 

Again she had taught him that other churches had wickedly done away withimmersion for the remission of sins and the laying on of hands for thegift of the Holy Ghost; also that there was a peculiar quality in thesatisfaction of being near her that he had never known before, --anastonishing truth that it was fine to think about when he lay where hecould look up at her pretty, serious face. 

He fell asleep at night usually with a mind full of confusion, --infantbaptism--a slender figure in a pink dress or a blue--the Trinity--a firmlittle brown hand pointing the finger of admonition at him--theregeneration of man--hair, dark and lustrous, that fell often half awayfrom what he called its "lashings"--eternal punishment--earnesteyes--the Urim and Thummim, --and a pleading, earnest voice. 

He knew a few things definitely: that Moroni, last of the Nephites, hadhidden up unto the Lord the golden plates in the hill of Cumorah; andthat the girl who taught him was in some mysterious way the embodimentof all the wonderful things he had ever thought he wanted, of all thestrange beauties he had crudely pictured in lonely days along thetrail. Here was something he had supposed could come true only in adifferent world, the kind of world there was in the first book he hadever read, where there had seemed to be no one but good fairies andchildren that were uncommonly deserving. Yet he had never been able toget clearly into his mind the nature and precise office of the HolyGhost; nor had he ever become certain how he could bring this wonderfulyoung woman in closer relationship with himself. He felt that to put outhis hand toward her--except at certain great moments when he could helpher over rough places and feel her golden weight upon his arm--would beto startle her, and then all at once he would awaken from a dream tofind her gone. He thought he would feel very badly then, for probably hewould never be able to get back into the same dream again. So he wascautious, resolving to make the thing last until it came true of itself. 

Once when they followed the stream down, in the late afternoon, he hadmused himself so full of the wonder of her that he almost forgot hiscaution in an amiable impulse to let her share in his feelings. 

"You know, " he began, "you're like as if I had been trying to think of aword I wanted to say--some fine, big word, a fancy one--but I couldn'tthink of it. You know how you can't think of the one you want sometimes, only nothing else will do in place of it, and then all at once, when youquit trying to think, it flashes over you. You're like that. I nevercould think of you, but I just had to because I couldn't get alongwithout it, and then when I didn't expect it you just happenedalong--the word came along and said itself. "

Without speaking she had run ahead to pick the white and blue columbinesand pink roses. And he, alarmed at his boldness, fearing she would nowbe afraid of him, went forward with the deep purpose of showing her alight, careless mood, to convince her that he had meant nothing much. 

To this end he told her lively anecdotes, chaste classics of the rangecalculated to amuse, until they reached the very door of home:--Aboutthe British sailor who, having drifted up the Sacramento valley, waslured to mount a cow-pony known to be hysterical; of how he had declaredwhen they picked him up a moment later, "If I'd been aware of the galeI'd have lashed myself to the rigging. " Then about the other trustingtenderfoot who was directed to insist at the stable in Santa Fé thatthey give him a "bucking broncho;" who was promptly accommodated andspeedily unseated with much flourish, to the wicked glee of those whohad deceived him; and who, when he asked what the horse had done and wastold that he had "bucked, " had thereupon declared gratefully, "Did heonly buck? It's a God's mercy he didn't _broncho_ too, or he'd havekilled me!"

From this he drifted into the anecdote of old Chief Chew-feather, whobecame drunk one day and made a nuisance of himself in the streets ofAtchison; how he had been driven out of town by Marshal Ed Lanigan, who, mounting his pony, chased him a mile or so, meantime emptying bothhis six-shooters at the fleeing brave by way of making the exactsituation clear even to a clouded mind; and how the alarmed and soberedchief had ridden his own pony to a shadow, never drawing rein until hereached the encampment of his tribe at dusk, to report that "the whiteshad broken out at Atchison. "

He noticed, however, that she was affected to even greater constraint ofmanner by these sallies, though he laughed heartily himself at eachclimax as he made it, determined to show her that he had meantabsolutely nothing the moment before. He succeeded so little, that heresolved never again to be reckless, if she would only be her old selfon the morrow. He would not even tell her, as he had meant to, thatlooking into her eyes was like looking off under the spruces, where itwas dark and yet light. 

The little bent man at the house would look at them with a sort ofhelplessness when they came in, sometimes even forgetting the smile hewas wont to wear to hide his hurts. He was impressed anew each time hesaw them with the punishing power of such vengeance as was left to theLord. He could see more than either of the pair before him. The littlewhite-haired boy who had fought him with tooth and nail so long ago, tobe not taken from Prudence, had now come back with the might of a man, even the might of a lover, to take her from him when she had become allof his life. He could think of no sharper revenge upon himself or hispeople. For this cowboy was the spirit incarnate of the oncoming East, thorned on by the Lord to avenge his Church's crime. 

Day after day he would lie consuming the little substance left withinhim in an effort to save himself; to keep by him the child who hadbecome his miser's gold; to keep her respect above all, to have herthink him a good man. Yet never a way would open. Here was the boy withthe man's might, and they were already lovers, for he knew too well themeaning of all those signs which they themselves but half understood. And he became more miserable day by day, for he saw clearly it was onlyhis selfishness that made him suffer. He had met so many tests, and nowhe must fail at the last great sacrifice. 

Then in the night would come the terrors of the dark, the curses andgroans of that always-dying thing behind him. And always now he wouldsee the hand with the silver bracelet at the wrist, flaunting in hisface the shivering strands of gold with the crimson patch at the end. Yet even this, because he could see it, was less fearful than the thinghe could not see, the thing that crawled or lurched relentlessly behindhim, with the snoring sound in its throat, the smell of warm blood andthe horrible dripping of it, whose breath he could feel on his neck andwhose nerveless hands sometimes fumbled weakly at his shoulder, as itstrove to come in front of him. 

He sat sleepless in his chair with candles burning for three nights whenFollett, late in August, went off to meet a messenger from one of hisfather's wagon-trains which, he said, was on its way north. Fearful aswas the meaning of his presence, he was inexpressibly glad when theGentile returned to save him from the terrors of the night. 

And there was now a new goad of remorse. The evening before Follett'sreturn he had found Prudence in tears after a visit to the village. Witha sudden great outrush of pity he had taken her in his arms to comforther, feeling the selfishness strangely washed from his love, as the sobsconvulsed her. 

"Come, come, child--tell your father what it is, " he had urged her, andwhen she became a little quiet she had told him. 

"Oh, Daddy dear--I've just heard such an awful thing, what they talk ofme in Amalon, and of you and my mother--shameful!"

He knew then what was coming; he had wondered indeed, that this talkshould be so long in reaching her; but he waited silently, soothing her. 

"They say, whoever my mother was, you couldn't have married her--thatChristina is your first wife, and the temple records show it. And oh, Daddy, they say it means that I am a child of sin--and shame--and itmade me want to kill myself. "

Another passion of tears and sobs had overwhelmed her and all but brokendown the little man. Yet he controlled himself and soothed her again toquietness. 

"It is all wrong, child, all wrong. You are not a child of sin, but achild of love, as rightly born as any in Amalon. Believe me, and pay noheed to that talk. "

"They have been saying it for years, and I never knew. "

"They say what is not true. "

"You were married to my mother, then?"

He waited too long. She divined, clear though his answer was, that hehad evaded, or was quibbling in some way. 

"You are the daughter of a truly married husband and wife, as trulymarried as were ever any pair. "

And though she knew he had turned her question, she saw that he musthave done it for some great reason of his own, and, even in her grief, she would not pain him by asking another. She could feel that hesuffered as she did, and he seemed, moreover, to be pitifully andstrangely frightened. 

When Follett came riding back that evening he saw that Prudence had beentroubled. The candle-light showed sadness in her dark eyes and in theweighted corners of her mouth. He was moved to take her in his arms andsoothe her as he had seen mothers do with sorry little children. Butinstead of this he questioned her father sharply when their corn-huskmattresses had been put before either side of the fireplace for thenight. The little man told him frankly the cause of her grief. There wassomething compelling in the other's way of asking questions. When thething had been made plain, Follett looked at him indignantly. 

"Do you mean to say you let her go on thinking that about herself?"

"I told her that her father and mother had been rightly married. "

"Didn't she think you were fooling her in some way?"

"I--I can't be sure--"

"She _must_ have, or she wouldn't be so down in the mouth now. Whydidn't you tell her the truth?"

"If only--if only she could go on thinking I am her father--only alittle while--"

Follett spoke with the ring of a sudden resolution in his voice. 

"Now I'll tell you one thing, Mister man, something has got to be doneby _some one_. I can't do it because I'm tied by a promise, and so Ireckon you ought to!"

"Just a little time! Oh, if you only knew how the knives cut me on everyside and the fires burn all through me!"

"Well, think of the knives cutting that girl, --making her believe shehas to be ashamed of her mother. You go to sleep now, and try to liequiet; there ain't anything here to hurt you. But I'll tell you onething, --you've got to toe the mark. "

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

_The Mission Service in Box Caņon is Suspended_

Follett waited with a new eagerness next day for their walk to thecaņon. But Prudence, looking at him with eyes that sorrow was clouding, said that she could not go. He felt a sharp new resentment against theman who was letting her suffer rather than betray himself, and he againresolved that this man must be made to "toe the mark, " to "take hisneedings;" and that, meantime, the deceived girl must be effectuallyreassured. Something must be said to take away the hurt that was tuggingat the corners of her smile to draw them down. To this end he pleadedwith her not to deprive him of the day's lesson, especially as the timewas now at hand when he must leave. And so ably did he word his appealto her sense of duty that at last she consented to go. 

Once in the caņon, however, where the pines had stored away the coolgloom of the night against the day's heat, she was glad she had come. For, better than being alone with that strange, new hurt, was it to haveby her side this friendly young man, who somehow made her feel as if itwere right and safe to lean upon him, --despite his unregeneratecondition. And presently there, in the zeal of saving his soul, she wasalmost happy again. 

Yet he seemed to-day to be impatient under the teaching, and more thanonce she felt that he was on the point of interrupting the lesson tosome end of his own. 

He seemed insufficiently impressed even with the knowledge of astronomydisplayed by the prophets of the Book of Mormon, hearing, without aquiver of interest, that when at Joshua's command the sun seemed tostand still upon Gibeon and the moon in the valley of Ajalon, the realfacts were that the earth merely paused in its revolutions upon its ownaxis and about the sun. Without a question he thus heard Ptolemy refutedand the discoveries of Copernicus anticipated two thousand years beforethat investigator was born. He was indeed deplorably inattentive. Shesuspected, from the quick glances she gave him, that he had nounderstanding at all of what she read. Yet in this she did himinjustice, for now she came to the passage, "They all did swear unto himthat whoso should vary from the assistance which Akish desired shouldlose his head; and whoso should divulge whatsoever thing Akish shouldmake known unto them should lose his life. " This time he sat up. 

"There it is again--they don't mind losing their heads. They were surethe fightingest men--don't you think so now?"

As he went on talking she laid the book down and leaned back againstthe trunk of the big pine under which they sat. He seemed to be sayingsomething that he had been revolving in his mind while she read. 

"I'd hate to have you think you been wasting your time on me thissummer, but I'm afraid I'm just too downright unsanctified. "

"Oh, don't say that!" she cried. 

"But I _have_ to. I reckon I'm like the red-roan sorrel Ed Harris gotfor a pinto from old man Beasley. 'They's two bad things about him, 'says the old man. 'I'll tell you one now and the other after we swap. ''All right, ' says Ed. 'Well, first, he's hard to catch, ' says Beasley. 'That ain't anything, ' says Ed, --'just picket him or hobble him with agood side-line. ' So then they traded. 'And the other thing, ' says theold man, dragging up his cinches on Ed's pinto, --'he ain't any goodafter you get him caught. ' So that's like me. I've been hard to teachall summer, and now I'm not any good after you get me taught. "

"Oh, you are! Don't say you're not. "

"I couldn't ever join your Church--"

Her face became full of alarm. 

"--only for just one thing;--I don't care very much for this having somany wives. "

She was relieved at once. "If _that's_ all--I don't approve of itmyself. You wouldn't have to. "

"Oh, that's what you say _now_"--he spoke with an air of shrewdness andsuspicion, --"but when I got in you'd throw up my duty to me constantabout building up the Kingdom. Oh, I know how it's done! I've heard yourpreachers talk enough. "

"But it _isn't_ necessary. I wouldn't--I don't think it would be at allnice of you. "

He looked at her with warm sympathy. "You poor ignorant girl! Not toknow your own religion! I read in that book there about this marryingbusiness only the other day. Just hand me that one. "

She handed him the "Book of Doctrine and Covenants, " from which she hadoccasionally taught him the Lord's word as revealed to Joseph Smith. Therevelation on celestial marriage had never been among her selections. Heturned to it now. 

"Here, right in the very first of it--" and she heard with a sinkingheart, --"'Therefore prepare thyself to receive and obey the instructionswhich I am about to give unto you; for all those who have this lawrevealed unto them must obey the same; for behold! I reveal unto you anew and everlasting covenant; and if ye abide not that covenant then areye damned, for no one can reject this covenant and be permitted to enterinto my glory. '

"There now!"

"I never read it, " she faltered. 

"And don't you know they preach in the tabernacle that anybody whorejects polygamy will be damned?"

"My father never preached that. "

"Well, he knows it--ask him. "

It was proving to be a hard day for her. 

"Of course, " he continued, "a new member coming into the Church mightthink at first he could get along without so many wives. He might say, 'Well, now, I'll draw a line in this marrying business. I'll never takemore than two or three wives or maybe four. ' He might even be so takenup with one young lady that he'd say, 'I won't even marry a secondwife--not for some time yet, that is--not for two or three years, tillshe begins to get kind of houseworn, ' But then after he's taken hissecond, the others would come easy. Say he marries, first time, a tall, slim, dark girl, "--he looked at her musingly while she gazed intentlyinto the stream in front of them. 

"--and then say he meets a little chit of a thing, kind of heavy-setlike, with this light yellow hair and pretty light blue eyes, that hesaw one Sunday at church--"

Her dark face was flushing now in pained wonder. 

"--why then it's so easy to keep on and marry others, with the preachersall preaching it from the pulpit. "

"But you wouldn't have to. "

"No, you wouldn't have to marry any one after the second--after thislittle blonde--but you'd have to marry her because it says here that you'shall abide the law or ye shall be damned, saith the Lord God. '"

He pulled himself along the ground closer to her, and went on again inwhat seemed to be an extremity of doubt. 

"Now I don't want to be lost, and yet I don't want to have a whole lotof wives like Brigham or that old coot we see so often on the road. Sowhat am I going to do? I might think I'd get along with three or four, but you never can tell what religion will do to a man when he reallygets it. "

He reached for her small brown hand that still held the Book of Mormonopen on her lap, and took it in both his own. He went on, appealingly:

"Now you try to tell me right--like as if I was your own brother--tellme as a sister. Try to put yourself in the place of the girl I'd marryfirst--no, don't; it seems more like your sister if I hold it thisway--and try to think how she'd feel when I brought home my second. Would that be doing square by her? Wouldn't it sort of get her on thebark? But if I join your Church and don't do that, I might as well beone of those low-down Freewill Baptists or Episcopals. Come now, tell metrue, letting on that you're my sister. "

She had not looked at him since he began, nor did she now. 

"Oh, I don't know--I don't _know_--it's all so mixed! I thought youcould be saved without that. "

"There's the word of God against me. "

"I wouldn't want you to marry that way, --if I were your sister. "

"That's right now, try to feel like a sister. You wouldn't want me tohave as many wives as those old codgers down there below, would you?"

"No--I'm sure you shouldn't have but one. Oh, you couldn't marry morethan one, could you?" She turned her eyes for the first time upon him, and he saw that some inward warmth seemed to be melting them. 

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint you if you were my sister, but there's theword of the Lord--"

"Oh, but could you _anyway_, even if you didn't have a sister, and therewas no one but _her_ to think of?"

He appeared to debate with himself cautiously. 

"Well, now, I must say your teaching has taken a powerful hold on methis summer--" he reached under her arm and caught her other hand. "You've been like a sister to me and made me think about these thingspretty deep and serious. I don't know if I could get what you've taughtme out of my mind or not. "

"But how could you _ever_ marry another wife?"

"Well, a man don't like to think he's going to the bad place when hedies, all on account of not marrying a few more times. It sort of takesthe ambition all out of him. "

"Oh, it couldn't be right!"

"Well now, I'll do as you say. Do I forget all these things you've beenteaching me, and settle down with one wife, --or do I come into theKingdom and lash the cinches of my glory good and plenty by marryingwhenever I get time to build a new end on the house, like old manWright does?"

She was silent. 

"Like a sister would tell a brother, " he urged, with a tighter pressureof her two hands. But this seemed to recall another trouble to her mind. 

"I--I'm not fit to be your sister--don't talk of it--you don't know--"Her voice broke, and he had to release her hand. Whereupon he put hisown back up against the pine-tree, reached his arm about her, and hadher head upon his shoulder. 

"There, there now!"

"But you don't know. "

"Well, I _do_ know--so just you straighten out that face. I do know, Itell you. Now don't cry and I'll fix it all right, I promise you. "

"But you don't even know what the trouble is. "

"I do--it's about your father and mother--when they were married. "

"How did you know?"

"I can't tell you now, but I will soon. Look here, you can believe whatI tell you, can't you?"

"Yes, I can do that. "

"Well, then, you listen. Your father and mother were married in theright way, and there wasn't a single bit of crookedness about it. Iwouldn't tell you if I didn't know and couldn't prove it to you in alittle while. Say, there's one of our wagon-trains coming along heretoward Salt Lake next Monday. It's coming out of its way on purpose topick me up. I'll promise to have it proved to you by that time. Now, isthat fair? Can you believe me?"

She looked up at him, her face bright again. 

"Oh, I _do_ believe you! You don't know how glad you make me. It was anawful thing--oh, you are a dear"--and full upon his lips she kissed theastounded young man, holding him fast with an arm about his neck. "You've made me all over new--I was feeling so wretched--and of course Ican't see how you know anything about it, but I know you are telling thetruth. " Again she kissed him with the utmost cordiality. Then she stoodup to arrange her hair, her face full of the joy of this assurance. Theyoung man saw that she had forgotten both him and his religiousperplexities, and he did not wish her to be entirely divested of concernfor him at this moment. 

"But how about me? Here I am, lost if I do and lost if I don't. Youbetter sit down here again and see if there isn't some way I can getthat crown of glory. "

She sat down by him, instantly sobered from her own joy, and calmly gavehim a hand to hold. 

"Well, I'll tell you, " she said, frankly. "You wait awhile. Don't doanything right away. I'll have to ask father. " And then as he reachedover to pick up the Book of Mormon, --"No, let's not read any moreto-day. Let's sit a little while and only think about things. " She wasso free from embarrassment that he began to doubt if he had been so verydeeply clever, after all, in suggesting the relationship between them. But after she had mused awhile, she seemed to perceive for the firsttime that he was very earnestly holding both of her hands. She blushed, and suddenly withdrew them. Whereat he was more pleased than when shehad passively let them lie. He approached the matter of salvation forhimself once more. 

"Of course I can wait awhile for you to find out the rights of thisthing, but I'm afraid I can't be baptised even if you tell me tobe--even if you want me to obey the Lord and marry some pretty littlelight-complected, yellow-haired thing afterwards--after I'd married myfirst wife. Fact is, I don't believe I could. Probably I'd care so muchfor the first one that I'd have blinders on for all the other women inthe world. She'd have me tied down with the red ribbon in her hair"--hetouched the red ribbon in her own, by way of illustration--"just like Ican tie the biggest steer you ever saw with that little silk rag ofmine--hold him, two hind legs and one fore, so he can't budge an inch. I'd just like to see some little, short, kind of plump, prettyyellow-haired thing come between us. "

For an instant, she looked such warm, almost indignant approval that hebelieved she was about to express an opinion of her own in the matter, but she stayed silent, looking away instead with a little movement ofhaving swallowed something. 

"And you, too, if you were my sister, do you think I'd want you marriedto a man who'd begin to look around for some one else as soon as he gotyou? No, sir--you deserve some decent young fellow who'd love you allto pieces day in and day out and never so much as look at this littleyellow-haired girl--even if she was almost as pretty as you. "

But she was not to be led into rendering any hasty decision which mightaffect his eternal salvation. Moreover, she was embarrassed anddisturbed. 

"We must go, " she said, rising before he could help her. When they hadpicked their way down to the mouth of the caņon, he walking behind her, she turned back and said, "Of course you could marry that littleyellow-haired girl with the blue eyes first, the one you're thinking somuch about--the little short, fat thing with a doll-baby face--"

But he only answered, "Oh, well, if you get me into your Church itwouldn't make a bit of difference whether I took her first or second. "

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

_A Revelation Concerning the True Order of Marriage_

While matters of theology and consanguinity were being debated in BoxCaņon, the little bent man down in the first house to the left, in hisstruggle to free himself, was tightening the meshes of his fate abouthim. In his harried mind he had formed one great resolution. He believedthat a revelation had come to him. It seemed to press upon him as theculmination of all the days of his distress. He could see now that hehad felt it years before, when he first met the wife of Elder Tench, thegaunt, gray woman, toiling along the dusty road; and again when he hadfound the imbecile boy turning upon his tormentors. A hundred times ithad quickened within him. And it had gained in force steadily, untilto-day, when it was overwhelming him. Now that his flesh was wasted, itseemed that his spirit could see far. 

His great discovery was that the revelation upon celestial marriagegiven to Joseph Smith had been "from beneath, "--a trick of Satan tocorrupt them. Not only did it flatly contradict earlier revelations, butthe very Book of Mormon itself declared again and again that polygamywas wickedness. Joseph had been duped by the powers of darkness, and allIsrael had sinned in consequence. Upon the golden plates delivered tohim, concerning the divine source of which there could be no doubt, thisorder of marriage had been repeatedly condemned and forbidden. But as tothe revelation which sanctioned it there could rightly be doubt; for hadnot Joseph himself once warned them that "some revelations are from God, some from men, and some from the Devil. " Either the Book of Mormon wasnot inspired, or the revelation was not from God, since they werefatally in opposition. 

It came to him with the effect of a blinding light, yet seemed to endowhim with a new vigour, so that he felt strong and eager to be up, tospread his truth abroad. Some remnant of that old fire of inspirationflamed up within him as he lay on the hard bed in his little room, withthe summer scents floating in and the out-of-doors sounds, --a woman'svoice calling a child afar off, the lowing of cattle, the rhythmicwhetting of a scythe-blade, the echoing strokes of an axe, the mellowfluting of a robin, --all coming to him a little muted, as if he were nolonger in the world. 

He raised upon his elbow, glowing with the flush of old memories whenhis heart had been perfect with the Lord; when he had wrought miraclesin the face of the people; when he had besought Heaven fearlessly forsigns of its favour; when he had dreamed of being a pillar of fire tohis people in their march across the desert, and another Lion of theLord to fight their just battles. The little bent man of sorrows hadagain become the Lute of the Holy Ghost. 

He knew it must be a true revelation. And, while he might not now havestrength to preach it as it should be preached, there were other mightymen to spread its tidings. Even his simple announcement of it must worka revolution. Others would see it when he had once declared it. Otherswould spread it with power until the Saints were again become a purifiedpeople. But he would have been the prophet, seer, and revelator, to whomthe truth was given, and so his suffering would not have been in vain;perhaps that suffering had been ordained to the end that his visionshould be cleared for this truth. 

He remembered the day was Saturday, and he began at once to word thephrases in which he would tell his revelation on the morrow. He knewthat this must be done tactfully, in spite of its divine source. Itwould be a momentous thing to the people and to the priesthood. It wasconceivable, indeed, that members of the latter might dispute it andargue with him, or even denounce him for a heretic. But only at first;the thing was too simply true to be long questioned. In any event, hisduty was plain; with righteousness as the girdle of his loins he mustgo forth on the morrow and magnify his office in the sight of Heaven. 

When the decision had been taken he lay in an ecstasy of anticipation, feeling new pulses in all his frame and the blood warm in his face. Itwould mean a new dawn for Israel. There would, however, be a vexingdifficulty in the matter of the present wives of the Saints. The song ofLorena came in to him now:--

 "I was riding out this morning With my cousin by my side; She was telling her intentions For to soon become a bride. "

The accent fell upon the first and third syllables with an upward surgeof melody that seemed to make the house vibrate. He thought perhaps someof the Saints would find it well to put away all but the one rightfulwife, making due provision, of course, for their support. Lorena'snever-ending ballad came like the horns that blew before the walls ofJericho, bringing down the ramparts of his old belief. Some of theSaints would doubtless put away the false wives as a penance. He mighteven bring himself to do it, since, in the light of his wondrous newrevelation, it would be obeying the Lord's will. 

When Prudence came softly in to him, like a cool little breath offragrance from the caņon, he smiled up to her with a fulness of delightshe had never seen in his face before. 

There was a new light in her own eyes, new decisions presaged, a newdesire imperfectly suppressed. He stroked her hand as she sat beside himon the bed, wondering if she had at last learned her own secret. But shebecame grave, and was diverted from her own affairs when she observedhim more closely. 

"Why, you're sick--you're burning up with fever! You must be covered upat once and have sage tea. "

He laughed at her, a free, full laugh, such as she had never heard fromhim in all the years. 

"It's no fever, child. It's new life come to me. I'm strong again. Myface burns, but it must be the fire of health. I have a work given tome--God has not wholly put me aside. "

"But I believe you _are_ sick. Your hands are so hot, and your eyes lookso unnatural. You must let me--"

"Now, now--haven't I learned to tell sickness from the glow of a holypurpose?"

"You're sure you are well?"

"Better than for fifteen years. "

She let herself be convinced for the moment. 

"Then please tell me something. Must a man who comes into our faith, ifhe is baptised rightly, also marry more than one wife if he is to besaved? Can't he be sure of his glory with one if he loves her--oh, very, _very_ much?"

He was moved at first to answer her out of the fulness of his heart, telling her of the wonderful new revelation. But there came the impulseto guard it jealously in his own breast a little longer, to glorysecretly in it; half-fearful, too, that some virtue would go out of itshould he impart it too soon to another. 

"Why do you want to know?"

"Ruel Follett would join our Church if he didn't have to marry more thanone wife. If he loved some one very much, I'm afraid he would find ithard to marry another girl--oh, he simply _couldn't_--no matter howpretty she was. He never could do it. " Here she pulled one of thescarlet ribbons from her broad hat. She gave a little exclamation ofrelief as if she had really meant to detach it. 

"Tell him to wait a little. "

"That's what I did tell him, but it seems hardly right to let him joinbelieving that is necessary. I think some one ought to find out that onewife is all God wants a man ever to have, and to tell Mr. Follett sovery plainly. His mind is really open to truth, and you know he might dosomething reckless--he shouldn't be made to wait too long. "

"Tell him to wait till to-morrow. I shall speak of this in meeting then. It will be all right--all right, dear. Everything will be all right!"

"Only I am sure you are sick in spite of what you say. I know how toprove it, too--can you eat?"

"I'm too busy thinking of great things to be hungry. "

"There--you would be hungry if you were well. "

"I can't tell you how well I am, and as for food--our Elder Brother hasbeen feeding me all day with the bread of truth. Such wonderful newthings the Lord has shown me!"

"But you must not get up. Lie still and we will nurse you. "

He refused the food she brought him, and refused Lorena's sage tea. Hewas not to be cajoled into treating as sickness the first real happinesshe had felt for years. He lay still until his little room grew shadowyin the dusk, filled with a great reviving hope that the Lord had raiseda new prophet to lead Israel out of bondage. 

As the night fell, however, the shadows of the room began to trouble himas of old, and he found himself growing hotter and hotter until heburned and gasped and the room seemed about to stifle him. He arose fromthe bed, wondering that his feet should be so heavy and clumsy, and hisknees so weak, when he felt otherwise so strong. His head, too, feltlarge, and there rang in his ears a singing of incessant quick beats. Hemade his way to the door, where he heard the voices of Prudence andFollett. It was good to feel the cool night air upon his hot face, andhe reassured Prudence, who chided him for leaving his bed. 

"When you hear me discourse tomorrow you will see how wrong you wereabout my being sick, " he said. But she saw that he supported himselfcarefully from the doorway along the wall to the near-by chair, andthat he sank into it with every sign of weakness. His eyes, however, were aglow with his secret, and he sat nodding his head over it in alively way. "Brigham was right, " he said, "when he declared that any ofus might receive revelations from on high; even the least of us--only weare apt to be deaf to the whispered words until the Lord has scourgedus. I have been deaf a long time, but my ears are at last unstopped--whois it coming, dear?"

A tall figure, vague in the dusk, was walking briskly up the path thatled in from the road. It proved to be the Wild Ram of the Mountains, freshened by the look of rectitude that the razor gave to his face eachSaturday night. 

"Evening, Brother Rae--evening, you young folks. Thank you, I will takea chair. You feeling a bit more able than usual, Brother Rae?"

"Much better, Brother Seth. I shall be at meeting tomorrow. "

"Glad to hear it, that's right good--you ain't been out for so long. Andwe want to have a rousing time, too. "

"Only we're afraid he has a fever instead of being so well, " saidPrudence. "He hasn't eaten a thing all day. "

"Well, he never did overeat himself, that I knew of, " said the Bishop. "Not eating ain't any sign with him. Now it would be with me. I neverbelieved in fasting the flesh. The Spirit of the Lord ain't ever soclose to me as after I've had a good meal of victuals, --meat andpotatoes and plenty of good sop and a couple of pieces of pie. Then Ican unbutton my vest and jest set and set and hear the promptings of theLord God of Hosts. I know some men ain't that way, but then's the timewhen I beautify _my_ inheritance in Zion the purtiest. And I'm mightyglad Brother Joel can turn out to-morrow. Of course you heard the news?"

"What news, Brother Seth?"

"Brother Brigham gets here at eleven o'clock from New Harmony. "

"Brother Brigham _coming_?"

"We're getting the bowery ready down in the square tonight so's to haveservices out of doors. "

"He's coming to-morrow?" The words came from both Prudence and herfather. 

"Of course he's coming. Ben Hadley brought word over. They'll have aturkey dinner at Beil Wardle's house and then services at two. "

The flushed little man with the revelation felt himself grow suddenlycold. He had thought it would be easy to launch his new truth in Amalonand let the news be carried to Brigham. To get up in the very presenceof him, in the full gaze of those cold blue eyes, was another matter. 

"But it's early for him. He doesn't usually come until after Conference, after it's got cooler. "

The Bishop took on the air of a man who does not care to tell quite allthat he knows. 

"Yes; I suspicion some one's been sending tales to him about a certainyoung woman's carryings on down here. "

He looked sharply at Prudence, who looked at the ground and feltgrateful for the dusk. Follett looked hard at them both and was plainlyinterested. The Bishop spoke again. 

"I ain't got no license to say so, but having done that young womanproud by engaging himself to marry her, he might 'a' got annoyed if anyone had 'a' told him she was being waited on by a handsome youngGentile, gallivantin' off to caņons day after day--holding hands, too, more than once. Oh, I ain't _saying_ anything. Young blood is youngblood; mine ain't always been old, and I never blamed the young, but, ofcourse, the needs of the Kingdom is a different matter. Well, I'll haveto be getting along now. We're going to put up some of the people at ourhouse, and I've got to fix to bed mother down in the wagon-box again, Ireckon. I'll say you'll be with us to-morrow, then, Brother Joel?"

The little bent man's voice had lost much of its life. 

"Yes, Brother Seth, if I'm able. "

"Well, I hope you are. " He arose and looked at the sky. "Looks as if wemight have some falling weather. They say it's been moisting quite a bitup Cedar way. Well, --good night, all!"

When he was gone the matter of his visit was not referred to. With someconstraint they talked a little while of other things. But as soon asthe two men were alone for the night, Follett turned to him, almostfiercely. 

"Say, now, what did that old goat-whiskered loon mean by his hintingsabout Prudence?"

The little man was troubled. 

"Well, the fact is, Brigham has meant to marry her. "

"You don't mean you'd have let him? Say, I'd hate to feel sorry forholding off on you like I have!"

"No, no, don't think that of me. "

"Well, what were you going to do?"

"I hardly knew. "

"You better find out. "

"I know it--I did find out, to-day. I know, and it will be all right. Trust me. I lost my faith for a moment just now when I heard BrotherBrigham was coming to-morrow; but I see how it is, --the Lord has wishedto prove me. Now there is all the more reason why I should not flinch. You will see that I shall make it all right to-morrow. "

"Well, the time's about up. I've been here over two months now, justbecause you were so kind of helpless. And one of our wagon-trains willbe along here about next Monday. Say, she wouldn't ever have marriedhim, would she?"

"No, she refused at once; she refused to consider it at all. "

He was burning again with his fever, and there was something in hiseagerness that seemed to overcome Follett's indignation. 

"Well, let it go till to-morrow, then. And you try to get some restnow. That's what I'm going to do. "

But the little bent man, flushed though he was, felt cold from the nightair, and, piling more logs on the fire, he drew his chair close in frontof it. 

As often as Follett wakened through the night he saw him sitting there, sometimes reading what looked like a little old Bible, sometimesspeaking aloud as if seeking to memorise a passage. 

The last Follett remembered to have heard was something he seemed to bereading from the little book, --"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall notwant. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me besidethe still waters. "

He fell asleep again with a feeling of pity for the little man. 

CHAPTER XL. 

_A Procession, a Pursuit, and a Capture_

Follett awoke to find himself superfluous. The women were rushingexcitedly through their housework in order to be at hand when theprocession of Brigham and his suite should march in. Of Joel Rae hecaught but a glimpse through the door of his little room, the faceflushed that had a long time been sallow and bloodless. When the doorhad closed he could hear the voice, now strong again. He seemed to be, as during the night, rehearsing something he meant to say. And later itwas plain that he prayed, though he heard nothing more than the highpleading of the voice. 

Follett would not have minded these things, but Prudence was gone and noone could tell him where. From Christina of the rock-bound speech heblasted the items that she was wearing "a dress all new" and "ared-ribbon hat. " Lorena, too, with all her willingness of speech, knewnothing definite. 

"All I know is she fixed herself up like she was going to an eveningball or party. I wish to the lands I'd kep' my complexion the way shedoes hern. And she had on her best lawn that her pa got her in SaltLake, the one with the little blue figures in it. She does look sweeterthan honey on a rag in a store dress, and that Leghorn hat with the redbow, though what she wanted to start so early for I don't know. Theprocession can't be along yet, but she might have gone down to marchwith them, or to help decorate the bowery. I know when I was her age Iwas always a great hand for getting ready long before any one come, whenmy mother was making a company for me, putting up my waterfall andcurling my beau-catchers on a hot pipe-stem. But, land! I ain't no timeto talk with _you_. "

Down at the main road he hesitated. To the right he could see where thegreen mouth of the caņon invited; but to the left lay the village wherePrudence doubtless was. He would find her and bring her away. ForFollett had determined to toe the mark himself now. 

In the one street of Amalon there was the usual Sabbath hush; but abovethis was an air of dignified festivity. The village in its Sunday besthomespun, with here and there a suit of store goods, was holding itsbreath. In the bowery a few workers, under the supervision of BishopWright, were adding the last touches of decoration. It was a spot ofpleasant green in the dusty square--a roof of spruce boughs, withevergreens and flowers garnishing the posts, and a bank of flowers andfruit back of the speaker's stand. 

But Prudence was not there, and he wondered with dismay if she hadjoined the rest of the village and gone out to meet the Prophet. He hadseen the last of them going along the dusty road to the north, men andwomen and little children, hot, excited, and eager. It did not seem likeher to be among them, and yet except for those before him working aboutthe bowery, and a few mothers with children in arms, the town wasapparently deserted. 

But even as he waited, he heard the winding alarm of a bugle, and saw ascurrying of backs in the dusty haze far up the road. The Wild Ram ofthe Mountains gave a few hurried commands for the very final touches, called off his force from the now completed bowery, and a solitaryGentile was for the moment left to greet the oncoming procession. 

Presently, however, from the dark interiors of the log houses came themothers with babies, a few aged sires too feeble for the march, and suchof the remaining housewives as could leave for a little time the dinnersthey were cooking. They made but a thin line along the little street, and Follett saw at once that Prudence was not among them. He must waitto see if she marched in the approaching procession. 

Already the mounted escort was coming into view, four abreast, captainedby Elder Wardle, who, with a sash of red and gold slanted across hisbreast, was riding nervously, as if his seat could be kept only by themost skillful horsemanship, a white mule that he was known to treat withfearless disrespect on days that were not great. Behind the martialWardle was Peter Peterson, Peter Long Peterson, and Peter Long PeterPeterson, the most martial looking men in Amalon after their leader; andthen came a few more fours of proudly mounted Saints. 

After this escort, separated by an interval that would let the dustsettle a little, came the body of the procession. First a carriagecontaining the Prophet, portly, strong-faced, easy of manner, as becamea giant who felt kindly in his might. By his side was his wife, Amelia, the reigning favourite, who could play the piano and sing "Fair Bingenon the Rhine" with a dash that was said to be superb. Behind this floatof honour came other carriages, bearing the Prophet's Counsellors, theApostles, Chief Bishop, Bishops generally, Elders, Priests, and Deacons, each taking precedence near the Prophet's carriage by seniority of rankor ordination. Along the line of carriages were outriders, bearingproudly aloft banners upon which suitable devices were printed:

"God bless Brigham Young!"

"Hail to Zion's Chief!"

"The Lion of the Lord. "

"Welcome to our Mouthpiece of God!"

Behind the last carriage came the citizens in procession, eachdetachment with its banner. The elderly brethren stepped briskly under"Fathers in Israel"; the elderly sisters gazed proudly aloft to "Mothersin Israel. " Then came a company of young men whose banner announced themas "Defenders of Zion. " They were followed by a company of maidens ledby Matilda Wright, striving to be not too much elated, and whose bannerbore the inscription, "Daughters of Zion. " At the last came thechildren, openly set up by the occasion, and big-eyed with importance, the boy who carried their banner, "The Hope of Israel, " going withwonderful rigidity, casting not so much as an eye either to right orleft. 

But Prudence had not been in this triumphal column, nor was she amongany of the women who stood with children in their arms, or who rushed tothe doors with sleeves rolled up and a long spoon or fork in theirhands. 

Then all at once a great inspiration came to Follett. When the lastdusty little white-dressed girl had trudged solemnly by, and the head ofthe procession was already winding down the lane that led to ElderWardle's place, he called himself a fool and turned back. He walked likea man who has suddenly remembered that which he should not haveforgotten. And yet he had remembered nothing at all. He had only thoughtof a possibility, but one that became more plausible with every step;especially when he reached the Rae house and found it deserted. Wheneverhe thought of his stupidity, which was every score of steps, he wouldbreak into a little trot that made the willows along the creek on hisleft run into a yellowish green blur. 

He was breathing hard by the time he had made the last ascent and stoodin the cool shade of the comforting pines. He waited until his pulsebecame slower, wiping his forehead with the blue neckerchief whichPrudence had suggested that she liked to see him wear in place of theone of scarlet. When he had cooled and calmed himself a little, hestepped lightly on. Around the big rock he went, over the "down timber"beyond it, up over the rise down which the waters tumbled, and thensharply to the right where their nook was, a call to her already on hislips. 

But she was not there. He could see the place at a glance. Nothing belowmet his eye but the straight red trunks of the pines and the browncarpet beneath them. A jay posed his deep shining blue on a cluster ofscarlet sumac, and, cocking his crested head, screamed at him mockingly. The caņon's cool breath fanned him and the pine-tops sighed and sang. Atfirst he was disheartened; but then his eyes caught a gleam of white andred under the pine, touched to movement by a low-swinging breeze. 

It was her hat swaying where she had hung it on a broken bough of thetree she liked to lean against. And there was her book; not the book ofMormon, but a secular, frivolous thing called "Leaflets of Memory, anIlluminated Annual for the Year 1847. " It was lying on its face, open atthe sentimental tale of "Anastasia. " He put it down where she had leftit. The caņon was narrow and she would hardly leave the waterside forthe steep trail. She would be at the upper cascade or in the little parkabove it, or somewhere between. He crossed the stream, and there in thedamp sand was the print of a small heel where she had made a long stepfrom the last stone. He began to hurry again, clambering recklessly overboulders, or through the underbrush where the sides of the stream weresteep. When the upper cascade came in sight his heart leaped, for therehe caught the fleeting shimmer of a skirt and the gleam of a dark head. 

He hurried on, and after a moment's climb had her in full view, standingon the ledge below which the big trout lay. There he saw her turn sothat he would have sworn she looked at him. It seemed impossible thatshe had not seen him; but to his surprise she at once started up thestream, swiftly footing over the rough way, now a little step, now afree leap, grasping a willow to pull herself up an incline, thendisappearing around a clump of cedars. 

He redoubled his speed over the rocks. When she next came into view, still far ahead, he shouted long and loud. It was almost certain thatshe must hear; and yet she made no sign. She seemed even to speed aheadthe faster for his hail. 

Again he sprang forward to cover the distance between them, and again heshouted when the next view of her showed that he was gaining. This timehe was sure she heard; but she did not look back, and she very plainlyincreased her speed. 

For an instant he stood aghast at this discovery; then he laughed. 

"Well if you _want_ a race, you'll get it!"

He was off again along the rough bed of the stream. He shouted no more, but slowly increased the gain he had made upon her. Instead of losingtime by climbing up over the bank, he splashed through the water at twoplaces where the little stream was wide and shallow. Then at last he sawthat he was closing in upon her. Soon he was near enough to see that shealso knew it. 

He began at that moment an extended course of marvelling at the ways ofwoman. For now she had reached the edge of the little open park, and wasplacidly seating herself on a fallen tree in the grove of quakingaspens. He could not understand this change of manner. And when hereached the opening she again astounded him by greeting him with everymanifestation of surprise, from the first nervous start to the pushingup of her dark brows. 

"Why, " she began, "how did you ever think of coming _here_?"

But he had twice hurried fruitlessly this hot morning and he was notagain to be baffled. As he advanced toward her, she regarded him withsome apprehension until he stopped a safe six feet away. She had notedcertain lines of determination in his face. 

"Now what's the use of pretending?--what did you run for?"

"I?--_run_?"

Again the curving black brows went up in frank surprise. 

"Yes, --you _run_!"

He took a threatening step forward, and the brows promptly fell toserious intentness of his face. 

"What did you do it for?"

She stood up. "What did I do it for?--what did I do _what_ for?"

But his eyes were searching her and she had to lower her own. Then shelooked up again, and laughed nervously. 

"I--I don't know--I couldn't help it. " Again she laughed. "And why didyou run? How did you think of coming here?"

"I'll tell you how, now I've caught you. " He started toward her, but shewas quickly backing away into the opening of the little park, stilllaughing. 

"Look out for that blow-down back of you!" he called. In the second thatshe halted to turn and discover his trick he had caught her by the arm. 

"There--I caught you fair--_now_ what did you run for?"

"I couldn't help it. " Her face was crimson. His own was pale under thetan. They could hear the beating of both their hearts. But with hiscapture made so boldly he was dumb, knowing not what to say. 

The faintest pulling of the imprisoned arm aroused him. 

"I'd 'a' followed you till Christmas come if you'd kept on. Clear overthe divide and over the whole creation. I never _would_ have given youup. I'm never _going_ to. "

He caught her other wrist and sought to draw her to him. 

With head down she came, slowly, yielding yet resisting, with littleshudders of terror that was yet a strange delight, with eyes that daredgive him but one quick little look, half pleading and half fear. Butthen after a few tense seconds her struggles were all housed far withinhis arms; there was no longer play for the faintest of them; and she wasstrained until she felt her heart rush out to him as she had once feltit go to her dream of a single love, --with the utter abandon of thefalling water beside them. 

On the opposite side of the park across the half-acre of wavingbunch-grass, a many-pronged old buck in his thin red summer coat lay atthe edge of the quaking aspens, sunning the velvet of his tender newhorns to harden them against approaching combats. He had shrewdly notedthat the first comer did not see him; but this second was a creature ofaction in whose presence it were ill-advised to linger. Noiselessly hishindquarters raised from the ground, and then with a snort ofindignation and a mighty, crashing rush he was off through the trees andup the hill. Doubtless the beast cherished a delusion of clever escapefrom a dangerous foe; but neither of the pair standing so near saw orheard him or would have been conscious of him even had he led past themin wild flight the biggest herd it had ever been his lot to domineer. For these two were lost to all but the wonder of the moment, pushingfearfully on into the glory and sweetness of it. 

His voice came to her in a dull murmur, and the sound of the runningwater came, again like the muffled tinkling of little silver bells inthe distance. Both his arms were strong about her, and now her own handsrose in rebellion to meet where the kerchief was knotted at the back ofhis neck, quite as the hands of the other woman had rebelliously flungdown the scarf from the balcony. Then the brim of his hat came down overher hair, and her lips felt his kiss. 

They stood so a long time, it seemed to them, in the high grass, amidthe white-barked quaking aspens, while a little wind from the dark pinesat their side, lowered now to a yearning softness, played over them. They were aroused at last by a squirrel that ran half-way down the trunkof a near-by spruce to bark indignantly at them, believing they menacedhis winter's store of spruce cones piled at the foot of the tree. Withrattle after rattle his alarm came, until he had the satisfaction ofnoting an effect. 

The young man put the girl away from him to look upon her in the newlight that enveloped them both, still holding her hands. 

"There's one good thing about your marriages, --they marry you foreternity, don't they? That's for ever--only it isn't long enough, evenso--not for me. "

"I thought you were never coming. "

"But you said"--he saw the futility of it, however, and kissed herinstead. 

"I was afraid of you all this summer, " he said. 

"I was afraid of you, too. "

"You got over it yesterday all right. "

"How?"

"You kissed me. "

"Never--what an awful thing to say!"

"But you did--twice--don't you remember?"

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. If I did it wasn't at all like--like--"

"Like that--"

"No--I didn't think anything about it. "

"And now you'll never leave me, and I'll never leave you. "

They sat on the fallen tree. 

"And to think of that old--"

"Oh, don't talk of it. That's why I ran off here--so I couldn't hearanything about it until he went away. "

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I didn't think you were so stupid. "

"How was I to know where you were coming?"

But now she was reminded of something. 

"Tell me one thing--did you ever know a little short fat girl, a blondethat you liked very much?"

"Never!"

"Then what did you talk so much about her for yesterday if you didn't?You'd speak of her every time. "

"I didn't think you were so stupid. "

"Well, I can't see--"

"You don't need to--we'll call it even. "

And so the talk went until the sun had fallen for an hour and they knewit was time to go below. 

"We will go to the meeting together, " she said, "and then father shalltell Brigham, --tell him--"

"That you're going to marry me. Why don't you say it?"

"That I'm going to marry you, and be your only wife. " She nestled underhis arm again. 

"For time and eternity--that's the way your Church puts it. "

Then, not knowing it, they took their last walk down the pine-hungglade. Many times he picked her lightly up to carry her over roughplaces and was loth to put her down, --having, in truth, to be bribedthereto. 

At their usual resting-place she put on her hat with the cherry ribbons, and he, taking off his own, kissed her under it. 

And then they were out on the highroad to Amalon, where all was aglaring dusty gray under the high sun, and the ragged rim of the westernhills quivered and ran in the heat. 

He thought on the way down of how the news would be taken by the littlebent man with the fiery eyes. She was thinking how glad she was thatyoung Ammaron Wright had not kissed her that time he tried to at thedance--since kisses were like _that_. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

_The Rise and Fall of a Bent Little Prophet_

Down in the village the various dinners of ceremony to the visitingofficials were over. An hour had followed of decent rest and informalchat between the visitors and their hosts, touching impartially onmatters of general interest; on irrigation, the gift of tongues, theseason's crop of peaches, the pouring out of the Spirit abroad, the bestmixture of sheep-dip; on many matters not unpleasing to thepractical-minded Deity reigning over them. 

Then the entire populace of Amalon, in its Sunday best of "valley tan"or store-goods, flocked to the little square and sat expectantly on thebenches under the green roof of the bowery, ready to absorb thedroppings of the sanctuary. 

In due time came Brigham, strolling between Elder Wardle and BishopWright, bland, affable, and benignant. On the platform about him sat hisCounsellors, the more distinguished of his suite, and the localdignitaries of the Church. 

Among these came the little bent man with an unwonted colour in hisface, coming in absorbed in thought, shaking hands even with Brighamwith something of abstraction in his manner. Prudence and Follett camelate, finding seats at the back next to a generous row of the Mrs. SethWright. 

The hymn to Joseph Smith was given out, and the congregation rose tosing:--

 "Unchanged in death, with a Saviour's love, He pleads their cause in the courts above. 

 "His home's in the sky, he dwells with the gods, Far from the rage of furious mobs. 

 "He died, he died, for those he loved, He reigns, he reigns, in the realms above. 

 "Shout, shout, ye Saints! This boon is given, -- We'll meet our martyred seer in heaven. "

When they had settled into their seats, the Wild Ram of the Mountainsarose and invoked a blessing on those present and upon those who hadgone behind the veil; adding a petition that Brigham be increased in hisbasket and in his store, in wives, flocks, and herds, and in the giftsof the Holy Spirit. 

They sang another hymn, and when that was done, the little bent manarose and came hesitatingly forward to the baize-covered table thatserved as a pulpit. As President of the Stake it was his office towelcome the visitors, and this he did. 

There were whisperings in the audience when his appearance was noted. Itwas the first time he had been seen by many of them in weeks. Theywhispered that he was failing. 

"He ought to be home this minute, " was the first Mrs. Wardle's diagnosisto the fifth Mrs. Wardle, behind her hymn-book, "with his feet in amustard bath and a dose of gamboge and a big brewing of catnip tea. Ican tell a fever as far as I can see it. "

The words of official welcome spoken, he began his discourse; but in atimid, shuffling manner so unlike his old self that still otherswhispered of his evident illness. Inside he burned with his purpose, but, with all his resolves, the presence of Brigham left him unnerved. He began by referring to their many adversities since the day when theyhad first knelt to entreat the mercy of God upon the land. Then he spokeof revelations. 

"You must all have had revelations, because they have come even to me. Perhaps you were deaf to the voice, as I have been. Perhaps you havetrusted too readily in some revelation that came years ago, supposedlyfrom God--in truth, from the Devil. Perhaps you have been deaf to laterrevelations meant to warn you of the other's falseness. "

He was still uneasy, hesitating, fearful; but he saw interest here andthere in the faces before him. Even Brigham, though unseen by thespeaker, was looking mildly curious. 

"You remember the revelation that came to Joseph in an early day whenthere was trouble in raising money to print the Book of Mormon, --'Somerevelations are from God, some from man, and some from the Devil. 'Recalling the many chastenings God has put upon us, may we not havefailed to test all our other revelations by this one?"

Deep within he was angry at himself, for he was not speaking with wordsof fire as he had meant to; he was feeling a shameful cowardice in thepresence of the Prophet. He had seen himself once more the Lute of theHoly Ghost, strong and moving; but now he was a poor, low-spoken, hesitating rambler. Nervously he went on, skirting about the edge of histruth as long as he dared, but feeling at last that he must plunge intoits icy depths. 

"In short, brethren, the Book of Mormon denounces and forbids our pluralmarriages. "

Even this astounding declaration he made without warmth, in tones so lowthat many did not hear him. Those on the platform heard, however, andnow began to view his obvious physical weakness in a new light. Yet hecontinued, gaining a little in force. 

"The declarations on the subject in the Book of Mormon are so wordedthat we cannot fail to read them as denouncing and forbidding thepractise of the Old Testament patriarchs in this matter of the familylife. "

In rapid succession he cited the passages to which he referred, thoseconcerning David and Solomon and Noah and Ripkalish, who "did not dothat which was right in the sight of the Lord, for he did have manywives. "

There were murmurings and rustlings among the people now, and on hisright he heard Brigham stirring ominously in his chair; but he nervedhimself to keep on his feet, feeling he had that to say which shouldmake them hail him as a new prophet when they understood. 

"But besides these warnings against the sin there are many earlyrevelations to Joseph himself condemning it. "

He cited several of these, feeling the amazement and the alarm growabout him. 

"And now against these plain words, given at many times in many places, written on the golden plates in letters that cannot lie, or brought toJoseph by the angel of the Lord, we have only the one revelation oncelestial marriage. Read it now in the light of these other revelationsand see if it does not too plainly convict itself of having beencounterfeited to Joseph by an evil spirit. Such, brethren, has been therevelation that the Lord has given to me again and again until it burnswithin me, and I must cry it out to you. Try to receive it from me. "

There was commotion among the people in front, chairs were moved at hisside, and a low voice called to him to sit down. He heard this voicethrough the ringing that had been in his ears for many days, like thebeating of a sea against him, and he felt the strength go suddenly fromhis knees. 

He stumbled weakly back to his chair and sank into it with head bowed, feeling, rather than seeing, the figure of Brigham rise from its seatand step forward with deliberate, unruffled majesty. 

As the Prophet faced his people they became quite silent, so that therobins could be heard in the Pettigrew peach-trees across the street. Hepoured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, and drank of itslowly. Then, leaning a little forward, resting both his big cushionyhands on the green of the table, the Lion of the Lord began toroar--very softly at first. Slowly the words came, in tones scarceaudible, marked indeed almost by the hesitation of the first speaker. But then a difference showed; gradually the tone increased in volume, the words came faster, fluency succeeding hesitation, and now his voicewas high and searching, while his easy, masterful gestures laid theirold spell upon the people. 

"It does not occupy my feelings to curse any individual, " he had begun, awkwardly; "in fact, I feel to render all thanks and praise for thediscourse to which we have just listened, but I couldn't help saying tomyself, 'Oh, dear, Granny! what a long tale our puss has got!'"

An uneasy titter came from the packed square of faces in front of him. He went on with rising power:

"But it is foretold in the Book of Mormon that the Lord will remove thebitter branches, and it's a good thing to find out where the bitterbranches are. We can remove them ourselves. We can't expect the Lord todo _all_ our dirty work. Now hear it once more, you that need to hearit--and damn all such poor pussyism as sniffles and whines and rejectsit! We don't want that scrubby breed here!--Listen, I say. The celestialorder of marriage is necessary for our exaltation to the fulness of theLord's glory in the world eternal. Where much is given much is required. Understand me, --those that reject polygamy will be damned. Hear it nowonce for all. I will give you to know that God, our Father, has manywives, and so has Jesus Christ, our Elder Brother. Our God and Father inheaven is _a being of tabernacle_, or, in other words, He has a body ofparts the same as you and I have. And that God and Father of ours wasAdam. "

Again there was a stirring below as if a wind swept the people, and thelittle man in his chair cowered for shame of himself. He had meant to doa great thing; he had thrilled so strongly with it; it had promised tomaster others as it had mastered him; and now he was shamed by the onetrue Lion of the Lord. 

"Hear it now, " continued Brigham. "When God, our Father Adam, came intothe garden of Eden, he came into it with a celestial body, and broughtone of his wives with him, --Eve. He made and organised this world. He isMichael, the Archangel, the Ancient of Days, _about whom holy men havewritten and spoken_. He is our Father and our God, and the only God withwhom we have to do. I could tell you much more about this; but were Ito tell you the whole truth, blasphemy would be nothing to it, in theestimation of the superstitious and over-righteous of mankind. But Iwill tell you this, that Jesus, our Elder Brother, was begotten in theflesh by the same character that was in the garden of Eden, and who isour Father in Heaven. "

A chorus of Amens from the platform greeted this. It was led by the WildRam of the Mountains. In his chair the little bent man now cowered lowerand lower, one moment praying for strength, the next for death; feelingthe blood surge through him like storm waves that would beat him down. If only Heaven would send him one last moment of power to word thistruth so that it might prevail. But Brigham was continuing. 

"And what of this Elder Brother, Jesus? Did he reject the patriarchalorder--like some poor pusillanimous cry-babies among us? No, I say! Itwill be borne in mind that once on a time there was a marriage in Canaof Galilee; and on a careful reading of that transaction it will bediscovered that no less a person than Jesus Christ was married on thatoccasion. If he was never married his intimacy with Mary and Martha, andthe other Mary also, whom Jesus loved, must have been highly unbecomingand improper, to say the best of it. I will venture to say that, ifJesus Christ was now to pass through the most pious countries inChristendom, with a train of women such as used to follow Him, fondlingabout Him, combing His hair, anointing Him with precious ointments, washing His feet with tears, and wiping them with the hair of theirheads, --that, unmarried or even married, He would be mobbed, tarred andfeathered, and ridden, not on an ass, but on a rail. Now did Hemultiply, and did He see His seed? Others may do as they like, but Iwill not charge our Saviour with neglect or transgression in this or anyother duty. "

He turned and went to his seat with a last threatening gesture, amidmany little sounds of people relaxing from strained positions. 

But then, before another could arise, a wonder came upon them. Thelittle man stood up and came quickly forward, a strange new life in hisstep, a new confidence in his bearing, a curious glow of new strength inhis face. Even his stoop had straightened for the moment. For, as he hadlistened to Brigham's last words, the picture of his vision in thedesert had come back, --the cross in the sky, the crucified Saviour uponit, the head in death-agony fallen over upon the shoulder. And thenbefore his eyes had come page after page of that New Testament with awash of blood across two of them. He felt the new life he had prayed forpouring into his veins, and with it a fierce anger. The one on the crosswho had been more than man, who had shirked no sacrifice and lovedinfinitely, was not thus to be assailed. A panorama of wrong--wrongthinking and wrong doing--extended before his clearing gaze. For oncehe seemed to see truth in a vision and to feel the power to utter it. 

There was silence again as he stood in front of the little table, thefaces before him frozen into wonder that he should have either the poweror the temerity to answer Brigham. He spoke, and his voice was againrough with force, and high and fearless, a voice many of them recalledfrom the days when he had not been weak. 

"Now I see what we have done. Listen, brethren, for God has not beforeso plainly said it to any man, and I know my time is short among you. Wehave gone back to the ages of Hebrew barbarism for our God--to the Godof Battles worshipped by a heathen people--a God who loved the reek ofblood and the smell of burning flesh. But you shall not--"

He turned squarely and fiercely to the face of Brigham. 

"--you shall not confuse that bloody God of Battles with the trueChrist, nor yet with the true God of Love that this Christ came to tellus of. Once I believed in Him. I was taught to by your priests. Warseemed a righteous thing, for we had been grievously put upon, and Ibelieved the God of Israel should avenge our wrongs as He had avengedthose of His older Zion. And hear me now--so long as I believed this, Iwas no coward; while you, sir--"

A long forefinger was pointed straight at the amazed Brigham. 

"--while you, sir, were a craven, contemptible in your cowardice. Iwould have fought in Echo Caņon to the end, because I believed. But youdid not believe, and so you were afraid to fight. And for your cowardiceand your wretched lusts your name among all but your ignorant dupesshall become a hissing and a scorn. For mark it well, unless you forsakethat heathen God of Battles and preach the divine Christ of the NewTestament, you shall come to hold only the ignorant, and them only bykeeping them ignorant. "

The commotion among the people in front was now all but a panic. On theplatform the sires of Israel whispered one to another, while Brighamgazed as if fascinated, driven to admiration for the speaker's power andaudacity. For the feverish, fleeting moment, Joel Rae was that veritableLion of the Lord he had prayed to be, putting upon the people his spellof the old days. Heads were again strained up and forward, and amazedhorror was on most of the faces. Far back, Prudence trembled, feelingthat she must be away at once, until she felt the firm grasp ofFollett's hand. The speaker went on, having turned again to the front. 

"Instead of a church you shall become justly hated and despised as apeople who foul their homes and dishonour beyond forgiveness the namesof wife and mother. Then your punishment shall come upon you as it hasalready come for this and for other sins. Even now the Gentile is uponus; and mark this truth that God has but now given me to know: we havenever been persecuted as a church, --but always as a political bodyhostile to the government of this nation. Even so, you had no faith. Believing as I believed, I would have fought that nation and died athousand bloody deaths rather than submit. But you had no faith, and youwere so low that you let yourselves be ruled by a coward--and I tell youGod _hates_ a coward. "

Now the old pleading music came into his voice, --the music that had madehim the Lute of the Holy Ghost in the Poet's roster of titles. 

"O brethren, let me beg you to be good--simply good. Nothing can prevailagainst you if you are. If you are not, nothing shall avail you, --thepower of no priesthood, no signs, ordinances, or rituals. Believe me, Iknow. Not even the forgiveness of the Father. For I tell you there is adivinity within each of you that you may some day unwittingly affront;and then you shall lie always in hell, for if you cannot forgiveyourself, the forgiveness of God will not free you even if it comeseventy times seven. I _know_. For fifteen years I have lain in hell forthe work this Church did at Mountain Meadows. A cross was put there tothe memory of those we slew. Not a day has passed but that cross hasbeen burned and cut into my living heart with a blade of white heat. NowI am going to hell; but I am tired and ready to go. Nor do I go as acoward, as _you_ will go--"

Again the long forefinger was flung out to point at Brigham. 

"--but I shall go as a fighter to the end. I have not worshipped Mammon, and I have conquered my flesh--conquered it after it had once all butconquered me, so that I had to fight the harder--"

He stopped, waiting as if he were not done, but the spell was broken. The life, indeed, had in the later moments been slowly dying from hiswords; and, as they lost their fire, scattered voices of protest hadbeen heard; then voices in warning from behind him, and the sound of twoor three rising and pushing back their chairs. 

Now that he no longer heard his own voice he stood quivering andpanic-stricken, the fire out and the pained little smile coming to makehis face gentle again. He turned weakly toward Brigham, but the Prophethad risen from his seat and his broad back was rounded toward thespeaker. He appeared to be consulting a group of those who stood on theplatform, and they who were not of this group had also turned away. 

The little bent man tried again to smile, hoping for a friendly glance, perhaps a hand-clasp without words from some one of them. Seeing that hewas shunned, he stepped down off the platform at the side, twisting hishat in his long, thin hands in embarrassment. A moment he stood so, turning to look back at the group of priests and Elders around theProphet, seeking for any sign, even for a glance that should be notunkind. The little pained smile still lighted his face, but no friendlylook came from the others. Seeing only the backs turned toward him, heat length straightened out his crumpled hat, still smiling, and slowlyput it on his head; as he turned away he pulled the hat farther over hiseyes, and then he was off along the dusty street, looking to neitherside, still with the little smile that made his face gentle. 

But when he had come to the end of the street and was on the road up thehill, the smile died. He seemed all at once to shrink and stoop andfade, --no longer a Lion of the Lord, but a poor, white-faced, horrifiedlittle man who had meant in his heart to give a great revelation, andwho had succeeded only in uttering blasphemy to the very face of God'sprophet. 

From below, the little groups of excited people along the street lookedup and saw his thin, bent figure alone in the fading sunlight, toilingresolutely upward. 

Other groups back in the square talked among themselves, not a few inwhispers. A listener among them might have heard such expressions as, "He'll be blood-atoned sure!"--"They'll make a breach uponhim!"--"They'll accomplish his decease!"--"He'll be sent over the rim ofthe basin right quick!" One indignant Saint, with a talent foreuphemism, was heard to say, "Brigham will have his spirit disembodied!"

To the priests and Elders on the platform Elder Wardle was saying, "Thetrouble with him was he was crazy with fever. Why, I'll bet my best setof harness his pulse ain't less than a hundred and twenty this minute. "

The others looked at Brigham. 

"He's a crazy man, sure enough, " assented the Prophet, "but my opinionis he'll stay crazy, and it wouldn't be just the right thing by Israelto let him go on talking before strangers. You see, it _sounds_ soalmighty sane!"

Back in the crowd Prudence and Follett had lingered a little at thelatter's suggestion, for he had caught the drift of the talk. When hehad comprehended its meaning they set off up the hill, full of alarm. 

At the door Christina met them. They saw she had been crying. 

"Where is father, Christina?"

"Himself saddle his horse, and say, 'I go to toe some of those marks. 'He say, 'I see you plenty not no more, so good-bye!' He kissed me, " sheadded. 

"Which way did he go?"

"So!" She pointed toward the road that led out of the valley to thenorth. 

"I'll go after him, " said Follett. 

"I'll go with you. Saddle Dandy and Kit--and Christina will havesomething for you to eat; you've had nothing since morning. "

"I reckon I know where we'll have to go, " said Follett, as he went forthe saddles. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

_The Little Bent Man at the Foot of the Cross_

It was dusk when they rode down the hill together. They followed thecaņon road to its meeting with the main highway at the northern edge ofAmalon. Where the roads joined they passed Bishop Wright, who, with hishat off, turned to stare at them, and to pull at his fringe of whiskerin seeming perplexity. 

"He must have been on his way to our house, " Prudence called. 

"With that hair and whiskers, " answered Follett, with some irrelevance, "he looks like an old buffalo-bull just before shedding-time. "

They rode fast until the night fell, scanning the road ahead for afigure on horseback. When it was quite dark they halted. 

"We might pass him, " suggested Follett. "He was fairly tuckered out, andhe might fall off any minute. "

"Shall we go on slowly?" she asked. 

"We might miss him in the dark. But the moon will be up in an hour, andthen we can go at full speed. We better wait. "

"Poor little sorry father! I wish we had gone home sooner. "

"He certainly's got more spunk in him than I gave him credit for! He hadold Brigham and the rest of them plumb buffaloed for a minute. Oh, hedid crack the old bull-whip over them good!"

"Poor little father! Where could he have gone at this hour?"

"I've got an idea he's set out for that cross he's talked so muchabout--that one up here in the Meadows. "

"I've seen it, --where the Indians killed those poor people years ago. But what did he mean by the crime of his Church there?"

"We'll ask him when we find him. And I reckon we'll find him right thereif he holds out to ride that far. "

He tied her pony to an oak-bush a little off the road, threw Dandy'sbridle-rein to the ground to make him stand, and on a shelving rock nearby he found her a seat. 

"It won't be long, and the horses need a chance to breathe. We've comealong at a right smart clip, and Dandy's been getting a regulargrass-stomach on him back there. "

Side by side they sat, and in the dark and stillness their own greathappiness came back to them. 

"The first time I liked you very much, " she said, after he had kissedher, "was when I saw you were so kind to your horse. "

"That's the only way to treat stock. I can gentle any horse I ever saw. Are you sure you care enough for me?"

"Oh, yes, yes, _yes_! It must be enough. It's so much I'm frightenednow. "

"Will you go away with me?"

"Yes, I want to go away with you. "

"Well, you just come out with me, --out of this hole. There's a fine bigcountry out there you don't know anything about. Our home will reachfrom Corpus Christi to Deadwood, and from the Missouri clear over toMister Pacific Ocean. We'll have the prairies for our garden, and thehigh plains will be our front yard, with the buffalo-grass thicker thanhair on a dog's back. And, say, I don't know about it, but I believethey have a bigger God out there than you've got in this Salt LakeBasin. Anyway, He acts more like you'd think God ought to act. He isn'tso particular about your knowing a lot of signs and grips and passwordsand winks. Going to your heaven must be like going into one of thoseFree Mason lodges, --a little peek-hole in the door, and God shoving thecover back to see if you know the signs. I guess God isn't so triflingas all that, --having, you know, a lot of signs and getting ducked underwater three times and all that business. I don't exactly know what Hisway is, but I'll bet it isn't any way that you'd have to laugh at if yousaw it--like as if, now, you saw old man Wright and God making signs toeach other through the door, and Wright saying:--

 _'Eeny meeny miny mo! Cracky feeny finy fo!'_

and God looking in a little book to see if he got all the words right. "

"Anyway, I'm glad you weren't baptised, after what Father said to-day. "

"You'll be gladder still when you get out there where they got afull-grown man's God. "

They talked on of many things, chiefly of the wonder of their love--thateach should actually be each and the two have come together--until afull yellow moon came up, seemingly from the farther side of the hill infront of them. When at last its light flooded the road so that it layoff to the north like a broad, gray ribbon flung over the black land, they set out again, galloping side by side mile after mile, scanningsharply the road ahead and its near sides. 

Down out of Pine Valley they went, and over more miles of gray alkalidesert toward a line of hills low and black in the north. 

They came to these, followed the road out of the desert through a narrowgap, and passed into the Mountain Meadows, reining in their horses asthey did so. 

Before them the Meadows stretched between two ranges of low, rockyhills, narrow at first but widening gradually from the gap throughwhich they had come. But the ground where the long, rich grass had oncegrown was now barren, gray and ugly in the moonlight, cut into deepgullies and naked of all but a scant growth of sage-brush which the moonwas silvering, and a few clumps of shadowy scrub-oak along the base ofthe hills on either side. 

Instinctively they stopped, speaking in low tones. And then there cameto them out of the night's silence a strange, weird beating; hollow, muffled, slow, and rhythmic, but penetrating and curiously exciting, like another pulse cunningly playing upon their own to make them beatmore rapidly. The girl pulled her horse close in by his, but hereassured her. 

"It's Indians--they must be holding the funeral of some chief. But nomatter--these Indians aren't any more account than prairie-dogs. "

They rode on slowly, the funeral-drum sounding nearer as they went. 

Then far up the meadow by the roadside they could see the hard, squarelines of the cross in the moonlight. Slower still they went, while thedrumbeats became louder, until they seemed to fall upon their ownear-drums. 

"Could he have come to this dreadful place?" she asked, almost in awhisper. 

"We haven't passed him, that's sure; and I've got a notion he did. I'veheard him talk about this cross off and on--it's been a good deal in hismind--and maybe he was a little out of his head. But we'll soon see. "

They walked their horses up a little ascent, and the cross stood outmore clearly against the sky. They approached it slowly, leaning forwardto peer all about it; but the shadows lay heavy at its base, and from alittle distance they could distinguish no outline. 

But at last they were close by and could pierce the gloom, and there atthe foot of the cross, beside the cairn of stones that helped to supportit, was a little huddled bit of blackness. It moved as they looked, andthey knew the voice that came from it. 

"O God, I am tired and ready! Take me and burn me!"

She was off her horse and quickly at his side. Follett, to let them bealone, led the horses to the spring below. It was almost gone now, onlythe feeblest trickle of a rivulet remaining. The once green meadows hadbehaved, indeed, as if a curse were put upon them. Hardly had grassgrown or water run through it since the day that Israel wrought there. When he had tied the horses he heard Prudence calling him. 

"I'm afraid he's delirous, " she said, when he reached her side. "Hekeeps hearing cries and shots, and sees a woman's hair waving beforehim, and he's afraid of something back of him. What can we do?"

At the foot of the cross the little man was again sounding his endlessprayer. 

"Bow me, bend me, break me, for I have been soul-proud. Burn me out--"

She knelt by his side, trying to soothe him. 

"Father--it's all right--it's Prudence--"

But at her name he uttered a cry with such terror in it that sheshuddered and was still. Then he began to mutter incoherently, and sheheard her own name repeated many times. 

"If that awful beating would only stop, " she said to Follett, who hadnow brought water in the curled brim of his hat. She tried to have thelittle man drink. He swallowed some of the water from the hat-brim, shivering as he did so. 

"We ought to have a fire, " she said. Follett began to gather twigs andsage-brush, and presently had a blaze in front of them. 

In the light of the fire the little man could see their faces, and hebecame suddenly coherent, smiling at them in the old way. 

"Why have you come so far in the night?" he asked Prudence, taking oneof her cool hands between his own that burned. 

"But, you poor little father! Why have _you_ come, when you should behome in bed? You are burning with fever. "

"Yes, yes, dear, but it's over now. This is the end. I came here--to behere--I came to say my last prayer in the body. And they will come tofind me here. You must go before they come. "

"Who will find you?"

"They from the Church. I didn't mean to do it, but when I was on my feetsomething forced it out of me. I knew what they would do, but I wasready to die, and I hoped I could awaken some of them. "

"But no one shall hurt you. "

"Don't tempt me to stay any longer, dear, even if they would let me. Oh, you don't know, you don't know--and that Devil's drumming over there tomadden me as on that other night. But it's just--my God, how just!"

"Come away, then. Ruel will find your horse, and we'll ride home. "

"It's too late--don't ask me to leave my hell now. It would only followme. It was this way that night--the night before--the beating got intomy blood and hammered on my brain till I didn't know. Prudence, I musttell you--everything--"

He glanced at Follett appealingly, as he had looked at the others whenhe left the platform that day, beseeching some expression offriendliness. 

"Yes, I must tell you--everything. " But his face lighted as Follettinterrupted him. 

"You tell her, " said Follett, doggedly, "how you saved her that day andkept her like your own and brought her up to be a good woman--that'swhat you tell her. " The gratitude in the little man's eyes had grownwith each word. 

"Yes, yes, dear, I have loved you like my own little child, but yourfather and mother were killed here that day--and I found you and lovedyou--such a dear, forlorn little girl--will you hate me now?" he brokeoff anxiously. She had both his hands in her own. 

"But why, how _could_ I hate you? You are my dear little sorryfather--all I've known. I shall always love you. "

"That will be good to take with me, " he said, smiling again. "It's allI've got to take--it's all I've had since the day I found you. You aregood, " he said, turning to Follett. 

"Oh, shucks!" answered Follett. 

A smile of rare contentment played over the little man's face. 

In the silence that followed, the funeral-drum came booming in upon themover the ridge, and once they saw an Indian from the encampment standingon top of the hill to look down at their fire. Then the little man spokeagain. 

"You will go with him, " he said to Prudence. "He will take you out ofhere and back to your mother's people. "

"She's going to marry me, " said Follett. The little man smiled at this. 

"It is right--the Gentile has come to take you away. The Lord is cunningin His vengeance. I felt it must be so when I saw you together. "

After this he was so quiet for a time that they thought he was sleeping. But presently he grew restless again, and said to Follett:--

"I want you to have me buried here. Up there to the north, threehundred yards from here on the right, is a dwarf cedar standing alone. Straight over the ridge from that and half-way down the other side isanother cedar growing at the foot of a ledge. Below that ledge is agrave. There are stones piled flat, and a cross cut in the one towardthe cedar. Make a grave beside that one, and put me in it--just as I am. Remember that--_uncoffined_. It must be that way, remember. There's alittle book here in this pocket. Let it stay with me--but surelyuncoffined, remember, as--as the rest of them were. "

"But, father, why talk so? You are going home with us. "

"There, dear, it's all right, and you'll feel kind about me always whenyou remember me?"

"Don't, --don't talk so. "

"If that beating would only stay out of my brain--the thing is crawlingbehind me again! Oh, no, not yet--not yet! Say this with me, dear:--

"_'The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. 

"'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside thestill waters. '_"

She said the psalm with him, and he grew quiet again. 

"You will go away with your husband, and go at once--" He sat upsuddenly from where he had been lying, the light of a new design in hiseyes. 

"Come, --you will need protection now--I must marry you at once. Surelythat will be an office acceptable in the sight of God. And you willremember me better for it--and kinder. Come, Prudence; come, Ruel!"

"But, father, you are sick, and so weak--let us wait. "

"It will give me such joy to do it--and this is the last. "

She looked at Follett questioningly, but gave him her hand silently whenhe arose from the ground where he had been sitting. 

"He'd like it, and it's what we want, --all simple, " he said. 

In the light of the fire they stood with hands joined, and the littleman, too, got to his feet, helping himself up by the cairn against whichhe had been leaning. 

Then, with the unceasing beats of the funeral-drum in their ears, hemade them man and wife. 

"Do you, Ruel, take Prudence by the right hand to receive her untoyourself to be your lawful and wedded wife, and you to be her lawful andwedded husband for time and eternity--"

Thus far he had followed the formula of his Church, but now he departedfrom it with something like defiance coming up in his voice. 

"--with a covenant and promise on your part that you will cleave to herand to none other, so help you God, taking never another wife in spiteof promise or threat of any priesthood whatsoever, cleaving unto herand her alone with singleness of heart?"

When they had made their responses, and while the drum was beating uponhis heart, he pronounced them man and wife, sealing upon them "theblessings of the holy resurrection, with power to come forth in themorning clothed with glory and immortality. "

When he had spoken the final words of the ceremony, he seemed to losehimself from weakness, reaching out his hands for support. They helpedhim down on to the saddle-blanket that Follett had brought, and thelatter now went for more wood. 

When he came back they were again reciting the psalm that had seemed toquiet the sufferer. 

"_'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I willfear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfortme. '_"

Follett spread the other saddle-blanket over him. He lay on his side, his face to the fire, one moment saying over the words of the psalm, butthe next listening in abject terror to something the others could nothear. 

"I wonder you don't hear their screams, " he said, in one of thesemoments; "but their blood is not upon you. " Then, after a little:--

"See, it is growing light over there. Now they will soon be here. Theywill know where I had to come, and they will have a spade. " He seemed tobe fainting in his last weakness. 

Another hour they sat silently beside him. Slowly the dark over theeastern hill lightened to a gray. Then the gray paled until a flush ofpink was there, and they could see about them in the chill of themorning. 

Then came a silence that startled them all. The drum had stopped, andthe night-long vibrations ceased from their ears. 

They looked toward the little man with relief, for the drumming hadtortured him. But his breathing was shallow and irregular now, and fromtime to time they could hear a rattle in his throat. His eyes, when heopened them, were looking far off. He was turning restlessly andmuttering again. She took his hands and found them cold and moist. 

"His fever must have broken, " she said, hopefully. The little man openedhis eyes to look up at her, and spoke, though absently, and not as if hesaw her. 

"They will have a spade with them when they come, never fear. And thespot must not be forgotten--three hundred yards north to the dwarfcedar, then straight over the ridge and half-way down, to the othercedar below the sandstone--and uncoffined, with the book here in thispocket where I have it. 'Thou preparest a table before me in thepresence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cuprunneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days ofmy life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. '"

He started up in terror of something that seemed to be behind him, butfell back, and a moment later was rambling off through some sermon ofthe bygone year. 

"Sometimes, brethren, it has seemed to my inner soul that Christ camenot alone to reveal God to man, but to reveal man to God; taking on thathuman form to reconcile the Father to our sins. Sometimes I have thoughtHe might so well have done this that God would view our sins as we viewthe faults of our well-loved little children--loving us throughall--perhaps touched--even more amused than offended, at our childishstumblings in these blind, twisted paths of right and wrong; knowing atthe last He should save the least of us who have been most awkward. But, oh, brethren! beware of the sin for which you cannot win forgivenessfrom that other God, that spirit of the true Father, fixed forever inthe breast of each of you. "

The light was coming swiftly. Already their fire had paled, and theembers, but a little before glowing red, seemed now to be only whiteashes. 

From over the ridge back of them, whence had come the notes of thefuneral-drum, an Indian now slouched toward them, drawn by curiosity;stopping to look, then advancing, to stop again. 

At length he stood close by them, silent, gazing. Then, as ifunderstanding, he spoke to Follett. 

"Big sick--go get big medicine! Then you give chitcup!"

He ran swiftly back, disappearing over the ridge. 

The sick man was now delirious again, muttering disjointed texts andbits of old sermons with which the Lute of the Holy Ghost, young andardent, had once thrilled the Saints. 

"'For without shedding of blood there shall be no remission'--'but whereare now your prophets which prophesied unto you, saying the King ofBabylon shall not come against you nor against this land'--'But I sayunto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully useyou. ' That is where the stain was, --the bloody stain that held theleaves together--but I tore them apart and read, --"

The Indian who had come to them first now appeared again over the ridge, and with him another. The second was accoutered lavishly with a girdleof brilliant feathers, anklets of shell, and bracelets of silver, hisface barred by alternating streaks of vermilion and yellow, a lank braidof his black hair hanging either side of his face, and on his head thehorns and painted skull of a buffalo. In one hand was a wand of red-dyedwood with a beaded and quilled amulet at the end. The other down by hisside held something they did not at first notice. 

The little man was growing weaker each moment, but still muttered as heturned restlessly on the blanket. 

"'And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to themlikewise. '" His quick ear detecting the light step of the approachingIndians, he sat up and grasped Follett's arm. 

"What do they want? Let no one come now. Death is here and I am goingout to meet it--I am glad to go--so tired!"

Follett, looking up at the two Indians now standing awkwardly by them, said, in a low tone, with a wave of his free arm:

"_Vamose_!"

"Big medicine!" grunted the Indian who had first come to them, pointingto his companion. In an instant this other was before the sick man, chanting and making passes with his wand. 

Then, before Follett could rise, the Indian's other hand came up, andthey saw, slowly waved before the staring eyes of the little man, a longmass of yellow hair that writhed and ran in little gleaming waves as ifit lived. It was tied about the wrist of the Indian with strips ofscarlet flannel--tied below a broad silver bracelet that glittered fromthe bronzed arm. 

The face of the sick man had a moment before been tranquil, almostsmiling; but now his eyes followed the hair with something offascination in them. Then a shade of terror darkened the peaceful look, like the shadow of a cloud hurried by the wind over a fair green garden. 

But with its passing there came again into his eyes the light of sanity. He gazed at the hair, breathless, still in wonder; and then very slowlythere grew over his face the look of an unearthly peace, so that theywho were by him deferred the putting aside of the Indian. With eyes wideopen, full of a calm they could not understand, he looked and smiled, his wan face flushing again in that last time. Then, reaching suddenlyout, his long white fingers tangled themselves feebly in the goldenskein, and with a little loving uplift of the eyes he drew it to hisbreast. A few seconds he held it so, with an eagerness that told of somesweet and mighty relief come to his soul, --some illumination of gracethat had seemed to be struck by the first sunrays from that hair intohis wondering eyes. 

Slowly, then, the little smile faded, --the wistful light of it dying forthe last time. The tired head fell suddenly back and the wan lids closedover lifeless eyes. 

Still the hand clutched the hair to the quiet heart, the yellow strandscurling peacefully through the dead fingers as if in forgiveness. Fromthe look of rest on the still face it was as if, in his years of serviceand sacrifice, the little man had learned how to forgive his own sin inthe flash of those last heart-beats when his soul had rushed out towelcome Death. 

Prudence had arisen before the end came and was standing in front of theIndian to motion him away. Follett was glad she did not see the eyesglaze nor the head drop. He leaned forward and gently loosed the limpfingers from the yellow tangle. Then he sprang quickly up and put hisarm about Prudence. The two Indians backed off in some dismay. The onewho had first come to them spoke again. 

"Big medicine! You give some chitcup?"

"No--no! Got no chitcup! _Vamose_!"

They turned silently and trotted back over the ridge. 

"Come, sit here close by the fire, dear--no, around this side. It's allover now. "

"Oh! Oh! My poor, sorry little father--he was so good to me!" She threwherself on the ground, sobbing. 

Follett spread a saddle-blanket over the huddled figure at the foot ofthe cross. Then he went back to take her in his arms and give her suchcomfort as he could. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

_The Gentile Carries off his Spoil_

Half an hour later they heard the sound of voices and wheels. Follettlooked up and saw a light wagon with four men in it driving into theMeadows from the south. The driver was Seth Wright; the man beside himhe knew to be Bishop Snow, the one they called the Entablature of Truth. The two others he had seen in Amalon, but he did not know their names. 

He got up and went forward when the wagon stopped, leaning casually onthe wheel. 

"He's already dead, but you can help me bury him as soon as I get mywife out of the way around that oak-brush--I see you've brought along aspade. "

The men in the wagon looked at each other, and then climbed slowly out. 

"Now who could 'a' left that there spade in the wagon?" began the WildRam of the Mountains, a look of perplexity clouding his ingenuous face. 

The Entablature of Truth was less disposed for idle talk. 

"Who did you say you'd get out of the way, young man?"

"My wife, Mrs. Ruel Follett. "

"Meaning Prudence Rae?"

"Meaning her that was Prudence Rae. "

"Oh!"

The ruddy-faced Bishop scanned the horizon with a dreamy, speculativeeye, turning at length to his companions. 

"We better get to this burying, " he said. 

"Wait a minute, " said Follett. 

They saw him go to Prudence, raise her from the ground, put asaddle-blanket over his arm, and lead her slowly up the road around aturn that took them beyond a clump of the oak-brush. 

"It won't do!" said Wright, with a meaning glance at the Entablature ofTruth, quite as if he had divined his thought. 

"I'd like to know why not?" retorted this good man, aggressively. 

"Because times has changed; this ain't '57. "

"It'll almost do itself, " insisted Snow. "What say, Glines?" and heturned to one of the others. 

"Looks all right, " answered the man addressed. "By heck! but that's apurty saddle he carries!"

"What say, Taggart?"

"For God's sake, no, Bishop! No--I got enough dead faces looking at menow from this place. I'm ha'nted into hell a'ready, like he said he wasyisterday. By God! I sometimes a'most think I'll have my ears bustedand my eyes put out to git away from the bloody things!"

"Ho! Scared, are you? Well, I'll do it myself. _You_ don't need tohelp. "

"Better let well enough alone, Brother Warren!" interposed Wright. 

"But it _ain't_ well enough! Think of that girl going to a low cuss of aGentile when Brigham wants her. Why, think of letting such a critter getaway, even if Brigham didn't want her!"

"You know they got Brother Brigham under indictment for murder now, account of that Aiken party. "

"What of it? He'll get off. "

"That he will, but it's because he's Brigham. _You_ ain't. You're just asouth country Bishop. Don't you know he'd throw you to the Gentilecourts as a sop quicker'n a wink if he got a chance, --just like he'll dowith old John D. Lee the minute George A. Peters out so the chain willbe broke between Lee and Brigham?"

"And maybe this cuss has got friends, " suggested Glines. 

"Who'd know but the girl?" Snow insisted. "And Brother Brigham would fix_her_ all right. Is the household of faith to be spoiled?"

"Well, they got a railroad running through it now, " said Wright, "and atelegraph, and a lot of soldiers. So don't you count on _me_, BrotherSnow, at any stage of it now or afterwards. I got a pretty sizablefamily that would hate to lose me. Look out! Here he comes. "

Follett now came up, speaking in a cheerful manner that neverthelesschilled even the enthusiasm of the good Bishop Snow. 

"Now, gentlemen, just by way of friendly advice to you, --like as notI'll be stepping in front of some of you in the next hour. But it isn'tgoing to worry me any, and I'll tell you why. I'd feel awful sad for youall if anything was to happen to me, --if the Injuns got me, or I wastook bad with a chill, or a jack-rabbit crept up and bit me to death, oranything. You see, there's a train of twenty-five big J. Murphy wagonswill be along here over the San Bernardino trail. They are coming out oftheir way, almost any time now, on purpose to pick me up. Fact is, myears have been pricking up all morning to hear the old bull-whips crack. There were thirty-one men in the train when they went down, and theremay be more coming back. It's a train of Ezra Calkins, my adoptedfather. You see, they know I've been here on special business, and Isent word the other day I was about due to finish it, and they wasn't togo through coming back without me. Well, that bull outfit will stop forme--and they'll _get_ me or get pay for me. That's their orders. And itisn't a train of women and babies, either. They're such an outrageousrough lot, quick-tempered and all like that, that they wouldn't believethe truth that I had an accident--not if you swore it on a stack ofMormon Bibles topped off by the life of Joe Smith. They'd go right outand make Amalon look like a whole cavayard of razor-hoofed buffaloes hadraced back and forth over it. And the rest of the two thousand men onEzra Calkins's pay-roll would come hanging around pestering you all withWinchesters. They'd make you scratch gravel, sure!

"Now let's get to work. I see you'll be awful careful and tender withme. I'll bet I don't get even a sprained ankle. You folks get him, andI'll show you where he said the place was. "

Two hours later Follett came running back to where Prudence lay on thesaddle-blanket in the warm morning sun. 

"The wagon-train is coming--hear the whips? Now, look here, why don't wego right on with it, in one of the big wagons? They're coming backlight, and we can have a J. Murphy that is bigger than a whole lot ofhouses in this country. You don't want to go back there, do you?"

She shook her head. 

"No, it would hurt me to see it now. I should be expecting to see him atevery turn. Oh, I couldn't stand that--poor sorry little father!"

"Well, then, leave it all; leave the place to the women, and goodriddance, and come off with me. I'll send one of the boys back with apack-mule for any plunder you want to bring away, and you needn't eversee the place again. "

She nestled in his arms, feeling in her grief the comfort of histenderness. 

"Yes, take me away now. "

The big whips could be heard plainly, cracking like rifle-shots, andshortly came the creaking and hollow rumbling of the wagons and thecries of the teamsters to their six-mule teams. There were shouts andcalls, snatches of song from along the line, then the rattling ofharness, and in a cloud of dust the train was beside them, the teamsterssitting with rounded shoulders up under the bowed covers of the bigwagons. 

A hail came from the rear of the train, and a bronzed and bearded man ina leather jacket cantered up on a small pony. 

"Hello there, Rool! I'm whoopin' glad to see you!"

He turned to the driver of the foremost wagon. 

"All right, boys! We'll make a layby for noon. "

Follett shook hands with him heartily, and turned to Prudence. 

"This is my wife, Lew. Prudence, this is Lew Steffins, ourwagon-master. "

"Shoo, now!--you young cub--married? Well, I'm right glad to see Mrs. Rool Follett--and bless your heart, little girl!"

"Did you stop back there at the settlement?"

"Yes; and they said you'd hit the pike about dark last night, to chase acrazy man. I told them I'd be back with the whackers if I didn't findyou. I was afraid some trouble was on, and here you're only married tothe sweetest thing that ever--why, she's been crying! Anything wrong?"

"No; never mind now, anyway. We're going on with you, Lew. "

"Bully proud to have you. There's that third wagon--"

"Could I ride in that?" asked the girl, looking at the big lumberingconveyance doubtfully. 

"It carried six thousands pounds of freight to Los Angeles, littlewoman, " answered Steffins, promptly, "and I wouldn't guess you to heftover one twenty-eight or thirty at the outside. I'll have the box filledin with spruce boughs and a lot of nice bunch-grass, and put somecomforts over that, and you'll be all snug and tidy. You won't starve, either, not while there's meat running. "

"And say, Lew, she's got some stuff back at that place. Let the extrahand ride back with a packjack and bring it on. She'll tell him what toget. "

"Sure! Tom Callahan can go. "

"And give us some grub, Lew. I've hardly had a bite since yesterdaymorning. "

An hour later, when the train was nearly ready to start, Follett tookhis wife to the top of the ridge and showed her, a little way belowthem, the cedar at the foot of the sandstone ledge. He stayed back, thinking she would wish to be there alone. But when she stood by the newgrave she looked up and beckoned to him. 

"I wanted you by me, " she said, as he reached her side. "I never knewhow much he was to me. He wasn't big and strong like other men, but nowI see that he was very dear and more than I suspected. He was so quietand always so kind--I don't remember that he was ever stern with meonce. And though he suffered from some great sorrow and from sickness, he never complained. He wouldn't even admit he was sick, and he alwaystried to smile in that little way he had, so gentle. Poor sorry littlefather!--and yesterday not one of them would be his friend. It broke myheart to see him there so wistful when they turned their backs on him. Poor little man! And see, here's another grave all grown around withsage and the stones worn smooth; but there's the cross he spoke of. Itmust be some one that he wanted to lie beside. Poor little sorry father!Oh, you will have to be so much to me!"

The train was under way again. In the box of the big wagon, on a springycouch of spruce boughs and long bunch-grass, Prudence lay at rest, hurtby her grief, yet soothed by her love, her thoughts in a whirl abouther. 

Follett, mounted on Dandy, rode beside her wagon. 

"Better get some sleep yourself, Rool, " urged Steffins. 

"Can't, Lew. I ain't sleepy. I'm too busy thinking about things, and Ihave to watch out for my little girl there. You can't tell what thesecusses might do. "

"There's thirty of us watching out for her now, young fellow. "

"There'll be thirty-one till we get out of this neighbourhood, Lew. "

He lifted up the wagon-cover softly a little later; and found that sheslept. As they rode on, Steffins questioned him. 

"Did you make that surround you was going to make, Rool?"

"No, Lew, I couldn't. Two of them was already under, and, honest, Icouldn't have got the other one any more than you could have shot yourkid that day he up-ended the gravy-dish in your lap. "

"Hell!"

"That's right! I hope I never have to kill any one, Lew, no matter _how_much I got a right to. I reckon it always leaves uneasy feelings in aman's mind. "

 * * * * *

Eight days later a tall, bronzed young man with yellow hair and quickblue eyes, in what an observant British tourist noted in his journal as"the not unpicturesque garb of a border-ruffian, " helped a dazed butvery pretty young woman on to the rear platform of the Pullman carattached to the east-bound overland express at Ogden. 

As they lingered on the platform before the train started they werehailed and loudly cheered, averred the journal of this same Briton, "bya crowd of the outlaw's companions, at least a score and a half of mostdisreputable-looking wretches, unshaven, roughly dressed, heavilybooted, slouch-hatted (they swung their hats in a drunken frenzy), andto this rough ovation the girl, though seemingly a person of somedecency, waved her handkerchief and smiled repeatedly, though her facehad seemed to be sad and there were tears in her eyes at that verymoment. "

At this response from the girl, the journal went on to say, the ruffianshad redoubled their drunken pandemonium. And as the train pulled away, to the observant tourist's marked relief, the young outlaw on theplatform had waved his own hat and shouted as a last message to one"Lew, " that he "must not let Dandy get gandered up, " nor forget "to tiehim to grass. "

Later, as the train shrieked its way through Echo Caņon, the observanttourist, with his double-visored plaid cap well over his face, pretending to sleep, overheard the same person across the aisle say tothe girl:--

"Now we're on our own property at last. For the next sixty hours we'llbe riding across our own front yard--and there aren't any keys andpasswords and grips here, either--just a plain Almighty God with nononsense about Him. "

Whereupon had been later added to the journal a note to the effect thatAmericans are not only quite as prone to vaunt and brag and tell bigstories as other explorers had asserted, but that in the West they wereready blasphemers. 

Yet the couple minded not the observant tourist, and continued toenlarge and complicate his views of American life to the very bank ofthe Missouri. Unwittingly, however, for they knew him not nor saw himnor heard him, being occupied with the matter of themselves. 

"You'll have to back me up when we get to Springfield, " he said to herone late afternoon, when they neared the end of their exciting journey. "I've heard that old Grandpa Corson is mighty peppery. He might take youaway from me. "

Her eyes came in from the brown rolling of the plain outside to lighthim with their love; and then, the lamps having not yet been lighted, the head of grace nestled suddenly on its pillow of brawn with only alittle tremulous sigh of security for answer. 

This brought his arm quickly about her in a protecting clasp, plainly inthe sidelong gaze of the now scandalised but not less observant tourist. 

 THE END.