u met them."

"Have they wives?" asked Shefford, curiously.

"Wives! Well, I guess. But only one each that I know of. Joe Lake is the
only unmarried Mormon I've met."

"And no men--strangers, cowboys, outlaws--ever come to this village?"

"Except to Indians, it seems to be a secret so far," replied the trader,
earnestly. "But it can't be kept secret. I've said that time after time
over in Stonebridge. With Mormons it's 'sufficient unto the day is the
evil thereof.'"

"What'll happen when outsiders do learn and ride in here?"

"There'll be trouble--maybe bloodshed. Mormon women are absolutely good,
but they're human, and want and need a little life. And, strange to say,
Mormon men are pig-headedly jealous.... Why, if some of the cowboys I
knew in Durango would ride over here there'd simply be hell. But that's
a long way, and probably this village will be deserted before news of it
ever reaches Colorado. There's more danger of Shadd and his gang coming
in. Shadd's half Piute. He must know of this place. And he's got some
white outlaws in his gang.... Come on. Grub's ready, and I'm too hungry
to talk."

Later, when shadows began to gather in the valley and the lofty peaks
above were gold in the sunset glow, Withers left camp to look after the
straying mustangs, and Shefford strolled to and fro under the cedars.
The lights and shades in the Sagi that first night had moved him to
enthusiastic watchfulness, but here they were so weird and beautiful
that he was enraptured. He actually saw great shafts of gold and shadows
of purple streaming from the peaks down into the valley. It was day on
the heights and twilight in the valley. The swiftly changing colors were
like rainbows.

While he strolled up and down several women came to the spring and
filled their buckets. They wore shawls or hoods and their garments were
somber, but, nevertheless, they appeared to have youth and comeliness.
They saw him, looked at him curiously, and then, without speaking,
went back on the well-trodden path. Presently down the path appeared a
woman--a girl in lighter garb. It was almost white. She was shapely and
walked with free, graceful step, reminding him of the Indian girl,
Glen Naspa. This one wore a hood shaped like a huge sunbonnet and it
concealed her face. She carried a bucket. When she reached the spring
and went down the few stone steps Shefford saw that she did not have on
shoes. As she braced herself to lift the bucket her bare