ted to stay, and I had work there that'll keep him awhile.
Shefford, we got news of Shadd--bad news. The half-breed's cutting up
rough. His gang shot up some Piutes over here across the line. Then he
got run out of Durango a few weeks ago for murder. A posse of cowboys
trailed him. But he slipped them. He's a fox. You know he was trailing
us here. He left the trail, Nas Ta Bega said. I learned at Stonebridge
that Shadd is well disposed toward Mormons. It takes the Mormons to
handle Indians. Shadd knows of this village and that's why he shunted
off our trail. But he might hang down in the pass and wait for us. I
think I'd better go back to Kayenta alone, across country. You stay here
till Joe and the Indian think it safe to leave. You'll be going up on
the slope of Navajo to load a pack-train, and from there it may be well
to go down West Canyon to Red Lake, and home over the divide, the way
you came. Joe'll decide what's best. And you might as well buckle on a
gun and get used to it. Sooner or later you'll have to shoot your way
through."

Shefford did not respond with his usual enthusiasm, and the omission
caused the trader to scrutinize him closely.

"What's the matter?" he queried. "There's no light in your eye to-day.
You look a little shady."

"I didn't rest well last night," replied Shefford. "I'm depressed this
morning. But I'll cheer up directly."

"Did you get along with the women?"

"Very well indeed. And I've enjoyed myself. It's a strange, beautiful
place."

"Do you like the women?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen much of the Sago Lily?"

"No. I carried her bucket one night--and saw her only once again. I've
been with the other women most of the time."

"It's just as well you didn't run often into Mary. Joe's sick over her.
I never saw a girl with a face and form to equal hers. There's danger
here for any man, Shefford. Even for you who think you've turned your
back on the world! Any of these Mormon women may fall in love with you.
They CAN'T love their husbands. That's how I figure it. Religion holds
them, not love. And the peculiar thing is this: they're second, third,
or fourth wives, all sealed. That means their husbands are old, have
picked them out for youth and physical charms, have chosen the very
opposite to their first wives, and then have hidden them here in this
lonely hole.... Did you ever imagine so terrible a thing?"

"No, Withers, I did not."

"Maybe that's what depressed you. Anyway,