uphold the founders of a Church, a creed. The Church
of his own kind was a place where narrow men and women went to think of
their own salvation. They did not go there to think of others. And now
Shefford's keen mind saw something of Mormonism and found it wanting.
Bishop Kane was a sincere, good, mistaken man. He believed what he
preached, but that would not stand logic. He taught blindness and mostly
it appeared to be directed at the women. Was there no religion divorced
from power, no religion as good for one man as another, no religion in
the spirit of brotherly love? Nas Ta Bega's "Bi Nai" (brother)--that was
love, if not religion, and perhaps the one and the other were the same.
Shefford kept in mind an intention to ask Nas Ta Bega what he thought of
the Mormons.

Later, when opportunity afforded, he did speak to the Indian. Nas
Ta Bega threw away his cigarette and made an impressive gesture that
conveyed as much sorrow as scorn.

"The first Mormon said God spoke to him and told him to go to a certain
place and dig. He went there and found the Book of Mormon. It said
follow me, marry many wives, go into the desert and multiply, send your
sons out into the world and bring us young women, many young women. And
when the first Mormon became strong with many followers he said again:
Give to me part of your labor--of your cattle and sheep--of your
silver--that I may build me great cathedrals for you to worship in. And
I will commune with God and make it right and good that you have more
wives. That is Mormonism."

"Nas Ta Bega, you mean the Mormons are a great and good people blindly
following a leader?"

"Yes. And the leader builds for himself--not for them."

"That is not religion. He has no God but himself."

"They have no God. They are blind like the Mokis who have the creeping
growths on their eyes. They have no God they can see and hear and feel,
who is with them day and night."

It was late in the afternoon when Bishop Kane rode through the camp and
halted on his way to speak to Shefford. He was kind and fatherly. "Young
man, are you open to faith?" he questioned gravely.

"I think I am," replied Shefford, thankful he could answer readily.

"Then come into the fold. You are a lost sheep. 'Away on the desert
I heard its cry.'... God bless you. Visit me when you ride to
Stonebridge."

He flicked his horse with a cedar branch and trotted away beside the
trader, and presently the green-choked neck of the