RIDGE

In October Shefford arranged for a hunt in the Cresaw Mountains with Joe
Lake and Nas Ta Bega. The Indian had gone home for a short visit, and
upon his return the party expected to start. But Nas Ta Bega did not
come back. Then the arrival of a Piute with news that excited Withers
and greatly perturbed Lake convinced Shefford that something was wrong.

The little trading-post seldom saw such disorder; certainly Shefford
had never known the trader to neglect work. Joe Lake threw a saddle on
a mustang he would have scorned to notice in an ordinary moment, and
without a word of explanation or farewell rode hard to the north on the
Stonebridge trail.

Shefford had long since acquired patience. He was curious, but he did
not care particularly what was in the wind. However, when Withers came
out and sent an Indian to drive up the horses Shefford could not refrain
from a query.

"I hate to tell you," replied the trader.

"Go on," added Shefford, quickly.

"Did I tell you about the government sending a Supreme Court judge out
to Utah to prosecute the polygamists?"

"No," replied Shefford.

"I forgot to, I reckon. You've been away a lot. Well, there's been hell
up in Utah for six months. Lately this judge and his men have worked
down into southern Utah. He visited Bluff and Monticello a few weeks
ago.... Now what do you think?"

"Withers! Is he coming to Stonebridge?"

"He's there now. Some one betrayed the whereabouts of the hidden village
over in the canyon. All the women have been arrested and taken to
Stonebridge. The trial begins to-day."

"Arrested!" echoed Shefford, blankly. "Those poor, lonely, good women?
What on earth for?"

"Sealed wives!" exclaimed Withers, tersely. "This judge is after the
polygamists. They say he's absolutely relentless."

"But--women can't be polygamists. Their husbands are the ones wanted."

"Sure. But the prosecutors have got to find the sealed wives--the second
wives--to find the law-breaking husbands. That'll be a job, or I don't
know Mormons.... Are you going to ride over to Stonebridge with me?"

Shefford shrank at the idea. Months of toil and pain and travail had not
been enough to make him forget the strange girl he had loved. But he had
remembered only at poignant intervals, and the lapse of time had made
thought of her a dream like that sad dream which had lured him into the
desert. With the query of the trader came a bitter-sweet regret.

"Better come with m