nt way, "Bishop, did you ever see Glen
Naspa?"

"No."

"She's the prettiest Navajo in the country. Willetts was after her,
that's all."

"My dear man, I can't believe that of a Christian missionary. We've
known Willetts for years. He's a man of influence. He has money back of
him. He's doing a good work. You hint of a love relation."

"No, I don't hint," replied Withers, impatiently. "I know. It's not the
first time I've known a missionary to do this sort of thing. Nor is it
the first time for Willetts. Bishop Kane, I live among the Indians. I
see a lot I never speak of. My work is to trade with the Indians, that's
all. But I'll not have Willetts or any other damned hypocrite run down
my friend here. John Shefford is the finest young man that ever came to
me in the desert. And he's got to be put right before you all or I'll
not set foot in Stonebridge again.... Willetts was after Glen Naspa.
Shefford punched him. And later threw him out of the old Indian's hogan
up on the mountain. That explains Willetts's enmity. He was after the
girl."

"What's more, gentlemen, he GOT her," added Shefford. "Glen Naspa has
not been home for six months. I saw her at Blue Canyon.... I would like
to face this Willetts before you all."

"Easy enough," replied Withers, with a grim chuckle. "He's just
outside."

The trader went out; Joe Lake followed at his heels and the three
Mormons were next; Shefford brought up the rear and lingered in the door
while his eye swept the crowd of men and Indians. His feeling was in
direct contrast to his movements. He felt the throbbing of fierce anger.
But it seemed a face came between him and his passion--a sweet and
tragic face that would have had power to check him in a vastly more
critical moment than this. And in an instant he had himself in hand,
and, strangely, suddenly felt the strength that had come to him.

Willetts stood in earnest colloquy with a short, squat Indian--the
half-breed Shadd. They leaned against a hitching-rail. Other Indians
were there, and outlaws. It was a mixed group, rough and hard-looking.

"Hey, Willetts!" called the trader, and his loud, ringing voice, not
pleasant, stilled the movement and sound.

When Willetts turned, Shefford was half-way across the wide walk. The
missionary not only saw him, but also Nas Ta Bega, who was striding
forward. Joe Lake was ahead of the trader, the Mormons followed with
decision, and they all confronted Willetts. He turned pale.