f bad repute, as much outlaw as anything, took up the bantering.

"Say, Shefford, what in the hell's your job here, anyway?" he queried
as he kicked a cedar branch into the camp-fire. The brightening blaze
showed him swarthy, unshaven, a large-featured, ugly man.

"I've been doing odd jobs for Withers," replied Shefford. "Expect to
drive pack-trains in here for a while."

"You must stand strong with these Mormons. Must be a Mormon yerself?"

"No," replied Shefford, briefly.

"Wal, I'm stuck on your job. Do you need a packer? I can throw a
diamond-hitch better 'n any feller in this country."

"I don't need help."

"Mebbe you'll take me over to see the ladies," he went on, with a coarse
laugh.

Shefford did not show that he had heard. Hurley waited, leering as
looked from the keen listeners to Shefford.

"Want to have them all yerself, eh?" he jeered.

Shefford struck him--sent him tumbling heavily, like a log. Hurley,
cursing as he half rose, jerked his gun out. Nas Ta Bega, swift as
light, kicked the gun out of his hand. And Joe Lake picked it up.

Deliberately the Mormon cocked the weapon and stood over Hurley.

"Get up!" he ordered, and Shefford heard the ruthless Mormon in him
then.

Hurley rose slowly. Then Joe prodded him in the middle with the cocked
gun. Shefford startled, expected the gun to go off. So did the others,
especially Hurley, who shrank in panic from the dark Mormon.

"Rustle!" said Joe, and gave the man a harder prod. Assuredly the gun
did not have a hair-trigger.

"Joe, mebbe it's loaded!" protested one of the cowboys.

Hurley shrank back, and turned to hurry away, with Joe close after him.
They disappeared in the darkness. A constrained silence was maintained
around the camp-fire for a while. Presently some of the men walked off
and others began to converse. Everybody heard the sound of hoofs passing
down the trail. The patter ceased, and in a few moments Lake returned.
He still carried Hurley's gun.

The crowd dispersed then. There was no indication of further trouble.
However, Shefford and Joe and Nas Ta Bega divided the night in watches,
so that some one would be wide awake.

Early next morning there was an exodus from the village of the better
element among the visitors. "No fun hangin' round hyar," one of them
expressed it, and as good-naturedly as they had come they rode away. Six
or seven of the desperado class remained behind, bent on mischief; and
they were reinforced