me; but I don' know how much truth thar's in
it; for I've foun' her out in more 'n one lie about this bizness. She's
been wi' the carryvan, however, an' shed know all about it."

"About what?" I asked.

"Well--Su-wa-nee says that the carryvan's broke up into two."

"Ha!"

"One helf o' it, wi' the dragoons, hes turned south, torst Santa Fe; the
other, which air all Mormons, hev struck off northardly, by a different
pass, an' on a trail thet makes for thar new settlements on Salt Lake."

"There's not much news in that. We had anticipated something of the
kind?"

"But thar's worse, capt'n."

"Worse!--what is it, Wingrove?" I put the question with a feeling of
renewed anxiety.

"Holt's gone wi' the Mormons."

"That too I had expected. It does not surprise me in the least."

"Ah! capt'n," continued the backwoodsman with a sigh, while an
expression of profound sadness pervaded his features, "thar's uglier
news still."

"Ha!" I involuntarily exclaimed, as an evil suspicion crossed my mind.
"News of _her_? Quick! tell me! has aught happened to _her_?"

"The worst that kud happen, I reck'n--_she's dead_."

I started as if a shot had passed through my heart. Its convulsive
throbbing stifled my speech. I could not get breath to utter a word;
but stood gazing at my companion in silent agony.

"Arter all," continued he, in a tone of grave resignation, "I don't know
if it _air_ the worst. I sayed afore, an' I say so still, thet I'd
ruther she war dead that in the arms o' thet ere stinkin' Mormon. Poor
Marian! she's hed but a short life, o' 't, an' not a very merry one
eyether."

"What! Marian? Is it of her you are speaking?"

"Why, sartin, capt'n. Who else shed it be?"

"Marian dead?"

"Yes--poor girl, she never lived to see that Salt Lake city--whar the
cussed varmint war takin' her. She died on the way out, an' war berryed
som'rs on the paraireys. I wish I knew whar--I'd go to see her grave."

"Ha! ha! ha! Whose story is this?"

My companion looked at me in amazement. The laugh, at such a time, must
have sounded strange to his ears.

"The Injun heerd it from Lil," replied Wingrove, still puzzled at my
behaviour. "Stebbins had told it to Holt, an' to her likeways. Poor
young creetur! I reck'n he'll be a wantin' her too--now thet he's lost
the other. Poor little Lil!"

"Cheer, comrade, cheer! Either Su-wa-nee or Stebbins has lied--belike
both of them, since both had a purpose to ser