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He has killed the white man's friends, stolen his cattle, and his water. To-day the white man laid another son in his grave. What thinks the chief? Would he not crush the scorpion that stung him?" The old Navajo answered in speech which, when translated, was as stately as the Mormon's. "Eschtah respects his friend, but he has not thought him wise.
Now we must bury these men. To-morrow my son. Then " "What then?" Hare straightened up. Unutterable pain darkened the flame in the Mormon's gaze. For an instant his face worked spasmodically, only to stiffen into a stony mask. It was the old conflict once more, the never-ending war between flesh and spirit. And now the flesh had prevailed. "The time has come!" said George Naab.
But whether the Mormon's trial was one of spiritual rending or the natural physical fear of a perilous, virtually impossible venture, the fact was he was magnificent in his acceptance of it. He turned to Shefford, white, cold, yet glowing. "Nas Ta Bega believes he can take you down a canyon to the big river the Colorado. He knows the head of this canyon.
Nor is the greed of the present hierarchy satisfied with one-tenth of a Mormon's income. Well, some go straightway to dickering with the Lord. They will say that they hired a man so and so, and his wages must be taken out; that they had to pay such and such expenses, and this cost and that cost; and they reckon out all their expenses and tithe the balance."
The expression upon the Mormon's features, as he parted from the fire, was one of demoniac significance. Clearly he comprehended all! I saw him gliding off through, the corral, with silent stealthy tread, like some restless spirit of darkness. Here and there he paused; and for a moment held one in conversation then quickly passing on to another.
The Mormon's grip straightened his frame and braced him. Strength and simplicity flowed from the giant's toil-hardened palm. Hare swallowed his thanks along with his emotion, and for what he had intended to say he substituted: "No one ever called me John. I don't know the name. Call me Jack." "Very well, Jack, and now let's see. You'll need some things from the store. Can you come with me?
And if he had known how to pray, he told himself, he would have asked the Almighty to give him strength for the tremendous venture which lay before him. "They can stand the curse of being women, but they're revolting against men's being stupid." The Mormon's Wife. Douglas spurred Tom relentlessly until the snow was belly-deep and both animals began to fight obstinately to turn back.
In her fear she so controlled her mind that she did not whisper this Mormon's name to her own soul, she did not even think it. Besides, beyond this thing she regarded as a sacred obligation thrust upon her, was the need of a helper, of a friend, of a champion in this critical time.
Anyway, when little Minervy kep' growin' purtyer and sweeter, I couldn't stand it to think of her growin' up and bein' a Mormon's wife. I seen so many purty girls... So I made up my mind we'd move away off somewheres, where Minervy could grow up jest as sweet and purty as she was a mind to, and not have to suffer fer her sweetness and her purtyness.
The old Mormon's eagle glance passed over the dark forms dangling from the cottonwoods to the files of waiting men. "Where is he?" "There!" answered John Caldwell, pointing to the body of Holderness. "Who robbed me of my vengeance? Who killed the rustler?" Naab's stentorian voice rolled over the listening multitude. In it was a hunger of thwarted hate that held men mute.
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