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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Sagi," replied the Indian. That did not mean anything to Shefford, and he asked if the Sagi was the pass, but the Indian shook his head. "Wife?" asked Shefford, pointing to the girl. The Indian shook his head again. "Bi-la," he said. "What you mean?" asked Shefford. "What bi-la?" "Sister," replied the Indian.
When he dismounted, however, he had a chance to look around, and more and more he was amazed at the increasing proportions and wildness of the Sagi. He came at length to a place where a fallen tree blocked the trail. All of the rest of the pack-train had jumped the log. But Nack-yal balked. Shefford dismounted, pulled the bridle over the mustang's head, and tried to lead him.
She don't wear her hair down. She don't put her lips to the bottle. She don't. Where is Mr. Sagi where is Malkiel the Second?" "I have no idea. And now, Madame, I regret that I must conduct you to your carriage. The hour is late, my grandmother is seriously indisposed, and I myself need rest." "Well, then, you can't have it," retorted the lady with authoritative spitefulness.
Having obtained this, the officers repaired for the fourth time to these unfriendly shores, and enjoyed the happiness of embracing their companions, and taking them on board. By Captain Golownin. London: Colburn & Co. 1852. Sagi is the strong drink of Japan, distilled from rice. July 1852.
And now no Mormon man are protect her, for fear of prosecution." "I'll go," replied Shefford, shortly. The Indian brought up the horses. Nack-yal was thin from his long travel during the hot summer, but he was as hard as iron, and the way he pointed his keen nose toward the Sagi showed how he wanted to make for the upland country, with its clear springs and valleys of grass.
"He's a half-breed Ute bad Indian, outlaw, murderer. He's in with a gang of outlaws who hide in the San Juan country.... Reckon you're lucky. How'd you come to be there in the Sagi alone?" "I traveled from Red Lake. Presbrey, the trader there, advised against it, but I came anyway." "Well." Withers's gray glance was kind, if it did express the foolhardiness of Shefford's act.
He learned the truth about the Indians and the missionaries. Upon the return trip he rode over the trail he had followed alone to Red Lake and thence on to the Sagi, and it seemed that years had passed since he first entered this wild region which had come to be home, years that had molded him in the stern and fiery crucible of the desert.
Later, when shadows began to gather in the valley and the lofty peaks above were gold in the sunset glow, Withers left camp to look after the straying mustangs, and Shefford strolled to and fro under the cedars. The lights and shades in the Sagi that first night had moved him to enthusiastic watchfulness, but here they were so weird and beautiful that he was enraptured.
At once he recognized in Shadd the broad-faced squat Indian who had paid him a threatening visit that night long ago in the mouth of the Sagi. A fire ran along Shefford's veins and seemed to concentrate in his breast. Shadd's dark, piercing eyes alighted upon Shefford and rested there. Then the half-breed spoke to one of his white outlaws and pointed at Shefford.
"Biggle of course," she said to the little clergyman, who passed on with an air of reliant self-satisfaction. "Delighted to see you," she added, this time addressing the Prophet's old and valued friends. "Ah! Mr. Sagi Sagi um I have heard so much of you from dear Miss Minerva."
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