They saw him go to Prudence, raise her from the ground, put a saddle-blanket over his arm, and lead her slowly up the road around a turn that took them beyond a clump of the oak-brush.

“It won’t do!” said Wright, with a meaning glance at the Entablature of Truth, quite as if he had divined his thought.

“I’d like to know why not?” retorted this good man, aggressively.

“Because times has changed; this ain’t ’57.”

“It’ll almost do itself,” insisted Snow.  “What say, Glines?” and he turned to one of the others.

“Looks all right,” answered the man addressed.  “By heck! but that’s a purty saddle he carries!”

“What say, Taggart?”

“For God’s sake, no, Bishop!  No—­I got enough dead faces looking at me now from this place.  I’m ha’nted into hell a’ready, like he said he was yisterday.  By God!  I sometimes a’most think I’ll have my ears busted and my eyes put out to git away from the bloody things!”

“Ho!  Scared, are you?  Well, I’ll do it myself. You don’t need to help.”

“Better let well enough alone, Brother Warren!” interposed Wright.

“But it ain’t well enough!  Think of that girl going to a low cuss of a Gentile when Brigham wants her.  Why, think of letting such a critter get away, even if Brigham didn’t want her!”

“You know they got Brother Brigham under indictment for murder now, account of that Aiken party.”

“What of it?  He’ll get off.”

“That he will, but it’s because he’s Brigham. You ain’t.  You’re just a south country Bishop.  Don’t you know he’d throw you to the Gentile courts as a sop quicker’n a wink if he got a chance,—­just like he’ll do with old John D. Lee the minute George A. peters out so the chain will be broke between Lee and Brigham?”

“And maybe this cuss has got friends,” suggested Glines.

“Who’d know but the girl?” Snow insisted.  “And Brother Brigham would fix her all right.  Is the household of faith to be spoiled?”

“Well, they got a railroad running through it now,” said Wright, “and a telegraph, and a lot of soldiers.  So don’t you count on me, Brother Snow, at any stage of it now or afterwards.  I got a pretty sizable family that would hate to lose me.  Look out!  Here he comes.”

Follett now came up, speaking in a cheerful manner that nevertheless chilled even the enthusiasm of the good Bishop Snow.

“Now, gentlemen, just by way of friendly advice to you,—­like as not I’ll be stepping in front of some of you in the next hour.  But it isn’t going to worry me any, and I’ll tell you why.  I’d feel awful sad for you all if anything was to happen to me,—­if the Injuns got me, or I was took bad with a chill, or a jack-rabbit crept up and bit me to death, or anything.  You see, there’s a train of twenty-five big J. Murphy wagons will be along here over the San Bernardino trail.  They are coming out of their