“Reckon Ruth has a strong hunch that she can get away with it.  Did you notice how strange she said that?  Well, they can’t do much to her.  The bishop may damn her soul.  But—­Ruth—­”

Here Lake hesitated and broke off.  Not improbably he had meant to say that of all the Mormon women in the valley Ruth was the least likely to suffer from punishment inflicted upon her soul.

“Anyway, it’s our only chance,” went on Joe, “unless we kill a couple of men.  Ruth will gladly take what comes to help you.”

“All right; I consent,” replied Shefford, with emotion.  “And now after she comes out—­the supposed Ruth—­what then?”

“You can be natural-like.  Go with her back to Ruth’s cabin.  Then stroll off into the cedars.  Then climb the west wall.  Meanwhile Nas Ta Bega will ride off with a pack of grub and Nack-yal and several other mustangs.  He’ll wait for you or you’ll wait for him, as the case may be, at some appointed place.  When you’re gone I’ll jump my horse and hit the trail for Kayenta and the San Juan.”

“Very well; that’s settled,” said Shefford, soberly.  “I’ll go at once to see Ruth.  You and Nas Ta Bega decide on where I’m to meet him.”

“Reckon you’d do just as well to walk round and come up to Ruth’s from the other side—­instead of going through the village,” suggested Joe.

Shefford approached Ruth’s cabin in a roundabout way; nevertheless, she saw him coming before he got there and, opening the door, stood pale, composed, and quietly bade him enter.  Briefly, in low and earnest voice, Shefford acquainted her with the plan.

“You love her so much,” she said, wistfully, wonderingly.

“Indeed I do.  Is it too much to ask of you to do this thing?” he asked.

“Do it?” she queried, with a flash of spirit.  “Of course I’ll do it.”

“Ruth, I can’t thank you.  I can’t.  I’ve only a faint idea what you’re risking.  That distresses me.  I’m afraid of what may happen to you.”

She gave him another of the strange glances.  “I don’t risk so much as you think,” she said, significantly.

“Why?”

She came close to him, and her hands clasped his arms and she looked up at him, her eyes darkening and her face growing paler.  “Will you swear to keep my secret?” she asked, very low.

“Yes, I swear.”

“I was one of Waggoner’s sealed wives!”

“God Almighty!” broke out Shefford, utterly overwhelmed.

“Yes.  That’s why I say I don’t risk so much.  I will make up a story to tell the bishop and everybody.  I’ll tell that Waggoner was jealous, that he was brutal to Mary, that I believed she was goaded to her mad deed, that I thought she ought to be free.  They’ll be terrible.  But what can they do to me?  My husband is dead . . . and if I have to go to hell to keep from marrying another married Mormon, I’ll go!”