“I sure am glad to meet you,” he said in a lazy, mild voice.  And he was taking friendly stock of Shefford when the bay mustang reached with vicious muzzle to bite at him.  Lake gave a jerk on the bridle that almost brought the mustang to his knees.  He reared then, snorted, and came down to plant his forefeet wide apart, and watched his master with defiant eyes.  This mustang was the finest horse Shefford had ever seen.  He appeared quite large for his species, was almost red in color, had a racy and powerful build, and a fine thoroughbred head with dark, fiery eyes.  He did not look mean, but he had spirit.

“Navvy, you’ve sure got bad manners,” said Lake, shaking the mustang’s bridle.  He spoke as if he were chiding a refractory little boy.  “Didn’t I break you better’n that?  What’s this gentleman goin’ to think of you?  Tryin’ to bite my ear off!”

Lake had arrived about the middle of the forenoon, and Withers announced his intention of packing at once for the trip.  Indians were sent out on the ranges to drive in burros and mustangs.  Shefford had his thrilling expectancy somewhat chilled by what he considered must have been Lake’s reception of the trader’s plan.  Lake seemed to oppose him, and evidently it took vehemence and argument on Withers’s part to make the Mormon tractable.  But Withers won him over, and then he called Shefford to his side.

“You fellows got to be good friends,” he said.  “You’ll have charge of my pack-trains.  Nas Ta Bega wants to go with you.  I’ll feel safer about my supplies and stock than I’ve ever been. . . .  Joe, I’ll back this stranger for all I’m worth.  He’s square. . . .  And, Shefford, Joe Lake is a Mormon of the younger generation.  I want to start you right.  You can trust him as you trust me.  He’s white clean through.  And he’s the best horse-wrangler in Utah.”

It was Lake who first offered his hand, and Shefford made haste to meet it with his own.  Neither of them spoke.  Shefford intuitively felt an alteration in Lake’s regard, or at least a singular increase of interest.  Lake had been told that Shefford had been a clergyman, was now a wanderer, without any religion.  Again it seemed to Shefford that he owed a forming of friendship to this singular fact.  And it hurt him.  But strangely it came to him that he had taken a liking to a Mormon.

About one o’clock the pack-train left Kayenta.  Nas Ta Bega led the way up the slope.  Following him climbed half a dozen patient, plodding, heavily laden burros.  Withers came next, and he turned in his saddle to wave good-by to his wife.  Joe Lake appeared to be busy keeping a red mule and a wild gray mustang and a couple of restive blacks in the trail.  Shefford brought up in the rear.