Presently another, somewhat younger, man joined the group, a stalwart, jovial fellow with ruddy face.  There was certainly no mistaking his kindly welcome as he shook Shefford’s hand.  His name was Beal.  The three stood round the camp-fire for a while, evidently glad of the presence of fellow-men and to hear news from the outside.  Finally they went away, taking Joe with them.  Withers took up the task of getting supper where Joe had been made to leave it.

“Shefford, listen,” he said, presently, as he knelt before the fire.  “I told them right out that you’d been a Gentile clergyman—­that you’d gone back on your religion.  It impressed them and you’ve been well received.  I’ll tell the same thing over at Stonebridge.  You’ll get in right.  Of course I don’t expect they’ll make a Mormon of you.  But they’ll try to.  Meanwhile you can be square and friendly all the time you’re trying to find your Fay Larkin.  To-morrow you’ll meet some of the women.  They’re good souls, but, like any women, crazy for news.  Think what it is to be shut up in here between these walls!”

“Withers, I’m intensely interested,” replied Shefford, “and excited, too.  Shall we stay here long?”

“I’ll stay a couple of days, then go to Stonebridge with Joe.  He’ll come back here, and when you both feel like leaving, and if Nas Ta Bega thinks it safe, you’ll take a trail over to some Indian hogans and pack me out a load of skins and blankets. . . .  My boy, you’ve all the time there is, and I wish you luck.  This isn’t a bad place to loaf.  I always get sentimental over here.  Maybe it’s the women.  Some of them are pretty, and one of them—­Shefford, they call her the Sago Lily.  Her first name is Mary, I’m told.  Don’t know her last name.  She’s lovely.  And I’ll bet you forget Fay Larkin in a flash.  Only—­ be careful.  You drop in here with rather peculiar credentials, so to speak—­as my helper and as a man with no religion!  You’ll not only be fully trusted, but you’ll be welcome to these lonely women.  So be careful.  Remember it’s my secret belief they are sealed wives and are visited occasionally at night by their husbands.  I don’t know this, but I believe it.  And you’re not supposed to dream of that.”

“How many men in the village?” asked Shefford.

“Three.  You met them.”

“Have they wives?” asked Shefford, curiously.

“Wives!  Well, I guess.  But only one each that I know of.  Joe Lake is the only unmarried Mormon I’ve met.”

“And no men—­strangers, cowboys, outlaws—­ever come to this village?”

“Except to Indians, it seems to be a secret so far,” replied the trader, earnestly.  “But it can’t be kept secret.  I’ve said that time after time over in Stonebridge.  With Mormons it’s ’sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’”

“What’ll happen when outsiders do learn and ride in here?”