Shefford did not respond with his usual enthusiasm, and the omission caused the trader to scrutinize him closely.

“What’s the matter?” he queried.  “There’s no light in your eye to-day.  You look a little shady.”

“I didn’t rest well last night,” replied Shefford.  “I’m depressed this morning.  But I’ll cheer up directly.”

“Did you get along with the women?”

“Very well indeed.  And I’ve enjoyed myself.  It’s a strange, beautiful place.”

“Do you like the women?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen much of the Sago Lily?”

“No.  I carried her bucket one night—­and saw her only once again.  I’ve been with the other women most of the time.”

“It’s just as well you didn’t run often into Mary.  Joe’s sick over her.  I never saw a girl with a face and form to equal hers.  There’s danger here for any man, Shefford.  Even for you who think you’ve turned your back on the world!  Any of these Mormon women may fall in love with you.  They can’t love their husbands.  That’s how I figure it.  Religion holds them, not love.  And the peculiar thing is this:  they’re second, third, or fourth wives, all sealed.  That means their husbands are old, have picked them out for youth and physical charms, have chosen the very opposite to their first wives, and then have hidden them here in this lonely hole. . . .  Did you ever imagine so terrible a thing?”

“No, Withers, I did not.”

“Maybe that’s what depressed you.  Anyway, my hunch is worth taking.  Be as nice as you can, Shefford.  Lord knows it would be good for these poor women if every last one of them fell in love with you.  That won’t hurt them so long as you keep your head.  Savvy?  Perhaps I seem rough and coarse to a man of your class.  Well, that may be.  But human nature is human nature.  And in this strange and beautiful place you might love an Indian girl, let alone the Sago Lily.  That’s all.  I sure feel better with that load off my conscience.  Hope I don’t offend.”

“No indeed.  I thank you, Withers,” replied Shefford, with his hand on the trader’s shoulder.  “You are right to caution me.  I seem to be wild—­thirsting for adventure—­chasing a gleam.  In these unstable days I can’t answer for my heart.  But I can for my honor.  These unfortunate women are as safe with me as—­as they are with you and Joe.”

Withers uttered a blunt laugh.

“See here, son, look things square in the eye.  Men of violent, lonely, toilsome lives store up hunger for the love of woman.  Love of a strange woman, if you want to put it that way.  It’s nature.  It seems all the beautiful young women in Utah are corralled in this valley.  When I come over here I feel natural, but I’m not happy.  I’d like to make love to—­to that flower-faced girl.  And I’m not ashamed to own it.  I’ve told Molly, my wife, and she understands.  As for Joe, it’s much harder for him.  Joe never has had a wife or sweetheart.  I tell you he’s sick, and if I’d stay here a month I’d be sick.”