people--relatives-- who have long wanted to know where she's
buried, that's all."

"Relatives? She never spoke of relatives, except a brother who
was shot in Texas. Lassiter, Milly Erne's grave is in a secret
burying-ground on my property."

"Will you take me there?...You'll be offendin' Mormons worse than
by breakin' bread with me."

"Indeed yes, but I'll do it. Only we must go unseen. To-morrow,
perhaps."

"Thank you, Jane Withersteen," replied the rider, and he bowed to
her and stepped backward out of the court.

"Will you not stay--sleep under my roof?" she asked.

"No, ma'am, an' thanks again. I never sleep indoors. An' even if
I did there's that gatherin' storm in the village below. No, no.
I'll go to the sage. I hope you won't suffer none for your
kindness to me."

"Lassiter," said Venters, with a half-bitter laugh, "my bed too,
is the sage. Perhaps we may meet out there."

"Mebbe so. But the sage is wide an' I won't be near. Good night."

At Lassiter's low whistle the black horse whinnied, and carefully
picked his blind way out of the grove. The rider did not bridle