with the Navajos and Piutes for many years, and his wife had been
brought up among them. She was held in peculiar reverence and
affection by both tribes in that part of the country. Probably she
knew more of the Indians' habits, religion, and life than any white
person in the West. Both tribes were friendly and peaceable, but there
were bad Indians, half-breeds, and outlaws that made the trading-post
a venture Withers had long considered precarious, and he wanted to move
and intended to some day. His nearest neighbors in New Mexico and
Colorado were a hundred miles distant and at some seasons the roads
were impassable. To the north, however, twenty miles or so, was
situated a Mormon village named Stonebridge. It lay across the Utah
line. Withers did some business with this village, but scarcely enough
to warrant the risks he had to run. During the last year he had lost
several pack-trains, one of which he had never heard of after it left
Stonebridge.

"Stonebridge!" exclaimed Shefford, and he trembled. He had heard that
name. In his memory it had a place beside the name of another village
Shefford longed to speak of to this trader.

"Yes--Stonebridge," replied Withers. "Ever heard the name?"

"I think so. Are there other villages in--in that part of the
country?"

"A few, but not close. Glaze is now only a water-hole. Bluff and
Monticello are far north across the San Juan. . . . There used to be
another village--but that wouldn't interest you."

"Maybe it would," replied Shefford, quietly.