blotted out the starlight did Shefford close his eyes.

. . . . . . . . . . .

With break of the next day came full, varied, and stirring incidents
to Shefford. He was strong, though unskilled at most kinds of outdoor
tasks. Withers had work for ten men, if they could have been found.
Shefford dug and packed and lifted till he was so sore and tired that
rest was a blessing.

He never succeeded in getting on a friendly footing with the Mormon
Whisner, though he kept up his agreeable and kindly advances. He
listened to the trader's wife as she told him about the Indians, and
what he learned he did not forget. And his wonder and respect
increased in proportion to his knowledge.

One day there rode into Kayenta the Mormon for whom Withers had been
waiting. His name was Joe Lake. He appeared young, and slipped off
his superb bay with a grace and activity that were astounding in one
of his huge bulk. He had a still, smooth face, with the color of red
bronze and the expression of a cherub; big, soft, dark eyes; and a
winning smile. He was surprisingly different from Whisner or any
Mormon character that Shefford had naturally conceived. His costume
was that of the cowboy on active service; and he packed a gun at his
hip. The hand-shake he gave Shefford was an ordeal for that young man
and left him with his whole right side momentarily benumbed.

"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