"That fellow Parsons patrolled Mormon Creek, that heads up at Lost Chief Springs, all summer. He built a brush dam and threw the water out of our creek into his own ditch, whenever he felt like it. I didn't want to start a fight going. That's not a Mormon's business. We are peaceful folks, homesteading the wilderness. It was a wet summer and we managed to get enough water out of White Horse Creek to take care of us. But right is right and wrong is wrong and we aren't going to stand that next summer. Last week, a coyote was fastened into my chicken run; and last night a mountain lion with a trap hanging to his leg got into my corral, where I had two foals, and he killed them before I could get out. The trap had Scott Parsons' name cut onto it. I don't know who is helping him, if any, but I'm here with my neighbors to serve notice that it's got to stop. I see you've got a preacher here now. I begin to have hopes you may become peaceable yet." A sudden gust of laughter swept Lost Chief. "Well, Scott," asked Peter, "what have you got to say?" "Me?" asked Scott. "I'm not a preacher or a Mormon. I haven't got the gift of gab. Charleton is a good talker. Let him say something." "All right, old trapper," said Charleton obligingly. He grinned at Inez and began: "Yet, ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose, That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close,--" Elijah Nelson interrupted. "Is this the way you are going to answer a decent protest against injustice? Is this--" "Wait now!" cried Grandma Brown. "Don't get all prodded up. Scott, you give this man a straight answer." "Very well, Grandma; I'll do that little thing for you," drawled Scott. "Nelson, you and the rest of you Mormons and Jack-Mormons go plumb to hell, but leave my bull behind." One of Nelson's neighbors rose in his stirrups and shook his fist at Scott. "You dogy-faced Gentile! I've got you marked! You are the one who ran our cattle off Lost Peak five years ago, and we know who helped you." "Well, I think you Mormons had better get back to your plural wives!" cried John Spencer. "We've had about enough of this." "Judith," said Douglas, "you take your mother and go home." Judith turned bright eyes toward him. "Think I'm going to run away? No sir!" Elijah's neighbor laid his gun across his own arm. "Say that again, Spencer," he suggested, "unless you aren't willing to fight for your daughter!" Mr. Fowler sprang up beside Nelson on the doorstep. "I beg of you all to disperse to your homes and don't desecrate the Sabbath by such a scene as this." "O, don't talk like a fool, Fowler!" exclaimed Grandma Brown. At this moment her little grandson came roaring lustily up the trail. He was covered with muck and snow. "Judith's bull has got away from us kids and he's headed this way!" "What were you doing with him?" shrieked Grandma, "We was going to bring him up here and put him in the church like Scott paid us for. And he said--"