"A rattlesnake! Oh, mercy!" screams Miss Travenion, scrambling higher up on her boulder of safety. "You can come down, now, Erma," says her father. But she stands poised on her eyrie, and discusses the matter, making a picture that causes Lot's sturdy heart to beat harder than it did when climbing the mountain. "Not yet--I have read of them. They travel in pairs!" she gasps. "Wall, this critter is dead, any way," suggests Kruger. "He has bitten himself twice since I 'rocked' him. It's all-fired queer how these varmints commit suicide when wounded." "There's no danger," says Travenion. "I'll toss him out of the path; then you'll come down, Sissy!" remarks the gallant Lot. For somehow the beauty of this young lady--so different from the other women this man has met--makes him wish to soothe fears he would be indifferent to, perhaps condemn, even in one of the many wives of his bosom. "Oh, please do. I'll thank you so much, Mr. Kruger," answers Erma. Then she ejaculates: "Do it _quick_! I don't like to look at it!" For the Mormon bishop seems to be awkward over his work, perchance because Miss Travenion, in her agitated pose, displays an ankle that might daze any lover of the beautiful. A moment after, he has flung the reptile away, and Erma descends, a little nervous yet, as she falters: "Are there many of them about?" and manifests a disposition to run down the hill. "This is the first I have seen this year," says Ralph, reassuringly. "Yes, these critters are scarce round here," adds Lot; "but over thar in Provo Canyon, fifty miles away"--he points northeast--"ye can't go one hundred yards without hearing 'em. And up at the head of it, there war thousands of 'em, but we all turned out, couple o' years ago, and burnt 'em up in a cave they 'denned' in. It's a marvellous place, the top of Provo Canyon," he continues. "There's springs of writing-ink up there, and green and red colored water, and ice-cold fountains and b'iling hot fountains, all coming out of pot-shaped domes." "It must be very curious, Mr. Kruger," returns Erma, who thinks she must appear grateful to him for killing the snake. "Perhaps ye'll see it some time, yerself, Sissy," remarks Lot. "I have got as pretty a ranch as is seen in Utah, up the Kammas Prairie on the head-waters of Provo River. I have got as fine cattle and sheep, and four as likely----" He checks himself suddenly here, but Ralph sarcastically adds: "Wives--why don't you say it at once, bishop? Four as likely _wives_ as there is in Utah, as well as a fifth at Provo, and a sixth in Cache Valley." Then he chuckles: "You're too bashful, Kruger!" For that gentleman has suddenly grown red, and guffaws: "Git out! Bishop Tranyon! Yer givin' me away to your darter!" "Pish!" cries Ralph. "You were never diffident about it before. I have heard you brag about your women folks and big family to a dozen girls, at a dance in Provo."