Tull put out a groping hand. The life of his eyes dulled to the gloom with which men of his fear saw the approach of death. But death, while it hovered over him, did not descend, for the rider waited for the twitching fingers, the downward flash of hand that did not come. Tull, gathering himself together, turned to the horses, attended by his pale comrades. CHAPTER II. COTTONWOODS Venters appeared too deeply moved to speak the gratitude his face expressed. And Jane turned upon the rescuer and gripped his hands. Her smiles and tears seemingly dazed him. Presently as something like calmness returned, she went to Lassiter’s weary horse. “I will water him myself,” she said, and she led the horse to a trough under a huge old cottonwood. With nimble fingers she loosened the bridle and removed the bit. The horse snorted and bent his head. The trough was of solid stone, hollowed out, moss-covered and green and wet and cool, and the clear brown water that fed it spouted and splashed from a wooden pipe. “He has brought you far to-day?” [Illustration: “He has brought you far to-day?”] “Yes, ma’am, a matter of over sixty miles, mebbe seventy.” “A long ride—a ride that—Ah, he is blind!” “Yes, ma’am,” replied Lassiter. “What blinded him?” “Some men once roped an’ tied him, an’ then held white-iron close to his eyes.” “Oh! Men? You mean devils.... Were they your enemies—Mormons?” “Yes, ma’am.” “To take revenge on a horse! Lassiter, the men of my creed are unnaturally cruel. To my everlasting sorrow I confess it. They have been driven, hated, scourged till their hearts have hardened. But we women hope and pray for the time when our men will soften.” “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am—that time will never come.” “Oh, it will!... Lassiter, do you think Mormon women wicked? Has your hand been against them, too?” “No. I believe Mormon women are the best and noblest, the most long-sufferin’, and the blindest, unhappiest women on earth.” “Ah!” She gave him a grave, thoughtful look. “Then you will break bread with me?” Lassiter had no ready response, and he uneasily shifted his weight from one leg to another, and turned his sombrero round and round in his hands. “Ma’am,” he began, presently, “I reckon your kindness of heart makes you overlook things. Perhaps I ain’t well known hereabouts, but back up North there’s Mormons who’d rest uneasy in their graves at the idea of me sittin’ to table with you.” “I dare say. But—will you do it, anyway?” she asked. “Mebbe you have a brother or relative who might drop in an’ be offended, an’ I wouldn’t want to—” “I’ve not a relative in Utah that I know of. There’s no one with a right to question my actions.” She turned smilingly to Venters. “You will come in, Bern, and Lassiter will come in. We’ll eat and be merry while we may.” “I’m only wonderin’ if Tull an’ his men’ll raise a storm down in the village,” said Lassiter, in his last weakening stand.