"But you should have seen her mother, Nat, you should have seen her mother!" The old man twisted his hands, like a miser ravished by the sight of gold. "She was beautiful--as beautiful as a wild flower, and she killed herself three years ago to save the birth of another child into this hell. Little Winn is like her mother, Nat." "And she lives with him?" "Er, yes--and guarded, oh, so carefully guarded by Strang, Nat! Yes, I guess that some day she will be a queen." "Great God!" cried the young man. "And you--you live in this cesspool of sin and still believe in a Heaven?" "Yes, I believe in a Heaven. And my reward there shall be great. Ho, ho, I am taking no middle road, Nat!" They had passed in a semicircle beyond the temple and now approached a squat building constructed of logs, which Obadiah had pointed out as the jail. A glance satisfied Nathaniel that it was so situated that an admirable view of the proceedings could be obtained from the rear of the structure in which Strang had his office. Several score of people had already assembled about the prison and stood chatting with that tense interest and anticipation with which the mob always awaits public infliction of the law's penalties. A third of them were women. As Nathaniel had previously noted, the feminine part of the Mormon population wore their hair either in braids down their backs or in thick curls flowing over their shoulders and with the exception of three or four were attired in skirts that just concealed their knees. Obadiah halted his companion close to a group of half a dozen of these women and nudged him slyly. "Pretty sight, eh, Nat?" he chuckled. "Ah, the king has a wonderful eye for beauty, Nat--wonderful eye! He orders that no skirt shall fall below the female knee. Ho, ho, if he dared, if he _quite_ dared, Nat!" He nudged Nathaniel again with such enthusiasm that the latter jumped as though a knife had been thrust between his ribs. "By George, I admire his taste!" he laughed. The women caught him staring at them, and one, who was the youngest and prettiest of the lot, smiled invitingly. "Tush--the Jezebel!" snapped Obadiah, catching the look. "That's her child playing just beyond." The young woman tossed her head and her white teeth gleamed in a laugh, as though she had overheard the old councilor's words. "See her twist her hair," he snarled venomously as the young woman, still boldly eying Nathaniel, played with the luxuriant curls that glistened in the sun upon her breast. "Ezra Wilton is so fond of her that he will take no other wife. Ugh, Strang is a fool!" Nathaniel turned away from the smiling eyes with a shrug. "Why?" "To tell our women that it helps to save their souls to wear short skirts and let their hair hang down. For every soul of a woman that it saves it sends two men on the road to hell!"