The Missourian continued. “I know'd 'em in Missouri before they was run out of the State. It must be a mighty nourishing belief for a man who ain't no ways industrious himself and yet likes to see things going forward, but it must be powerful harassing on the ladies. Still, I reckon it's a lot easier for a dozen ladies to support one man, than for one man to support a dozen ladies. If I was a Mormon, I allow that's the way I would look at it.” He turned to his companion, but Jim's glance was fixed ahead; he was giving no heed to what his friend was saying, but the latter was in no wise discouraged by his lack of interest. “I seen Jo Smith before he was killed; I may say I knowed him slightly.” “Did you have a hand in that?” asked Jim, and he now displayed a languid interest, but the Missourian shook his head. “No, you bloodthirsty cuss, and I'm mighty glad I didn't.” By a glance Jim inquired why. “Well, you see, there's been a right smart fatality among them that did; considerable many of them has died since. This heah Smith was a prophet; he run the whole doggone shootin' match; he done it by revelation; and no matter what he'd said before, or promised, or sworn to, if he changed his mind, all he done, was to get a new revelation; and in the end it was these heah revelations that soured his dough; a man who got his orders direct from the Lord, people found wa'n'. a good neighbour. It made him too blame arrogant, for one thing.” They had ascended a long, rocky incline, and had gone down a steep boulder-strewn declivity; now the walls of the pass fell away and they entered a wide valley; it was crescent-shaped, and possibly fifteen miles in length, while its breadth was half that. It was without timber except for a sparse growth which could be distinguished toward the west. Both men knew there would be no water until they reached this timber, for, as they moved along, the level plain became more and more barren, while from under the feet of their mules a fine white dust arose and enveloped them. Presently the Missourian reined in his mule, and pointed with a long forefinger to something on the ground in front of of him. “Look heah, Mr. Orphan, what do you make of those there?” Jim answered with a slightly nettled air. “Wagon tracks. What did you suppose I'd make of them?” “Yes, but they are going our way—see where that mule planted a hoof beside yonder bunch of cactus? How do you reckon they got heah? They couldn't have come up the trail we came by; you couldn't drag a wagon through there for the rocks, not to save your neck!” “That's so!” agreed Jim. “But I reckon there's a way in below.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You can see where their trail runs off to the south.” “I reckon that's it.” said the Missourian.