Until this day he had known never a doubt as to the success of their journey; the reasonable uncertainty he might have felt had long since faded from his mind; others might fail, but he never; and now their way was blocked. Twenty white men alone he would not have feared; the Indians by themselves he would have feared even less; but together, the cunning of the one supplemented by the intelligence of the other, was something he had not reckoned on. Even should they beat them off, their whole plan must be changed. He was quite sure that it would not be safe to venture into Salt Lake. He had heard too much of the justice the Mormon leaders were wont to mete out to such of the Gentiles as came under their displeasure, especially when these Gentiles had in their possession valuable property; and Basil knew, and probably by this time Raymond knew, that they had with them a large sum of money. The needy saints would never let them out of their hands while any pretext remained on which to detain them; and what better pretext could be furnished them than that some of their co-religionists had been killed by members of the party. Then his brain became busy with the problem of immediate escape. They could mount the mules and make a dash for the mountains; but his reason warned him than any such desperate measure must be attempted only when their need of water had rendered the hill absolutely untenantable; for the chances were that thy would be surrounded and butchered before they had gone a mile. No, clearly such an attempt should be made only in the last and direst extremity. In the stillness of his own thoughts the noises of the camp in the cottonwoods came to his ears. He heard the neighing of horses, the voices of men; now it was a burst of laughter, a fragment of song, that reached him; the white men were carousing with their red allies. He stood in an attitude of listening; he seemed to find something insulting in these sounds, and scarcely knowing what he did he fell to threatening the camp; he shook his gun at it and waved his free hand menacingly, then, he fell to cursing under his breath, softly so as not to disturb the others. How long he continued thus he did not know; he was finally aroused by hearing Stephen call his name; and Stephen stepping to his side placed a hand on his shoulder. “Why, Rogers, what's the matter?” he asked in a whisper. “Matter, Landray? They're having water when better men are going thirsty!” he said stupidly, and his utterance was thick and difficult. “That's matter enough I reckon,” he added, with something of his usual voice and manner; he was like a man waking from a dream. “You have seen nothing?” questioned Stephen. “Nothing—have you slept?” “A little; not much.” Here a burst of sound from the camp reached them, long continued and sustained; it was strident, fierce, primitive; Stephen turned to Rogers. “I'd almost say they were singing hymns,” and he smiled at the fancy.