Upon the return trip he rode over the trail he had followed alone to Red Lake and thence on to the Sagi, and it seemed that years had passed since he first entered this wild region which had come to be home, years that had molded him in the stern and fiery crucible of the desert. X. STONEBRIDGE In October Shefford arranged for a hunt in the Cresaw Mountains with Joe Lake and Nas Ta Bega. The Indian had gone home for a short visit, and upon his return the party expected to start. But Nas Ta Bega did not come back. Then the arrival of a Piute with news that excited Withers and greatly perturbed Lake convinced Shefford that something was wrong. The little trading-post seldom saw such disorder; certainly Shefford had never known the trader to neglect work. Joe Lake threw a saddle on a mustang he would have scorned to notice in an ordinary moment, and without a word of explanation or farewell rode hard to the north on the Stonebridge trail. Shefford had long since acquired patience. He was curious, but he did not care particularly what was in the wind. However, when Withers came out and sent an Indian to drive up the horses Shefford could not refrain from a query. “I hate to tell you,” replied the trader. “Go on,” added Shefford, quickly. “Did I tell you about the government sending a Supreme Court judge out to Utah to prosecute the polygamists?” “No,” replied Shefford. “I forgot to, I reckon. You've been away a lot. Well, there's been hell up in Utah for six months. Lately this judge and his men have worked down into southern Utah. He visited Bluff and Monticello a few weeks ago.... Now what do you think?” “Withers! Is he coming to Stonebridge?” “He's there now. Some one betrayed the whereabouts of the hidden village over in the cañon. All the women have been arrested and taken to Stonebridge. The trial begins to-day.” “Arrested!” echoed Shefford, blankly. “Those poor, lonely, good women? What on earth for?” “Sealed wives!” exclaimed Withers, tersely. “This judge is after the polygamists. They say he's absolutely relentless.” “But--women can't be polygamists. Their husbands are the ones wanted.” “Sure. But the prosecutors have got to find the sealed wives--the second wives--to find the law-breaking husbands. That'll be a job, or I don't know Mormons.... Are you going to ride over to Stonebridge with me?” Shefford shrank at the idea. Months of toil and pain and travail had not been enough to make him forget the strange girl he had loved. But he had remembered only at poignant intervals, and the lapse of time had made thought of her a dream like that sad dream which had lured him into the desert. With the query of the trader came a bitter-sweet regret. “Better come with me,” said Withers. “Have you forgotten the Sago Lily? She'll be put on trial.... That girl--that child!... Shefford, you know she hasn't any friends. And now no Mormon man are protect her, for fear of prosecution.” “I'll go,” replied Shefford, shortly.