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Show 22 THE MORMON LION famished train crawled on along the snow-covered trail as far as Sage Creek, where at last the heavily laden wagons of the rescuers were seen approaching to meet us. A few of our number managed to raise a feeble cheer and start singing a psalm of thanksgiving. But far more were too outsJ?.ent to rouse .from the stupor of their exhaustion. !'hough the rescuers shouted encouragement and lashed their over-driven mules into a trot, we were unable to quicken our tortoiselike pace. It seemed to me an age before I saw the leading wagon meet the head of our train. At once the foremost people of our party halted and swarmed about the wagon, begging the rescuers to toss them a little food. As fast as those behind came up they also left their carts and staggered forward to join the crowd of whining supplicants. Had every ounce of food in the wagons been flung out, all would have been seized and devoured by our famished company in one meal. Under the directions of the Prophet's son, the crowd was ordered back, and our regular commissary began to distribute a very small quantity of the new supplies. As soon as a captain of ten received the share apportioned for his y,arty, he was required to start on along the trail. n this way the road was gradually cleared of the blockade and the train kept moving as fast as possible. While we of the rear were still a furlong or more from the commissary two members of the rescue party came plowing their way back through the snowdrifts beside the road. Lucy and I were somehow dragging her father along between us. He had insisted upon giving up his place in my wagon to a sick woman. So concerned was I with the difficulty of forcing my weary muscles to bear my share of the burden that I gave no heed to the rescuers until they were almost beside us. Chancing to lift my eyes, I saw only the back of the THE MORMON LION larger man. He had turned to look towards the head of the train. His companion, a shrivelled wiry little fellow, was gazing at us, his face screwed up and eyelids blinking in an effort to hide the excess of his pity. ' Jake Waller! ' \ .I exclaimed. "You here?" "Lordy, brother, who're you? "he replied, staring at me without a trace of recognition. " It's not so many months smce I got your trial for counterfeiting postponed, and you took advantage of the delaY, to break gaol," I said. "You?' hecried. "You'renotMr.Ford?-youl" "Ford!" shouted the big man beside him, swinging about to stare at me. " Dave Ford? " I stared back into his powerful face, certain that I had seen it before, yet for a moment puzzled to place it. The square-cut beard was grey, the temples were bald, and the dark red hair about them was streaked with grey ; but the cheeks were ruddy under their thick coat of desert tan, and the steely grey eyes were keen and stern. I could not mistake them. "Good day, Brother Chilcott," I said. " How did you leave Cousin Amanda? " "Dave I Praise the Lord, it is you! "he shouted, and he plunged forward to 9rasp my hand. " Good God! what claws- skeletons! We didn't get here anx too soon, boy! " ' Rather too late for the ninety we've already buried," I replied. He ripped out an angry curse. "Someone's going to answer for this- All a fool blunder starting the last trains so late in the season. I thought nobody possibly could be more gantered-up than the peopfe of the train up near the Pass ; but yours!--' He gazed compassionately at the emaciated faces of mr, companions. "These here, Dave- are they yours? ' Even starvation had not suppressed the maidenly sensibility of Lucy. At the question she blushed and looked down in modest confusion. |