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Show 204 THE MORMON LION ride towards the north gate of the city, almost running into me. "You said East," I remarked. Waller burst into a derisive cackle : " He-he-he! The dodrotted loon thought he'd have a show to make it by hitting north for the Oregon trail. We'll git him, easy as rolling off a log." "Shut uf," ordered Chilcott. "Your tongue's too loose. can do the talking- such as is needed." He turned to me with gruff affability. " Guess Jake has bothered you enough with his clack since we came home from t'other mission. About this oneall that we've got to do is to overhaul the dirty afostate spy we're after, and lead him over the rim o the Basm." "You say that is counselled?" I asked. " Yes," he answered, and he put his horse into a canter. I had hoped to bring about some slight delay by further questioning him. But as soon as we passed the north gate, he pushed out ahead and loosened his bridle reins. Our spirited horses were chafing at their bits. The moment they were given their heads they raced away along the well-beaten road at full gallop. Soon we had swept past the strong-smelling hot springs and were rapidly covering the twenty-five mile stretch to Kaysville. On our right was an almost continuous string of fields and gardens, over which a spur of the Wahsatch Mountains loomed high in the moonlight. On our left, beyond the desolate salt flats, the shimmering expanse of the Dead Sea of the New World stretched away westward between the gaunt mountain masses of its islands and promontories. The night air was crisp and pure, and we rode so fast and so close upon Chilcott that we were not troubled by the clouds of alkali dust that rose from under the pounding hoofs of our horses. Had it not been for the nature of the mission on which we were THE MORMON LION 205 hastening, I should have delighted in the weird beauty o! the scene and the exhilaration of our swift motion. Two hours before dawn we rode into Kaysville. At the house of the Bishop we sprang off to rest our horses. Chilcott proceeded to rouse the oiT!cial by pounding on the door with his rine butt. The Bishop soon thrust his frowsy head, together with the muzzle of a shotgun, out around the edge of the door, and demanded, with an oath, our reason for wakening him. Chilcott had stepped back into the full moonlight. At the Bishop's question, he put his hand to his right cheek and thrust 1t upwards m the same peculiar sign that I recalled h1s using to pacify the stocktender at Las Vegas. Instantly the Bishop lowered his gun and came out to us, a grotesque ogre m seven-league boots and grimy nightshirt. "We're on a wolf chase," explained Chilcott" apostate spy in a two-horse rig. He must have rolled through here less than an hour ago. Seen or heard of him ? " The Bishop burst out with a terrific oath, and cried angrily : " Spy, you say? Why, the cuss showed me a pass signed by the big boss! " "Forged," cackled Waller. " Yes, the scoundrel forged Brigham's signature," quickly added Chilcott, speaking more to me than to the Bishop. " How was I to know ? " snarled the Bishop. " I'd 'a' taken oath 'twas Brigham's own fist! An' I give the cussed apostate my best team! " " Good ones? " questioned Chilcott. " Better'n hisn- Injin breed. They ain't so fast as some, but they can keep a-goin' till the Day of Jedgmint." "Hop on again, boys," ordered Chilcott. " Hadn't we better change horses? " I asked, hoP.eful of delay. 'No," he answered, swinging into the saddle. |