"Well," suggested Bowles, after a long pause, "perhaps we could go by that way. Maybe her folks are keeping your letters from her, or something like that. If there is anything I can do for you, Brig, don't hesitate to ask for it. I might go around and see her for you—or if you need money——"
"No," protested Brigham petulantly; "money won't buy me nothin' with her. I'm up ag'in the whole Mormon church—and if you knew half of what I do about 'em, you'd know that you can't buck these bishops. The Mormon folks is fine people—they'll feed you, and help you, and do anything in the world fer you—but them priests and apostles and bishops—umph-umm! The more you know about 'em, the worse it scares you up—and I'm shore down on their black books. No, pardner, I ain't got a chanc'st, so let's fergit it. I talked it all over with Dix, and she kinder heartened me up; but it ain't no use. My girl don't like me enough to cut loose and quit her people, and I won't turn Mormon fer nobody—so there you are. Come on, let's go to bed!"
It was a hard and tragic problem, and long after the fatalistic Brig had gone to sleep, Bowles lay awake and tried to find a way out. His own petty griefs seemed sordid by the side of it, and all the way to town he turned it over in his mind. But, now that he had dismissed it forever, Brigham Clark became his old carefree self again.
"I'll tell you what we'll do!" he exclaimed, as they talked of their trip to the hills. "We'll hunt up old Bill Jump, and show him the latest in lies. I betcher I can make that old feller ashamed of himse'f—he's jest one of these here common, long-haired liars that don't know nothin' but to go you one better, anyway. But you wait till I pull that Hippodrome stuff on 'im—I betcher that'll make his jaw drop. Never did git to spring that on the boys—say, tell me that ag'in about the clown that fished up bulldogs outer the lake—and them elephants comin' over the waterfall! Yes, sir; if old Bill is up in them White Mountains, we'll certainly make him look sick!"
It was a glorious thing to contemplate, and, once in town, they made haste to lay in their supplies; but when Brigham came back from his interview with the boss Bowles could see that his enthusiasm had been shaken. For reasons of his own, Bowles had preferred not to meet the Lees, and he had asked Brig to convey his regrets and a release for his two months' pay. If eighty dollars would compensate for the defunct Dunbar, Mr. Bowles was satisfied; otherwise, he would be glad to meet the difference. But the trouble in Brigham's eye was not one of dollars and cents—he had something big on his mind.
"Say," he said, as he beckoned Bowles to a corner of the corral, "what d'ye think Mrs. Lee sprung on me when I went around fer my pay? And, by the way, they was a deputy sheriff inquirin' fer you when I come out by the desk, so come away from that gate—but what d'ye think she said?"
"Why, I'm sure I can't imagine," answered Bowles, with his old-time calm. "What was it?"
"Well, she had a big yeller telegraph in her hand that she was kinder wavin' around—I never did find out what it was all about—but when I come in to the hotel she flew at me like and says:
"'Mr. Clark, do you know who that young man is you're travelin' with?'
"Well, sir, the way she said it made me mad clean through, and I says to her: