“Oh! common sense you mean, I s’pose?”
“Exactly so—reasoning that produces conviction; and, I flatter myself, that, being gifted with some little sense and skill, my efforts may be crowned with success.”
“Wal, Josh, ’ithout talkin’ o’ common sense, ye’ve good grist o’ lawyers’ sense—that I know; an’ so, I suppose, ye’ve tuk it into your head to make beginnin’ on me. Aint that why ye’ve come over this mornin’?”
“What?”
“To make a Mormon o’ me.”
Up to this time the conversation had been carried on in a somewhat stiff and irrelevant manner; this more especially on the side of the squatter, who—notwithstanding his endeavours to assume an air of easy nonchalance—was evidently labouring under suspicion and constraint. From the fact of Stebbins having sent a message to forewarn him, of this visit, he knew that the schoolmaster had some business with him of more than usual importance; and it was a view to ascertain the nature of this business, and relieve himself from suspense, that the interrogatory was put. He would have been right glad to have received an answer in the affirmative—since it would have cost him little concern to turn Mormon, or profess to do so, notwithstanding his pretended opposition to the faith. He was half indulging himself in the hope that this might be the errand on which Stebbins had come: as was evinced by a more cheerful expression, on his countenance; but, as the Saint lingered long before making a reply, the shadows of suspicion again darkened over the brow of the squatter; and with a nervous uneasiness, he awaited the answer.
“It’ll be a tough job, Josh,” said he, with an effort to appear unconcerned—“a tough job, mind ye.”
“Well, so I should expect,” answered the apostle drily; “and, just for that reason, I don’t intend to undertake it: though I should like, Brother Holt, to see you gathered into the fold. I know our great High Priest would make much of a man like you. The Saints have many enemies; and need strong arms and stout hearts such as yours, Hickman Holt. The Lord has given to his Prophet the right to defend the true faith—even with carnal weapons, if others fail; and woe be to them who make war on us! Let them dread the Destroying Angels!”
“The Destroying Angels! What sort o’ critters be they?”
“They are the Danites.”