“Wal I’m jest as wise as ever, Josh. Dod rot it, man! don’t be mystiferous. Who air the Danites, I shed like to know?”
“You can only know them by initiation; and you should know them. You’re just the man to be one of them; and I have no doubt you’d be made one, as soon as you joined us.”
The apostle paused, as if to note the effect of his words; but the colossal hunter appeared as if he had not heard them. It was not that he did not comprehend their meaning, but rather because he was not heeding what had been said—his mind being occupied with a presentiment of some more unpleasant proposal held in reserve by his visitor. He remained silent, however; leaving it to the latter to proceed to the declaration of his design. The suspicions of the squatter—if directed to anything connected with his family affairs—were well grounded, and soon received confirmation. After a pause, the Mormon continued:
“No, Hickman Holt, it aint with you my business lies to-day—that is, not exactly with you.”
“Who, then?”
“Your daughter!”