“Still they might be friends of yours, Brother Ephriam,” returned the other significantly, but he held out his hand frankly and cordially.
This matter of the emigrants was a sore point with Raymond. He had given such broken spirits as passed his way what comfort he could; and this, he knew, was a thing that lay heavy against him, since the thrifty Saints saw a special Providence in the coming of the gold-seekers who could be made to pay handsomely in a variety of ways.
Brother Brigham stepped from his carriage, and beckoning Ephriam to follow him, led the way out of hearing of the others.
“The Lord has greatly prospered you; not amongst our people have I seen such fields as yours,” and Young placed his hand on the older man's shoulder; there was real kindness and real regard in this involuntary gesture, and in the genial warmth of his companion's mood, Raymond seemed to expand and glow.
His memory harked back to their recent exodus, when the church had been removed over a thousand miles through an unmaped country full of dangers and difficulties. Like Moses of old, this man had led his people—men and women and children; destitute, poor, and illy prepared to meet the hardships of such a journey; yet, almost without a murmur, they had abandoned a land they knew, for a land they did not know, and had followed him. His unyielding determination had inspired them all; it alone had made that journey possible. Without him there could have been nothing but ruin and failure; they had seen the graves grow up by the trail, marking the course they had come; they had reached Salt Lake, their stores spent, their strength shattered by the sufferings they had undergone, to find their land of promise a desert; new and strange and terrible; death by starvation stared them in the face; but Young had been equal to that hour, and to their need. He silenced all their murmurs; he brought order out of impending discord; he plead, commanded, threatened, prophesied; while, with a restless and determined energy he set them to work. They had strengthened, and their desert had become a land of plenty. This was all so recent that Ephriam's wonder of it never failed him; surely this man had his gifts from God. Young spoke abruptly.
“Who is that child?” he demanded.
In a few words Ephriam told the little he knew of Benny's history. The other's cold, grey eyes never left his face. Once or twice he nodded slightly, as if Ephriam's words were confirming facts with which he was already acquainted.
“And he says it was the Indians! Brother Ephriam, they must be looked to.”
“But that seems to be a matter where there may be some doubt,” said Ephriam.
“Ah!” and Young turned on him quickly.