Withers gave a start and faced round to stare at Shefford in blank astonishment.
“Say, did you give me a straight story about yourself?” he queried, sharply.
“So far as I went,” replied Shefford.
“You're no spy on the lookout for sealed wives?”
“Absolutely not. I don't even know what you mean by sealed wives.”
“Well, it's damn strange that you'd know the name Cottonwoods.... Yes, that's the name of the village I meant—the one that used to be. It's gone now, all except a few stone walls.”
“What became of it?”
“Torn down by Mormons years ago. They destroyed it and moved away. I've heard Indians talk about a grand spring that was there once. It's gone, too. Its name was—let me see—”
“Amber Spring,” interrupted Shefford.
“By George, you're right!” rejoined the trader, again amazed. “Shefford, this beats me. I haven't heard that name for ten years. I can't help seeing what a tenderfoot—stranger—you are to the desert. Yet, here you are—speaking of what you should know nothing of.... And there's more behind this.”