ternally damned."

"I agree with you, sir," said I. "I did not find Benton to be a pleasant
place. But I had not known, when I started from Omaha."

"Possibly not," he moodily assented. "The devil is attentive; he is
present in the stations, and on the trains; he will ride in those gilded
palaces even to the Jordan, but he shall not cross. In the name of the
Lord we shall face him. What good there shall come, shall abide; but the
evil shall wither. Not," he added, "that we stand against the railroad. It
is needed, and we have petitioned without being heard. We are strong but
isolated, we have goods to sell, and the word of Brigham Young has gone
forth that a railroad we must have. Against the harpies, the gamblers, the
loose women and the lustful men and all the Gentile vanities we will stand
upon our own feet by the help of Almighty God."

At this juncture, when I had finished my platter of pork and beans and my
second cup of coffee, a tall, double-jointed youth of about my age,
carrying an ox goad in his hand, strolled to us as if attracted by the
harangue. He was clad in the prevalent cowhide boots, linsey-woolsey
pantaloons tucked in, red flannel shirt, and battered hat from which
untrimmed flaxen hair fell down unevenly to his shoulder line. He wore at
his belt butcher-knife and gun.

By his hulk, his light blue eyes, albeit a trifle crossed, and the general
lineaments of his stolid, square, high-cheeked countenance I conceived him
to be a second but not improved edition of the Captain.

A true raw-bone he was; and to me, as I casually met his gaze, looked to
be obstinate, secretive and small minded. But who can explain those sudden
antagonisms that spring up on first sight?

"My son Daniel," the Captain introduced. "This stranger travels to Zion
with us, Daniel, in the employ of Mr. Jenks."

The youth had the grip of a vise, and seemed to enjoy emphasizing it while
cunningly watching my face.

"Haowdy?" he drawled. With that he twanged a sentence or two to his
father. "I faound the caow, Dad. Do yu reckon to pull aout to-day?"

"I have not decided. Go tend to your duties, Daniel."

Daniel bestowed upon me a parting stare, and lurched away, snapping the
lash of his goad.

"And with your permission I will tend to mine, sir," I said. "Mr. Jenks
doubtless has work for me. I thank you for your hospitality."

"We are commanded by the prophet to feed the stranger, whether friend or
enemy," he reproved. "We a