and yet except for those before him working about
the bowery, and a few mothers with children in arms, the town was
apparently deserted.

But even as he waited, he heard the winding alarm of a bugle, and saw a
scurrying of backs in the dusty haze far up the road. The Wild Ram of
the Mountains gave a few hurried commands for the very final touches,
called off his force from the now completed bowery, and a solitary
Gentile was for the moment left to greet the oncoming procession.

Presently, however, from the dark interiors of the log houses came the
mothers with babies, a few aged sires too feeble for the march, and such
of the remaining housewives as could leave for a little time the dinners
they were cooking. They made but a thin line along the little street,
and Follett saw at once that Prudence was not among them. He must wait
to see if she marched in the approaching procession.

Already the mounted escort was coming into view, four abreast, captained
by Elder Wardle, who, with a sash of red and gold slanted across his
breast, was riding nervously, as if his seat could be kept only by the
most skillful horsemanship, a white mule that he was known to treat with
fearless disrespect on days that were not great. Behind the martial
Wardle was Peter Peterson, Peter Long Peterson, and Peter Long Peter
Peterson, the most martial looking men in Amalon after their leader; and
then came a few more fours of proudly mounted Saints.

After this escort, separated by an interval that would let the dust
settle a little, came the body of the procession. First a carriage
containing the Prophet, portly, strong-faced, easy of manner, as became
a giant who felt kindly in his might. By his side was his wife, Amelia,
the reigning favourite, who could play the piano and sing "Fair Bingen
on the Rhine" with a dash that was said to be superb. Behind this float
of honour came other carriages, bearing the Prophet's Counsellors, the
Apostles, Chief Bishop, Bishops generally, Elders, Priests, and Deacons,
each taking precedence near the Prophet's carriage by seniority of rank
or ordination. Along the line of carriages were outriders, bearing
proudly aloft banners upon which suitable devices were printed:

"God bless Brigham Young!"

"Hail to Zion's Chief!"

"The Lion of the Lord."

"Welcome to our Mouthpiece of God!"

Behind the last carriage came the citizens in procession, each
detachment with its banner. The elderly brethren stepped