d the Prophet, "but my opinion
is he'll stay crazy, and it wouldn't be just the right thing by Israel
to let him go on talking before strangers. You see, it _sounds_ so
almighty sane!"

Back in the crowd Prudence and Follett had lingered a little at the
latter's suggestion, for he had caught the drift of the talk. When he
had comprehended its meaning they set off up the hill, full of alarm.

At the door Christina met them. They saw she had been crying.

"Where is father, Christina?"

"Himself saddle his horse, and say, 'I go to toe some of those marks.'
He say, 'I see you plenty not no more, so good-bye!' He kissed me," she
added.

"Which way did he go?"

"So!" She pointed toward the road that led out of the valley to the
north.

"I'll go after him," said Follett.

"I'll go with you. Saddle Dandy and Kit--and Christina will have
something for you to eat; you've had nothing since morning."

"I reckon I know where we'll have to go," said Follett, as he went for
the saddles.

CHAPTER XLII.

_The Little Bent Man at the Foot of the Cross_

It was dusk when they rode down the hill together. They followed the
canon road to its meeting with the main highway at the northern edge of
Amalon. Where the roads joined they passed Bishop Wright, who, with his
hat off, turned to stare at them, and to pull at his fringe of whisker
in seeming perplexity.

"He must have been on his way to our house," Prudence called.

"With that hair and whiskers," answered Follett, with some irrelevance,
"he looks like an old buffalo-bull just before shedding-time."

They rode fast until the night fell, scanning the road ahead for a
figure on horseback. When it was quite dark they halted.

"We might pass him," suggested Follett. "He was fairly tuckered out, and
he might fall off any minute."

"Shall we go on slowly?" she asked.

"We might miss him in the dark. But the moon will be up in an hour, and
then we can go at full speed. We better wait."

"Poor little sorry father! I wish we had gone home sooner."

"He certainly's got more spunk in him than I gave him credit for! He had
old Brigham and the rest of them plumb buffaloed for a minute. Oh, he
did crack the old bull-whip over them good!"

"Poor little father! Where could he have gone at this hour?"

"I've got an idea he's set out for that cross he's talked so much
about--that one up here in the Meadows."

"I've seen it,--where the Indians killed those poor people y