ears ago.
But what did he mean by the crime of his Church there?"

"We'll ask him when we find him. And I reckon we'll find him right there
if he holds out to ride that far."

He tied her pony to an oak-bush a little off the road, threw Dandy's
bridle-rein to the ground to make him stand, and on a shelving rock near
by he found her a seat.

"It won't be long, and the horses need a chance to breathe. We've come
along at a right smart clip, and Dandy's been getting a regular
grass-stomach on him back there."

Side by side they sat, and in the dark and stillness their own great
happiness came back to them.

"The first time I liked you very much," she said, after he had kissed
her, "was when I saw you were so kind to your horse."

"That's the only way to treat stock. I can gentle any horse I ever saw.
Are you sure you care enough for me?"

"Oh, yes, yes, _yes_! It must be enough. It's so much I'm frightened
now."

"Will you go away with me?"

"Yes, I want to go away with you."

"Well, you just come out with me,--out of this hole. There's a fine big
country out there you don't know anything about. Our home will reach
from Corpus Christi to Deadwood, and from the Missouri clear over to
Mister Pacific Ocean. We'll have the prairies for our garden, and the
high plains will be our front yard, with the buffalo-grass thicker than
hair on a dog's back. And, say, I don't know about it, but I believe
they have a bigger God out there than you've got in this Salt Lake
Basin. Anyway, He acts more like you'd think God ought to act. He isn't
so particular about your knowing a lot of signs and grips and passwords
and winks. Going to your heaven must be like going into one of those
Free Mason lodges,--a little peek-hole in the door, and God shoving the
cover back to see if you know the signs. I guess God isn't so trifling
as all that,--having, you know, a lot of signs and getting ducked under
water three times and all that business. I don't exactly know what His
way is, but I'll bet it isn't any way that you'd have to laugh at if you
saw it--like as if, now, you saw old man Wright and God making signs to
each other through the door, and Wright saying:--

_'Eeny meeny miny mo!
Cracky feeny finy fo!'_

and God looking in a little book to see if he got all the words right."

"Anyway, I'm glad you weren't baptised, after what Father said to-day."

"You'll be gladder still when you get out there where they got a
full-g