THE MILL-WHEEL OF STEERS
Long-drawn moments of straining sight rewarded Jane with nothing save the low, purple rim of ridge and the shimmering sage.
"It's begun again!" whispered Lassiter, and he gripped her arm. "Watch. . . . There, did you see that?"
"No, no. Tell me what to look for?"
"A white flash—a kind of pin-point of quick light—a gleam as from sun shinin' on somethin' white."
Suddenly Jane's concentrated gaze caught a fleeting glint. Quickly she brought her glass to bear on the spot. Again the purple sage, magnified in color and size and wave, for long moments irritated her with its monotony. Then from out of the sage on the ridge flew up a broad, white object, flashed in the sunlight, and vanished. Like magic it was, and bewildered Jane. "What on earth is that?"
"I reckon there's some one behind that ridge throwin' up a sheet or a white blanket to reflect the sunshine."
"Why?" queried Jane, more bewildered than ever.
"To stampede the herd," replied Lassiter, and his teeth clicked.
"Ah!" She made a fierce, passionate movement, clutched the glass tightly, shook as with the passing of a spasm, and then dropped her head. Presently she raised it to greet Lassiter with something like a smile.
"My righteous brethren are at work again," she said, in scorn. She had stifled the leap of her wrath, but for perhaps the first time in her life a bitter derision curled her lips. Lassiter's cool gray eyes seemed to pierce her. "I said I was prepared for anything; but that was hardly true. But why would they—anybody stampede my cattle?"
"That's a Mormon's godly way of bringin' a woman to her knees."
"Lassiter, I'll die before I ever bend my knees. I might be led: I won't be driven. Do you expect the herd to bolt?"
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