Joe Lake touched Shefford's arm and pointed at the haft of a knife protruding from Waggoner's breast. It was a wooden haft. Shefford had seen it before somewhere.
Then he was struck with what perhaps Joe meant him to see--the singular impression the haft gave of one sweeping, accurate, powerful stroke. A strong arm had driven that blade home. The haft was sunk deep; there was a little depression in the cloth; no blood showed; and the weapon looked as if it could not be pulled out. Shefford's thought went fatally and irresistibly to Fay Larkin's strong arm. He saw her flash that white arm and lift the heavy bucket from the spring with an ease he wondered at. He felt the strong clasp of her hand as she had given it to him in a flying leap across a crevice upon the walls. Yes, her fine hand and the round, strong arm possessed the strength to have given that blade its singular directness and force. The marvel was not in the physical action. It hid inscrutably in the mystery of deadly passion rising out of a gentle and sad heart.
Joe Lake drew up the blanket and shut from Shefford's fascinated gaze that spare form, that accusing knife, that face of strange, cruel power.
“Anybody been sent for?” asked Lake of Beal.
“Yes. An Indian boy went for the Piute. We'll send him to Stonebridge,” replied the Mormon.
“How soon do you expect any one here from Stonebridge?”
“Elder Smith thinks the body should stay right here where it fell till they come from Stonebridge.”
“Mother Smith. She came over early. An' the sight made her scream. The women all came runnin'. Mother Smith had to be put to bed.”
“See here, Joe, I told you all I knowed once before,” replied the Mormon, testily.
“I've forgotten. Was sort of bewildered. Tell me again.... Who found--her?”
“The women folks. She laid right inside the door, in a dead faint. She hadn't undressed. There was blood on her hands an' a cut or scratch. The women fetched her to. But she wouldn't talk. Then Elder Smith come an' took her. They've got her locked up.”
Then Joe led Shefford away from the cabin farther on into the village. When they were halted by the somber, grieving women it was Joe who did the talking. They passed the school-house, and here Shefford quickened his step. He could scarcely bear the feeling that rushed over him. And the Mormon gripped his arm as if he understood.