The old man was dead. Another match flared up. But there was little need for examination. Mr. Cook sank on his knee beside the shriveled corpse, and in the light of another match, tried to bring the extended legs and arms together. Then he rose, closed the door and walked away in silence.
“Bumped hisself on the awnin’ post, I understan’,” suggested the marshal as the three made their way back toward the center of the town.
“So I’m told,” said Mr. Cook. “Used to be a Mormon, didn’t he?”
The marshal grunted an assent. Then he added:
“Ain’t none o’ his religion ’round hyar to give him no burial, though.”
Mr. Cook had not lost his cigar. It glowed in the darkness and then Roy heard the smoker say:
“Wooley, accidents will happen. This is the third one that’s happened to Mike. I think Mike’s goin’ away--to stay. But, before he goes, you go down to Joe’s and tell Mike I heard he was goin’ to bury the old man--to-night.”
As Mr. Cook and Roy turned down the street toward Mr. Cook’s house, the boy sighed.
“Botherin’ about it, are you?” said his companion. “I used to, too. I was foolish that way. But you’ll get over it. It’s what we call the ‘free life of the west.’”
As they entered the house, Mr. Cook took a book from under his arm. Standing by the hot lamp, he opened it and looked it over.
“I took it from the old man’s fingers,” he explained. “It’s a Mormon Bible,” he added a moment later. “Perhaps it will interest you some time. Take it.” And pressing upon the boy the only thing of value that old Utah Banning had owned, Mr. Cook dusted his hands and opened the jar to take a fresh cigar.
Roy didn’t know whether he wanted the book; it seemed gruesome. But evidently Mr. Cook did not. The volume was small--it would slip easily into a coat pocket--and when new must have been a sightly book. Even now, battered and worn, the faded red-brown morocco cover was gracefully stamped. In gold on the back were the words, “Book of Mormon.”
The inner cover and the fly leaf were green. On the next blank page, in brown, indistinct ink, was written: “Heber P. Banning, Salt Lake City, 1856.” The title page began: “The Book of Mormon: An Account Written by the Hand of Mormon, upon Plates taken from Plates of Nephi.... Translated by Joseph Smith, Junior.” The book had been printed in London in 1854. Five hundred or more pages of fine print appalled Roy.