"Just now it might make trouble for--her." He lifted his eyes and saw a man looking at him from the doorway.

He needed no further proof to assure him that this was Strang the king of the Mormons, for the Beaver Island prophet was painted well in that region which knew the grip and terror of his power.

He was a massive man, with the slow slumbering strength of a beast.

He was not much under fifty; but his thick beard, reddish and crinkling, his shaggy hair, and the full-fed ruddiness of his face, with its foundation of heavy jaw, gave him a more youthful appearance.

There was in his eyes, set deep and so light that they shone like pale blue glass, the staring assurance that is frequently born of power.