Summary

Portrait of Harry Leon Wilson Harry Leon Wilson The Lions of the Lord: A Tale of the Old West

Poor little man! And see, here’s another grave all grown around with sage and the stones worn smooth; but there’s the cross he spoke of. It must be some one that he wanted to lie beside. Poor little sorry father! Oh, you will have to be so much to me!”
The train was under way again. In the box of the big wagon, on a springy couch of spruce boughs and long bunch-grass, Prudence lay at rest, hurt by her grief, yet soothed by her love, her thoughts in a whirl about her.
Follett, mounted on Dandy, rode beside her wagon.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Harry Leon Wilson Harry Leon Wilson The Lions of the Lord: A Tale of the Old West

I’ve never been free to have the love of a woman the way you will some day, though I’ve hungered and sickened for it—for a woman who would understand and be close. But this girl has been the soul of it some way. See here, Follett, let her stay this summer, or until I’m dead. That can’t be a long time. I’ve felt the end coming for a year now. Let her stay, believing in me. Let me know to the last that I’m the only man who has been in her heart, who has won her confidence and her love. Oh, I mean fair. You stay with us yourself and watch. Come—but look there, look, man!
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Harry Leon Wilson Harry Leon Wilson The Lions of the Lord: A Tale of the Old West

Through all the settlement had thrilled a response to the Lord’s word as revealed to his servant Brigham. The God of Israel was to be with them on the march, and old and young were alike impatient.
Early in April the life began to stir more briskly in the great camp that sprawled along either side of the swollen, muddy river. From dawn to dark each day the hills echoed with the noise of many works, the streets were alive with men and women going and coming on endless errands, and with excited children playing at games inspired by the occasion.
Source: Gutenberg

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