lost an arm. He made inquiries, and found him to be the son of the chief. The chief himself made it plain to Joel that the young man had lost his arm ten moons before in a combat with a grizzly bear. Whereupon the young Elder cordially bade the chief bring his crippled son to their own great chief, who would, by the gracious power of God, miraculously restore the missing member. 

 A few moments later the three were before Brigham, who was standing by his wagon; Joel Rae, glowing with a glad and confident serenity; the tawny chief with his sable braids falling each side of his painted face, gay in his head-dress of dyed eagle plumes, his buckskin shirt jewelled with blue beads and elk’s teeth, warlike with his bow and steel-pointed arrows; and the young man, but little less ornate than his splendid father, stoical, yet scarce able to subdue the flash of hope in his eyes as he looked up to the great white chief. 

 Brigham looked at them questioningly. Joel announced their errand. 

 “It’s a rare opportunity, Brother Brigham, to bring light to these wretched Lamanites. This boy had his arm torn off a year ago in a fight with a grizzly. You know you told me that day I brought the rain-storm that you could well-nigh raise the dead, so this will be easy for you.” 

 Brigham still looked puzzled, so the young man added with a flash of enthusiasm: “Restore this poor creature’s arm and the noise of the miracle will go all through these tribes;” he paused expectantly. 

 It is the mark of true greatness that it may never be found unprepared. Now and again it may be made to temporise for a moment, cunningly adopting one expedient or another to hide its unreadiness—but never more than briefly. 

 Brigham had looked slowly from the speaker to the Indians and slowly back again. Then he surveyed several bystanders who had been attracted to the group, and his eyelids were seen to work rapidly, as if in sympathetic pace with his thoughts. Then all at once he faced Joel. 

 “Brother Rae, have you reflected about this?” 

 “Why—Brother Brigham—no—not reflected—perhaps if we both prayed with hearts full of faith, the Lord might—” 

 “Brother Rae!” 

 There was sternness in the voice now, and the young man trembled before the Lion of the Lord. 

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