After this impressive spectacle, Joel and the rapturous Christina were taught many signs, grips, and passwords, without which one may not pass by the gatekeepers of heaven.  They were sworn also to avenge the murder of Joseph Smith upon the Gentiles who had done it, and to teach their children to do the same; to obey without questioning or murmur the commands of the priesthood; and never to reveal these secret rites under penalty of having their throats cut from ear to ear and their hearts and tongues cut out.

When this oath had been taken, they passed into a room containing a long, low altar covered with red velvet.  At one end, in an armchair, sat Brigham, no longer in the role of God, but in his proper person of Prophet, Seer, and Revelator.  They knelt on either side of this altar, and, with hands clasped above it in the secret grip last given to them, they were sealed for time and eternity.

From the altar they went to the wagons and began their journey south.  Christina came out of the endowment-house, glowing, as to one side of her face.  She was, also, in a state of daze that left her able to say but little.  Proud and happy and silent, her sole remark, the first day of the trip, was:  “Brigham—­now—­he make such a lovely, bee-yoo-tiful God in heaven!”

Nor, it soon appeared, was she ever talkative.  The second day, too, she spoke but once, which was when a sudden heavy shower swept down from the hills and caught her some distance from the wagons, helping to drive the cattle.  Then, although she was drenched, she only said:  “It make down somet’ing, I t’ink!”

For this taciturnity her husband was devoutly thankful.  He had married her to secure her place in the Kingdom and a temporal home, and not otherwise did he wish to be concerned about her.  He was glad to note, however, that she seemed to be of a happy disposition; which he did at certain times when her eyes beamed upon him from a face radiant with gratitude.

But his work of service had only begun.  As they went farther south he began to make inquiries for the wandering wife of Elder Tench.  He came upon her at length as she was starting north from Beaver at dusk.  He prevailed upon her to stop with his party.

“I don’t mind to-night, sir, but I must be off betimes in the morning.”

But in the morning he persuaded her to stay with them.

“Your husband is out of the country now, but he’s coming back soon, and he will stop first at my house when he does come.  So stay with me there and wait for him.”

She was troubled by this at first, but at last agreed.

“If you’re sure he will come there first—­”

She refused to ride in the wagon, however, preferring to walk, and strode briskly all day in the wake of the cattle.

At Parowan he made inquiries for Tom Potwin, that other derelict, and was told that he had gone south.  Him, too, they overtook on the road next day, and persuaded to go with them to a home.