---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Lyman, Albert R.
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 17
number: 6
published: 1914-04
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Albert R. Lyman, "Voice of the Intangible—XXV," *Improvement Era* 17, no. 6 (April 1914): 518–522.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera176unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera176unse
start_page: 518
end_page: 522
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1914-04)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera176unse
  publication_year: 1914
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1914, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Voice of the Intangible—XXV

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Voice of the Intangible
BY ALBERT R. LYMAN
Chapter XXV — To Nail a Purpose
When Ben Rojer stalked down from his cave at Pagahrit,
even before the echoes of his dream grew faint in his mind, he
formed a resolution : he would sell out and leave Pagahrit. His
outfit had scarcely merged into the snowy cedars of the Ridge on
the journey homeward, before he framed a plan and a price, and
decided on a possible buyer.
It is not our purpose here to follow the ups and downs of
the offers and counter-offers which resulted in an agreement between Ben Rojer, party of the first part, to sell ; and West & Co.,
parties of the second part, to buy. Suffice it to say that Ben had
barely reached home from the reservation with his Snip horse, when
he began arrangements for the final round-up. Those arrangements brought him on the first of May with Deut, and the others
of his magnificent mount, and Mike at their heels, — and also with
Juan and his two invincibles, to join West & Co., at Grand Flat,
on their way for the Clay Hill trail.
The glad voices of spring echoed among the cedars of the
Ridge, flowers bloomed on every hand, and soft winds carried
their perfume up among the green limbs of the forest. Fairies
seemed to hide among the leaves and blossoms, and laugh in every
streamlet trickling down over the rocks. It was in every way a
second edition of that spring-season when little Ben Rojer rode
his yellow pony, and feared the great wild something, so new
and strange to his childish mind. "That was the beginning,"
mused the tall Ben Rojer, with a tinge of regret, "and this is the
ending." But the term ending, sank uncomfortably among his
thoughts, and he saw again a track in the sand — a moccasin track
— a pony track, from which arose an odor of dread suspense.
Neither West & Co. nor Juan Rido, knew anything of Young
Rojer's emotions, as the two outfits jogged on together towards
Cow Tank. Sometimes the conversation turned to Deut, or Pinto,
or the cattle two days ahead, — and sometimes all hands were regaled by the swing of the "Chili con carne."
Passing Dripping Spring, they camped at Steer Gulch, and
hauled up the next evening under a cloudy sky at Green-water.
Ever since leaving home, but more so since passing Grand
Flat, Ben had felt a troublesome sense of something pending, —

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VOICE OF THE INTANGIBLE 519
something so big and forbidding that he saw nothing beyond it.
He heard it in the sound and in the silence of the hills, and it
seemed to come out plainly when he slept, only to baffle his recollection when he awakened. Whether it were good or bad, or
merely the natural awakening of his old anxiety, he could not determine.
As the outfit neared Green-water, he rode ahead and examined
the muddy bank of the pond : he found the tracks of at least two
ponies, and what appeared on the wire-grass to be the print of
a moccasin. From the dark clouds above, and the rising wind,
and the little green waves chasing each other upon the mossy
shore, he heard the perplexing sentiment like the jargon of a foreign language.
When the thirsty outfits crowded down around him to the
water, and a great drop of rain splattered against his hand, he
joined the hurried movement to unpack and improvise a tent.
It was only a bluster, and it passed over leaving the night dark
and still ; and out through that darkness Ben groped his way over
the sand-hills to a heap of dry bones by the cliff. He sank wearily
to the ground among them, absently neaping them up, and trying
in the darkness to find the last scattered ribs and knuckles.
And while Mike crouched lovingly by and watched that boneheap grow, Young Rojer reviewed the whole story from Soorowits
at Peavine to Soorowits in Clay Hill pass, and himself toiling
like an exile through the rocks of Bull Valley. He thought of
the cross-sections of that story, of the "way of the transgressor,"
the vision on the rock-knoll, and of the Heaven-made program
with one slated exercise still to be given. That one exercise towered in dark uncertainty, like a shrouded figure which might at
any time drop its mantle and disclose a naked skeleton.
"And only one guide on earth," he whispered, "I must keep
in tune and follow my strongest impressions. But what the dickens
are my impressions?" and he looked off into the dark void which
he knew to be the lower part of Castle Gulch : all was still, no
voice, no impression. Then he turned his face to the other void
from which they came : it was blacker yet. "I must go on," he
whispered, as if to old Mike, who followed him back to camp, and
slept devotedly by his blanket bed.
That round-up was the most absolute and far-reaching ever
made in the region of Pagahrit. It is doubtful whether the Rojer
outfit or any other outfit ever worked more relentlessly than those
six men, who trailed every track, and visited all corners of the
range. They started with the gray dawn every morning, and
came dragging into camp all hours between sunset and midnight.
A dozen times when Ben ached from head to foot with weariness, he crept away into the night and asked the Intangible if it
were safe to sleep, and a dozen times he came back heavy-eyed to

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520 IMPROVEMENT ERA
his blankets because they seemed to be the safest place. Sometimes in his rides he saw tracks, and sometimes he was all but
ready to leave the business with Juan and bolt for Clay Hill ; but
every time he decided, by the breadth of a hair, to stay one day
longer.
He found time only twice to visit his cave. Once in the late
evening after the others had gone to sleep, he stole into the black
cavern and groped his way to the old altar-stones. He kneeled
wearily by the date on the wall, and thrust his tried finger-tips
into the notches, to which he added one more. He sat again
where he had dreamed in the winter, but no distinct influence
reached his fatigued nerves ; his strongest impression was to go
to bed and to sleep.
During the round-up Ben discovered that one of West's men
came from Snicksville, the town in which Josh Widder had made
his new home.
"Do you know 'im?" queried young Rojer.
"As well as I want to," answered the Snicksvillite, "Why?
Where did you meet 'im?"
"I rode with 'im six years. What's he doing there? How's
'e getting along?"
"Things've been goin' agin' 'im perty much, last few years.
When 'e came 'e had a few cows an' good prospects, but 'e made
enemies of the boys on the range, till they wouldn't ride with 'im,
an^ wouldn't trust 'im, an' jist natcherly boycotted 'im till 'e had
tu sell out, an' 'e made a poor sell."
"Yip, out o' the cow-business an' into the horse-business,
but 'e lost some of 'is best colts first thing. An' then' 'e got into
trouble an' that went agin' 'im : there wus a colt found with
his brand on it, an' the colt wasn't his. It made a big stink an'
'e sold agin at a loss."
"Well."
"Yip, 'e'd gone tu the jug if it hadn't been fer a thing er two,"
and plainly the Snicksvillite felt that the "thing er two" should
have been overruled. "An' then 'e traded fer a farm," he went on,
"but 'e wus a cow-puncher, he couldn't farm if 'e did think so.
An' besides that, bad luck ambushed 'im ever' turn in the road.
The rain caught 'is hay when it wus down, an' the frost an' rabbits fixed 'is grain. He never did know how er when tu plow er
when tu plant er nothin' else. The old farmers tried tu tell 'im
where 'e_ missed it, but they soon found thit 'e wasn't a man tu
hear advice, so they let 'im go along in 'is own blunderin' way."
"Yes, in his own blundering, thick-nosed way," thought Ben,
though he said nothing, preferring to confer with the Intangible
on the perils of his own situation, and let the plethoric Josh Widder pass by as an actor no more on the Rojer program.
Whatever murderous reason may have actuated Soorowits,

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VOICE OF THE INTANGIBLE 521
coyoteing it up and down gulches by day, and skulking in the
darker shadows by night, he kept himself carefully from the sight
of all hands while they camped at the lake. He hid somewhere in
the hills like an evil spirit, for his presence and his murderous
intentions, were plain to Ben, like the presence of an offended
polecat in a barn-yard. Why a shot did not ring out from some
well chosen ambush, young Rojer could not tell. He knew only
that he had followed his strongest impressions thus far, and that
knowledge became his peace and assurance by day, and his permission to sleep when his weary head rested on the pillow.
The stress of his anxiety at Pagahrit moved one notch higher
in the scale of suspense, when, on the twenty-seventh of May, the
whole bawling herd, packs, loose horses and all, moved out of the
gulch and off towards Castle Hill.
The contract provided that the herd should be counted and received in Castle Gulch, when the round-up was finished ; but a
wandering bunch hid in Horse Canyon, and became one of a
half-dozen causes for a dragging delay at Green-water. While
matters thus hung fire, young Rojer endured a torturing eagerness to be gone, for he found no reason to doubt that Soorowits
still cherished hope of revenge. Riding up and down between
the shattered walls of Castle Gulch, seemed a defying of reason
and Providence.
In the darkness of the second night's delay, Ben found himself starting on Deut for Clay Hill, having entrusted the remainder
of the business to Juan. The night was not dark, though the dim
light of the moon failed to reveal the objects cowering in the
shadows of rocks and trees. Deut moved onward with his wonted
vigor of horsehood, and Mike trotted dutifully at his heels.
Young Rojer had supposed his prowling enemy to be keeping
watch on the camp, awaiting opportunity to pick him off when he
rode alone, and for that reason he had not suffered himself to be
without company on the trip. Now, as he moved away in the
darkness, Mike and Deut were his only companions, for he reasoned that since he left the danger sneaking around the camp,
he had only to put spurs to Deut in order to defy its pursuit.
Quietly he moved up the sandy trail from Green-water, ventnrning, as the distance seemed to justify it, into a brisk trot. Now
he mounted the bank of the wash and crossed a sand-hill — now
he descended to the wash again, and Deut's shoe struck a casual
stone, and sent a sharp report echoing in the cliffs. Now he
paused to listen to a sound real or imaginary, — it may have been
either, for the five echoes of Castle Gulch carry the voice of a
cow to an incredible distance.
At the mouth of East Fork, where Clay Hill Canyon turns
sharply off to the right, a genuine echo played back and forth
between those rugged walls, — an echo of something besides a

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522 IMPROVEMENT ERA
cow or an owl or a coyote. Deut came to a full stop, and Mike,
trotting up alongside, cocked one ear attentively towards the pass ;
the brown horse-ears listened in that direction, too, and Ben
turned his own eyes and feelings towards the opening where the
trail begins its narrow, serpentine course down Clay Hill.
Since his experience as Prosecuting Attorney, young Rojer
had developed a keen perception, — a sense which grew from
being pressed into service. Now, as he listened in the moonlight
by the mouth of Clay Hill Canyon, he exerted that sixth sense
till the shades around the pass came repellent, and the wind, coming through that mysterious opening, whispered in his ear as it
passed: "Go back! Go back!"
Far up to the right, from a rocky shelf, a column of smoke
seemed to stand out against the sky, that is, it appeared in the
shades of night to be a smoke, though of doubtful, nebulous
shape.
Neither the echo, the smoke, the whisperings of the wind,
nor the shades in the pass, would bear mentioning to the boys in
camp, but to Ben's susceptible mind they were "confirmations
strong as proofs of holy writ." His active soul-feelings grasped
the fragmentary evidence, and filled in the blank spaces like magic :
the pass would be an ideal ambush at any time, but when a few
men were mixed in with a herd of slow cattle, shoving those cattle in little bunches along a narrow trail, they would be as defenseless as cows in a branding chute, — more so than in any other
place on the range. Soorowits and Buhhre, being cowards, would
want a dead-sure thing, and if there were anything more sure
or more deadly than the rocks overhanging the trail, Ben could
not call it to mind.
He did go back. When some of the boys started from sleep
at sound of his approach, he told them he had decided to stay and
see the herd delivered.
If Clay Hill were an ambush, and Ben had no doubt of it,
it meant danger to no one but himself; for Soorowits had just
enough of civilization to discriminate against any but the particular blood for which he thirsted. The outfits might pass the
hill in peace, so long as young Rojer was not with them, and
crawling quietly into bed, he began to study out a way of foiling
this past embargo.
("When the Idols Moved," is the title of the next chapter, which
is the last but one of this great story.)