My friend, Hal Bunderson, a sealer at the Boise Temple, told this story:

When his father was 17 he got his first job.  The job was 200 miles away in Driggs, Idaho herding sheep in the Tetons.  He was assigned to be the camp tender for a particularly profane sheepherder.  The sheepherder’s coarseness and profanity were almost more than the boy could bear.

One day the owner of the sheep paid a visit to the camp.  He was checking up on the several bands of sheep that he had in the mountains.  This band consisted of some 3,000 sheep.

As the owner talked with the sheepherder, the sheepherder swore as he usually did, and took the Lord’s name in vain.  The owner of the sheep took offense and reprimanded the sheepherder.  “This is the Lord’s Sabbath, and of all days, you just can’t talk like that.”

The sheepherder raised his fist in the air and shouted, “If he was here right now, I’d fight him!”

At that very moment a bolt of lightning hit the upraised fist, and the man fell to the ground dead.

The sheep’s owner and the boy tied the body on a horse to be taken back to town for burial.  The boy was given the job of sheepherder, and was put in charge of the sheep for the rest of the season.  He and the dogs kept the sheep moving to the best grass until July 4th when the sheep were to be taken to a lower elevation to avoid early snow.  When he brought the sheep down, the lambs in his band were found to be fatter than the lambs in the other bands.  He was well paid.

When he returned home, he found that his parents had experienced crop failures.  His mother was sitting in a chair sewing.  He placed his entire earnings in her lap.  She protested, but he prevailed; and those earnings were sufficient to provide for the family until the next year.