CHAPTER V. THE AVENGING ANGELS.
ALL night their course lay through intricate defiles and over irregularand rock-strewn paths. More than once they lost their way, but Hope'sintimate knowledge of the mountains enabled them to regain the trackonce more. When morning broke, a scene of marvellous though savagebeauty lay before them. In every direction the great snow-capped peakshemmed them in, peeping over each other's shoulders to the far horizon.So steep were the rocky banks on either side of them, that the larchand the pine seemed to be suspended over their heads, and to need only agust of wind to come hurtling down upon them. Nor was the fear entirelyan illusion, for the barren valley was thickly strewn with trees andboulders which had fallen in a similar manner. Even as they passed,a great rock came thundering down with a hoarse rattle which wokethe echoes in the silent gorges, and startled the weary horses into agallop.
As the sun rose slowly above the eastern horizon, the caps of the greatmountains lit up one after the other, like lamps at a festival, untilthey were all ruddy and glowing. The magnificent spectacle cheered thehearts of the three fugitives and gave them fresh energy. At a wildtorrent which swept out of a ravine they called a halt and watered theirhorses, while they partook of a hasty breakfast. Lucy and her fatherwould fain have rested longer, but Jefferson Hope was inexorable. "Theywill be upon our track by this time," he said. "Everything depends uponour speed. Once safe in Carson we may rest for the remainder of ourlives."
During the whole of that day they struggled on through the defiles, andby evening they calculated that they were more than thirty miles fromtheir enemies. At night-time they chose the base of a beetling crag,where the rocks offered some protection from the chill wind, and therehuddled together for warmth, they enjoyed a few hours' sleep. Beforedaybreak, however, they were up and on their way once more. They hadseen no signs of any pursuers, and Jefferson Hope began to think thatthey were fairly out of the reach of the terrible organization whoseenmity they had incurred. He little knew how far that iron grasp couldreach, or how soon it was to close upon them and crush them.
About the middle of the second day of their flight their scanty storeof provisions began to run out. This gave the hunter little uneasiness,however, for there was game to be had among the mountains, and he hadfrequently before had to depend upon his rifle for the needs of life.Choosing a sheltered nook, he piled together a few dried branches andmade a blazing fire, at which his companions might warm themselves, forthey were now nearly five thousand feet above the sea level, and the airwas bitter and keen. Having tethered the horses, and bade Lucy adieu,he threw his gun over his shoulder, and set out in search of whateverchance might throw in his way. Looking back he saw the old man and theyoung girl crouching over the blazing fire, while the three animalsstood motionless in the back-ground. Then the intervening rocks hid themfrom his view.
He walked for a couple of miles through one ravine after another withoutsuccess, though from the marks upon the bark of the trees, and otherindications, he judged that there were numerous bears in the vicinity.At last, after two or three hours' fruitless search, he was thinking ofturning back in despair, when casting his eyes upwards he saw a sightwhich sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart. On the edge of ajutting pinnacle, three or four hundred feet above him, there stood acreature somewhat resembling a sheep in appearance, but armed with apair of gigantic horns. The big-horn--for so it is called--was acting,probably, as a guardian over a flock which were invisible to the hunter;but fortunately it was heading in the opposite direction, and had notperceived him. Lying on his face, he rested his rifle upon a rock, andtook a long and steady aim before drawing the trigger. The animal spranginto the air, tottered for a moment upon the edge of the precipice, andthen came crashing down into the valley beneath.
The creature was too unwieldy to lift, so the hunter contented himselfwith cutting away one haunch and part of the flank. With this trophyover his shoulder, he hastened to retrace his steps, for the evening wasalready drawing in. He had hardly started, however, before he realizedthe difficulty which faced him. In his eagerness he had wandered farpast the ravines which were known to him, and it was no easy matterto pick out the path which he had taken. The valley in which he foundhimself divided and sub-divided into many gorges, which were so likeeach other that it was impossible to distinguish one from the other.He followed one for a mile or more until he came to a mountain torrentwhich he was sure that he had never seen before. Convinced that he hadtaken the wrong turn, he tried another, but with the same result. Nightwas coming on rapidly, and it was almost dark before he at last foundhimself in a defile which was familiar to him. Even then it was no easymatter to keep to the right track, for the moon had not yet risen, andthe high cliffs on either side made the obscurity more profound. Weigheddown with his burden, and weary from his exertions, he stumbled along,keeping up his heart by the reflection that every step brought himnearer to Lucy, and that he carried with him enough to ensure them foodfor the remainder of their journey.
He had now come to the mouth of the very defile in which he had leftthem. Even in the darkness he could recognize the outline of the cliffswhich bounded it. They must, he reflected, be awaiting him anxiously,for he had been absent nearly five hours. In the gladness of his hearthe put his hands to his mouth and made the glen re-echo to a loud hallooas a signal that he was coming. He paused and listened for an answer.None came save his own cry, which clattered up the dreary silentravines, and was borne back to his ears in countless repetitions. Againhe shouted, even louder than before, and again no whisper came back fromthe friends whom he had left such a short time ago. A vague, namelessdread came over him, and he hurried onwards frantically, dropping theprecious food in his agitation.
When he turned the corner, he came full in sight of the spot where thefire had been lit. There was still a glowing pile of wood ashes there,but it had evidently not been tended since his departure. The samedead silence still reigned all round. With his fears all changed toconvictions, he hurried on. There was no living creature near theremains of the fire: animals, man, maiden, all were gone. It was onlytoo clear that some sudden and terrible disaster had occurred duringhis absence--a disaster which had embraced them all, and yet had left notraces behind it.
Bewildered and stunned by this blow, Jefferson Hope felt his head spinround, and had to lean upon his rifle to save himself from falling. Hewas essentially a man of action, however, and speedily recovered fromhis temporary impotence. Seizing a half-consumed piece of wood from thesmouldering fire, he blew it into a flame, and proceeded with its helpto examine the little camp. The ground was all stamped down by the feetof horses, showing that a large party of mounted men had overtakenthe fugitives, and the direction of their tracks proved that they hadafterwards turned back to Salt Lake City. Had they carried back both ofhis companions with them? Jefferson Hope had almost persuaded himselfthat they must have done so, when his eye fell upon an object which madeevery nerve of his body tingle within him. A little way on one side ofthe camp was a low-lying heap of reddish soil, which had assuredlynot been there before. There was no mistaking it for anything but anewly-dug grave. As the young hunter approached it, he perceived that astick had been planted on it, with a sheet of paper stuck in the cleftfork of it. The inscription upon the paper was brief, but to the point:
JOHN FERRIER, FORMERLY OF SALT LAKE CITY, [22] Died August 4th, 1860.
The sturdy old man, whom he had left so short a time before, was gone,then, and this was all his epitaph. Jefferson Hope looked wildly roundto see if there was a second grave, but there was no sign of one. Lucyhad been carried back by their terrible pursuers to fulfil her originaldestiny, by becoming one of the harem of the Elder's son. As the youngfellow realized the certainty of her fate, and his own powerlessness toprevent it, he wished that he, too, was lying with the old farmer in hislast silent resting-place.
Again, however, his active spirit shook off the lethargy which springsf
rom despair. If there was nothing else left to him, he could at leastdevote his life to revenge. With indomitable patience and perseverance,Jefferson Hope possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness, whichhe may have learned from the Indians amongst whom he had lived. As hestood by the desolate fire, he felt that the only one thing which couldassuage his grief would be thorough and complete retribution, broughtby his own hand upon his enemies. His strong will and untiring energyshould, he determined, be devoted to that one end. With a grim, whiteface, he retraced his steps to where he had dropped the food, and havingstirred up the smouldering fire, he cooked enough to last him for afew days. This he made up into a bundle, and, tired as he was, heset himself to walk back through the mountains upon the track of theavenging angels.
For five days he toiled footsore and weary through the defiles which hehad already traversed on horseback. At night he flung himself down amongthe rocks, and snatched a few hours of sleep; but before daybreak he wasalways well on his way. On the sixth day, he reached the Eagle Canon,from which they had commenced their ill-fated flight. Thence he couldlook down upon the home of the saints. Worn and exhausted, he leanedupon his rifle and shook his gaunt hand fiercely at the silentwidespread city beneath him. As he looked at it, he observed thatthere were flags in some of the principal streets, and other signs offestivity. He was still speculating as to what this might mean when heheard the clatter of horse's hoofs, and saw a mounted man riding towardshim. As he approached, he recognized him as a Mormon named Cowper, towhom he had rendered services at different times. He therefore accostedhim when he got up to him, with the object of finding out what LucyFerrier's fate had been.
"I am Jefferson Hope," he said. "You remember me."
The Mormon looked at him with undisguised astonishment--indeed, it wasdifficult to recognize in this tattered, unkempt wanderer, with ghastlywhite face and fierce, wild eyes, the spruce young hunter of formerdays. Having, however, at last, satisfied himself as to his identity,the man's surprise changed to consternation.
"You are mad to come here," he cried. "It is as much as my own life isworth to be seen talking with you. There is a warrant against you fromthe Holy Four for assisting the Ferriers away."
"I don't fear them, or their warrant," Hope said, earnestly. "You mustknow something of this matter, Cowper. I conjure you by everything youhold dear to answer a few questions. We have always been friends. ForGod's sake, don't refuse to answer me."
"What is it?" the Mormon asked uneasily. "Be quick. The very rocks haveears and the trees eyes."
"What has become of Lucy Ferrier?"
"She was married yesterday to young Drebber. Hold up, man, hold up, youhave no life left in you."
"Don't mind me," said Hope faintly. He was white to the very lips, andhad sunk down on the stone against which he had been leaning. "Married,you say?"
"Married yesterday--that's what those flags are for on the EndowmentHouse. There was some words between young Drebber and young Stangersonas to which was to have her. They'd both been in the party that followedthem, and Stangerson had shot her father, which seemed to give him thebest claim; but when they argued it out in council, Drebber's party wasthe stronger, so the Prophet gave her over to him. No one won't haveher very long though, for I saw death in her face yesterday. She is morelike a ghost than a woman. Are you off, then?"
"Yes, I am off," said Jefferson Hope, who had risen from his seat. Hisface might have been chiselled out of marble, so hard and set was itsexpression, while its eyes glowed with a baleful light.
"Where are you going?"
"Never mind," he answered; and, slinging his weapon over his shoulder,strode off down the gorge and so away into the heart of the mountains tothe haunts of the wild beasts. Amongst them all there was none so fierceand so dangerous as himself.
The prediction of the Mormon was only too well fulfilled. Whether it wasthe terrible death of her father or the effects of the hateful marriageinto which she had been forced, poor Lucy never held up her head again,but pined away and died within a month. Her sottish husband, who hadmarried her principally for the sake of John Ferrier's property, did notaffect any great grief at his bereavement; but his other wives mournedover her, and sat up with her the night before the burial, as is theMormon custom. They were grouped round the bier in the early hours ofthe morning, when, to their inexpressible fear and astonishment,the door was flung open, and a savage-looking, weather-beaten man intattered garments strode into the room. Without a glance or a word tothe cowering women, he walked up to the white silent figure which hadonce contained the pure soul of Lucy Ferrier. Stooping over her, hepressed his lips reverently to her cold forehead, and then, snatchingup her hand, he took the wedding-ring from her finger. "She shall not beburied in that," he cried with a fierce snarl, and before an alarm couldbe raised sprang down the stairs and was gone. So strange and so briefwas the episode, that the watchers might have found it hard to believeit themselves or persuade other people of it, had it not been for theundeniable fact that the circlet of gold which marked her as having beena bride had disappeared.
For some months Jefferson Hope lingered among the mountains, leadinga strange wild life, and nursing in his heart the fierce desire forvengeance which possessed him. Tales were told in the City of the weirdfigure which was seen prowling about the suburbs, and which hauntedthe lonely mountain gorges. Once a bullet whistled through Stangerson'swindow and flattened itself upon the wall within a foot of him. Onanother occasion, as Drebber passed under a cliff a great bouldercrashed down on him, and he only escaped a terrible death by throwinghimself upon his face. The two young Mormons were not long indiscovering the reason of these attempts upon their lives, and ledrepeated expeditions into the mountains in the hope of capturing orkilling their enemy, but always without success. Then they adopted theprecaution of never going out alone or after nightfall, and of havingtheir houses guarded. After a time they were able to relax thesemeasures, for nothing was either heard or seen of their opponent, andthey hoped that time had cooled his vindictiveness.
Far from doing so, it had, if anything, augmented it. The hunter's mindwas of a hard, unyielding nature, and the predominant idea of revengehad taken such complete possession of it that there was no room forany other emotion. He was, however, above all things practical. He soonrealized that even his iron constitution could not stand the incessantstrain which he was putting upon it. Exposure and want of wholesome foodwere wearing him out. If he died like a dog among the mountains, whatwas to become of his revenge then? And yet such a death was sure toovertake him if he persisted. He felt that that was to play his enemy'sgame, so he reluctantly returned to the old Nevada mines, there torecruit his health and to amass money enough to allow him to pursue hisobject without privation.
His intention had been to be absent a year at the most, but acombination of unforeseen circumstances prevented his leaving the minesfor nearly five. At the end of that time, however, his memory ofhis wrongs and his craving for revenge were quite as keen as on thatmemorable night when he had stood by John Ferrier's grave. Disguised,and under an assumed name, he returned to Salt Lake City, carelesswhat became of his own life, as long as he obtained what he knew tobe justice. There he found evil tidings awaiting him. There had been aschism among the Chosen People a few months before, some of the youngermembers of the Church having rebelled against the authority of theElders, and the result had been the secession of a certain number of themalcontents, who had left Utah and become Gentiles. Among these had beenDrebber and Stangerson; and no one knew whither they had gone. Rumourreported that Drebber had managed to convert a large part of hisproperty into money, and that he had departed a wealthy man, while hiscompanion, Stangerson, was comparatively poor. There was no clue at all,however, as to their whereabouts.
Many a man, however vindictive, would have abandoned all thought ofrevenge in the face of such a difficulty, but Jefferson Hope neverfaltered for a moment. With the small competence he possessed, eked outby such employment as he could
pick up, he travelled from town to townthrough the United States in quest of his enemies. Year passed intoyear, his black hair turned grizzled, but still he wandered on, a humanbloodhound, with his mind wholly set upon the one object upon which hehad devoted his life. At last his perseverance was rewarded. It wasbut a glance of a face in a window, but that one glance told him thatCleveland in Ohio possessed the men whom he was in pursuit of. Hereturned to his miserable lodgings with his plan of vengeance allarranged. It chanced, however, that Drebber, looking from his window,had recognized the vagrant in the street, and had read murder inhis eyes. He hurried before a justice of the peace, accompanied byStangerson, who had become his private secretary, and represented to himthat they were in danger of their lives from the jealousy and hatred ofan old rival. That evening Jefferson Hope was taken into custody, andnot being able to find sureties, was detained for some weeks. When atlast he was liberated, it was only to find that Drebber's house wasdeserted, and that he and his secretary had departed for Europe.
Again the avenger had been foiled, and again his concentrated hatredurged him to continue the pursuit. Funds were wanting, however, andfor some time he had to return to work, saving every dollar for hisapproaching journey. At last, having collected enough to keep life inhim, he departed for Europe, and tracked his enemies from city tocity, working his way in any menial capacity, but never overtaking thefugitives. When he reached St. Petersburg they had departed for Paris;and when he followed them there he learned that they had just set offfor Copenhagen. At the Danish capital he was again a few days late, forthey had journeyed on to London, where he at last succeeded in runningthem to earth. As to what occurred there, we cannot do better than quotethe old hunter's own account, as duly recorded in Dr. Watson's Journal,to which we are already under such obligations.
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