Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 23 February 1894 — Page 6

ASTDDY IN SCARLET

By A. OQNAN DOILE.

CHAPTER TV. A FLIGHT FOR LIFE.

Qn the morning- which followed his Viterview with the Mormon prophet, John Ferrier went into Salt Lake City, and having found his acquaintance, who was bound for the Nevada mountains, he intrusted him with his message to Jefferson llope. In it he told the young man of the imminent danger which threatened them, and how meoessary it was that he should return. Having done thus, he felt easier in his mind, and returned home with a light•er heart.

As he approached his farm, he was jsprprised to see a horse hitched to •each of the posts of the gate. Still jmore surprised was he on entering to find two young men in possession of 'Ms sitting-room. One, with a long, Ipale face, was leaning back in the (rocking-chair, with his feet cocked jvpon the stove. The other, a bull[*eeked youth with coarse, bloated tea-l-tonnes, was standing in front of the '•window with his hands in his pockets, j^fhistling a popular hymn. Both of Ithem nodded to Ferrier as he entered, tand the one in the rocking-chair commenced the conversation. "Maybe you don't know us," he said. .'"This here is the son of Elder Drebber, ja*d I'm Joseph Stangerson, who travjeAed with you in the desert when the iliord stretched out His hand and gatliiered you into the true fold." "As He will all the nations in His 'own good time," said the other, in a .nasal voice "Ho grindeth slowly but exceeding' small."

John Ferrier bowed coldly. lie had guessed who his visitors were. "We have come," continued Stangerson, "at the advice of our fathers, to .solicit the hand of your daughter for .whichever of us may seom good to you and to her. As I have but four wives and Brother Drebber here has seven, it appears to me that my claim is the stronger one." "Nay, nay, Brother Stangerson," cried the other "the questiou is not how many wives we have, but how ajiany we can keep. My father has now given over his mills to me, and I am the richer man." "But my prospects are better," said the other, warmly. "When the Lord

Oil

"TJTKKF. A Tift TWO WAYS OUT OF THE

ROOM," OKIEI) FKRIUKB,

removes my father, I shall have his .tanning-yard and his leather factory. Then I am your elder, and am higher in the church."' "It will be i'or the maiden to decide," rejoined young Drebber, smirking at his own relleetion in the glass. "We will leave it :i 11 to her decision."

During this dialogue. John Ferrier had stood fuming in the doorway, hardly able to keep his riding-whip from the backs of his two visitors. "Look here," he said at last, striding up to them, "when my daughter summons you, you can come but until then, I don't want to see your faces again."

The two young Mormons stared at him in amazement. In their eyes this competition between them for the maiden's hand was the highest of honors both to her and her father. "There are two ways out of the room," cried Ferrier: "there is the door, and there is the window. Which do you care to use?"

Ilis brown face looked so savage, and his gaunt hands so threatening, that his visitors sprang to their feet and beat a hurried retreat. The old farmer followed them to the door. "Let me know when you have settled which it is to be," he said sardonically.

"You shall smart for this!" Stangerson cried, white with rage. "You have defied the prophet and the council of four. You shall rue it to the end of your days." "The hand of the Lord shall be heavy upon you," cried young Drebber "lie will arise and smite you!" "Then I'll start the smiting," exclaimed Ferrier furiously, and would have rushed upstairs for his gun had not Lucy seized him by the arm and restrained him. Before he cculd escape from her, the clatter of horse's hoofs told him that they were beyond his reaclu "The young canting rascals!" he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "I would sooner see you in your grave, my girl, than the wife of either of them." "And so should I, father," she answered, with spirit "but Jefferson will soon be here." "Yes. It will not be long before he comes. The sooner the better, for we do not know what their next move may be."

It was, indeed, high time that some one capable of giving advice and help should come to the aid of the sturdy old fanner and his adopted daughter. In the whole history of the settlement there had never been such a case of rank disobedience to the authority of the elders. If minor errors were punished so sternly, what would be the fate of this arch rebel? Ferrier knew that his wealth and position would be of no avail to him. Others as well known and as rich as himself had been spirited away before now, and their goods given over to the church. Ho waft a brave

mnLbut

he trembled at

the vague, shadowy terrors which hung over him. Any known danger he could face with a firm lip. but this suspense was unnerving, lie concealed his fears from his daughter, however, and affected 1 make light of the whole matter, though she, with the keen eye of love, saw plainly that he was ill at ease. lie expected that he would receive some message or remonstrance from Young as to his conduct, and he was not mistaken, though it came in an unlooked-for manner. Upon rising next morning he found, to his surprise, a small square of paper pinned on to the coverlet of his bed, just over his chest. On it was printed in bold, straggling letters: "TWENTY-NINE

DAYS ARK GIVEN YOU

FOR AMENDMENT, AND THEN—"

The dash was more fear-inspiring than any threat could have been. How this warning came into his room puzzled John Ferrier sorely, for his servants slept in an outhouse, and the doors and windows had all been secured. He crumpled the paper up and said nothing to his daughter, but the incident struck a chill into his heart. The twenty-nine days were evidently the balance of the month which Young had promised. What strength or courage could avail against an enemy armed with such mysterious powers? The hand which fastened that pin might have struck him to the heart, and he could never have known who had slain him.

Still more shaken was he next morning. They had sat down to their breakfast when Lucy, with a cry of surprise, pointed upward. In the center of the ceiling was scrawled, with a burned stick, apparently, the number 28. To his daughter it was unintelligible, and he did not enlighten her. That night he sat up with his gun and kept watch and ward. He saw and heard nothing, and yet in the morning a great 27 had been painted upon the outside of his door.

Thus day followed day: and as sure as morning came he found that his unseen enemies had kept their register, and had marked up in some conspicuous position how many days were still left to him out of the month of grace. Sometimes the fatal numbers appeared upon the walls, sometimes upon the floors occasionally they were on small placards stuck upon the garden-gate or the railings. With all his vigilance John Ferrier could not discover whence these daily warnings proceeded. A horror, which was almost superstitious, came upon him at the sight of them, lie became haggard and restless, and his eyes had the troubled look of some haunted creature. He had but one hope in life now, and that was for the arrival of the young hunter from Nevada.

Twenty had changed to fifteen, and fifteen to ten but there was no news of the absentee. One by one the numbers dwindled down, and still there came no sign of him. Whenever a horseman clattered down the road or a driver shouted at his team, the old farmer hurried to the gate, thinking that help had arrived at last. At last, when he saw five give way to four and that again to three, he lost heart, and abandoned all hope of escape. Singlehanded, and with his limited klowledge of the mountains which surrounded the settlement, he knew that he was powless. The more frequented roads were strictly watched and guarded, and none could pass along them without an order from the council. Turn which way he would, there appeared to be no avoiding the blow which hung over him. Yet the old man never wavered in his resolution to part with life itself before he consented to what he regarded as his daughter's dishonor.

He was sitting alone one evening pondering deeply over his troubles, and searching vainly for some way out of them. That morning had shown the figure 3 upon the wall of his house, and the next day would be the last of the allotted time. What was to happen then? All manner of vague and terrible fancies filled his imagination. And his daughter—what was to become of her after he was gone? Was there no escape from the invisible network which was drawn all round them? He sank his head upon the table and sobbed at the thought of his own Impotence. ._

What was that? In the silcnca he heard a gentle scratching sound—low, but very distinct, in the quiet of the night. It came from the door of the house. Ferrier crept into the hal) and listened intently. There was a panse for a few moments, and then the low, insidious sound was repeated. Some one was evidently tapping very gently upon one of the panels of the door. Was it some midnight assassin who had come to carry out the murderous order of the secret tribunal? Or was it some agent who was marking up that the last day of grace had arrived? John Ferrier felt that instant death would be better than the suspense which shook his nerves and chilled his heart. Springing forward, he drew the bolt and threw the door open.

Outside all was calm and quiet. The night was fine, and the stars were twinkling brightly overhead. The little front garden lay before the farmer's eyes, bounded by the fence and gate but neither there nor on the road was any human being to be seen. With a sigh of relief Ferrier looked to right and to left, until happening to glance straight down at his own feet he saw to his astonishment a man lying flat upon his face upon the ground, with arms and legs all asprawl.

1

So unnerved was he at the sight that he leaned up against the wall with his hand to his throat to stifle his inclination to call out His first thought was that the prostrate figure was that of some wounded or dying man, but as he watched it he saw it writhe along the ground and into the hall with the rapidity and noiselessness of a serpent. Once within the house the man sprang to his feet, closed the door and revealed to the astonished farmer the fierce and resolute expression of Jefferson Hope. "Good God:" gasped

John

Ferrier.

"How yon scared me! Whatever made you come, in like yiat?"

"C!ive me food." the other said, hoarsely. "I have had no time for bite or sup for eight-nnd-forty hours." He flung himself upon the cold meat and bread which were still lying upon the table from his host's supper, and devoured it voraciously. "Does Lucy bear up well?'- he askec.. when he had satisfied his hunger. es. She does not know the danger." her father answered. '•'lliat is well. The house is watched on every side. That is why I crawled my way up to it. They may be darned sharp, but they're not quite sharp enough to catch a Washoe hunter."

John Ferrier felt a different man now that lie realized that he had a devoted ally. lie seized the young man's leathery hand and wrung it cordially. "You're a man to be proud of," he said. "There are not many who would come to share our danger and our troubles." "You've hit it there, pard," the young hunter answered. "I have a respect for you, but if you were alone in this business I'd think twice before I put my head into such a hornets' nest. It's Lucy that brings me here, and before harm comes on her I guess there will be one less o' the Hope family in Utah." "What are we to do?" "To-morrow is your last day, and unless you act to-night you are lost. I have a mule and two horses waiting in the Eagle ravine. How much money have you?" "Two thousand dollars in gold, and five in notes." "That will do. I have as much more to add to it. We must push for Carson City through the mountains. You had best •wake Lucy. It is as well that the servants do not sleep in the house."

While Ferrier was absent preparing his daughter for the approaching journey, Jefferson Hope packed all the eatables that he could find into a small parcel, and filled a stoneware jar with water, for he knew by experience thai the mountain wells were few and fai between. lie had hardly completed his arrangements before the fanner'returned with his daughter all dressed and ready for a start. The greeting between the lovers was warm but brief, for minutes were precious, and there was much to be done. "We must make our start at once," said Jefferson Hope, speaking in a low but resolute voice, like one who realizes the greatness of the peril, but has steeled his heart to meet it. "The front and back entrances are watched, but with caution we may get away through the side window and across the fields. Once on the road, we are only two miles from the ravine where the horses are waiting, By daybreak we should be half way through the mountains." "What if .we are stopped?" asked Ferrier.

Hope slapped the revolver butt which protruded from the front of his tunic. "If they are too many for us we shall take two or three of them with us," he said with a sinister smile.

The lights inside the house had all been extinguished, and from the darkened window Ferrier peered over the fields which had been his own, and which he was now about to abandon forever. He had long nerved himself to the sacrifice, however, and the thought of the honor and happiness of his daughter outweighed any regret at his ruined fortunes. All looked sc peaceful and happy, the rustling trees and the broad, silent stretcii of grainland, that it was ditlicuit to realize that the spirit of murder lurked through it all. Yet the white face and set expression of the young hunter showed that in his approach to the house he had seen enough to satisfy him upon that head.

Ferrier carried the bag of gold and notes, Jefferson nope had the scanty provisions and water, while Lucy had the small bundle containing a few of her more valued possessions. Opening the window very "slowly and carefully, they waited until a dark cloud had somewhat obscured the night, and then one by one passed through into the little garden. With bated breath and crouching figures they stumbled across it aud gained the shelter of the hedge, which they skirted until they came to the gap which opened into the cornfield. They had just reached this point when the young man seized his two companions and dragged them down into the shadow, where they lay silent and trembling.

It was as well that his prairie training had given Jefferson Hope the ears of a lynx. He and his friends had hardly crouched down before the melancholy hooting of a mountain owl was heard within a few yards of them, which was immediately answered by another hoot at a small distance. At the same moment a vague, shadowy figure emerged from the gap for which they had been making, and uttered the plaintive signal cry again, on which a second man appeared out of the obscurity. "To-morrow at midnight," said the first, who appeared to be in authority. "When the whippoorwill calls three times." "It is well," returned the other. "Shall I tell Brother Drebber?" "Pass it on to him, and from him to the others. Nine to seven!" "Seven to five!" repeated the other, and the two figures flitted away in different directions. Their concluding words had evidently been some form of sign and countersign. The instant that their footsteps had died away in the distance, Jefferson Hope sprang to his feet, and, helping his companions through the gap, led the way across the fields at full speed, supporting and half-carrying the girl when her strength appeared to fail her. "Hurry on! hurry on!" he gasped from time to time. "We are through the line of sentinels. Everything depends on speed. Hurry on!"

Once on the high-road they made rapid progress. Only once did they meet anyone, and then they managed to slip Into a field and so avoid recognition. Before reaching the town the hunter branched away into a rugged and narrow footpath which led to the mountains._ Two daxkA Bfiftks

loomed above them through the darkness, and the defile which led between them was the Eagle canyon in which the horses were awaiting them. With unerring instinct Jefferson Mope picked his way among the great bowlders and along the bed of a driedtip water-course, until he came to the retired corner, screened with rocks, where the faithful animals had been picketed. The girl was placed upon the mule, and old Ferrier upon one of the horses, with his money-bag, while Jefferson Uope led the other along the precipitous and dangerous paths.

It was a bewildering route for anyone who was not accustomed to face Nature in her wildest moods. On the one side a great crag towered up a thousand feet or more, black, stern and menacing, with long basaltic columns upon *ts rugged surface like the ribs of some petrified monster. On the other hand a wild chaos of bowlders and debris made all advance impossible. Between the two ran the irregular track, so narrow in places that they had to travel in Indian file, and so rough that only practiced riders could have traversed it at all. Yet, in spite of all dangers and difficulties, the hearts of the fugitives were light within them, for every step increased the distance between them and the terrible despotism from which they were flying.

They soon had a proof, however, that they were still in the jurisdiction of the Saints. They had reached the very wildest and most desolate portion of the pass when the girl gave a startled cry and pointed upward. On a rock which overlooked the track, showing out dark and plain against the sky, there stood a solitary sentinel. He saw them as soon as they perceived him, and his military challenge of "Who goes there?" rang through the silent ravine. "Travelers for Nevada," said Jefferson Hope, with his hand upon the rille which hung by his saddle.

They could see the lonely watcher fingering his gun, and peering down at them as if dissatisfied with their reply. "By whose permission?" he asked. "The Holy Four," answered Ferrier. nis Mormon experiences had taught him that that was the highest authority to which he could refer. "Nine from seven," cried the sentinel. "Seven from five," returned JefferKon Hope promptly, remembering the countersign which he had heard in the garden. "Pass, and the Lord go with you," said the voice from above. Beyond this post the path broadened out, and the horses werp able to break into a trot. Looking back, they could see the solitary watcher leaning upon his gun, and knew that they had passed the outlying post of the chosen people, and that freedom lay before them.

A

THR AVENGING ANGELS.

All night their course lay through intricate deiiles and over irregular and rook-strewn paths. More than once they lost their way, but Hope's inti-

TITKIR COURSE I.AT THROUGH INTRICATE DEFILES. mate knowledge of the mountains enabled them to regain the track once more. When morning broke, a scene of marvelous though savage beauty lay before them. In every direction the great snow-capped peaks hemmed thevn in, peeping over each other's shoulders to the far horizon. So steep were the rocky banks on either side of them that the larch and the pine seemed to be suspended over their heads, and to need only a gust of wind to come hurtling down upon them. Nor was the fear entirely an illusion, for the barren valley was thickly strewn with trees a.nd bowlders which had fallen in a similar manner. Even as they passed, a great rock came thundering down with a hoarse rattle which woke the echoes in the silent gorges, and startled the weary horses into a gallop.

As the sun rose slowly above" the eastern horizon, the caps of the great mountains lit up one after the other, like lamps at a festival, until they were all ruddy and glowing. The magnificent spectacle cheered the hearts of the three fugitives and gave them fresh energy. At a wild torrent which swept out of a ravine they called a halt and watered their horses, while they partook of a liasty breakfast. Lucy and her father would fain have rested longer, but Jefferson Hope was inexorable. "They wiU be upon our track by this time," he said. "Everything depends upon our speed. Once safe in Carson, we may rest for the remainder of our lives."

During the whole of that day they struggled on through the defiles, and by evening they calculated that they were more than thirty miles from their enemies. At night time they chose the base of a beetling crag, where the rocks offered some protection from the chill wind, and there, huddled together for warmth, they enjoyed a few hours' sleep. Before daybreak, however, they were up and on their way once more. They had seen no signs of any pursuers, and Jefferson Hope began to think that they were fairly out of the reach of the terrible organization whose enmity they had incurred. He little knew how far that iron grasp could reach, or how soon it was to •los_e.ua.Qn. them and crush tbfiffi.

About the middle of the second day of the flight their scanty store of provisions began to run out. This gave the hunter little uneasiness, however, for there was game to be had among the mountains, and he had frequently before had to depend upon his rille for the needs of life. Choosing a sheltered nook, he piled together a few dry branches and made a blazing lire, at which his companions might warm themselves, for they were now nearly five thousand feet above the sea level, anil the air was bitter and keen. Having tethered the horses and bade Lucy adieu, he threw his gun over his shoulder and set out in search of whatever chance might throw in his way. Looking back, he saw the old man and the young girl crouching over the blazing firo, while the three animals stood motionless in the background. Then the intervening rocks hid them from his view.

He walked for a couple of miles through one ravine after another with-

-C

HE SAW THE OLD M.VN AND THE YOUNG GIRL CROUCHING OVER THE BLAZING FIRE.

out success, though from the marks upon the trees, and other indications, he judged that there were numerous bears in the vicinity. At last, after two or three hours' fruitless search, he was thinking of turning back in despair, when, easting his eyes upward, he saw a sight which sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart. Ou the edge of a jutting pinnacle, three or four hundred feet above him, there stood a creature somewhat resembling a sheep in appearance, but armed with a pair 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 not perceived him. Lying on his back, he rested his rifle upon a rock, and took a long and steady aim before drawing the trigger, 'i'in, unimal sprang into the air, tottered for a moment upon the edge of the precipice, and then came crashing down into the valley beneath.

The creature was too unwieldy to lift, so the hunter contented himself with cutting away one haunch and a part of the flank. With this trophy over his shoulder, he hastened to retrace his steps, for the evening was already drawing in. He had hardly started, however, before he realized the difficulty which faced him. In his eagerness he had wandered far past the ravines which were known to him, and it was no easy matter to pick out the path which he had taken. The valley in which he found himself divided and subdivided into many gorges, whi"h were so like each 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 torrent which he was sure that he had never seen before. Convinced that ho had taken the wrong turn, he tried another, but with the same result. Night was coming on rapidly, and it was almost dark before he again found himself in a defile which was familiar to him. Even then it was no easy matter to keep on the right track, for the moon had not yet risen, and the high cliffs on either side made the obscurity more profound. Weighed down with his burden and weary frnn his exertions, he stumbled along, keeping up his heart by the reflection that every step brought him nearer to Lucy, and that he carried with him enough to insure them food for the remainder of their journey.

He had now come to the mouth of the very defile in which he had left them. Even in the darkness he could recognize the outlines of the cliffs which bounded it They must, he reflected, be awaiting him anxiously, for ho had been absent nearly five hours. In the gladness of his heart he put hiB hands to his mouth and made the glen reecho to aloud hallo as a signal that he was coming. He paused and listened for an answer. None came save his own cry, which clattered up the dreary, silent ravines, and was borne back to his ears in countless repetitions. Again he shouted, even louder than before, and again no whisper came back from the friends whom he had left such a short time ago. A vague, nameless dread came over liim, and he hurried onward frantically, dropping the precious food in his agitation.

When ho turned the corner, he came full in sight of the spot where the fire had been lit. There was still a glowing pile of wood-a shes there, but it had evidently not been tended since his departure. The same dead silence still reigned all round. With his fears changed to convictions, he hurried on. There was no living creature near the romains of the fire animals, man, maiden, all were gone. It was only too clear that some sudden and terrible disaster had occurred during his ab sence—a disaster which had embraced them all and yet had left no traces behind it.

Bewildered and stunned by this blow, Jefferson Hope felt his head spin round, and had to lean upon his rifle to save himself from falling, ne was essentially a man of action, however, and speedily recovered from his temporary impotence. Seizing a half-consumed piece of wood from the smouldering fire, he blew it into a flame, and proceeded with its help to examine the little, oaiizo* The- =raurid. .was. &H

stamped down by the feet of horses showing that a large party of mounted men had overtaken the fugitives, andthe direction of their tracks proved that tliey had afterward turned back to Salt Lake. City. Had they carried back both of his companions with them? Jefferson Hope had almost persuaded himself that they must have done so, when his eye fell upon an object which made every nerve of his body tingle within him. A little way on one side of the camjj was a lowlying head of reddish soil, which had assuredly not been there before. There was no mistaking it for anything Inita newly-dug grave. As the young hunter approached it, he perceived that a stick had been planted on it, with a sheet of paper stuck in the cleft fork of it. The inscription upon the paper was brio^, but to the point:

JOHN FERRIEK. -te'y

FORMERLY OF SALT LAKH CITY.

Died August

4,

I860.

The sturdy old man, whom he ha£ left so short a time before, was gone, then, and this was all his epitaph. Jefferson Hope looked wildly round to see if there was a second grave, hut there was no sign of one. Lucy had been carried back by their terrible pursuers to fulfill her original destiny, by becoming one of the harem of the elder's son. As the young fellow realized the certainty of her fate and his own powerlessness to prevent it, he wished that he, too, was lying with the old farmer in his last silent resting place.

Again, however, his active spirit shook oil the lethargy which springs from despair. If there was nothing else left to him, he conld at least devote his life to revenge. With indomitable patience and perseverance, Jefferson llope possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness, which he may have learned from the Indians among whom he had lived. As he stood bv the desolate fire lie felt that the onlything which could assuage his grief would be thorough and complete retribution brought by his own hand upon his enemies. Ilis strong will and untiring energy should, he determined, be devoted to that one end. With a grim, white face he retraced liis steptto where he had dropped the food, and having stirred up tin* smouldering fire, he cooked enough to last him for a fewdays. This he made up into a bundle, and, tired as he was. he set himself to walk back through thi" mountains upon the track of the avenging angels.

For five days he toiled, footsore and weary, through the defiles which he had already traversed on horseback. At night he flung hhnself down among1 the rocks aud snatched a few hours of sleep, but before daybreak he was always well oil his wav. On the sixth day he reached the hagle canyon, from which they had commenced their illfated flight. Thence he could look down upon the home of the Saints. Worn and exhausted, he leaned upon his rifle and shook his gaunt hand fiercely at the silent, widespread crfcy beneath him. As he looked at it he observed that there were flags in some of the principal streets and otlier signs of festivity. He was still speculating as to what this might mean when he heard the clatter of horse'.hoofs and saw a mounted man riding toward hiin. As he approached he recognized him as a Mormon named Cowper, to whom he had rendered services at different times. He therefore accosted him when he got up to him, with the object of finding out what Lucy Ferrier's fate had been. "I am Jefferson Hope," he said. "You remember me."

The Mormon looked at him with undisguised astonishment—indeed, it was difficult to recognize in this tattered,unkempt wanderer, with ghastly face and fierce, wild eyes, the spruce young hunter of former days. Having, however, at last satisfied himself as to his identity, the man's surprise changed to consternation. "You are mad to come here," he eried. "It is as much as my own life is worth to be seen talking with von. There is a warrant against you from the Holy Four for assisting the Ferriersaway." *'I don't fear them or their warrant," Hope said, earnestly. "You must knowsomething of this matter, Cowper. I conjure you by all you hold dear to answer a few questions. We hav6 al~ ways been friends. For God's sake don't refuse to answer me."

(To Be Continued.)

burin d.

t.

II.

QL

FOR

FOR

—Brooklyn Life,

tags see THK JOURNAL Co.,'PRKNTRRS.

wedding invitations see Tire JOURNAI. Co., PitiNTKKft.