Chapter: ALL night their course lay through intricate defiles and over irregular
and rock-strewn paths. More than once they lost their way, but Hope's
intimate knowledge of the mountains enabled them to regain the track
once more. When morning broke, a scene of marvellous though savage
beauty lay before them. In every direction the great snow-capped peaks
hemmed 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 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 and
boulders 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 hasty breakfast. Lucy and her father
would fain have rested longer, but Jefferson Hope was inexorable. "They
will 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 close upon them and crush them.

About the middle of the second day of their 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 rifle for the needs of life.
Choosing a sheltered nook, he piled together a few dried branches and
made a blazing fire, at which his companions might warm themselves, for
they were now nearly five thousand feet above the sea level, and 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 fire, while the three animals
stood motionless in the back-ground. Then the intervening rocks hid them
from his view.

He walked for a couple of miles through one ravine after another without
success, though from the marks upon the bark of 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 casting his eyes upwards he saw a sight
which sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart. On 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 face, he rested his rifle upon a rock, and
took a long and steady aim before drawing the trigger. The animal 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 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 sub-divided into many gorges, which 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 he 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 at last found
himself in a defile which was familiar to him. Even then it was no easy
matter to keep to 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 from 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 ensure 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 outline of the cliffs
which bounded it. They must, he reflected, be awaiting him anxiously,
for he had been absent nearly five hours. In the gladness of his heart
he put his hands to his mouth and made the glen re-echo to a loud halloo
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 him, and he hurried onwards frantically, dropping the
precious food in his agitation.

When he 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 ashes there,
but it had evidently not been tended since his departure. The same
dead silence still reigned all round. With his fears all changed to
convictions, he hurried on. There was no living creature near the
remains of the fire: animals, man, maiden, all were gone. It was only
too clear that some sudden and terrible disaster had occurred during
his absence--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. He
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 camp. The ground was all stamped down by the feet
of horses, showing that a large party of mounted men had overtaken
the fugitives, and the direction of their tracks proved that they had
afterwards 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 camp was a low-lying heap of reddish soil, which had assuredly
not been there before. There was no mistaking it for anything but a
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 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 round
to see if there was a second grave, but there was no sign of one. Lucy
had been carried back by their terrible pursuers to fulfil 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 off the lethargy which springs
from despair. If there was nothing else left to him, he could at least
devote his life to revenge. With indomitable patience and perseverance,
Jefferson Hope possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness, which
he may have learned from the Indians amongst whom he had lived. As he
stood by the desolate fire, he felt that the only one thing which could
assuage his grief would be thorough and complete retribution, brought
by his own hand upon his enemies. His strong will and untiring energy
should, he determined, be devoted to that one end. With a grim, white
face, he retraced his steps to where he had dropped the food, and having
stirred up the smouldering fire, he cooked enough to last him for a
few days. This he made up into a bundle, and, tired as he was, he
set himself to walk back through the 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 himself down among
the rocks, and snatched a few hours of sleep; but before daybreak he was
always well on his way. On the sixth day, he reached the Eagle Canon,
from which they had commenced their ill-fated 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 city beneath him. As he looked at it, he observed that
there were flags in some of the principal streets, and other signs of
festivity. He was still speculating as to what this might mean when he
heard the clatter of horse's hoofs, and saw a mounted man riding towards
him. 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
white 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 cried. "It is as much as my own life is
worth to be seen talking with you. There is a warrant against you from
the Holy Four for assisting the Ferriers away."

"I don't fear them, or their warrant," Hope said, earnestly. "You must
know something of this matter, Cowper. I conjure you by everything you
hold dear to answer a few questions. We have always been friends. For
God's sake, don't refuse to answer me."

"What is it?" the Mormon asked uneasily. "Be quick. The very rocks have
ears and the trees eyes."

"What has become of Lucy Ferrier?"

"She was married yesterday to young Drebber. Hold up, man, hold up, you
have no life left in you."

"Don't mind me," said Hope faintly. He was white to the very lips, and
had 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 Endowment
House. There was some words between young Drebber and young Stangerson
as to which was to have her. They'd both been in the party that followed
them, and Stangerson had shot her father, which seemed to give him the
best claim; but when they argued it out in council, Drebber's party was
the stronger, so the Prophet gave her over to him. No one won't have
her very long though, for I saw death in her face yesterday. She is more
like a ghost than a woman. Are you off, then?"

"Yes, I am off," said Jefferson Hope, who had risen from his seat. His
face might have been chiselled out of marble, so hard and set was its
expression, 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 to
the haunts of the wild beasts. Amongst them all there was none so fierce
and so dangerous as himself.

The prediction of the Mormon was only too well fulfilled. Whether it was
the terrible death of her father or the effects of the hateful marriage
into 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 had
married her principally for the sake of John Ferrier's property, did not
affect any great grief at his bereavement; but his other wives mourned
over her, and sat up with her the night before the burial, as is the
Mormon custom. They were grouped round the bier in the early hours of
the morning, when, to their inexpressible fear and astonishment,
the door was flung open, and a savage-looking, weather-beaten man in
tattered garments strode into the room. Without a glance or a word to
the cowering women, he walked up to the white silent figure which had
once contained the pure soul of Lucy Ferrier. Stooping over her, he
pressed his lips reverently to her cold forehead, and then, snatching
up her hand, he took the wedding-ring from her finger. "She shall not be
buried in that," he cried with a fierce snarl, and before an alarm could
be raised sprang down the stairs and was gone. So strange and so brief
was the episode, that the watchers might have found it hard to believe
it themselves or persuade other people of it, had it not been for the
undeniable fact that the circlet of gold which marked her as having been
a bride had disappeared.

For some months Jefferson Hope lingered among the mountains, leading
a strange wild life, and nursing in his heart the fierce desire for
vengeance which possessed him. Tales were told in the City of the weird
figure which was seen prowling about the suburbs, and which haunted
the lonely mountain gorges. Once a bullet whistled through Stangerson's
window and flattened itself upon the wall within a foot of him. On
another occasion, as Drebber passed under a cliff a great boulder
crashed down on him, and he only escaped a terrible death by throwing
himself upon his face. The two young Mormons were not long in
discovering the reason of these attempts upon their lives, and led
repeated expeditions into the mountains in the hope of capturing or
killing their enemy, but always without success. Then they adopted the
precaution of never going out alone or after nightfall, and of having
their houses guarded. After a time they were able to relax these
measures, for nothing was either heard or seen of their opponent, and
they hoped that time had cooled his vindictiveness.

Far from doing so, it had, if anything, augmented it. The hunter's mind
was of a hard, unyielding nature, and the predominant idea of revenge
had taken such complete possession of it that there was no room for
any other emotion. He was, however, above all things practical. He soon
realized that even his iron constitution could not stand the incessant
strain which he was putting upon it. Exposure and want of wholesome food
were wearing him out. If he died like a dog among the mountains, what
was to become of his revenge then? And yet such a death was sure to
overtake him if he persisted. He felt that that was to play his enemy's
game, so he reluctantly returned to the old Nevada mines, there to
recruit his health and to amass money enough to allow him to pursue his
object without privation.

His intention had been to be absent a year at the most, but a
combination of unforeseen circumstances prevented his leaving the mines
for nearly five. At the end of that time, however, his memory of
his wrongs and his craving for revenge were quite as keen as on that
memorable night when he had stood by John Ferrier's grave. Disguised,
and under an assumed name, he returned to Salt Lake City, careless
what became of his own life, as long as he obtained what he knew to
be justice. There he found evil tidings awaiting him. There had been a
schism among the Chosen People a few months before, some of the younger
members of the Church having rebelled against the authority of the
Elders, and the result had been the secession of a certain number of the
malcontents, who had left Utah and become Gentiles. Among these had been
Drebber and Stangerson; and no one knew whither they had gone. Rumour
reported that Drebber had managed to convert a large part of his
property into money, and that he had departed a wealthy man, while his
companion, 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 of
revenge in the face of such a difficulty, but Jefferson Hope never
faltered for a moment. With the small competence he possessed, eked out
by such employment as he could pick up, he travelled from town to town
through the United States in quest of his enemies. Year passed into
year, his black hair turned grizzled, but still he wandered on, a human
bloodhound, with his mind wholly set upon the one object upon which he
had devoted his life. At last his perseverance was rewarded. It was
but a glance of a face in a window, but that one glance told him that
Cleveland in Ohio possessed the men whom he was in pursuit of. He
returned to his miserable lodgings with his plan of vengeance all
arranged. It chanced, however, that Drebber, looking from his window,
had recognized the vagrant in the street, and had read murder in
his eyes. He hurried before a justice of the peace, accompanied by
Stangerson, who had become his private secretary, and represented to him
that they were in danger of their lives from the jealousy and hatred of
an old rival. That evening Jefferson Hope was taken into custody, and
not being able to find sureties, was detained for some weeks. When at
last he was liberated, it was only to find that Drebber's house was
deserted, and that he and his secretary had departed for Europe.

Again the avenger had been foiled, and again his concentrated hatred
urged him to continue the pursuit. Funds were wanting, however, and
for some time he had to return to work, saving every dollar for his
approaching journey. At last, having collected enough to keep life in
him, he departed for Europe, and tracked his enemies from city to
city, working his way in any menial capacity, but never overtaking the
fugitives. When he reached St. Petersburg they had departed for Paris;
and when he followed them there he learned that they had just set off
for Copenhagen. At the Danish capital he was again a few days late, for
they had journeyed on to London, where he at last succeeded in running
them to earth. As to what occurred there, we cannot do better than quote
the old hunter's own account, as duly recorded in Dr. Watson's Journal,
to which we are already under such obligations.

 The travelers continued through the treacherous wilderness even though they were exhausted. Hope pressed the Ferriers onward, exhorting them to remember that their enemies were no doubt already on their tail. They saw no one, however, and hoped that they would make it out of the mountains safely. The afternoon of the second day saw their provisions begin to run out, so Hope decided to leave Lucy and her father with the horses and look for an animal to hunt. After walking for a few miles through the twisting ravine he espied a bighorn and was able to shoot it. As it was too heavy to carry, he cut off some pieces and headed back. Unfortunately, the ravine pathways were so similar that he could not exactly recall which path would lead him back to the Ferriers. Night was coming and he was no closer to finding his way. Finally, after being gone for about five hours he found his way to familiar territory. Giving a loud cry to alert the Ferriers of his imminent presence, he was disturbed when it merely echoed back at him unanswered. He began to dread what he would find when he got back to the fire. His fears became a reality when he arrived at only the smoldering remains of the fire, with no horses or human beings in sight. It was obvious that "some sudden and terrible disaster had occurred during his absence -a disaster which had embraced them all, and yet left no traces behind it." Shaking himself out of his bewilderment, Hope investigated the camp and observed the many hoof prints of multiple riders whose path clearly took them back to Salt Lake City. There was also a newly dug grave with the inscription on a piece of paper -"JOHN FERRIER, formerly of Salt Lake City, Died August 4th." There was no grave for Lucy; she had clearly been taken back to the city of Elect to assume her fate as one of the wives of Drebber or Stangerson. Hope was disconsolate at this, but almost immediately resolved that he would devote his life to revenge. He could apply his "strong will and untiring energy" to that one end. Hope toiled through the ravine back to a point where he could overlook Salt Lake City. There were clearly some festivities occurring that day, he observed, and wondering what was going on. His reverie was interrupted by a solitary rider, whom he recognized as an old Mormon acquaintance named Cowper. He accosted Cowper for news of Lucy Ferrier. Cowper was stricken and was nervous to speak with Hope, but after being pressed, informed Hope that the festivities were celebrating Lucy's marriage to young Enoch Drebber. Stangerson had shot her father and said his claim was better, but Drebber's party in the Council was stronger, and Young awarded Lucy to him. After Cowper bid Hope adieu, Hope slunk away into the mountains. Lucy pined away and died within a month of her wedding. This was not entirely distressing to Drebber, who had only really wanted her money. Drebber's other wives prepared her for burial; while they were doing so, they were shocked when Jefferson Hope burst into the room and kissed Lucy's brow and removed her wedding ring. He left before an alarm could be raised. Hope lived in the nearby wilderness, and scared Drebber and Stangerson with attempts on their lives. Once a bullet went through Stangerson's window and almost hit him, on another day a boulder nearly crashed down upon Drebber as he passed by a cliff. The two men kept up a guard from thenceforth and never went anywhere alone. Years passed and Hope stayed out of site. His rage had not cooled, however -it was even stronger after being nursed for so long. He stayed out of sight to gain money to pursue his object of revenge. After about five years he returned to Salt Lake City and was shocked to learn that a schism among the Chosen People led to the secession of many, including Drebber and Stangerson. There were no clues as to their whereabouts. Even though most men would have abandoned this as a lost cause, Hope was undaunted. He spent years tracking them down and was finally rewarded when he learned Drebber was in Cleveland. Drebber actually caught sight of Hope in that town and hurried away from his would-be murderer. Stangerson was now his secretary, and the two of them had Jefferson Hope arrested. He was detained for two weeks on account of not being able to post bail, and when he was released he discovered his two enemies had fled for Europe. Hope continued to save money and tracked them all over Europe. He was always a step behind until he finally caught up with them in London. The rest of the story would now be told from Dr. Watson's journal.

