To tell the truth, Lucy, it isn’t the first time I have thought ofdoing it. I don’t care about knuckling under to any man, as thesefolk do to their darned prophet. I’m a freeborn American, and it’sall new to me. Guess I’m too old to learn. If he comes browsingabout this farm, he might chance to run up against a charge ofbuckshot travelling in the opposite direction.”
“But they won’t let us leave,” his daughter objected.
“Wait till Jefferson comes, and we’ll soon manage that. In themeantime, don’t you fret yourself, my dearie, and don’t get youreyes swelled up, else he’ll be walking into me when he sees you.
There’s nothing to be afeared about, and there’s no danger at all.”
John Ferrier uttered these consoling remarks in a very confidenttone, but she could not help observing that he paid unusual care tothe fastening of the doors that night, and that he carefully cleanedand loaded the rusty old shot-gun which hung upon the wall of hisbedroom.
A Flight For Life
ON the morning which followed his interview with the MormonProphet, John Ferrier went in to Salt Lake City, and having foundhis acquaintance, who was bound for the Nevada Mountains, heentrusted him with his message to Jefferson Hope. In it he toldthe young man of the imminent danger which threatened them,and how necessary it was that he should return. Having done thushe felt easier in his mind, and returned home with a lighter heart.
As he approached his farm, he was surprised to see a horsehitched to each of the posts of the gate. Still more surprised washe on entering to find two young men in possession of his sittingroom.
One, with a long pale face, was leaning back in the rockingchair,with his feet cocked up upon the stove. The other, a bullneckedyouth with coarse, bloated features, was standing in frontof the window with his hands in his pockets whistling a popularhymn. Both of them nodded to Ferrier as he entered, and the onein the rocking-chair commenced the conversation.
“Maybe you don’t know us,” he said. “This here is the son ofElder Drebber, and I’m Joseph Stangerson, who travelled with youin the desert when the Lord stretched out His hand and gatheredyou into the true fold.”
“As He will all the nations in His own good time,” said the otherin a nasal voice; “He grindeth slowly but exceeding small.”
John Ferrier bowed coldly. He had guessed who his visitors were.
“We have come,” continued Stangerson, “at the advice of ourfathers to solicit the hand of your daughter for whichever of usmay seem good to you and to her. As I have but four wives andBrother Drebber here has seven, it appears to me that my claim isthe stronger one.”
“Nay, nay, Brother Stangerson,” cried the other; “the question isnot how many wives we have, but how many we can keep. My fatherhas now given over his mills to me, and I am the richer man.”
“But my prospects are better,” said the other, warmly. “Whenthe Lord removes my father, I shall have his tanning yard andhis leather factory. Then I am your elder, and am higher in theChurch.”
“It will be for the maiden to decide,” rejoined young Drebber,smirking at his own reflection in the glass. “We will leave it all toher decision.”
During this dialogue John Ferrier had stood fuming in thedoorway, hardly able to keep his riding-whip from the backs of histwo visitors.
“Look here,” he said at last, striding up to them, “when mydaughter summons you, you can come, but until then I don’t wantto see your faces again.”
The two young Mormons stared at him in amazement. In theireyes this competition between them for the maiden’s hand wasthe highest of honours both to her and her father.
“There are two ways out of the room,” cried Ferrier; “there isthe door, and there is the window. Which do you care to use?”
His brown face looked so savage, and his gaunt hands sothreatening, that his visitors sprang to their feet and beat a hurriedretreat. 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 shallrue it to the end of your days.”
“The hand of the Lord shall be heavy upon you,” cried youngDrebber; “He will arise and smite you!”
“Then I’ll start the smiting,” exclaimed Ferrier furiously, andwould have rushed upstairs for his gun had not Lucy seized him bythe arm and restrained him. Before he could escape from her, theclatter of horses’ hoofs told him that they were beyond his reach.
“The young canting rascals!” he exclaimed, wiping theperspiration from his forehead; “I would sooner see you in yourgrave, my girl, than the wife of either of them.”
“And so should I, father,” she answered, with spirit; “butJefferson 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 someone capable of giving adviceand help should come to the aid of the sturdy old farmer and hisadopted daughter. In the whole history of the settlement therehad never been such a case of rank disobedience to the authorityof the Elders. If minor errors were punished so sternly, whatwould be the fate of this arch rebel? Ferrier knew that his wealthand position would be of no avail to him. Others as well knownand as rich as himself had been spirited away before now, andtheir goods given over to the Church. He was a brave man, but hetrembled at the vague, shadowy terrors which hung over him. Anyknown danger he could face with a firm lip, but this suspense wasunnerving. He concealed his fears from his daughter, however, andaffected to make light of the whole matter, though she, with thekeen eye of love, saw plainly that he was ill at ease.
