fruitless search， he was thinking of turning back in despair， whencasting his eyes upwards he saw a sight which sent a thrill ofpleasure through his heart. On the edge of a jutting pinnacle，three or four hundred feet above him， there stood a creaturesomewhat resembling a sheep in appearance， but armed with a pairof gigantic horns. The big-horn—for so it is called—was acting，probably， as a guardian over a flock which were invisible to thehunter； but fortunately it was heading in the opposite direction，and had not perceived him. Lying on his face， he rested his rifleupon a rock， and took a long and steady aim before drawing thetrigger. The animal sprang into the air， tottered for a momentupon the edge of the precipice， and then came crashing down intothe valley beneath.
The creature was too unwieldy to lift， so the hunter contentedhimself with cutting away one haunch and part of the flank. Withthis 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 hiseagerness he had wandered far past the ravines which were knownto him， and it was no easy matter to pick out the path which hehad taken. The valley in which he found himself divided and subdividedinto many gorges， which were so like each other that itwas impossible to distinguish one from the other. He followedone for a mile or more until he came to a mountain torrent whichhe was sure that he had never seen before. Convinced that he hadtaken the wrong turn， he tried another， but with the same result.
Night was coming on rapidly， and it was almost dark before he atlast found himself in a defile which was familiar to him. Even thenit was no easy matter to keep to the right track， for the moon hadnot yet risen， and the high cliffs on either side made the obscuritymore profound. Weighed down with his burden， and weary fromhis exertions， he stumbled along， keeping up his heart by thereflection that every step brought him nearer to Lucy， and that hecarried with him enough to ensure them food for the remainder oftheir journey.
He had now come to the mouth of the very defile in whichhe had left them. Even in the darkness he could recognize theoutline of the cliffs which bounded it. They must， he reflected，be awaiting him anxiously， for he had been absent nearly fivehours. In the gladness of his heart he put his hands to his mouthand made the glen reёcho to a loud halloo as a signal that he wascoming. He paused and listened for an answer. None came savehis own cry， which clattered up the dreary silent ravines， and wasborne back to his ears in countless repetitions. Again he shouted，even louder than before， and again no whisper came back from thefriends whom he had left such a short time ago. A vague， namelessdread came over him， and he hurried onwards frantically， droppingthe precious food in his agitation.
When he turned the corner， he came full in sight of the spotwhere the fire had been lit. There was still a glowing pile ofwood ashes there， but it had evidently not been tended since hisdeparture. The same dead silence still reigned all round. Withhis fears all changed to convictions， he hurried on. There was noliving creature near the remains of the fire： animals， man， maiden，all were gone. It was only too clear that some sudden and terribledisaster had occurred during his absence—a disaster which hadembraced them all， and yet had left no traces behind it.
Bewildered and stunned by this blow， Jefferson Hope felt hishead spin round， and had to lean upon his rifle to save himselffrom falling. He was essentially a man of action， however， andspeedily recovered from his temporary impotence. Seizing a halfconsumedpiece of wood from the smouldering fire， he blew itinto a flame， and proceeded with its help to examine the littlecamp. The ground was all stamped down by the feet of horses，showing that a large party of mounted men had overtaken thefugitives， and the direction of their tracks proved that they hadafterwards turned back to Salt Lake City. Had they carried backboth of his companions with them？ Jefferson Hope had almostpersuaded himself that they must have done so， when his eye fellupon an object which made every nerve of his body tingle withinhim. A little way on one side of the camp was a low-lying heap ofreddish soil， which had assuredly not been there before. There wasno mistaking it for anything but a newly dug grave. As the younghunter approached it， he perceived that a stick had been plantedon it， with a sheet of paper stuck in the cleft fork of it. Theinion upon the paper was brief， but to the point：
JOHN FERRIER，
FORMERLY OF SALT LAKE CITY.
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 lookedwildly round to see if there was a second grave， but there was nosign of one. Lucy had been carried back by their terrible pursuersto fulfil her original destiny， by becoming one of the harem of anElder’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.
