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A Study in Scarlet

Chapter XI
 A Flight for Life


 0n the mornihg which followed his interview with the Mormon
Prophet, John Ferrier went in to Salt Lake City, and having
found his acquaintance, who was bound for the Nevada Moun-
tains, he entrusted him with his message to Jefferson Hope. In it
he told the young man of the imminent danger which threatened
them, and how necessary it was that he should return. Having
done thus he felt easier in his mind, and returned home with a
lighter heart.
  As he approached his farm, he was surprised to see a horse
hitched to each of the posts of the gate. Still more surprised was
he on the entering to find two young men in possession of his
sitting-room. One, with a long pale face, was leaning back in the
rocking-chair, with his feet cocked up upon the stove. The other,
a bull-necked youth with coarse, bloated features, was standing in
front of the window with his hands in his pockets whistling a
popular hymn. Both of them nodded to Ferrier as he entered, and
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, and I'm Joseph Stangerson, who travelled with
you in the desert when the Lord stretched out His hand and
gathered you into the true fold."
  "As He will all the nations in His own good time," said the
other in 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
our fathers to solicit the hand of your daughter for whichever of
us may seem 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 ques-
tion is not how many wives we have, but how many 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 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 for the maiden to decide," rejoined young Drebber,
smirking at his own reflection in the glass. "We will leave it all
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 honours 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?"
  His 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; "He 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 could escape from
her, the clatter of horses' hoofs told him that they were beyond
his reach.
  "The young canting rascals!" he exclaimed, wiping the per-
spiration 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 someone capable of giving
advice and help should come to the aid of the sturdy old farmer
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. He was a brave man,
but 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. He concealed his fears from his daugh-
ter, however, and affected to make light of the whole matter,
though she, with the keen eye of love, saw plainly that he was ill
at ease.
  He expected that he would receive some message or remon-
strance 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 are 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 pow-
ers? 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 up-
wards. In the centre of the ceiling was scrawled, with a burned
stick apparently, the number 28. To his daughter it was unintelli-
gible, and he did not enlighten her. That night he sat up with his
gun and kept watch and ward. He saw and he 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, occasion-
ally they were on small placards stuck upon the garden gate or
the railings. With all his vigilance John Ferrier could not dis-
cover whence these daily warnings proceeded. A horror which
was almost superstitious came upon him at the sight of them. He
became haggard and restless, and his eyes had the troubled look
of some hunted 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. Single-
handed, and with his limited knowledge of the mountains which
surrounded the settlement, he knew that he was powerless. 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 dishonour.
  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 2 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 silence 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 hall and
listened intently. There was a pause for a few moments, and then
the low, insidious sound was repeated. Someone 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 murder-
ous orders 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.
  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 face and resolute expression of Jefferson Hope.
  "Good God!" gasped John Ferrier. "How you scared me!
Whatever made you come in like that?"
  "Give me food," the other said, hoarsely. "I have had no
time for bite or sup for eight-and-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 asked, when he had satisfied his hunger.
  "Yes. She does not know the danger," her father answered.
  "That 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 he realized that he
had a devoted ally. He 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 hornet's 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 ap-
proaching 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 that the mountain wells were
few and far between. He had hardly completed his arrangements
before the farmer 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 halfway 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 honour and happiness of his daughter
outweighed any regret at his ruined fortunes. All looked so
peaceful and happy, the rustling trees and the broad silent stretch
of grainland, that it was difficult to realize that the spirit of
murder lurked through it all. Yet the white face and set expres-
sion 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 Hope had
the scanty provisions and water, while Lucy had a 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, and 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 evi-
dently 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 the top of his 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 dark, jagged peaks loomed above them
through the darkness, and the defile which led between them was
the Eagle Canon in which the horses were awaiting them. With
unerring instinct Jefferson Hope picked his way among the great
boulders and along the bed of a dried-up 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 Hope led the other along the precipitous and
dangerous path.
  It was a bewildering route for anyone who was not accus-
tomed 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 its rugged surface
like the ribs of some petrified monster. On the other hand a wild
chaos of boulders and debris made all advance impossible. Be-
tween the two ran the irregular tracks, so narrow in places that
they had to travel in Indian file, and so rough that only practised
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 within 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 upwards. On a rock which overlooked the track, show-
ing out dark and plain against the sky, there stood a solitary sen-
tinel. He saw them as soon as they perceived him, and his military
challenge of "Who goes there?" rang through the silent ravine.
  "Travellers for Nevada," said Jefferson Hope, with his hand
upon the rifle which hung by his saddle.
  They could see the lonely watcher fingering his gun, and
peering down at them as if dissatisfied at their reply.
  "By whose permission?" he asked.
  "The Holy Four," answered Ferrier. His Mormon experiences
had taught him that that was the highest authority to which he
could refer.
  "Nine to seven," cried the sentinel.
  "Seven to five," returned Jefferson Hope promptly, remem-
bering the countersign which he had heard in the garden.
  "Pass, and the Lord go with you," said the voice from above.
Beyond his post the path broadened out, and the horses were
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.
 
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