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 upwards. In the
centre 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 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, 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. 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 murderous 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 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 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 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 for ever. 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 grain-land, that it was difficult 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 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 cornfields. 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 Whip-poor-Will 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 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 Ca駉n 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 watercourse,
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 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 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. Between the two ran the irregular
track, 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, 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.
"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 from seven," cried the sentinel.
"Seven from five," returned Jefferson 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
