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:
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 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 an Elders 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 horses 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 Ferriers fate had been.
I am Jefferson Hope, he said. You remember
The Mormon looked at him with undisguised
astonishmentindeed, 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 mans
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 dont 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
Gods sake, dont 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.
Dont 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 yesterdaythats 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. Theyd 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, Drebbers party was the stronger, so the Prophet
gave her over to him. No one wont 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 Ferriers 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 Stangersons 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
hunters 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 enemys 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 Ferriers
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
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 to 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 Drebbers 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
hunters own account, as duly recorded in Dr. Watsons Journal, to which we are
already under such obligations.