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morning John Ferrier went in to Salt Lake City and found his acquaintance, who was going to the Nevada Mountains. He entrusted him with his message to Jefferson Hope. In it he told the young man of the imminent danger which threatened them. After that he returned home.

      As he approached his farm, he saw two horses. When he entered his house, he found two young men in his sitting-room. One, with a long pale face, was leaning back in the rocking-chair[53], with his feet upon the stove. The other was standing in front of the window with his hands in his pocket. He was 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.”

      John Ferrier bowed coldly. He guessed who his visitors were.

      “We are here,” continued Stangerson, “to solicit the hand of your daughter. Let her choose. I have only four wives and Brother Drebber here has seven, so my claim is the stronger one.”

      “No, no, Brother Stangerson,” cried the other; “the question is not how many wives we have, but how many we can keep. My father gave me his mills, and I am the richer man.”

      “But my prospects are better,” said the other, warmly. “I shall have my father’s tanning yard[54] and his leather factory. Then I am older, and am higher in the Church.”

      “The maiden will decide,” rejoined young Drebber.

      “Look here,” said John Ferrier, “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.

      “There are two ways out of the room,” cried Ferrier; “there is the door, and there is the window. Which one will you use?”

      His brown face looked so savage, that his visitors sprang to their feet and ran away. The old farmer followed them to the door.

      “You will pay for this!” Stangerson cried, white with rage. “You go against the Prophet and the Council of Four. You will rue it to the end of your days.”

      “The hand of the Lord will be heavy upon you,” cried young Drebber; “He will arise and smite you!”

      “Then I’ll start the smiting,” exclaimed Ferrier furiously, and rushed upstairs for his gun. Lucy seized him by the arm and restrained him. The clatter of horses’ hoofs told him that they were beyond his reach.

      “The young rascals!” he exclaimed.

      “Father,” she said; “Jefferson will soon be here.”

      “Yes. The sooner the better[55], for we do not know what their next move may be.”

      Ferrier knew that his wealth and position were useless. He was a brave man, but he trembled. What to do next? He concealed his fears from his daughter, though she saw plainly that he was nervous.

      He expected some message or remonstrance from Young, and it came. Next morning he found, to his surprise, a small square of paper just over his chest. On it was printed, in bold letters:

      “You have twenty-nine days for amendment, and then…”

      How did this warning come into his room? He said nothing to his daughter, and destroyed the paper.

      Still more terrible was he next morning. They were having their breakfast when Lucy with a cry of surprise pointed upwards. In the centre of the ceiling was scrawled, with a burned stick, the number 28. To his daughter it was unintelligible, and he did not enlighten her. That night he sat up with his gun and ward. He saw and he heard nothing, and yet in the morning a great 27 was upon the outside of his door.

      Thus day followed day; and as sure as morning came he found that his unseen enemies were telling him how many days he had. Sometimes the fatal numbers appeared upon the walls, sometimes upon the floors, occasionally they were on small placards upon the garden gate or the railings. A horror came upon him at the sight of them. He became haggard and restless. He had but one hope in life now, and that was for the arrival of the young hunter from Nevada.

      Twenty changed to fifteen and fifteen to ten, but there was no news of Jefferson Hope. There came no sign of him. At last, when the old farmer saw three, he lost heart[56], and abandoned all hope of escape. With his limited knowledge of the mountains which surrounded the settlement, he knew that he was powerless. The roads were strictly watched and guarded, and none could pass along them without an order from the Council.

      He was sitting alone one evening. That morning showed the figure 2 upon the wall of his house. The next day will be the last. What will happen then? Was there no escape from the invisible network round them?

      What was that? In the silence he heard a gentle scratching sound. 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 insidious sound was repeated. Someone was evidently tapping very gently upon one of the panels of the door. Was it some midnight assassin? The suspense shook his nerves and chilled his heart. John Ferrier sprang forward and drew the bolt and opened the door.

      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. Ferrier looked to right and to left, and at his own feet he saw astonishment a man upon the ground. It was Jefferson Hope.

      “Good God!” gasped John Ferrier. “How you scared me!”

      “Give me food,” the other said, hoarsely.

      He saw the cold meat and bread which were lying upon the table, and devoured it voraciously. “How is Lucy?” he asked.

      “All right. She does not know the danger,” her father answered.

      “That is well. They watch the house on every side[57]. That is why I crawled.”

      John Ferrier realized that he had a devoted ally. He seized the young man’s hand and wrung it cordially.

      “I am proud of you,” he said.

      “You see,” the young hunter answered. “I have a respect for you. And it’s Lucy that brings me here.”

      “What shall we do?”

      “Tomorrow is your last day, we must act tonight. I have a mule and two horses, they are waiting in the Eagle Ravine[58]. How much money have you?”

      “Two thousand dollars in gold, and five in notes.”

      “That will do. I have some money, too. We must go to Carson City through the mountains. Wake Lucy. It is well that the servants do not sleep in the house.”

      While Ferrier was absent, Jefferson Hope packed all the food that he could find into a small parcel, and filled a jar with water. Soon the farmer returned with his daughter. She was dressed and ready for a start. The greeting between the lovers was warm, but brief, for minutes were precious.

      “We must start at once,” said Jefferson Hope. He was speaking in a low but resolute voice. “They watch front and back entrances, but with caution we may get away through the side window and across the fields. We are only two miles from the Ravine where the horses are waiting.”

      “And if they stop us?” asked Ferrier.

      Hope showed his revolver.

      “If they are too many for us, we shall take two or three of them with us,” he said with a sinister smile.

      The old farmer turned off the lights inside the house. Ferrier peered over his fields, which he was going to abandon for ever. But the honour and happiness of

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