Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

A Study In Scarlet PART 2 : Chapter 5 THE AVENGING ANGELS

ALL night their course lay through intricate defiles and over irregular androck-strewn paths. More than once they lost their way, but Hope'sintimate knowledge of the mountains enabled them to regain the trackonce more. When morning broke, a scene of marvellous though savagebeauty lay before them. In every direction the great snow-capped peakshemmed them in, peeping over each other's shoulders to the far horizon.So steep were the rocky banks on either side of them that the larch and thepine seemed to be suspended over their heads, and to need only a gust ofwind to come hurtling down upon them. Nor was the fear entirely anillusion, for the barren valley was thickly strewn with trees and boulderswhich had fallen in a similar manner. Even as they passed, a great rockcame thundering down with a hoarse rattle which woke the echoes in thesilent gorges, and startled the weary horses into a gallop.As the sun rose slowly above the eastern horizon, the caps of the greatmountains lit up one after the other, like lamps at a festival, until theywere all ruddy and glowing. The magnificent spectacle cheered the heartsof the three fugitives and gave them fresh energy. At a wild torrent whichswept out of a ravine they called a halt and watered their horses, whilethey partook of a hasty breakfast. Lucy and her father would fain haverested longer, but Jefferson Hope was inexorable. "They will be upon ourtrack by this time," he said. "Everything depends upon our speed. Oncesafe in Carson, we may rest for the remainder of our lives."During the whole of that day they struggled on through the defiles, andby evening they calculated that they were more than thirty miles fromtheir enemies. At night-time they chose the base of a beetling crag, wherethe rocks offered some protection from the chill wind, and there, huddledtogether for warmth, they enjoyed a few hours' sleep. Before daybreak,however, they were up and on their way once more. They had seen nosigns of any pursuers, and Jefferson Hope began to think that they werefairly out of the reach of the terrible organization whose enmity they hadincurred. He little knew how far that iron grasp could reach, or how soonit was to close upon them and crush them.About the middle of the second day of their flight their scanty store ofprovisions began to run out. This gave the hunter little uneasiness,however, for there was game to be had among the mountains, and he hadfrequently before had to depend upon his rifle for the needs of life.Choosing a sheltered nook, he piled together a few dried branches andmade a blazing fire, at which his companions might warm themselves, forthey were now nearly five thousand feet above the sea level, and the air was bitter and keen. Having tethered the horses, and bid Lucy adieu, hethrew his gun over his shoulder, and set out in search of whatever chancemight throw in his way. Looking back, he saw the old man and the younggirl crouching over the blazing fire, while the three animals stoodmotionless in the background. Then the intervening rocks hid them fromhis view.He walked for a couple of miles through one ravine after anotherwithout [72] success, though, from the marks upon the bark of the trees,and other indications, he judged that there were numerous bears in thevicinity. At last, after two or three hours' fruitless search, he was thinkingof turning back in despair, when casting his eyes upwards he saw a sightwhich sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart. On the edge of a juttingpinnacle, three or four hundred feet above him, there stood a creaturesomewhat resembling a sheep in appearance, but armed with a pair ofgigantic horns. The big-horn-for so it is called-was acting, probably, as aguardian over a flock which were invisible to the hunter; but fortunately itwas heading in the opposite direction, and had not perceived him. Lyingon his face, he rested his rifle upon a rock, and took a long and steady aimbefore drawing the trigger. The animal sprang into the air, tottered for amoment upon the edge of the precipice, and then came crashing downinto the valley beneath.The creature was too unwieldy to lift, so the hunter contented himselfwith cutting away one haunch and part of the flank. With this trophy overhis shoulder, he hastened to retrace his steps, for the evening was alreadydrawing in. He had hardly started, however, before he realized thedifficulty which faced him. In his eagerness he had wandered far past theravines which were known to him, and it was no easy matter to pick outthe path which he had taken. The valley in which he found himselfdivided and sub-divided into many gorges, which were so like each otherthat it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. He followed onefor a mile or more until he came to a mountain torrent which he was surethat he had never seen before. Convinced that he had taken the wrongturn, he tried another, but with the same result. Night was coming onrapidly, and it was almost dark before he at last found himself in a defilewhich was familiar to him. Even then it was no easy matter to keep to theright track, for the moon had not yet risen, and the high cliffs on eitherside made the obscurity more profound. Weighed down with his burden,and weary from his exertions, he stumbled along, keeping up his heart bythe reflection that every step brought him nearer to Lucy, and that hecarried with him enough to ensure them food for the remainder of theirjourney.He had now come to the mouth of the very defile in which he had leftthem. Even in the darkness he could recognize the outline of the cliffswhich bounded it. They must, he reflected, be awaiting him anxiously, forhe had been absent nearly five hours. In the gladness of his heart he puthis hands to his mouth and made the glen reecho to a loud halloo as asignal that he was coming. He paused and listened for an answer. Nonecame save his own cry, which clattered up the dreary, silent ravines, andwas borne back to his ears in countless repetitions. Again he shouted, even louder than before, and again no whisper came back from the friendswhom he had left such a short time ago. A vague, nameless dread cameover him, and he hurried onward frantically, dropping the precious foodin his agitation.When he turned the corner, he came full in sight of the spot where thefire had been lit. There was still a glowing pile of wood ashes there, but ithad evidently not been tended since his departure. The same dead silencestill reigned all round. With his fears all changed to convictions, hehurried on. There was no living creature near the remains of the fire:animals, man, maiden, all were gone. It was only too clear that somesudden and terrible disaster had occurred during his absence-a disasterwhich had embraced them all, and yet had left no traces behind it.Bewildered and stunned by this blow, Jefferson Hope felt his head spinround, [73] and had to lean upon his rifle to save himself from falling. Hewas essentially a man of action, however, and speedily recovered from histemporary impotence. Seizing a half-consumed piece of wood from thesmouldering fire, he blew it into a flame, and proceeded with its help toexamine the little camp. The ground was all stamped down by the feet ofhorses, showing that a large party of mounted men had overtaken thefugitives, and the direction of their tracks proved that they had afterwardsturned back to Salt Lake City. Had they carried back both of hiscompanions with them? Jefferson Hope had almost persuaded himselfthat they must have done so, when his eye fell upon an object which madeevery nerve of his body tingle within him. A little way on one side of thecamp was a low-lying heap of reddish soil, which had assuredly not beenthere before. There was no mistaking it for anything but a newly duggrave. 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. Theinscription 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 looked wildly round tosee if there was a second grave, but there was no sign of one. Lucy hadbeen carried back by their terrible pursuers to fulfil her original destiny,by becoming one of the harem of an Elder's son. As the young fellowrealized 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 silentresting-place.Again, however, his active spirit shook off the lethargy which springsfrom despair. If there was nothing else left to him, he could at least devotehis life to revenge. With indomitable patience and perseverance, JeffersonHope possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness, which he mayhave learned from the Indians amongst whom he had lived. As he stoodby the desolate fire, he felt that the only one thing which could assuagehis grief would be thorough and complete retribution, brought by his ownhand upon his enemies. His strong will and untiring energy should, hedetermined, be devoted to that one end. With a grim, white face, heretraced his steps to where he had dropped the food, and having stirred upthe smouldering fire, he cooked enough to last him for a few days. Thishe made up into a bundle, and, tired as he was, he set himself to walkback through the mountains upon the track of the Avenging Angels.For five days he toiled footsore and weary through the defiles which hehad already traversed on horseback. At night he flung himself downamong the rocks, and snatched a few hours of sleep; but before daybreakhe was always well on his way. On the sixth day, he reached the EagleCanon, from which they had commenced their ill-fated flight. Thence hecould look down upon the home of the Saints. Worn and exhausted, heleaned upon his rifle and shook his gaunt hand fiercely at the silentwidespread city beneath him. As he looked at it, he observed that therewere flags in some of the principal streets, and other signs of festivity. Hewas still speculating as to what this might mean when he heard the clatterof horse's hoofs, and saw a mounted man riding towards him. As heapproached, he recognized him as a Mormon named Cowper, to whom hehad rendered services [74] at different times. He therefore accosted himwhen he got up to him, with the object of finding out what Lucy Ferrier'sfate had been."I am Jefferson Hope," he said. "You remember me."The Mormon looked at him with undisguised astonishment-indeed, itwas difficult to recognize in this tattered, unkempt wanderer, with ghastlywhite face and fierce, wild eyes, the spruce young hunter of former days.Having, however, at last satisfied himself as to his identity, the man'ssurprise changed to consternation. "You are mad to come here," he cried. "It is as much as my own life isworth to be seen talking with you. There is a warrant against you from theHoly Four for assisting the Ferriers away.""I don't fear them, or their warrant," Hope said, earnestly. "You mustknow something of this matter, Cowper. I conjure you by everything youhold dear to answer a few questions. We have always been friends. ForGod's sake, don't refuse to answer me.""What is it?" the Mormon asked, uneasily. "Be quick. The very rockshave 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.""Don't mind me," said Hope faintly. He was white to the very lips, andhad sunk down on the stone against which he had been leaning. "Married,you say?""Married yesterday-that's what those flags are for on the EndowmentHouse. There was some words between young Drebber and youngStangerson as to which was to have her. They'd both been in the partythat followed them, and Stangerson had shot her father, which seemed togive him the best claim; but when they argued it out in council, Drebber'sparty was the stronger, so the Prophet gave her over to him. No one won'thave her very long though, for I saw death in her face yesterday. She ismore like a ghost than a woman. Are you off, then?""Yes, I am off," said Jefferson Hope, who had risen from his seat. Hisface might have been chiselled out of marble, so hard and set was itsexpression, while its eyes glowed with a baleful light."Where are you going?""Never mind," he answered; and, slinging his weapon over hisshoulder, strode off down the gorge and so away into the heart of themountains to the haunts of the wild beasts. Amongst them all there wasnone so fierce and so dangerous as himself.The prediction of the Mormon was only too well fulfilled. Whether itwas the terrible death of her father or the effects of the hateful marriageinto 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 hadmarried her principally for the sake of John Ferrier's property, did notaffect any great grief at his bereavement; but his other wives mournedover her, and sat up with her the night before the burial, as is the Mormoncustom. They were grouped round the bier in the early hours of themorning, when, to their inexpressible fear and astonishment, the door wasflung open, and a savage-looking, weather-beaten man in tatteredgarments strode into the room. Without a glance or a word to thecowering women, he walked up to the white silent figure which had oncecontained the pure soul of Lucy Ferrier. Stooping over her, he pressed hislips reverently to her cold forehead, and then, snatching up her hand, hetook the wedding ring from her finger. "She [75] shall not be buried inthat," he cried with a fierce snarl, and before an alarm could be raisedsprang down the stairs and was gone. So strange and so brief was theepisode that the watchers might have found it hard to believe it themselves or persuade other people of it, had it not been for theundeniable fact that the circlet of gold which marked her as having been abride had disappeared.For some months Jefferson Hope lingered among the mountains,leading a strange, wild life, and nursing in his heart the fierce desire forvengeance which possessed him. Tales were told in the city of the weirdfigure which was seen prowling about the suburbs, and which haunted thelonely mountain gorges. Once a bullet whistled through Stangerson'swindow and flattened itself upon the wall within a foot of him. Onanother occasion, as Drebber passed under a cliff a great boulder crasheddown on him, and he only escaped a terrible death by throwing himselfupon his face. The two young Mormons were not long in discovering thereason of these attempts upon their lives, and led repeated expeditionsinto the mountains in the hope of capturing or killing their enemy, butalways without success. Then they adopted the precaution of never goingout alone or after nightfall, and of having their houses guarded. After atime they were able to relax these measures, for nothing was either heardor seen of their opponent, and they hoped that time had cooled hisvindictiveness.Far from doing so, it had, if anything, augmented it. The hunter's mindwas of a hard, unyielding nature, and the predominant idea of revenge hadtaken such complete possession of it that there was no room for any otheremotion. He was, however, above all things, practical. He soon realizedthat even his iron constitution could not stand the incessant strain whichhe was putting upon it. Exposure and want of wholesome food werewearing him out. If he died like a dog among the mountains, what was tobecome of his revenge then? And yet such a death was sure to overtakehim if he persisted. He felt that that was to play his enemy's game, so hereluctantly returned to the old Nevada mines, there to recruit his healthand to amass money enough to allow him to pursue his object withoutprivation.His intention had been to be absent a year at the most, but acombination of unforeseen circumstances prevented his leaving the minesfor nearly five. At the end of that time, however, his memory of hiswrongs and his craving for revenge were quite as keen as on thatmemorable night when he had stood by John Ferrier's grave. Disguised,and under an assumed name, he returned to Salt Lake City, careless whatbecame 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 amongthe Chosen People a few months before, some of the younger members ofthe Church having rebelled against the authority of the Elders, and theresult had been the secession of a certain number of the malcontents, whohad left Utah and become Gentiles. Among these had been Drebber andStangerson; and no one knew whither they had gone. Rumour reportedthat Drebber had managed to convert a large part of his property intomoney, and that he had departed a wealthy man, while his companion,Stangerson, was comparatively poor. There was no clue at all, however,as to their whereabouts.Many a man, however vindictive, would have abandoned all thought of revenge in the face of such a difficulty, but Jefferson Hope never falteredfor a moment. With the small competence he possessed, eked out by suchemployment as he could pick up, he travelled from town to town throughthe United States in quest [76] of his enemies. Year passed into year, hisblack 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 hislife. At last his perseverance was rewarded. It was but a glance of a facein a window, but that one glance told him that Cleveland in Ohiopossessed the men whom he was in pursuit of. He returned to hismiserable lodgings with his plan of vengeance all arranged. It chanced,however, that Drebber, looking from his window, had recognized thevagrant in the street, and had read murder in his eyes. He hurried before ajustice of the peace accompanied by Stangerson, who had become hisprivate secretary, and represented to him that they were in danger of theirlives from the jealousy and hatred of an old rival. That evening JeffersonHope was taken into custody, and not being able to find sureties, wasdetained for some weeks. When at last he was liberated it was only to findthat Drebber's house was deserted, and that he and his secretary haddeparted for Europe.Again the avenger had been foiled, and again his concentrated hatredurged him to continue the pursuit. Funds were wanting, however, and forsome time he had to return to work, saving every dollar for hisapproaching 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 thefugitives. When he reached St. Petersburg, they had departed for Paris;and when he followed them there, he learned that they had just set off forCopenhagen. At the Danish capital he was again a few days late, for theyhad journeyed on to London, where he at last succeeded in running themto earth. As to what occurred there, we cannot do better than quote the oldhunter's own account, as duly recorded in Dr. Watson's Journal, to whichwe are already under such obligations.