“Do not jest at that which is sacred,” said the other sternly. “We believe in those sacred writings, drawn in Egyptian letters on plates of beaten gold, which were handed unto the holy Joseph Smith at Palmyra. We come from Nauvoo, in the State of Illinois, where we founded our temple. We seek a refuge from the violent man and from the godless people.”
“I see,” the man said, “you are the Mormons.”
“We are the Mormons,” answered his companions.
“And where are you going?”
“We do not know. The hand of God is leading us. You must come before our Prophet. He will say what to do with you.”
They reached a great beautiful waggon. Six horses were yoked to it. Beside the driver there sat a man, thirty years of age. His massive head and resolute expression marked him as a leader. He was reading a volume, but as the crowd approached he laid it aside, and listened attentively to the story of the castaways. Then he turned to them.
“If we take you with us,” he said, “you must become believers in our creed. We shall have no wolves in our fold. Will you come with us on these terms[47 - on these terms – на этих условиях]?”
“I’ll come with you on any terms,” said Ferrier.
“Take him, Brother Stangerson,” he said, “give him food and drink, and the child likewise. Teach him our holy creed. Forward! On, on to Zion!”
“On, on to Zion!” cried the crowd of Mormons.
The Elder led the two waifs to his waggon, where a meal was already awaiting them.
“You will remain here,” he said. “Remember that now and for ever you are of our religion. Brigham Young said it, and he spoke with the voice of Joseph Smith, which is the voice of God.”
Chapter II
The Flower of Utah
The Mormons were going forward before they came to their final haven. The savage men, and the savage beast, hunger, thirst, fatigue, and disease-they overcame all this with Anglo-Saxon tenacity. When they saw the broad valley of Utah beneath them, they learned from the lips of their leader that this was the promised land[48 - promised land – земля обетованная].
Young was a skilful administrator as well as a resolute chief. He planned the future city, Salt Lake City, and they began to build it. Stangerson, Kemball, Johnston, and Drebber were the four principal Elders. Everything prospered in the settlement. Above all, the great temple in the centre of the city grew ever taller and larger.
The two castaways, John Ferrier and the little girl accompanied the Mormons to the end of their great pilgrimage. Little Lucy Ferrier lived in Elder Stangerson’s waggon, with the Mormon’s three wives and with his son, a boy of twelve. In the meantime Ferrier became a useful guide and an indefatigable hunter.
On the farm John Ferrier built himself a substantial house. He was a practical man, keen and skilful. He was working all day long. In three years he became richer than his neighbours, in six years he became really rich, and in twelve years a few men in the whole of Salt Lake City could compare with him.
There was only one thing in which he offended his co-religionists. He did not want to marry. Ferrier remained strictly celibate.
Lucy Ferrier grew up and assisted her adopted father in all his undertakings. She grew taller and stronger. So her father became the richest of the farmers, and she became the most beautiful girl. It was a warm June morning, and the Mormons were as busy as the bees. Lucy Ferrier galloped with a commission from her father. She reached the outskirts of the city, but the road was blocked by cattle. Soon she found herself[49 - she found herself – она оказалась] completely imbedded in the stream of bullocks. Unfortunately the horns of one of the creatures pierced the flank of her mustang, and excited it to madness. The situation was full of peril. The girl did not know what to do. Suddenly she heard a kindly voice at her elbow. At the same moment a sinewy brown hand caught the frightened horse by the curb, and soon brought her to the outskirts.
“You’re not hurt, I hope, miss,” said her preserver, respectfully.
She looked up at his dark, fierce face, and laughed saucily.
“I’m awful frightened,” she said, naively.
“I guess you are the daughter of John Ferrier,” the man remarked. “When you see him, ask him if he remembers the Jefferson Hopes of St. Louis. If he’s the same Ferrier, my father and he were friends.”
“Why don’t you come and ask yourself?” she asked, demurely. “Of course, you are a friend now. You saved me. You must come and see us. Good-bye!”
“Good-bye,” he answered.
When she vanished from his sight, Young Jefferson Hope realized that love came in his life. He came to John Ferrier that night, and many times again. He told John and his daughter the news of the outside world. He was a pioneer in California, and narrated many interesting tales. Jefferson Hope soon became a favourite with the old farmer, who spoke eloquently of his virtues. Lucy was silent, but her blushing cheek and her bright, happy eyes, showed that her young heart was no longer her own. This man won her affections.
It was a summer evening when he came. She was at the doorway, and came down to meet him. “I am off[50 - I am off – я уезжаю], Lucy,” he said. He took her two hands in his, and gazed tenderly down into her face; “I won’t ask you to come with me now, but will you be ready to come when I am here again?”
“And when will that be?” she asked.
“A couple of months. I will come back, my darling.”
“And how about father?” she asked.
“He will give his consent, if the mines work all right. And they will, for sure.”
“Oh, well; of course,” she whispered.
“Thank God!” he said hoarsely and kissed her. “So good-bye, my darling-good-bye. In two months you will see me.”
Lucy stood at the gate. She was gazing after him until he vanished from her sight. Then she walked back into the house, the happiest girl in all Utah.
Chapter III
John Ferrier Talks with the Prophet
Three weeks passed. John Ferrier was sad when he thought of the young man’s return, and of the loss of his child. He did not want to allow his daughter to wed a Mormon. Such a marriage he regarded as no marriage at all, but as a shame and a disgrace. But he was silent: to express an unorthodox opinion was dangerous in those days in the Land of the Saints.
Its invisibility, and the mystery made this religious organization terrible. It was omniscient and omnipotent. The man who said something against the Church vanished away. A rash word or a hasty act led to annihilation.
The Mormons needed women. Polygamy without a female population was a barren doctrine. Strange rumours came-rumours of murdered immigrants. Fresh women appeared in the harems of the Elders-women with the traces of an unextinguishable horror upon their faces. None knew who belonged to this ruthless society. The names of the participators in the deeds of blood and
violence were secret. Hence every man feared his neighbour.
One fine morning, John Ferrier heard the click of the latch. He looked through the window and saw a stout, sandy-haired, middle-aged man. It was Brigham Young himself.
Ferrier ran to the door to greet the Mormon chief. Young, however, received his salutations coldly, and followed him with a stern face into the sitting-room.
“Brother Ferrier,” he said, “the true believers are good friends to you. We picked you up when you were starving in the desert, we shared our food with you, led you to the Chosen Valley, gave you a goodly share of land, and allowed you to become rich under our protection. Is not this so?”
“It is so,” answered John Ferrier.
“In return for this, you promised to embrace the true faith. This you promised to do, and this you neglected.”
“And how did I neglect it?” asked Ferrier. “I give to the common fund, I visit the Temple. I…”
“Where are your wives?” asked Young.
“It is true that I am not married,” Ferrier answered. “But women are few, and there are many men who are better husbands than myself. I am not a lonely man: I have my daughter.”
“Yes, I want to talk to you about your daughter,” said the leader of the Mormons. “She is the flower of Utah.”
