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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
"Was there ever anything more beautiful on this earth, Dian?" she asked, in
triumphant tones. "There is nothing to hurt or make one afraid in all this
holy mountain, is there, John?"

"Hush, Ellie," answered John. "I don't like people to fling the gauntlet in the
face of fate with such careless words."

"But, John, did you hear what the President said this morning?"

"Yes, I did. And it chilled my blood to hear him speak so; I have heard him
do such a thing only once before. Do you recall how he said, the first year
we came here, that he wanted just ten years of quiet and peace and he
would ask no odds of anybody."

"I don't remember it, John. I was only eight years old then, you know."

"True, child, I forgot. It is just ten years this very day since the pioneers
entered this valley."

"Oh, John, don't be superstitious. I must not listen to you if you are going to
prophesy evil. Come, the children are all going, and we will lose our dinner.
But listen once more while I cry 'Hello'," and she cried again "Hello!"

Was it John's fancy, or did he hear afar off a long shuddering echo which
clung with sinister repetitions to every distant crag and peak?

"Why, John, what are you listening for? You scare me! I thought you were
the bravest of men."

"The bravest men take no chances with fate or men," answered John,
resuming his long upward stride beside his companion.

They found the whole party already gathered on the little island which lay
in the center of the second lake.

As John and Ellen reached the great rock on the south side of the lake, they
heard the sound of music floating in enchanted waves through the vale of
glory around them. John paused to listen.
It was Dian singing as she spread the homely viands on the smooth, white
rock which was to be their table on the Island in the center of the lake. The
sheen of her hair was caught by the sunbeams as they danced across the still
water, for she had thrown her sunbonnet down upon the rock, as she plied
her homely tasks. The boys had caught some fish, and she was stooping
over the camp fire to brown them for the coming meal. Her stately beauty
was never more apparent than when some task of seeming ugliness brought
the color ripe and rich to cheek and neck, and thus she bent above her tasks,
every detail visible in that clear atmosphere to the watchers across the little
lake.

Dian sang to the accompaniment of her brother Harvey's concertina, all

unconscious of the picture she made across those magic waters, so near and
yet so far away from those who loved her best. The soul of her was still
wrapped in dreams, and only half awakened to response by her friends or
family. And as she stirred about or bent above the blazing fire, her voice
swept poignantly over the distance as she sang "Kathleen Mavorneen" in
the reckless abandonment of tone taught her by the little Italian music
professor who loved to put his own fervid soul into the unconscious voices
of these youthful, sylvan artists, whom he had so unexpectedly found in this
strange country.

"The Day Dawn is Breaking," sang Dian, the concertina wailing and mildly
snorting in its brave efforts at complete harmony with Dian's sweet voice,
and Ellen listened, her own heart beating in her throat with an admiration
that was too generous to be envy. But oh, why could she not sing?

"You people would better come over here if you want your dinner," called
Charlie Rose. And as he spoke the odor of the frying trout made invitation
almost needless.

"Beside the lake their tryst they kept,

And rested not, nor ate, nor slept,"

sang Charlie.

But Diantha caught his words and added,

 "The fish was gone, the lovers wept;
And wished their promise they had kept!

"If you folks don't hurry, we'll have every scrap of the fish eaten up."

The prosaic appeal reminded Ellen that she had left her friend alone with
the work of preparation of the dinner, and so they hastened down to the
other raft and soon paddled across to the island.

The picnic dinner was scarcely over before Tom Allen was down on the
narrow beach and calling for all hands to embark. The children followed
him quickly, and he managed to secure both Charlie Rose and Diantha as
his other passengers; just as Henry Boyle came running down the rocks,
Tom called: "Get the pole and give us a push from shore."

"Wait," called the young Englishman.

Boyle seized the pole, and sprang for the raft, but in an instant he was waist
deep in the icy water, and the raft was floating off beyond his reach.

"Come and kiss yoo papa," yelled out the piping chorus of children's voices,
while Charlie recited dramatically, "The boy stood on the burning deck,"
with his own absurd modifications of the original text.

Dian was angry with the children, thus to taunt their helpless and now
uncomfortable friend, but the children only cried out the refrain, again and
again, and that piping treble swept over the waters, as the poor youth left
behind waded up on to the shore of the island and turned his back
resentfully upon his jeering tormentors.

At that moment, John himself rounded the island with his own raft and
picked up the discomfited youth, whose once brilliant red shirt, freshly
ironed that morning by Rachel's kind hands, was once more faded and
streaked, and added to that humiliation was the awful discomfiture of those
dripping, wet, and heavy leathern pantaloons, bordered with dripping
fringe. Surely his punishment was very heavy.
"Hurry home," said John, kindly, as they landed, "and get on some dry
clothing."

As poor Boyle plunged and swashed on his hurried homeward way, the
cluck of those swishing breeches and the sluice of his brand new but water-
filled shoes made it difficult for even Ellen to keep herself from joining the
children in their peals of naughty merriment.

Yet, with all the sundry small mishaps, surely there had never been so
happy and so blissful a day vouchsafed to the "Mormon" refugees in all
their tempestuous short existence.

But the echo calls and calls from peak to peak and cries the challenge out to
happiness and freedom. And who shall answer, O spirit of a nameless past,
so long pent up in these hoary mountain vales!
 V.
"THE ARMY IS UPON US"

Oyez!!

It is a long and a difficult climb into the tops of the Wasatch mountains; and
it takes hours and hours to climb; and the knees grow weak, and the breath
comes hard, and the body bends to the grass.

Oyez! Oyez!

And the news of the evil day may travel so fast or travel so slow, good sir,
but it travels apace, and reaches the hills by a steep and a difficult road. And
long are the miles and dusty the path which stretch between the rolling river
Platte and the tops of the Wasatch hills. But men must ride, good sirs, when
they bear the message of evil report, for evil finds wings of wind, while
good goes only by post, good sirs. And the men must ride fast, and the men
must ride far, for the miles are many and the road is long that stretch
between the Platte and the Wasatch hills.

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!

The people in the hills are happy today, for they see not, neither do they
hear, the echo which flies in sinister message from peak to peak as the men
ride fast and spare not, climbing and climbing still, to reach the tops of the
Wasatch hills. And the echo is caught and stilled in its upward peal by the
curling folds of that star-lit flag which flutters and flies at full-masted pride
on the top of the highest tree on the top of the Wasatch hills.

Oyez! Good Sirs, Oyez!

The young people ran and danced and sang on their way down the road
from the upper lake, but run as they would Ellen was ahead of them all, and
she reached the spot where she and John had lingered on their upward way,
at the jutting promontory, and the whole party stood breathless and silent in
speechless admiration.

But it was more than the beauty of the scene which caught and riveted
John's attention. He stood on the very edge of the precipice and shaded his
eye with his hand, then quickly took out his field glass.

"What is it, John?" asked Charlie Rose, sober in an instant at the look upon
his friend's face.

"Show me; let me help to make things attractive," said Tom, with a teasing
note in his voice.

"What do you see, John? I can see three horsemen coming up the Valley
trail. They are just now turning the point," said Charley.

"Oh, I see them," shouted Harvey, in a boy's excitement and with a

mountaineers clear vision, he added, "And they are not our folks. They look
too tired and rough for any of our folks. Say John, isn't that Porter
Rockwell, with his hair braided round under his hat? Look! I thought he
was out on the Platte River."

But John had caught the profile of the man afar off and he turned down the
dangerous short cut and was galloping down the path with the speed of a
panther. The remainder of the young men followed helter-shelter and the
two older girls were left to go down the safer and slower path with the little
girls, with what speed they could muster.

"I think we are silly people to run for nothing," said Dian as they flew down
the path, but she was ahead of Ellen even as she spoke, and for some
unknown reason, her own blood was a tingle with the electrical disturbance
in the spiritual atmosphere about her.

"The United States is sending an army to destroy us."

Almost before they had left the dense woods this message had flashed into
their ears.
"The United States is sending an army against the Saints."

The people whispered it, spoke it, shouted it, and hissed it as they passed
group after group. The children cried it; the women moaned it; and even the
trees caught the sinister echo as it drifted from peak to peak and lost itself
among the chalk-white cliffs as they gazed down in silence at the sudden
excitement, spreading like a pall over that happy group. But as swift as the
rumor spread it was followed as swiftly by a whisper of "Peace" and again
"Peace, the Lord is on the side of the innocent," and the men drove off the
frown of gloom, the women smiled again in trusting hope, and even the
children forgot to cry as the influence of the leader, Brigham Young, spread
out like a bright cloud, and the spoken word of quiet peace was passed from
camp to camp.

The men might ride, and evil tidings come, but into the very woof and web
of Mormonism was woven a trust in Providence which no careless hand
might sever.

"Can Aunt Clara feed these hungry travelers?" asked John Stevens, half an
hour later, as he raised the flap of her tent, and introduced the three dusty
travel-stained men, accompanied by Judge Elias Smith, who had been their
companion from Great Salt Lake City. Abram O. Smoot, tall and eagle-
visaged, his splendid limbs stiff and worn with the long ride between the
Platte and these peaceful glens in the Wasatch; Porter Rockwell, his
hawkeyed glance narrowed into one glittering line as he swept off his worn
and ragged hat, was crowned by a wreath of burnished braids that many a
woman might envy, but which no woman's hand might ever clip, for death
would find him still crowned with those dark and burnished tresses. And
last, Judson Stoddard, alert, resourceful and intrepid rider, soldier and
friend. Aunt Clara ministered to them all, giving milk and food to refresh,
while she brought ice-cool water to lave the tired hands and brows of her
friends and brethren.

"The President wishes you to meet him in the council tent in one hour," said
John, to the three men, as he left his mountaineer friends in Aunt Clara's
tent, and strode away to join his youthful companions and to dissipate, as
best he could, all the thoughts of gloom and care; for now his own troubled
fears had fled, surmounted by a certain knowledge of what they had
portended. He knew his leader's policy too well to go about the camp with
anything but a cool and quiet front. Fear had passed; now came action.

Bishop Winthrop, with a word whispered from John, strolled leisurely away
to the marquee, saying to his wife, Rachel, as he passed: "You had better go
on with dinner, Rachel; I may eat with the President, I wish to speak with
him a few minutes."

There was no further excitement in the Winthrop camp, for even John
Stevens threw himself on the ground, and lay looking up into the bright
blue sky above him, calmly waiting for that important function in every
man's life, his supper.

It was rumored quickly during the afternoon, that the three men, A. O.
Smoot, Porter Rockwell, and Judson Stoddard had brought other details of
this startling news, but after the first shock was over the people leaned upon
the sagacity and inspiration of their president, as if he were a very part of
the rocky bulwarks surrounding them.

That night, the bugle called the whole camp, as usual, together for prayers,
and it was then that the formal news was communicated to them:
"Buchanan is sending an army to exterminate the 'Mormons.'" It was all true
then.

The two girls, Diantha, and Ellen Tyler, sat together in the bowery, when
this announcement was made, and they looked at each other with wide open
eyes. They were both children when brought to these valleys, and the
thought that the terrible scenes at Nauvoo were to be re-enacted in this far
distant Territory, caused both of them to pale with fear and dread.

With a common instinct both looked around for John Stevens. Henry Boyle
stood near them, and he answered their questioning look with a little pallid
smile. Dian felt that the young man was as frightened as she, and again, in
spite of herself, she felt contempt for him.

Away off in the lower corner of the bowery, stood placid John Stevens,
stroking his long silken beard, with as much composure as if the
announcement was a party to be given in the Social Hall. He did not look at
Diantha, but seemed to be thinking of something very intently, which was
not unpleasant, and she wondered what it was.

"Why doesn't John come over here?" asked Ellen, as she, too, discovered
the tall figure of their friend.

"Little goose, do you fear that the soldiers are within a half-mile of this
place?" asked Diantha, laughingly. "Hark, President Young is going to
speak," and then both sat with silent, spell-bound hearts, listening to that
clarion voice, which uttered the sentiments of a people, harrassed, driven
and mobbed.

His reassuring words, and the strong, calm spirit of inspiration which spoke
through the brief sermon, filled every heart with renewed confidence and
hope. What the future held in store for them as a people or as individuals,
no one could say; but one thought buoyed up every heart; God was with
them and they could not feel dismayed.

The rejoicing and merry-making was not interrupted for long; for after
supper the bands tuned up, the pine-trees were lighted anew, and the merry
hearts and the dancing feet filled the pretty vale with rollicking pleasure.

"Where is John Stevens?" asked Dian of Henry Boyle, who came up to

claim her for the first dance.

"Oh, he had to go home on some business for the President," answered

Ellen Tyler, who sat near.

"Without saying one word to me?" indignantly protested Diantha.

"He asked me for my horse," said young Boyle, "and told me I might drive
you home in his place."

"Well, of all odd fellows, surely John Stevens is the oddest," answered
Dian, none too well pleased with this summary disposal of her valuable
person. She would certainly have to take the trouble to teach that young
man a lesson some day, when she had time; perhaps when all this army
business was over, she would seriously take him in hand. Not that she cared
a rap about him, but it was not a good thing for a young man to have such
careless ways of treating her sex, fastened upon him by long continued
habit. Diantha was pre-eminently given to setting people right, and she did
not intend that her gentlemen friends should escape her molding hand.

There were many wakeful hours spent in that gay little tented village and
long before the peep of day the next morning, men were hitching up and
packing wagons. Ere long the whole cavalcade had taken up the line of
march, and soon the silence of the mountain peaks chained the whispers of
pine and quaking-aspens within the long vale, leaving the circling memories
alone to sweep forever over the lake like shadowy wraiths of summer mist.
 VI.
WHO SHALL FEAR MAN?

At the time of this story (in 1857-8) there stood in Salt Lake City, in the
Thirteenth Ward, a small adobe house of four rooms, with the tiny square-
framed windows, set at regular intervals from a central brilliantly green
door which gayly faced the street. Not only was the green door rare because
of its extremely unconventional color; it was also unusual in its quick
response of welcome to black or white, bond or free, in a place where
welcome grew more lavishly than did the grass in the streets. There was
something so aggressively bright about that loudly painted door that even
the Indians grew to love its restful color and the atmosphere that it
betokened for all who pushed ever so lightly at its ready portals. The green
was such a happy blending of the dark shades of the cool pine with the
yellowed masses of creeping mosses that one's eyes were rested just to
glance at it. None who passed within could fail to recognize that some one
out of the ordinary lived behind those gaudy yet pleasing door-panels. The
poor, the sick, the halt, the lame and the blind, all learned the ease with
which that bright door opened, and the wealth of gentle welcome which
spoke in the brighter eyes of dear old widowed Aunt Clara Tyler. The
Indians, too, knew where they would receive plenty of "shutcup," and if one
had a bruise or a wound, only Aunt Clara's hand could soothe and dress, to
the complete satisfaction, the injured member.

Dear Aunt Clara! The mind traces in golden light her lovely picture. Bright
and black were her eyes, but never sharp and cruel; she had a sweet mouth
and the blackest of hair. She was short and very stout; but who ever saw
aught but the lovely spirit which was enshrined within her active body.
People used to wonder why Aunt Clara had no enemies, and why
everything animate looked to her for succor and protection. The secret
could all be told in two words—womanly sympathy, such sympathy as the
noblest of women and the purest of angels can bestow; a sympathy which
never encouraged evil because it made a sharp distinction between sin and
sinner, but which drew the whole sting from the wound before dropping in
the needed tonic of wise counsel, and covering all softly with the vial of
loving tenderness. That was the secret of her popularity with young and old
in the whole neighborhood.

She had no children of her own, which enabled her to be mother to the
whole town. But her dead sister's child, Ellen, was as dear to her as an own
child, while she had a deep and abiding love and confidence in the other
motherless girl, Diantha Winthrop. She had no money of her own, and
being a widow, she had few old clothes or supplies to dispose of; yet,
someway, she was a veritable Relief Society. These organizations were not
then in working order; and dozens of mothers with big broods of children
could have told how Aunt Clara's winning voice and manner drew from
them all the half-worn clothes they could possibly spare; and how such a
mother would laugh as she saw some podgy Lamanite squaw going down
the street with her own jean skirt on, patched by Aunt Clara's thrifty fingers
and clean for the last time in all its final mournful existence. It was quite
natural for the Bishop to send ragged children or newly arrived emigrants to
knock at Aunt Clara's friendly green door, for help, spiritual or temporal.

No wonder, then, that the night after the return from the celebration in
Cottonwood Canyon, a dozen young people sat in the comfortable rush-
bottomed chairs within the opened portals; and while Aunt Clara moved
quietly among them, putting the finishing touches to her evening work, they
talked with excited voices of the impending danger.

Aunt Clara saw that something was necessary to drive away the alarm.
Going into her bedroom, she drew out six large skeins of woolen yarn.

"Here, girls, I have a chore for you to do. I want this yarn wound off for it is
to be knitted up at once. Boys, you can help by holding the yarn nicely and
properly, and the one who is done the soonest shall have one of the dough-
nuts left over from my pic-nic."

"What's this for; to knit stockings for our soldiers?" asked Diantha, who
was, as usual, the center of the group.
"It's to knit socks for the Bishop and the boys; I am sure I don't know, nor
do I care, whether they go out to fight as the defenders of our country or
not. It will be all right whatever they do. Didn't you hear President Young
say that God would fight our battles for us? Let that be sufficient."

"Don't you think we are going to have a war, Aunt Clara?" ventured timid
Millie Howe, who was one of the group.

"No, I don't. Of course I don't know all the facts of the case, but I have
heard President Young say many times since we entered the Valley that we
should not have to fight any more battles, for God would fight them for us. I
have perfect faith in his word."

"Nevertheless, Aunt Clara," said a voice at the open window, "I want to
borrow your father's old Revolutionary musket, which you keep hanging up
over your bed."

Two or three girls screamed at the suddenness of the sound, and the young
men started in their seats.

"Oh, John Stevens, why do you frighten us like that?" called Ellen. "Come
here and give an account of yourself. Where have you been since you left us
in the canyon, and what did you leave us so unceremoniously for?"

"Business, business," answered the young man, entering the room as he

spoke. "What are you all doing here, winding yarn as peacefully and calmly
as if there were nothing of more importance on earth."

"Well, is there anything of more importance, John?" asked Tom Allen.

"Think of it, man, holding yarn for the prettiest girl in Salt Lake. I know
what ails you, you have no yarn to hold. Here, Aunt Clara, give him some
yarn to hold, and there is Ellen. She can wind up that slow-moving tongue
of his at the same time."

"The yarn around and round she slung

To make him loose his sluggish tongue,"

cried Charlie Rose, tauntingly.

"Oh, John, do tell us the news. Don't bother with Tom and Charlie; tell us
the news," Ellen persisted.

"If Aunt Clara will give me one of her dough-nuts, I will tell all the news I
have to tell."

"Why don't you say that you will tell all there is to tell, John; you are so
non-committal?" chimed in Diantha, who understood how much and how
little might be expected in the way of telling or talking from John Stevens.

Aunt Clara went out and brought in a pan of dough-nuts and a pitcher of
milk, which kept the young people too busy for a few minutes to talk
anything but nonsense.

"If I could find a girl that could make as good dough-nuts as you can, Aunt
Clara," said Tom Allen, with his mouth half-full of cake, "I would marry her
tomorrow."

"Would you, indeed," cried Ellen Tyler. "Then you must learn that catching
comes before hanging. I made those dough-nuts myself, young impudence,
while Aunt Clara was fitting my dress to wear up in the canyon."

"Ellie, I shall certainly have to take you as my wife. You know that I have
already been engaged several times. But you shall have the privilege of
being my very last sweetheart. The last is best, you know, of all the game.
You are second to none in the matter of dough-nuts. Please, Ellie, give me
another fried cake."

"Another plate-full, you mean. I certainly shall not accept your offer, for if I
did I should have nothing else to do the rest of my life but fry dough-nuts
for you."

"Ellie, haven't you heard that the nearest way to a man's heart is—"

"Oh, don't say such horrid things. We all know where your heart lies, Tom,
so don't bother to tell us," said Dian, with a disgusted air.
"What on earth is the matter with me," began Tom, rising in mock
indignation from his chair, but the girls cried out in dismay, and John
Stevens, who sat nearest the offending youth, pulled him down into his seat
again, and growled at him in so low a voice that no one but Tom could hear
him, "There is nothing the matter with you, only you make yourself a little
too prominent." And John indicated his friend's adipose with a slight blow.
Tom was so tickled with the joke that he determined to repeat it even if the
girls should be more shocked than ever, but Aunt Clara came in and asked
John to tell them the news of the army.

"Yes, there is really an army en route for Utah, but they will forever be en
route, either to Utah," after a pause, he added under his breath, "or to hell."

"What are they coming here for?" asked Aunt Clara, again.

"No one knows, unless it is to rob and murder us again, as mobs have tried
to do so often before."

"And will they do it?" breathlessly asked Ellen.

"Not this year," grimly answered John. "There is only one entrance into this
valley, through the canyon. And forty men could hold an army at bay for a
year in our canyons."

"But, John, where are they? and how many are there of them? and when
will they get here? and who is going out to meet them and fight them, and
—"

"Well, Ellie, we shall give you the credit of asking more questions in a
minute than even President Young could answer in a day. Say, boys, where
is Henry Boyle?"

"Henry Boyle, did you say, Henry Boyle?" and Tom Allen, who had thus
repeated the question, began to laugh, and as he laughed he fairly tumbled
off his chair in his efforts to control his merriment. The others smiled and
some even laughed aloud to see fat Tom laugh, for his merriment was
always as contagious as a clown's.
"Do tell us what is the matter with Henry Boyle?" snapped Diantha, at last,
worn out by his long continued, mysterious laughter.

"Oh, dear, I forget all about it, this war talk drove it all out of my head. But
it is too ridiculous for anything," and he went off into another peal of
laughter and exhausted himself, before they could calm him down to tell his
story.

"You see, early this morning, far too early, it could not have been more than
half an hour after sunrise, I was just taking my last beauty sleep, when a
little boy rapped at my door; and when I succeeded in tearing myself from
the arms of Morpheus sufficiently to find out what he wanted, he said
Brother Boyle wanted to see me. I got myself over to Henry's and on
entering the room," here another burst of laughter rendered Tom speechless
for a moment, "there lay Henry on his bed, his legs stretched out and
covered with his hard shrunken buckskin pants. I don't know where he got
those pants, but they were not half tanned, and yesterday after that fall in
the lake with them, fringes and all, he slept in them, for he said he could not
get them off; and he had to let Charlie Rose drive the folks down in the
wagon, while he coaxed another family to let him travel down in the bottom
of their wagon, for he couldn't bend his knees. He got on to his bed
someway, and there he lies. He wanted me to help him out of his scrape, for
he says he can not afford to lose his precious pants; they cost him too
much."

"What did you tell him to do?" asked Ellen.

"Oh, I ordered him to live on fresh air and cold water for three days, so his
legs would shrink, and then left him to time and fate."

"I am ashamed of you, Tom Allen, for treating anybody so, especially one
who is a comparative stranger to these mountains and our customs."

"Oh, Dian, if you are going to lecture me, I shall have to have another of
Aunt Clara's dough-nuts."

"Come, my dears," said Aunt Clara, "sing me a hymn. Here is Harvey with
his concertina, and he will help you. Sing 'O, ye mountains high'," and then,
gradually quieting down, the young people joined in that thrilling hymnal of
Mormon independence. Strange people they were, with strange notions of
life and destiny.

"Well, I am going home," announced Diantha, at last, and she arose at once
to get her hat.

John Stevens took up his own hat quietly at her words, and she was pleased
that he did so, for she wanted to ask him more about the coming trouble,
and she knew that he would say nothing of importance in that crowd.

"You asked me to stay all night with you, Dian, do you want me to come
home with you now?" queried Ellen Tyler.

Half annoyed that Ellen had thus rendered it impossible for her to speak
alone with John, Dian was yet too courteous to let her friend know of her
feelings. As soon as Ellen started out Tom Allen snatched up his hat, and so
Dian had to accept the double interruption of her anticipated confidential
talk.

There was no such a thing as quiet or sensible talk with Tom Allen and Ellie
along; but just before they reached her gate, Dian managed to ask John
quietly to go down to Henry Boyle and release him from the effects of Tom
Allen's cruel fun.

John parted with them all, and after a brief visit with Henry Boyle, wended
his way to President Young's office, where he was soon deep in council with
his leaders and the associated friends of the Nauvoo Legion.

The middle of August found John Stevens enlisted as one of a small, trusty
band of Utah mountaineers under Colonel Robert T. Burton, with faces set
to the east, where they were soon out of sight and sound of civilization,
riding toward the coming troops.
 VII.
VAN ARDEN ENTERS THE VALLEY

In the early morning of the sixth of September, 1857, a solitary horseman

was slowly making his way down Echo Canyon, thoughtfully observing the
features of the narrow and circuitous route of the everlasting hills as he
rode. The morning sun glinted and shimmered upon the gaudy gilt buttons
and epaulettes of his dark blue coat. His cap bore upon its visor the arms of
the U. S. He was clearly an army officer.

The bright fluttering leaves on the oak and maple brush that clothed the
mountain sides in their gaudy, early autumn dress, formed a vivid contrast
to the tiny groves of cedar which clung closely to the mountain tops or hung
in straggling beauty to the side of some precipitous cliff. The bare, brown
earth, dotted with bald white and gray boulders, showed its plain face here
and there, and far from the eye, the dull brown shade was gradually melted
into a pinkish purple haze, too full of wild barbaric beauty to escape the
attention of the young rider who sat his fine horse with a proud military
firmness.

The officer was evidently upon the alert for any surprise, for his eye
glanced quickly ahead and around; his whole bearing suggested a sharp,
suspicious attention to every detail of road and overhanging rock. As he
turned a sudden curve in the road, he met a tall, silent horseman, who sat
his restless steed, in a manner no less firm and commanding than that
manifested by the gayly-clad officer of the great army of the United States.

"Good morning, sir; may I ask whither you are bound?" said the
mountaineer.

"Certainly, I am traveling to Salt Lake City. Permit me to pass, if you

please."
"Just one moment; do you come on an errand of peace or otherwise? You
must know something of the condition of affairs in this Territory, and I
assure you I have full right and authority to ask this question."

The officer glanced shrewdly into the face of his opponent, and after a few
moments' careful scrutiny, which was apparently satisfactory, he leaned
easily over the horn of his saddle, and answered quietly:

"I accept your declaration and as a civil answer to your somewhat unusual
question, I am quite willing to tell you that my name is Van Arden, and that
I am bound on an errand to Mr. Brigham Young."

"I do not ask the nature of that errand, for I don't suppose you would answer
me if I did; but I shall take the liberty of accompanying you from here to
the City."

"Very well, Mr—."

"Stevens," laconically answered the other, slowly wheeling around his horse
and trotting along by the other's side.

The remainder of the morning was spent in a somewhat desultory

conversation, the officer doing most of the talking, as he was determined to
retain a measure of friendly intercourse, no matter whether it was pleasing
to his companion or not. Towards noon, they halted beside the mountain
stream, and each produced a modicum of luncheon, which was partaken of
in semi-silence; a few questions from the officer accompanied the meal,
with exceedingly brief, although not uncivil, answers from the mountaineer.
As they arose to resume their journey, a small party of horsemen appeared
just in front of them, and without a word of greeting or questioning they
joined the two, and silently followed closely upon the heels of the strangely
associated companions.

Arriving in due time in Salt Lake City, the gallant captain was escorted by
his silent guard to excellent quarters in the hotel on Main Street. As he was
about to dismount, he turned to his late companion and courteously asked:

"Would you kindly convey, for me, a message to Brigham Young?"

Stevens drew himself up in his saddle, and with his eyes sternly set upon his
horse's ears, he said coldly:

"If you have any messages to send to his excellency, Governor Young, I will
deliver them."

"Then be so good as to convey my compliments to His Excellency,

Governor Young, and inform him that Captain Van Arden is the bearer of
important messages for His Excellency which, from their nature, should be
delivered at once."

Without a word of reply, Stevens wheeled his horse around, and, after a
brief parley with his men, who quietly accepted his orders, he rode hastily
up the street. He was admitted at once to the office of the Governor, and
gave a brief, yet vivid report of his three weeks' sojourn in the mountains,
and then stated the nature of his errand and message.

"I am under orders from Colonel Burton to keep a strict, but civil watch
over this officer, who left Fort Leavenworth, July 28th, with six mule
teams, to attend upon you with some demands or requests. We have not yet
been able to ascertain the nature of his mission, but feel sure it is of a
peaceful nature, as he left his teams and escort at Ham's Fork, and
proceeded from thence alone."

"What was his object in leaving his teams?" asked Governor Young.

"I think he feared his mission might be misunderstood, and he, perhaps be
barred from entering the valley at all, if he attempted to bring them any
further. He said as much to me today."

"What is your opinion of the man?" asked the Governor.

"I take him to be a gentleman. He met some of our apostates, who have, as
you know, hurried out of Utah to join the army, and they have, one and all,
tried to scare the life out of him, with blood and thunder yarns about our
people. But he has traveled straight along, and appears to be a firm, yet a
sensible and peaceable kind of man."
The President-Governor sat a moment in silent meditation. Then, with an
upward glance of his piercing blue eyes, he asked:

"Did you say that he wished to see me tonight?"

"He did not mention any set time, only that his business was important and
he wished to have an interview as soon as possible."

"Brother Wells, will you send a message to Brother Bernhisel, asking him to
be present to accompany us in half an hour to the hotel?" said the President.
Then turning to Stevens, he added:

"You will hold yourself and a small escort with you in readiness to
accompany us upon this errand."

In a short time the party arrived at the hotel, and the guard were stationed at
different points around the building, while the gubernatorial party entered
the parlor, and sent a courteous message to Captain Van Arden.

John Stevens lingered behind the rest of the party, but General Wells came
to the door and called quickly:

"Brother Stevens, the President desires you to come in with us."

John quietly accompanied his general, and as they entered the parlor, they
found the captain shaking hands cordially with the Governor. Who could
resist the magnetic courtesy and geniality of the "Mormon" leader when he
chose to exert it!

In a very short time captain Van Arden discovered that instead of a bold
pirate and trickster, he had encountered a master spirit, and if he would
succeed in his appointed mission, he must treat his powerful guest as all
great men are treated—with the most elegant diplomacy and subtlest
deference.

Without a word of anxious curiosity or vulgar assumption of power,

Governor Young allowed the captain to choose his own time for the desired
interview, and ten o'clock the next day was accordingly appointed as the
best hour.

The captain accompanied the governor and the rest of the party to the porch
of the hotel, and as they moved off into the clear, pleasant autumn darkness,
he looked up into the blue vault above him and said to his own soul:

"What cowardly fool and lying trickster has persuaded the President of the
United States to send out here the flower of the American army to subdue,
or perhaps destroy, this innocent, loyal, and simple people? Brigham Young
is the peer of any statesman in the United States, or I cannot read human
nature."
 VIII.
THE WINTHROPS ENTERTAIN

The next morning, the 8th of September, when Captain Van Arden went
down to the breakfast table, his whilom companion, the silent Stevens, was
already enjoying himself at a table in the corner of the dining room. The
captain at once joined him, and found that the silent lips could open, and the
reserved manner melt, when the owner so willed it. At ten o'clock the two
wended their way in friendly chat to the Social Hall, the place appointed for
the proposed meeting.

The captain found the room a well-lighted, large hall, with a raised dais or
stage, in the east end, surmounted by an arch which evidenced a curtain,
perhaps for the purpose of dramatic entertainments. As another surprise, the
captain caught sight of a plaster cast of the Bard of Avon in the center of the
proscenium arch, smiling down upon any Thespian devotees who might be
present. The floor was mostly covered with a bright rag carpet, and the
windows were tastefully draped with dark red hangings.

President Young came forward, and again the captain found himself under
that magnetic charm; but he was himself a man of the world, and he was
moreover exceedingly anxious to carry his point with these people, however
much he might sympathize with them after learning their true character and
position. He was in the employ of the United States army, and had a most
important duty to perform. Accordingly, as soon as the preliminary
greetings were over, he addressed himself to the "Mormon" leader, and
preferred his request.

"Governor Young, I come with a letter from my superiors and with orders to
purchase stores and forage and lumber with which to make our soldiers,
who are on their way here, comfortable during their journey."
"May I ask, Captain, what soldiers are on their way here and what brings
them out to these western wilds?"

The captain was off his guard for the moment at the unexpected questions.
He was aware that everyone present knew beforehand the answer required
at his hands, and he hesitated at the choice of proper terms with which to
convey the unwelcome intelligence which all were already in possession of;
however, the questions must be answered.

"Through some unhappy misunderstanding, Governor, the President of the

United States has been informed that the records of this Territory have been
burned, and that the people here are inimical to the ruling government."

"The records of the Territory are in the proper receptacle for such
documents, and this people, as you can testify, if you will use your eyes and
your ears, while you are with us, are as peaceful and as law-abiding citizens
of the great United States as any that dwell beneath the shadow of the flag. I
see no justification for thus sending down an army upon us."

"Permit me to observe, your Excellency, that the army is not sent out here to
do harm or to annoy the peaceable and law-abiding citizens of this Territory,
but to protect such from all out-laws and murderers, whether Indians or
whites."

"We have a fully organized and properly acknowledged corps of territorial

officers, and are and have always been able to protect the inhabitants of this
Territory from insult or injury."

The captain proceeded as delicately as he could to convey the information

that a new governor had been appointed for the Territory, who was with the
main body of the troops, and would enter the Territory and assume his
office as soon as circumstances would permit. He was a wise and prudent
man, this new governor, by name Cumming, and he would be a friend to the
people, and a support to all concerned—so the captain endeavored to assure
the assembled council.

"I am the governor of this Territory," answered Brigham Young, "and as

such, shall take the proper measures to insure the life and liberty of the
patient, peaceful inhabitants of these valleys. You may tell your commander
that we, as a people, have been robbed and murdered, our wives outraged,
and our men massacred, being driven from state to state, until we came out
to this desert wild, and here, by the blessings of God, we have made the
desert to blossom like the rose and the wilderness to gush forth. We have
asked no help from the United States save that given to any other distant
territory. After we came here, we planted the flag of our country upon our
Ensign Peak within twenty-four hours, thus taking formal possession of this
country in the name of the United States; and from that hour we have held
out our welcoming arms to the honest and peaceable of all nations and
tongues. We love our country and would take up arms in her defense, as our
own 'Mormon' Battalion has so well shown, but we shall never submit to
being murdered and pillaged by a lot of cut-throats and out-laws, for we
will die, ourselves, before we submit to such indignities again."

A low murmur of approval went round the assembled council, and it was
some moments before the officer could be heard, explaining that the United
States had no intention whatever of committing any depredations or
offering the least violence to any person or set of persons.

"We do not want to fight the United States," said the Governor, "but if they
drive us to it, we shall do the best we can; and I tell you as the Lord lives
we shall come off conquerors. The United States are sending their army
here simply to hold us until some mob can come and butcher us as has been
done before. We are supporters of the government and love the constitution
and respect the laws of the United States; but it is by the corrupt
administration of those laws that we are made to suffer. Most of the
government officers who have been sent here have taken no interest in us,
but on the contrary have tried to destroy us. What do you think of the
patience of a people who have submitted to seeing a pimp set up as our
honorable judge, to seeing him bring his strumpet with him and have her sit
close beside him on the judicial bench, while he delivered his unrighteous
rulings? Others like him complain that there is no civilization in Utah
because, forsooth, there are no gambling hells or houses of prostitution. The
officers sent here are often the vilest and most wicked of men."
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