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."