Diantha turned away, and putting her arm around her friend, they sped
through the late afternoon sunshine to their home with flying feet,
silent tongues and an unspoken prayer in both hearts for John Stevens
that he might not be overcome.
As for John, he strode up to the soldier, as soon as the girls were out
of hearing, and with the low roar of an angry lion, he growled:
"What is to hinder my choking the dastard life out of your lustful
body?" As he spoke, quick as a flash, he had pinioned the man's arms,
and with the grip of an infuriated animal, he had his hands around the
white, gentlemanly throat, and for a moment his passion so blinded
him that he knew nothing, saw nothing, but a huge, black cloud which
overspread all nature and his own heart.
This murderous impulse passed, and with another awful groan, he
released his hold, and with a fling, threw the stranger away from him,
and quickly turning his back, buried his face in his hands, while one
hot, silent tear scalded his repentant eyes.
The soldier, after a few moments of insensibility, came to himself, and
with a profound effort, he dragged himself up, and shaking his body
together, he stood upon his feet, and said, quietly and sneeringly,
though somewhat hoarsely:
"You asked me a very queer question, my good fellow, and if I had not
more regard for law and decency than you seem to have, I would answer
it like this"--with the words, John felt the muzzle of a revolver at
his ear. Again, with the flash of a tiger, John seized the other's arm,
twisted the pistol out of his hand, and with a quick, backward spring,
he had thrown the weapon into the brawling river beside them, while
with a deep sneer in his voice, he answered:
"Do you think, you soldiers, that you are out here with nothing but
squaws to oppose you? Men who have wives and homes to protect are not
afraid of popguns." And then, as if mastered anew with the terrible
emotions surging in his breast, John asked, slowly: "What is to hinder
my sending your soul to hell, where it rightfully belongs?"
This time the soldier looked into the hot, angry eyes close to his own,
and perhaps his own bravery had some effect in calming John, for after
a few minutes, the soldier folded his own arms, and with a light touch
indicating the epaulets upon his shoulders, he said, almost airily:
"Oh, I dare say that even you have some respect for this Government
of ours. And perhaps, too, your wholesome fear of displeasing the
notorious Brigham would hinder you from disgracing yourself."
John said nothing, and the other quietly went to the tree where his
horse was fastened, and untying and mounting his steed, said lightly:
"Have you any messages to send to our fort? If so, I shall be pleased
to carry them."
"Yes, you may tell your commander-in-chief that if he wishes to keep
the heads of his men on their shoulders, he would do well to keep them
away from our towns. We will defend our homes and our virtue with our
lives."
The soldier was now on his horse, and comparatively safe, so he
ventured to reply tauntingly:
"Ah, my dear fellow, don't trouble yourself; the women will hunt
us up. I know the dear creatures better than you do. You are very
unsophisticated, depend upon it. We shall soon have hard work to keep
out of the way of them. Ta, ta!" And before John could move, he had
dashed away in the trees, and was soon out of sight and hearing.
John Stevens was left behind with all the agonized load of fear and
dread which swept over him like a mountain cloud-burst. He leaned
against a tree and with arms folded across his breast and head dropped,
he heaved many a sigh and shed some scalding tears. The thing he had
most dreaded in the onslaught upon his people had come to pass. And to
think that the two women he loved best upon the earth should be in the
greatest danger from this scourge. Death for the men; hunger, cold,
war, pain, all these were slight things compared with the danger which
had been ever present. The temptation which would assail the youth
of both sexes, but more particularly the young women, to forsake the
simple, honest lives of their people, and to become involved in the
sins and corruptions of the outside world; this had been his constant
dread. Was this not Zion? Was God not coming from His hiding place to
keep Babylon from our midst? With all the strength of his soul he loved
chastity and purity. He had, at what cost no one but a strong man may
tell, kept his own nature as sweet and pure as that of any woman, and
he knew that in strictest chastity only there was safety and peace for
either man or woman in this life or the life to come. Why was he so
sensitive to all these impressions and fears? Why could he not be like
Tom Allen, careless and unthinking as to past, present and future,
unless it affected his own pleasure? But he knew he could not. Gifted
with a peculiarly sensitive and keenly perceptive nature, he saw far
beyond the present action; he saw the end to which such action tended,
in a measure, and he suffered with the intensity of such a soul, when
he or any he loved turned aside from the narrow, straight path of
chastity and right.
After hours of silent suffering and struggle, he arose to find the
stars shining above his head in a shimmering peace, and with a heavy,
but quieted heart, he made his way home to the village beyond. He
resolved that he would seek Bishop Winthrop the next day, and perhaps
even go to President Young for some counsel in this terrible situation.
The bishop was much moved and excited over the events which had
involved his own sister, as well as the step-daughter of his friend,
Clara Tyler. The bishop suggested at once that they should go to see
President Young, and lay the whole affair before him for counsel. They
found President Young full of business cares and anxieties concerning
the fate of his people, but when the two men entered, the President
asked them to go with him to his inner room, and they could then
present their business before him.
John Stevens told the whole story, not adding one detail, nor seeking
in the least to exaggerate the danger or the wrong attempted. But his
brief, quiet statement did more to lay the true state of the case
before the President than a torrent of language could have conveyed.
Bishop Winthrop was very much wrought up, and begged the President
to take steps to prevent any such meetings in the future. He was for
threatening to kill any soldier who was found outside of his own
barracks.
The President listened to the wild talk and plans of his excited
companion as he had to the quieter, yet intenser recital of John
Stevens. After each had said all he cared to say on the matter, the
President, who had been twirling his thumbs, as was his custom when in
deep thought, turned his piercing eyes upon the two men so anxiously
regarding him, and said slowly:
"It's no use, brethren, to try to force people to do right. You can't
keep people virtuous by shutting them up in prisons. The only way
that I know of to get men or women to walk in the path of virtue and
righteousness, is to teach them correct principles, and then let each
one govern himself. If our daughters want to do wrong, if they can't
find any of our boys who will help them, they will find plenty of men
in the world ready to ruin them. After such girls have learned their
lessons they will be glad to creep back to father's hearthstone, and to
sit under the shelter they once despised. Teach all to do right and to
live their religion, and give them their agency. Let parents live their
religion and go quietly along, and some day their children will all
come back to them."
This was hard counsel for these two men to follow; they were so
anxious, so full of loving solicitude for the two beautiful girls in
question. After a moment the President looked searchingly at John
Stevens, and said inquiringly:
"Brother Stevens, why don't you court one of those girls and marry her
yourself? The best way to drive out evil is by introducing good in its
place. Women and men both desire to love and be loved; and I sometimes
think our Elders will be held responsible for the loss of our girls, if
they make no effort to give them a love worthy and pure."
The conference was ended, and John felt the whole burden had been flung
back on his shoulders. Well, he was strong and willing; he was no
coward, either. But how could he do the impossible?