The finding of the flowers, or rather the reflections to which they gave
rise, rendered me more anxious than ever to come up with, the caravan.
The little incident had made me aware of a new danger hitherto unthought
of. Up to that hour, my chief anxiety with regard to Lilian Holt had
been the companionship of the Mormon. This had been heightened by some
information incidentally imparted by the deserters--chiefly by
Sure-shot. It related to the destination of a number of the emigrants,
who accompanied the caravan; and with whom the rifleman had held
intercourse, previous to their departure from Van Buren. These were not
prospective gold-diggers, but persons migrating westward from motives
more spiritual: they were _Saints_ bound for the Salt Lake--there
intending to stay and settle.
There was a large party of these "Latter-day" converts under the conduct
of an apostolic agent. This much had Sure-shot ascertained. He had not
seen their leader, nor heard his name. Joshua Stebbins might be the
very man? Even as a conjecture, this was bitter enough. Up to the time
of joining with the deserters, I had consoled myself with the belief,
that California was the destination of this saint and his squatter
protege; though at times I was troubled with the remembrance of
Su-wa-nee's words. Their truth was almost confirmed by the report of
the ex-rifleman. I could not now think otherwise, than that Stebbins
was bound for the Mormon city; and that he was the fox in charge of the
flock of geese that accompanied the emigrant train. It was more than
probable. While waiting in Swampville for the letter of Lilian, I had
learnt something of the history of the _ci-devant_ schoolmaster--not
much of the period subsequent to his departure from that place--little
more than the fact that he had joined the Mormons, and had risen to high
office in their church--in short, that he was one of their "apostles."
This fact, however, was one of primary significance.
Had the squatter also submitted to the hideous delusion? Was he also on
his way to the shrine of the faith? The answer to the former question
was of slight importance, so long as that to the latter might be
conceived in the affirmative. If Holt was bound to the Salt Lake, then
was the fate of his daughter to be dreaded. Not long there may a virgin
dwell. The baptism of the New Jordan soon initiates its female
neophytes into the mysteries of womanhood--absolutely compelling them to
the marriage-tie--forcing them to a wedlock loveless and unholy.
Suffering under such apprehensions, I scarcely needed the additional
stimulus of jealousy to urge me onward; and yet, strange as it may
appear, the finding of the bouquet had produced this effect. I would
have ridden on, without halt, but our animals required rest. We had
been travelling nearly all night, and throughout the morning--under the
friendly shelter of the cotton-wood forest. We all needed an hour or
two of repose; and, seeking a secure place near the ground of the
deserted camp, we stopped to obtain it. The train could not be far
ahead of us. While seated in silence around the fire we had kindled, we
could hear at intervals the reports of guns. They came from up the
valley, and from a far distance. The sounds reached us but faintly--now
single shots, and then two or three together, or following in quick
succession. We were at no loss to account for the reports. They were
caused by the hunters of the caravan, in pursuit of game. We had now
entered that charming region where elk and antelope abounded. On our
morning-march we had seen herds of both trooping over the sward--almost
within range of our rifles. Even as we sat, a band of beautiful
antelopes appeared in the open ground near our bivouack fire; and, after
satisfying their curiosity by gazing at us for a moment, they trotted
off into the covert. It was a tempting sight--too tempting for the
young backwoods hunter to resist. Seizing his rifle, he took after
them--promising us as he went off a more savoury breakfast than the dry
buffalo-meat we were broiling. Soon after, we heard the report of his
piece; and, presently, he re-appeared with a dead "prong-horn" upon his
shoulders.
As Wingrove came up to the fire, I noticed a singular expression upon
his countenance. Instead of being rejoiced at his success, his looks
betrayed anxiety! I questioned him as to the cause. He did not answer
directly; but, drawing me to one side, inquired in a whisper, if I had
seen any one in his absence.
"No. Why do you ask?"
"If it wan't altogether unpossible, I'd swar I seed that girl."
"What girl?"