Fuller knowledge of the organization which produced suchterrible results served to increase rather than to lessen the horrorwhich it inspired in the minds of men. None knew who belongedto this ruthless society. The names of the participators in the deedsof blood and violence done under the name of religion were keptprofoundly secret. The very friend to whom you communicatedyour misgivings as to the Prophet and his mission might be one ofthose who would come forth at night with fire and sword to exacta terrible reparation. Hence every man feared his neighbour， andnone spoke of the things which were nearest his heart.
One fine morning John Ferrier was about to set out to hiswheatfields， when he heard the click of the latch， and， lookingthrough the window， saw a stout， sandy-haired， middle-aged mancoming up the pathway. His heart leapt to his mouth， for thiswas none other than the great Brigham Young himself. Full oftrepidation—for he knew that such a visit boded him little good—Ferrier ran to the door to greet the Mormon chief. The latter，however， received his salutations coldly， and followed him with astern face into the sitting-room.
“Brother Ferrier，” he said， taking a seat， and eyeing the farmerkeenly from under his light-coloured eyelashes， “the true believershave been good friends to you. We picked you up when you werestarving in the desert， we shared our food with you， led you safeto the Chosen Valley， gave you a goodly share of land， and allowedyou to wax rich under our protection. Is not this so？”
“It is so，” answered John Ferrier.
“In return for all this we asked but one condition： that was， thatyou should embrace the true faith， and conform in every way to itsusages. This you promised to do， and this， if common report saystruly， you have neglected.”
“And how have I neglected it？” asked Ferrier， throwing out hishands in expostulation. “Have I not given to the common fund？
Have I not attended at the Temple？ Have I not——？”
“Where are your wives？” asked Young， looking round him. “Callthem in， that I may greet them.”
“It is true that I have not married，” Ferrier answered. “Butwomen were few， and there were many who had better claimsthan I. I was not a lonely man： I had my daughter to attend to mywants.”
“It is of that daughter that I would speak to you，” said the leaderof the Mormons. “She has grown to be the flower of Utah， and hasfound favour in the eyes of many who are high in the land.”
John Ferrier groaned internally.
“There are stories of her which I would fain disbelieve—storiesthat she is sealed to some Gentile. This must be the gossip of idletongues. What is the thirteenth rule in the code of the saintedJoseph Smith？ ‘Let every maiden of the true faith marry one of theelect； for if she wed a Gentile， she commits a grievous sin.’ Thisbeing so， it is impossible that you， who profess the holy creed，should suffer your daughter to violate it.”
John Ferrier made no answer， but he played nervously with hisriding-whip.
“Upon this one point your whole faith shall be tested—so it hasbeen decided in the Sacred Council of Four. The girl is young， andwe would not have her wed grey hairs， neither would we depriveher of all choice. We Elders have many heifers， but our childrenmust also be provided. Stangerson has a son， and Drebber has ason， and either of them would gladly welcome your daughter tohis house. Let her choose between them. They are young and rich，and of the true faith. What say you to that？”
Ferrier remained silent for some little time with his browsknitted.
“You will give us time，” he said at last. “My daughter is veryyoung—she is scarce of an age to marry.”
“She shall have a month to choose，” said Young， rising from hisseat. “At the end of that time she shall give her answer.”
He was passing through the door， when he turned， with flushedface and flashing eyes. “It were better for you， John Ferrier，” hethundered， “that you and she were now lying blanched skeletonsupon the Sierra Blanco， than that you should put your weak willsagainst the orders of the Holy Four！”
With a threatening gesture of his hand， he turned from thedoor， and Ferrier heard his heavy step scrunching along the shinglypath.
He was still sitting with his elbows upon his knee， consideringhow he should broach the matter to his daughter， when a softhand was laid upon his， and looking up， he saw her standing besidehim. One glance at her pale， frightened face showed him that shehad heard what had passed.
“I could not help it，” she said， in answer to his look. “His voicerang through the house. Oh， father， father， what shall we do？”
“Don’t you scare yourself，” he answered， drawing her to him，and passing his broad， rough hand caressingly over her chestnuthair. “We’ll fix it up somehow or another. You don’t find your fancykind o’ lessening for this chap， do you？”
A sob and a squeeze of his hand was her only answer.
“No； of course not. I shouldn’t care to hear you say you did. He’sa likely lad， and he’s a Christian， which is more than these folkhere， in spite o’ all their praying and preaching. There’s a partystarting for Nevada to-morrow， and I’ll manage to send him amessage letting him know the hole we are in. If I know anythingo’ that young man， he’ll be back with a speed that would whipelectro-telegraphs.”
Lucy laughed through her tears at her father’s description.
“When he comes， he will advise us for the best. But it is for youthat I am frightened， dear. One hears—one hears such dreadfulstories about those who oppose the Prophet； something terriblealways happens to them.”
“But we haven’t opposed him yet，” her father answered. “It willbe time to look out for squalls when we do. We have a clear monthbefore us； at the end of that， I guess we had best shin out of Utah.”
“Leave Utah！”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“But the farm？”
“We will raise as much as we can in money， and let the rest go.