A Study in Scarlet Read online

  CHAPTER I. ON THE GREAT ALKALI PLAIN.

  IN the central portion of the great North American Continent there liesan arid and repulsive desert, which for many a long year served as abarrier against the advance of civilisation. From the Sierra Nevada toNebraska, and from the Yellowstone River in the north to the Coloradoupon the south, is a region of desolation and silence. Nor is Naturealways in one mood throughout this grim district. It comprisessnow-capped and lofty mountains, and dark and gloomy valleys. There areswift-flowing rivers which dash through jagged canons; and there areenormous plains, which in winter are white with snow, and in summer aregrey with the saline alkali dust. They all preserve, however, the commoncharacteristics of barrenness, inhospitality, and misery.

  There are no inhabitants of this land of despair. A band of Pawneesor of Blackfeet may occasionally traverse it in order to reach otherhunting-grounds, but the hardiest of the braves are glad to lose sightof those awesome plains, and to find themselves once more upon theirprairies. The coyote skulks among the scrub, the buzzard flaps heavilythrough the air, and the clumsy grizzly bear lumbers through the darkravines, and picks up such sustenance as it can amongst the rocks. Theseare the sole dwellers in the wilderness.

  In the whole world there can be no more dreary view than that fromthe northern slope of the Sierra Blanco. As far as the eye can reachstretches the great flat plain-land, all dusted over with patches ofalkali, and intersected by clumps of the dwarfish chaparral bushes. Onthe extreme verge of the horizon lie a long chain of mountain peaks,with their rugged summits flecked with snow. In this great stretch ofcountry there is no sign of life, nor of anything appertaining to life.There is no bird in the steel-blue heaven, no movement upon the dull,grey earth--above all, there is absolute silence. Listen as one may,there is no shadow of a sound in all that mighty wilderness; nothing butsilence--complete and heart-subduing silence.

  It has been said there is nothing appertaining to life upon the broadplain. That is hardly true. Looking down from the Sierra Blanco, onesees a pathway traced out across the desert, which winds away and islost in the extreme distance. It is rutted with wheels and trodden downby the feet of many adventurers. Here and there there are scatteredwhite objects which glisten in the sun, and stand out against the dulldeposit of alkali. Approach, and examine them! They are bones: somelarge and coarse, others smaller and more delicate. The former havebelonged to oxen, and the latter to men. For fifteen hundred miles onemay trace this ghastly caravan route by these scattered remains of thosewho had fallen by the wayside.

  Looking down on this very scene, there stood upon the fourth of May,eighteen hundred and forty-seven, a solitary traveller. His appearancewas such that he might have been the very genius or demon of the region.An observer would have found it difficult to say whether he was nearerto forty or to sixty. His face was lean and haggard, and the brownparchment-like skin was drawn tightly over the projecting bones; hislong, brown hair and beard were all flecked and dashed with white; hiseyes were sunken in his head, and burned with an unnatural lustre; whilethe hand which grasped his rifle was hardly more fleshy than that of askeleton. As he stood, he leaned upon his weapon for support, and yethis tall figure and the massive framework of his bones suggested a wiryand vigorous constitution. His gaunt face, however, and his clothes,which hung so baggily over his shrivelled limbs, proclaimed what itwas that gave him that senile and decrepit appearance. The man wasdying--dying from hunger and from thirst.

  He had toiled painfully down the ravine, and on to this littleelevation, in the vain hope of seeing some signs of water. Now the greatsalt plain stretched before his eyes, and the distant belt of savagemountains, without a sign anywhere of plant or tree, which mightindicate the presence of moisture. In all that broad landscape therewas no gleam of hope. North, and east, and west he looked with wildquestioning eyes, and then he realised that his wanderings had come toan end, and that there, on that barren crag, he was about to die. "Whynot here, as well as in a feather bed, twenty years hence," he muttered,as he seated himself in the shelter of a boulder.

  Before sitting down, he had deposited upon the ground his useless rifle,and also a large bundle tied up in a grey shawl, which he had carriedslung over his right shoulder. It appeared to be somewhat too heavy forhis strength, for in lowering it, it came down on the ground with somelittle violence. Instantly there broke from the grey parcel a littlemoaning cry, and from it there protruded a small, scared face, with verybright brown eyes, and two little speckled, dimpled fists.

  "You've hurt me!" said a childish voice reproachfully.

  "Have I though," the man answered penitently, "I didn't go for to doit." As he spoke he unwrapped the grey shawl and extricated a prettylittle girl of about five years of age, whose dainty shoes and smartpink frock with its little linen apron all bespoke a mother's care. Thechild was pale and wan, but her healthy arms and legs showed that shehad suffered less than her companion.

  "How is it now?" he answered anxiously, for she was still rubbing thetowsy golden curls which covered the back of her head.

  "Kiss it and make it well," she said, with perfect gravity, shoving[19] the injured part up to him. "That's what mother used to do. Where'smother?"

  "Mother's gone. I guess you'll see her before long."

  "Gone, eh!" said the little girl. "Funny, she didn't say good-bye; she'most always did if she was just goin' over to Auntie's for tea, and nowshe's been away three days. Say, it's awful dry, ain't it? Ain't thereno water, nor nothing to eat?"

  "No, there ain't nothing, dearie. You'll just need to be patient awhile,and then you'll be all right. Put your head up agin me like that, andthen you'll feel bullier. It ain't easy to talk when your lips is likeleather, but I guess I'd best let you know how the cards lie. What'sthat you've got?"

  "Pretty things! fine things!" cried the little girl enthusiastically,holding up two glittering fragments of mica. "When we goes back to homeI'll give them to brother Bob."

  "You'll see prettier things than them soon," said the man confidently."You just wait a bit. I was going to tell you though--you remember whenwe left the river?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "Well, we reckoned we'd strike another river soon, d'ye see. But therewas somethin' wrong; compasses, or map, or somethin', and it didn'tturn up. Water ran out. Just except a little drop for the likes of youand--and----"

  "And you couldn't wash yourself," interrupted his companion gravely,staring up at his grimy visage.

  "No, nor drink. And Mr. Bender, he was the fust to go, and then IndianPete, and then Mrs. McGregor, and then Johnny Hones, and then, dearie,your mother."

  "Then mother's a deader too," cried the little girl dropping her face inher pinafore and sobbing bitterly.

  "Yes, they all went except you and me. Then I thought there was somechance of water in this direction, so I heaved you over my shoulder andwe tramped it together. It don't seem as though we've improved matters.There's an almighty small chance for us now!"

  "Do you mean that we are going to die too?" asked the child, checkingher sobs, and raising her tear-stained face.

  "I guess that's about the size of it."

  "Why didn't you say so before?" she said, laughing gleefully. "You gaveme such a fright. Why, of course, now as long as we die we'll be withmother again."

  "Yes, you will, dearie."

  "And you too. I'll tell her how awful good you've been. I'll bet shemeets us at the door of Heaven with a big pitcher of water, and a lotof buckwheat cakes, hot, and toasted on both sides, like Bob and me wasfond of. How long will it be first?"

  "I don't know--not very long." The man's eyes were fixed upon thenorthern horizon. In the blue vault of the heaven there had appearedthree little specks which increased in size every moment, so rapidly didthey approach. They speedily resolved themselves into three large brownbirds, which circled over the heads of the two wanderers, and thensettled upon some rocks which overlooked them. They were buzzards, thevultures of the west, whose coming is the forerunner of
death.

  "Cocks and hens," cried the little girl gleefully, pointing at theirill-omened forms, and clapping her hands to make them rise. "Say, didGod make this country?"

  "In course He did," said her companion, rather startled by thisunexpected question.

  "He made the country down in Illinois, and He made the Missouri," thelittle girl continued. "I guess somebody else made the country in theseparts. It's not nearly so well done. They forgot the water and thetrees."

  "What would ye think of offering up prayer?" the man asked diffidently.

  "It ain't night yet," she answered.

  "It don't matter. It ain't quite regular, but He won't mind that, youbet. You say over them ones that you used to say every night in thewaggon when we was on the Plains."

  "Why don't you say some yourself?" the child asked, with wondering eyes.

  "I disremember them," he answered. "I hain't said none since I was halfthe height o' that gun. I guess it's never too late. You say them out,and I'll stand by and come in on the choruses."

  "Then you'll need to kneel down, and me too," she said, laying the shawlout for that purpose. "You've got to put your hands up like this. Itmakes you feel kind o' good."

  It was a strange sight had there been anything but the buzzards to seeit. Side by side on the narrow shawl knelt the two wanderers, the littleprattling child and the reckless, hardened adventurer. Her chubby face,and his haggard, angular visage were both turned up to the cloudlessheaven in heartfelt entreaty to that dread being with whom they wereface to face, while the two voices--the one thin and clear, the otherdeep and harsh--united in the entreaty for mercy and forgiveness. Theprayer finished, they resumed their seat in the shadow of the boulderuntil the child fell asleep, nestling upon the broad breast of herprotector. He watched over her slumber for some time, but Nature provedto be too strong for him. For three days and three nights he had allowedhimself neither rest nor repose. Slowly the eyelids drooped over thetired eyes, and the head sunk lower and lower upon the breast, until theman's grizzled beard was mixed with the gold tresses of his companion,and both slept the same deep and dreamless slumber.

  Had the wanderer remained awake for another half hour a strange sightwould have met his eyes. Far away on the extreme verge of the alkaliplain there rose up a little spray of dust, very slight at first, andhardly to be distinguished from the mists of the distance, but graduallygrowing higher and broader until it formed a solid, well-defined cloud.This cloud continued to increase in size until it became evident that itcould only be raised by a great multitude of moving creatures. In morefertile spots the observer would have come to the conclusion that oneof those great herds of bisons which graze upon the prairie land wasapproaching him. This was obviously impossible in these arid wilds. Asthe whirl of dust drew nearer to the solitary bluff upon which the twocastaways were reposing, the canvas-covered tilts of waggons and thefigures of armed horsemen began to show up through the haze, and theapparition revealed itself as being a great caravan upon its journey forthe West. But what a caravan! When the head of it had reached the baseof the mountains, the rear was not yet visible on the horizon. Rightacross the enormous plain stretched the straggling array, waggonsand carts, men on horseback, and men on foot. Innumerable women whostaggered along under burdens, and children who toddled beside thewaggons or peeped out from under the white coverings. This was evidentlyno ordinary party of immigrants, but rather some nomad people who hadbeen compelled from stress of circumstances to seek themselves a newcountry. There rose through the clear air a confused clattering andrumbling from this great mass of humanity, with the creaking of wheelsand the neighing of horses. Loud as it was, it was not sufficient torouse the two tired wayfarers above them.

  At the head of the column there rode a score or more of grave ironfacedmen, clad in sombre homespun garments and armed with rifles. On reachingthe base of the bluff they halted, and held a short council amongthemselves.

  "The wells are to the right, my brothers," said one, a hard-lipped,clean-shaven man with grizzly hair.

  "To the right of the Sierra Blanco--so we shall reach the Rio Grande,"said another.

  "Fear not for water," cried a third. "He who could draw it from therocks will not now abandon His own chosen people."

  "Amen! Amen!" responded the whole party.

  They were about to resume their journey when one of the youngest andkeenest-eyed uttered an exclamation and pointed up at the rugged cragabove them. From its summit there fluttered a little wisp of pink,showing up hard and bright against the grey rocks behind. At the sightthere was a general reining up of horses and unslinging of guns, whilefresh horsemen came galloping up to reinforce the vanguard. The word'Redskins' was on every lip.

  "There can't be any number of Injuns here," said the elderly man whoappeared to be in command. "We have passed the Pawnees, and there are noother tribes until we cross the great mountains."

  "Shall I go forward and see, Brother Stangerson," asked one of the band.

  "And I," "and I," cried a dozen voices.

  "Leave your horses below and we will await you here," the Elderanswered. In a moment the young fellows had dismounted, fastened theirhorses, and were ascending the precipitous slope which led up to theobject which had excited their curiosity. They advanced rapidly andnoiselessly, with the confidence and dexterity of practised scouts.The watchers from the plain below could see them flit from rock to rockuntil their figures stood out against the skyline. The young man who hadfirst given the alarm was leading them. Suddenly his followers saw himthrow up his hands, as though overcome with astonishment, and on joininghim they were affected in the same way by the sight which met theireyes.

  On the little plateau which crowned the barren hill there stood asingle giant boulder, and against this boulder there lay a tall man,long-bearded and hard-featured, but of an excessive thinness. His placidface and regular breathing showed that he was fast asleep. Beside himlay a little child, with her round white arms encircling his brownsinewy neck, and her golden haired head resting upon the breast of hisvelveteen tunic. Her rosy lips were parted, showing the regular line ofsnow-white teeth within, and a playful smile played over her infantilefeatures. Her plump little white legs terminating in white socks andneat shoes with shining buckles, offered a strange contrast to the longshrivelled members of her companion. On the ledge of rock above thisstrange couple there stood three solemn buzzards, who, at the sight ofthe new comers uttered raucous screams of disappointment and flappedsullenly away.

  The cries of the foul birds awoke the two sleepers who stared about [20]them in bewilderment. The man staggered to his feet and looked down uponthe plain which had been so desolate when sleep had overtaken him, andwhich was now traversed by this enormous body of men and of beasts. Hisface assumed an expression of incredulity as he gazed, and he passed hisboney hand over his eyes. "This is what they call delirium, I guess,"he muttered. The child stood beside him, holding on to the skirt ofhis coat, and said nothing but looked all round her with the wonderingquestioning gaze of childhood.

  The rescuing party were speedily able to convince the two castaways thattheir appearance was no delusion. One of them seized the little girl,and hoisted her upon his shoulder, while two others supported her gauntcompanion, and assisted him towards the waggons.

  "My name is John Ferrier," the wanderer explained; "me and that littleun are all that's left o' twenty-one people. The rest is all dead o'thirst and hunger away down in the south."

  "Is she your child?" asked someone.

  "I guess she is now," the other cried, defiantly; "she's mine 'cause Isaved her. No man will take her from me. She's Lucy Ferrier from thisday on. Who are you, though?" he continued, glancing with curiosity athis stalwart, sunburned rescuers; "there seems to be a powerful lot ofye."

  "Nigh upon ten thousand," said one of the young men; "we are thepersecuted children of God--the chosen of the Angel Merona."

  "I never heard tell on him," said the wanderer. "He appears to havechosen a fair c
rowd of ye."

  "Do not jest at that which is sacred," said the other sternly. "We areof those who believe in those sacred writings, drawn in Egyptian letterson plates of beaten gold, which were handed unto the holy Joseph Smithat Palmyra. We have come from Nauvoo, in the State of Illinois, where wehad founded our temple. We have come to seek a refuge from the violentman and from the godless, even though it be the heart of the desert."

  The name of Nauvoo evidently recalled recollections to John Ferrier. "Isee," he said, "you are the Mormons."

  "We are the Mormons," answered his companions with one voice.

  "And where are you going?"

  "We do not know. The hand of God is leading us under the person of ourProphet. You must come before him. He shall say what is to be done withyou."

  They had reached the base of the hill by this time, and were surroundedby crowds of the pilgrims--pale-faced meek-looking women, stronglaughing children, and anxious earnest-eyed men. Many were the criesof astonishment and of commiseration which arose from them when theyperceived the youth of one of the strangers and the destitution of theother. Their escort did not halt, however, but pushed on, followed bya great crowd of Mormons, until they reached a waggon, which wasconspicuous for its great size and for the gaudiness and smartness ofits appearance. Six horses were yoked to it, whereas the others werefurnished with two, or, at most, four a-piece. Beside the driver theresat a man who could not have been more than thirty years of age, butwhose massive head and resolute expression marked him as a leader. Hewas reading a brown-backed volume, but as the crowd approached he laidit aside, and listened attentively to an account of the episode. Then heturned to the two castaways.

  "If we take you with us," he said, in solemn words, "it can only be asbelievers in our own creed. We shall have no wolves in our fold. Betterfar that your bones should bleach in this wilderness than that youshould prove to be that little speck of decay which in time corrupts thewhole fruit. Will you come with us on these terms?"

  "Guess I'll come with you on any terms," said Ferrier, with suchemphasis that the grave Elders could not restrain a smile. The leaderalone retained his stern, impressive expression.

  "Take him, Brother Stangerson," he said, "give him food and drink,and the child likewise. Let it be your task also to teach him our holycreed. We have delayed long enough. Forward! On, on to Zion!"

  "On, on to Zion!" cried the crowd of Mormons, and the words rippled downthe long caravan, passing from mouth to mouth until they died away in adull murmur in the far distance. With a cracking of whips and a creakingof wheels the great waggons got into motion, and soon the whole caravanwas winding along once more. The Elder to whose care the two waifshad been committed, led them to his waggon, where a meal was alreadyawaiting them.

  "You shall remain here," he said. "In a few days you will have recoveredfrom your fatigues. In the meantime, remember that now and for ever youare of our religion. Brigham Young has said it, and he has spoken withthe voice of Joseph Smith, which is the voice of God."