But Ralph answers him nothing.

Then Lot laughs: "You walked into yer own trap. You thought I'd gone to Salt Lake, but I reckoned from yer break-out of last night that yer Utah Central stock, which the Mormon Church needs and will have, was here in yer possession, an' made up my mind to locate it. I knew it wa'n't in yer safe, 'cause I'd seen that open too often lately. I reckoned it was right in this mine, and I'd been hunting over this place all night without success. But in the mornin' I heard a noise on the trail, and I seed ye and yer darter comin' up, an' I knowed what yer'd come for! An'

when yer come down in the mine, I come down a _leetle_ ahead of yer, and spied on yer from that drift, an' seed yer give that stock to Ermie to take away. But I'll 'tend to her afterwards."

To this Travenion sighs: "My daughter!"

But Kruger goes on savagely: "I would have shot yer while yer were profanin', if it hadn't been I didn't want to shock her by her seein'

yer die. But now, I love yer so well, R. H. Tranyon, I'm goin' to fix ye!"

With this, he takes the case of wine and hurls it to the other end of the incline. There's a crash, and Margaux and Clicquot trickle over the stones of the mine.

Then he cries: "Yer won't need this!" and throwing over the keg of water, it runs to waste upon the earth.

"Neither will ye want pervisions!" and he tosses the old club man's dainties into the sink of the mine at the bottom of the incline, keeping a big buffalo tongue, which he bites and eats, talking after this, with his mouth full, which makes him more hideous and awful, as he jeers: "I ain't had no breakfast--I'm foragin' on the enemy of the Lord."

"My G.o.d! What do you mean to do?" gasps Travenion, who has looked on with eyes that are growing bloodshot.

"Cut ye off behind the ears--make a blood atonement of ye! You've been so crafty about this, no one will ever know you're down here to hunt ye up."

Then running up the incline, Lot loads the two cars standing at the surface, with great ma.s.ses of rock and boulders, fanaticism giving him increased strength. Letting them run down, he unloads them, and once more does the same, unheeding the cries of the man helpless in the level below.

When he has done enough of this, he cuts the cars loose at the surface, and they come crashing down, and block up the incline. Then he comes down again himself and piles the boulders he has already let down, on top of the wrecked cars, blocking Travenion from the outer world.

Noting his purpose, Ralph staggers up, bound as he is, and prays: "Not that! Shoot me--kill me another way! For G.o.d's sake, NOT THAT!"

But Kruger cries: "Powder and lead cost money! The Church is too poor to give ye an easy atonement." And he piles the rocks up to the pleading wretch's shoulders.

A moment after, he blows out every candle, save one, to light him in the finishing touches of his awful work; when, desperately struggling, Travenion drags himself to the barrier, and screams: "My G.o.d! You are mad--you don't know what you do! I'm your old friend and chum!"

"I'm sacrificin' you here on the altar, where I heerd ye blaspheme your religion an' your prophets! That's what I'm doin'!"

"Mercy! Not this death!" gasp the white lips, and bloodshot eyes beseech the executioner, looking over the barrier rising steadily between them.

"Ye've been given into my hands by Jehovah and Brigham, both of whom ye've blasphemed!" cries Kruger, piling the barrier up to the shuddering man's neck.

Then he goes on in savage mockery. "Ye'll tell no funny anecdotes and sacrilegious jokes about our president, Brigham Young, and our prophet, Joseph Smith! Champagne won't flow over yer infamous apostasy, in the Unity Club. It will be a rare tale to tell yer chums Von Punster and De Beekman, and Travis, an' Larry Jerry, of how yer made a mockery of our sainted religion, an' jeered us, even when ye preached from our altars!

But ye'll never tell it! 'DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES!'"

Then the barrier is up to Ralph Travenion's face, which is now pale as the flickering candle that lights its agonies. Over this face comes one pang more cruel than the others, and the white lips sigh, "My daughter!"

"Yer darter--that's the p'int! I'll look after her salvation. She shall be a lamb of Zion. I'll take her right into my sheepfold."

"Powers of Heaven! What do you mean?" And the wall now rises above his mouth.

"I sha'n't be hard on her," mocks Kruger. "I'll spare her herding and cattle work. She shall do ch.o.r.es round the house. I'll be light on her, I will, bishop, for I mean--" He whispers three words into the fainting wretch's ear, who reels back from him and shrieks: "MY G.o.d! NOT THAT!"

To his scream, the crashing sounds of rocks and a big boulder make answer, and the light of this outer world leaves Ralph Travenion, and footsteps are heard pa.s.sing away along the echoing level, and up the incline, and the old club exquisite, bound and helpless, is left alone in darkness--not to the torture of hunger, for of that he thinks not--not to the torment of thirst, for of that he cares not--not to the despair of certain death, though that has come upon him--but to the agony of fearing that the daughter of his heart may by some art or trick taste the awful degradation of plural marriage, such as he as Mormon bishop has preached and sanctified and has meted out to the daughters of other men.

BOOK III.

OUT OF A STRANGE COUNTRY.

CHAPTER XV.

THE SNOW-BOUND PULLMAN.

As this horror is taking place inside the earth, Miss Travenion and her two escorts on its surface are speeding over the snow towards Tooele.

The consideration and respect with which she is treated by these two rough-and-ready fighters of many a desperate mining battle is almost oppressive: they are so exceedingly polite.

Every time he addresses her, Patsey Bolivar takes off his hat. Chancing in one of his remarks to use the word "infernal" (which is a very mild expression for this gentleman), Pioche George suavely suggests: "Don't ye mind Patsey's high-flown remarks, miss. I've told him if he uses any stronger expression than a plain 'd.a.m.n' in yer presence, that I'll perforate him."

"Would you rob me of one of my guards?" gasps the girl.

"No," replies George. "Patsey an' I have arranged that any discussion between us shall take place after we've seen ye safe through--as we will; though I reckon we've more to fear from snow than anything else on this trip, for it seems as if a blizzard was a-blowin' up."

So Miss Travenion journeys on, Patsey sitting on the front seat and driving, and Pioche George, who is beside him, turning round to her and regaling Erma with anecdotes of his frontier experience, some of which are amusing, and nearly all of them horrible.

About two hours after, Kruger also drives furiously out of Eureka, but does not travel the same route as the young lady he is in pursuit of--going up through Homansville towards Salt Lake City--the most direct route--but, strange to say, leaving it, and taking the road to his right, which leads on to Goshen, then Payson and Provo, for he intends to go up the Provo Canon to Heber City, having some curious affidavits to make that he dare only indulge in before a Mormon judge. From this place he will journey rapidly as horseflesh can take him to Park City, and then to Echo Station on the Union Pacific Railway, which is also in the Territory of Utah, and subject to the domination of its judges.

He expects to encounter Miss Travenion at that point, though the snow that delays her on her trip will hinder him a great deal more, going up Provo Canon and over the divide to Heber City. But he is a st.u.r.dy old Mormon, and though it means an all-night drive--part of the way, perhaps, in a sleigh--he does not care much for the storm, for he has a plot in his head that makes him rub his hands and chuckle, even when the wind blows the fiercest and the snow drifts the strongest.

Shortly after he has turned from the main road to Salt Lake, a wagon coming down from that city carries Harry Lawrence, who is very happy, and Ferdinand Chauncey, who is very tired: for they have made an all-night drive, and had they been five minutes earlier, would have encountered Kruger, to his astonishment, and, perhaps, to theirs.

As they come up to the canon leading to Homansville, Harry cries: "Ferdie, in half an hour I'll see her!" then mutters: "My Heaven! what a monster of ingrat.i.tude she must think me now!"

"Oh, I'll fix that for you, easy enough!" says Ferdie confidently. "I'll tell her how you've been wandering all over California after us, thinking she was in our party. I think my word will carry you through."

Curiously enough, this is the fact. Lawrence, full of hope, has reached San Francisco, to find the Livingston party is not there. They have gone to Belmont to spend a few days, the clerk at the Grand Hotel informs him, at the house of Mr. Ralston, the banker; a gentleman who, at this time, was pouring out hospitality with a lavish hand to prominent visitors to California.

Not having an invitation, Harry is compelled to remain, and await their return, but they come not. After a week or two, he discovers that they have gone straight from Belmont to the Yosemite, which is a long trip, as there are few railroads in the State at this time.

Notwithstanding this, he follows them, and after four days of staging and rough riding, finds he has missed them entirely; for now he cannot discover where they have gone, on leaving the valley of the cataracts.

As a matter of fact, they have journeyed to Southern California, and have spent a couple of weeks at the great cattle ranch of Mr. Beale, near the Tejon Pa.s.s.

So, after a fruitless visit to the Big Trees, Lawrence concludes to return to San Francisco, knowing that the Livingston party must ultimately find their way there, before they return to the East.

In this place, which was just beginning to get excited over the great mining boom in the Belcher and Crown Point, which three years afterwards gave way to the still greater one of the Consolidated Virginia and California, in which many fortunes were won, and more fine ones were lost, he pa.s.ses two anxious weeks.

Being known to several mining men, and receiving telegram from Garter that the first one hundred thousand dollars had been paid upon his mine by the English company, and he can draw on him for fifty thousand dollars at sight, he goes to driving away thoughts of his errant sweetheart, by taking flyers in the securities of the San Francisco Stock Board, and one afternoon, purchasing a couple of hundred shares of "Belcher" at about fifty--its ruling price in the market at that time--he pays for them, and puts them in his pocket, hoping to sell them on the morrow at a few dollars a share advance, and strolls up to the Grand Hotel, for that is where the Livingstons have stopped before, and will probably stay on their return to San Francisco. Therefore he makes it his headquarters.

Here he is delighted to find Mr. Ferdinand Chauncey playing billiards.