A Study in Scarlet - Part 2, Chapter 5: The Avenging Angels

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Part two, Chapter five of A Study in Scarlet. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
LibriVox dot org. Recorded by Laurie Anne Walden. A Study
in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Cunnan Doyle, Part two, Chapter five.
The Avenging Angels. All night their course lay through intricate

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defiles and over irregular in rock strewn paths. More than
once they lost their way, but Hope's intimate knowledge of
the mountains enabled them to regain the track once more.
When morning broke, a scene of marvelous, though savage beauty
lay before them in every direction. The great snow capped
peaks hymned, the men peeping over each other's shoulders to

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the far horizon. So steep were the rocky banks on
either side of them that the larch and the pine
seemed to be suspended over their heads, and to need
only a gust of wind to come hurtling down upon them.
Nor was the fear in entirely an illusion, for the
barren valley was thickly strewn with trees and boulders which
had fallen in a similar manner. Even as they passed,

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a great rock came thundering down with a hoarse rattle,
which woke the echoes in the silent gorges and startled
the weary horses into a gallop. As the sun rose
slowly above the eastern horizon, the caps of the great
mountains lit up, one after the other, like lamps at
a festival, until they were all ruddy and glowing. The

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magnificent spectacle cheered the hearts of the three fugitives and
gave them fresh energy. At a wild torrent which swept
out of a ravine, they called a halt and watered
their horses while they partook of a hasty breakfast. Lucy
and her father would fain have rested longer, but Jefferson
Hope was inexorable. They will be upon our track by

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this time, he said, Everything depends upon our speed. Once
safe in Carson, we may rest for the remainder of
our lives. During the whole of that day they struggled
down through the defiles, and by evening they calculated that
they were more than thirty miles from their enemies. At
night time, they chose the base of a beetling crag
where the rocks offered some protection from the chill wind,

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and there, huddled together for warmth, they enjoyed a few
hours sleep. Before daybreak, however, they were up and on
their way once more. They had seen no signs of
any pursuers, and Jefferson Hope began to think that they
were fairly out of reach of the terrible organization whose
enmity they had incurred. He little knew how far that

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iron grasp could reach, or how soon it was to
close upon them and crush them. About the middle of
the second day of their flight, their scanty store of
provisions began to run out. This gave the hunter little uneasiness, however,
for there was game to be had among the mountains,
and he had frequently before had to depend upon his
rifle for the needs of life. Choosing a sheltered nook,

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he piled together a few dried branches and made a
blazing fire at which his companions might warm themselves, for
they were now nearly five thousand feet above the sea level,
and the air was bitter and keen. Having tethered the
horses and bid Lucy adieu, he threw his gun over
his shoulder and sat out in search of whatever chance
might throw in his way. Looking back, he saw the

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old man and the young girl crouching over the blazing fire,
while the three animals stood motionless in the background. Then
the intervening rocks hid them from his view. He walked
for a couple of miles through one ravine after another
without success, though from the marks upon the bark of
the trees and other indications, he judged that there were

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numerous bears in the vicinity. At last, after two or
three hours fruitless search, he was thinking of turning back
in despair, when casting his eyes upwards, he saw a
sight which sent a thrill of pleasure through his heart.
On the edge of a jutting pinnacle three or four
hundred feet above him, there stood a creature somewhat resembling
a sheep in appearance, but armed with a pair of

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gigantic horns. The Big Horn, for so it is called,
was acting probably as a guardian over a flock which
were invisible to the hunter, But fortunately it was heading
in the opposite direction and had not perceived him. Lying
on his face, he rested his rifle upon a rock
and took a long and steady aim before drawing the trigger,

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The animal sprang into the air, tottered for a moment
upon the edge of the precipice, and then came crashing
down into the valley beneath. The creature was too unwieldy
to lift, so the hunter contented himself with cutting away
one haunch and part of the flank. With this trophy
over his shoulder, he hastened to retrace his steps, for
the evening was already drawing in. He had hardly started, however,

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before he realized the difficulty which faced him. In his eagerness,
he had wandered far past the ravines which were known
to him, and it was no easy matter to pick
out the path which he had taken. The valley in
which he found himself divided and subdivided into many gorges,
which were so like each other that it was impossible
to distinguish one from the other. He followed one for

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a mile or more until he came to a mountain torrent,
which he was sure that he had never seen before.
Convinced that he had taken the wrong turn, he tried another,
but with the same result. Night was coming on rapidly,
and it was almost dark before he at last found
himself in a defile which was familiar to him. Even then,

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it was no easy matter to keep to the right track,
for the moon had not yet risen, and the high
cliffs on either side made the obscurity more profound. Weighed
down with his burden and weary from his exertions, he
stumbled along, keeping up his heart by the reflection that
every step brought him nearer to Lucy, and that he
carried with him enough to insure them food for the

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remainder of their journey. He had now come to the
mouth of the very defile in which he had left them.
Even in the darkness, he could recognize the outline of
the cliffs which bounded it. They must, he reflected, be
awaiting him anxiously, for he had been absent nearly five hours.
In the gladness of his heart, he put his hands

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to his mouth and made the glen re echo to
a loud halloo as a signal that he was coming.
He paused and listened for an answer. None came save
his own cry, which clattered up the dreary, silent ravines,
and was borne back to his ears in countless repetitions. Again,
he shouted even louder than before, and again no whisper

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came back from the friends whom he had left such
a short time ago. A vague, nameless dread came over him,
and he hurried onward, frantically, dropping the precious food in
his agitation. When he turned the corner, he came full
in sight of the spot where the fire had been lit.
There was still a glowing pile of wood ashes there,
but it had evidently not been tended since his departure.

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The same dead silence still reigned all round. With his
fears all changed to convictions, he hurried on. There was
no living creature near the remains of the fire. Animals,
man maiden, all were gone. It was only too clear
that some sudden and terrible disaster had occurred during his absence,
a disaster which had embraced them all and yet had

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left no traces behind it. Bewildered and stunned by this blow,
Jefferson Hope felt his head spin round, and had to
lean upon his rifle to save himself from falling. He
was essentially a man of action, however, and speedily recovered
from his temporary impotence, seizing a half consumed piece of
wood from the smoldering fire. He blew it into a

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flame and proceeded with its help to examine the little camp.
The ground was all stamped down by the feet of horses,
showing that a large party of mounted men had overtaken
the fugitives, and the direction of their tracks proved that
they had afterwards turned back to Salt Lake City. Had
they carried back both of his companions with them. Jefferson

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Hope had almost persuaded himself that they must have done so,
when his eye fell upon an object which made every
nerve of his body tingle within him. A little way
on one side of the camp was a low lying
heap of reddish soil, which had assuredly not been there before.
There was no mistaking it for anything but a newly
dug grave. As the young hunter approached it, he perceived

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that a stick had been planted on it, with a
sheet of paper stuck in the cleft fork of it.
The inscription upon the paper was brief, but to the point.
John Ferrier, formerly of Salt Lake City, died August fourth,
eighteen sixty. The sturdy old man whom he had left
so short a time before, was gone then, and this

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was all his epitaph. Jefferson Hope looked wildly round to
see if there was a second grave, but there was
no sign of one. Lucy had been carried back by
their terrible pursuers to fully fill her original destiny by
becoming one of the harem of an elder's son. As
the young fellow realized the certainty of her fate and
his own powerlessness to prevent it, he wished that he

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too was lying with the old farmer in his last
silent resting place. Again. However, his active spirit shook off
the lethargy which springs from despair. If there was nothing
else left to him, he could at least devote his
life to revenge. With indomitable patience and perseverance. Jefferson Hope
possessed also a power of sustained vindictiveness, which he may

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have learned from the Indians, amongst whom he had lived.
As he stood by the desolate fire, he felt that
the one thing which could assuage his grief would be
thorough and complete retribution brought by his own hand upon
his enemies. His strong will and untiring energy, should he determined,
be devoted to that one end. With a grim white face.

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He retraced his steps to where he had dropped to
the food, and, having stirred up the smoldering fire, he
cooked enough to last him for a few days. This
he made up into a bundle, and, tired as he was,
he set himself to walk back through the mountains upon
the track of the Avenging Angels. For five days he
toiled footsore and weary through the defiles which he had

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already traversed on horseback. At night he flung himself down
among the rocks and snatched a few hours of sleep,
but before daybreak he was always well on his way.
On the sixth day, he reached the Eagle Canyon from
which they had commenced their ill fated flight. Thence he
could look down upon the home of the Saints. Worn

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and exhausted, he leaned upon his rifle and shook his
gaunt hand fiercely at the silent, widespread city beneath him.
As he looked at it, he observed that there were
flags in some of the principal streets, and other signs
of festivity. He was still speculating as to what this
might mean when he heard the clatter of horses, hoofs
and saw a mountain man riding towards him. As he approached,

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he recognized him as a Mormon named Cooper, to whom
he had rendered services at different times. He therefore accosted
him when he got up to him, with the object
of finding out what Lucy Ferrier's fate had been. I
am Jefferson, Hope, he said, you remember me. The Mormon
looked at him with undisguised astonishment. Indeed, it was difficult

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to recognize in this tattered, unkempt wanderer with ghastly white
face and fierce wild eyes, the spruce young hunter of
former days. Having, however, at last satisfied himself as to
his identity, the man's surprise changed to consternation. You are
mad to come here, he cried. It is as much

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as my own life is worth to be seen talking
with you. There is a warrant against you from the
Holy Four for assisting the Ferriers away. I don't fear
them or their warrant, Hope said earnestly, you must know
something of this matter, Cooper. I conjure you, by everything
you hold dear to answer a few questions. We have
always been friends for God's sake. Don't refuse to answer me.

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What is it? The Mormon asked, uneasily, be quick. The
very rocks have ears and the trees eyes. What has
become of Lucy Ferrier? She was married yesterday to young Drebber.
Hold up, man, hold up, you have no life left
in you? Don't mind me, said Hope faintly. He was

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white to the very lips, and had sunk down on
the stone against which he had been leaning. Married. You
say married yesterday. That's what those flags are for on
the endowment house. There was some words between young Drebber
and young Stangerson as to which was to have her.
They'd both been in the party that followed them, and
Stangerson had shot her father, which seemed to give him

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the best claim. But when they argued it out in council,
Drebber's party was the stronger, so the prophet gave her
over to him. No one won't have her very long, though,
for I saw death in her face yesterday. She is
more like a ghost than a woman. Are you off? Then? Yes,
I am off, said Jefferson Hope, who had risen from

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his seat. His face might have been chiseled out of marble.
So hard and set was its expression, while its eyes
glowed with a baleful light. Where are you going? Never mind?
He answered, and, slinging his weapon over his shoulder, strode
off down the gorge, and so away into the heart
of the mountains, to the haunts of the wild beasts.

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Amongst them all, there was none so fierce and so
dangerous as himself. The prediction of the Mormon was only
too well fulfilled. Whether it was the terrible death of
her father or the effects of the hateful marriage into
which she had been forced, poor Lucy never held up
her head again, but pined away and died within a month.

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Her Sottish husband, who had married her principally for the
sake of John Ferrier's property, did not effect any great
grief at his bereavement, but his other wives mourned over
her and sat up with her the night before the burial,
As is the Mormon custom, they were grouped round the
bier in the early hours of the morning, when, to
their inexpressible fear and astonishment, the door was flung open,

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and a savage looking, weather beaten man in tattered garments
strode into the room without a glance or a word
to the cowering women. He walked up to the white,
silent figure which had once contained the pure soul of
Lucy Ferrier. Stooping over her, he pressed his lips reverently
to her cold forehead, and then, snatching up her hand,
he took the wedding ring from her finger. She shall

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not be buried in that, he cried with a fierce snarl,
and before an alarm could be raised, sprang down the
stairs and was gone. So strange and so brief was
the episode that the watchers might have found it hard
to believe it themselves or persuade other people of it,
had it not been for the undeniable fact that the
circlet of gold which marked her as having been a bride,

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had disappeared. For some months, Jefferson Hope lingered among the mountains,
leading a strange wild life, and nursing in his heart
the fierce desire for vengeance which possessed him. Tales were
told in the city of the weird figure which was
seen prowling about the suburbs, and which haunted the lonely
mountain gorges. Once a bullet whistled through Stangerson's window and

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flattened itself upon the wall within a foot of him.
On another occasion, as Drebber passed under a cliff, a
great boulder crashed down on him, and he only escaped
a terrible death by throwing himself upon his face. The
two young Mormons were not long in discovering the reason
of these attempts upon their lives, and led repeated expeditions

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into the mountains in the hope of capturing or killing
their enemy, but always without success. Then they adopted the
precaution of never going out alone or after nightfall, and
having their houses guarded. After a time, they were able
to relax these measures, for nothing was either heard or
seen of their opponent, and they hoped that time had

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cooled his vindictiveness. Far from doing so, it had, if anything,
augmented it. The hunter's mind was of a hard, unyielding nature,
and the predominant idea of revenge had taken such complete
possession of it that there was no room for any
other emotion. He was, however, above all things practical. He

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soon realized that even his iron constitution could not stand
the incessant strain which he was putting upon it. Exposure
and want of wholesome food were wearing him out. If
he died like a dog among the mountains, what was
to become of his revenge then? And yet such a
death was sure to overtake him if he persisted. He

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felt that that was to play his enemy's game, So
he reluctantly returned to the old Nevada mines, there to
recruit his health and to amass money enough to allow
him to pursue his object without privation. His intention had
been to be absent a year at the most, but
a combination of unforeseen circumstances prevented his leaving the minds

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for nearly five. At the end of that time, however,
his memory of his wrongs and his craving for revenge
were quite as keen as on that memorable night when
he had stood by John Ferrier's grave. Disguised and under
an assumed name. He returned to Salt Lake City, careless
what became of his own life, as long as he
obtained what he knew to be justice. There he found

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evil tidings awaiting him. There had been a schism among
the Chosen People a few months before, some of the
younger members of the church having rebelled against the authority
of the elders, and the result had been the secession
of a certain number of the malcontents who had left
Utah and become gentiles. Among these had been Drebber and Stangerson,

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and no one knew whither they had gone. Rumor reported
that Drebber had made to convert a large part of
his property into money, and that he had departed a
wealthy man, while his companion Stangerson, was comparatively poor. There
was no clue at all, however, as to their whereabouts.
Many a man, however vindictive, would have abandoned all thought

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of revenge in the face of such a difficulty. But
Jefferson Hope never faltered for a moment. With the small
competence he possessed, eked out by such employment as he
could pick up, he traveled from town to town through
the United States in quest of his enemies. Year passed
into year, his black hair turned grizzled, but still he

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wandered on a human bloodhound, with his mind wholly set
upon the one object to which he had devoted his life.
At last, his perseverance was rewarded. It was but a
glance of a face in a window, but that one
glance told him that Cleveland in Ohio possessed the men
whom he was in pursuit of. He returned to his

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miserable lodgings, with his plan of vengeance all arranged. It chanced, however,
that Drebber, looking from his window, had recognized the vagrant
in the street and had read murder in his eyes.
He hurried before a Justice of the peace, accompanied by Stangerson,
who had become his private secretary, and represented to him
that they were in danger of their lives from the

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jealousy and hatred of an old rival. That evening, Jefferson
Hope was taken into custody, and, not being able to
find sureties, was detained for some weeks. When at last
he was liberated, it was only to find that Drebber's
house was deserted, and that he and his secretary had
departed for Europe. Again, the avenger had been foiled, and

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again his concentrated hatred urged him to continue the pursuit.
Funds were wanting, however, and for some time he had
to return to work, saving every dollar for his approaching journey.
At last, having collected enough to keep life in him,
he departed for Europe and tracked his inner these from
city to city, working his way in any menial capacity,

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but never overtaking the fugitives. When he reached Saint Petersburg,
they had departed for Paris, and when he followed them there,
he learned that they had just set off for Copenhagen,
at the Danish capital. He was again a few days late,
for they had journeyed on to London, where he at
last succeeded in running them to earth. As to what

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occurred there, we cannot do better than quote the old
hunter's own account, as duly recorded in doctor Watson's journal,
to which we are already under such obligations. End of
Part two, Chapter five,