Все приключения Шерлока Холмса. Сборник. Уровень 2

It was a great caravan upon its journey for the West.

At the head of the column there rode grave men. They held a short council among themselves.

“The wells are to the right, my brothers,” said a man with grizzly hair.

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

Suddenly they saw pink clothes.

“I shall go forward and see, Brother Stangerson,” said a horseman.

“And I,” “and I,” cried a dozen voices.

“Leave your horses below and we will await you here,” the Elder answered.

In a moment the horsemen dismounted, fastened their horses, and were ascending the slope. They advanced rapidly and noiselessly.

On the little plateau there stood a single giant boulder, and against this boulder there lay a tall man, he was asleep. Beside him lay a little child. On the ledge of rock above this strange couple there stood three buzzards, who, at the sight of the new comers flew sullenly away.

The cries of the birds awoke the two sleepers.

The man staggered to his feet and looked around. “This is what they call delirium, I guess,” he muttered. The child stood beside him.

The newcomers convinced them that their appearance was no delusion. One of them seized the little girl, and hoisted her upon his shoulder, while two others assisted her gaunt companion towards the waggons.

“My name is John Ferrier,” the wanderer explained; “we were twenty-one people. The rest are all dead in the south.”

“Is she your child?” asked someone.

“Yes, she is,” the man answered, defiantly; “she’s mine because I saved her. No man will take her from me. She’s Lucy Ferrier. Who are you? I see many people here.”

“About ten thousand,” said one of the young men; “we are the children of God.”

“Oh, He has many children,” said the wanderer, “a crowd.”

“Do not jest at that which is sacred,” said the other sternly. “We believe in those sacred writings, drawn in Egyptian letters on plates of beaten gold, which were handed unto the holy Joseph Smith at Palmyra.

We come from Nauvoo, in the State of Illinois, where we founded our temple. We seek a refuge from the violent man and from the godless people.”

“I see,” the man said, “you are the Mormons.”

“We are the Mormons,” answered his companions.

“And where are you going?”

“We do not know. The hand of God is leading us. You must come before our Prophet.