DOWN BY THE RIVERSIDE

Diantha turned away, and putting her arm around her friend, they sped through the late afternoon sunshine to their home with flying feet, silent tongues and an unspoken prayer in both hearts for John Stevens that he might not be overcome.

As for John, he strode up to the soldier, as soon as the girls were out of hearing, and with the low roar of an angry lion, he growled:

"What is to hinder my choking the dastard life out of your lustful body?" As he spoke, quick as a flash, he had pinioned the man's arms, and with the grip of an infuriated animal, he had his hands around the white, gentlemanly throat, and for a moment his passion so blinded him that he knew nothing, saw nothing, but a huge, black cloud which overspread all nature and his own heart.

This murderous impulse passed, and with another awful groan, he released his hold, and with a fling, threw the stranger away from him, and quickly turning his back, buried his face in his hands, while one hot, silent tear scalded his repentant eyes.

The soldier, after a few moments of insensibility, came to himself, and with a profound effort, he dragged himself up, and shaking his body together, he stood upon his feet, and said, quietly and sneeringly, though somewhat hoarsely:

"You asked me a very queer question, my good fellow, and if I had not more regard for law and decency than you seem to have, I would answer it like this"—with the words, John felt the muzzle of a revolver at his ear. Again, with the flash of a tiger, John seized the other's arm, twisted the pistol out of his hand, and with a quick, backward spring, he had thrown the weapon into the brawling river beside them, while with a deep sneer in his voice, he answered:

"Do you think, you soldiers, that you are out here with nothing but squaws to oppose you? Men who have wives and homes to protect are not afraid of popguns." And then, as if mastered anew with the terrible emotions surging in his breast, John asked, slowly: "What is to hinder my sending your soul to hell, where it rightfully belongs?"

This time the soldier looked into the hot, angry eyes close to his own, and perhaps his own bravery had some effect in calming John, for after a few minutes, the soldier folded his own arms, and with a light touch indicating the epaulets upon his shoulders, he said, almost airily:

"Oh, I dare say that even you have some respect for this Government of ours. And perhaps, too, your wholesome fear of displeasing the notorious Brigham would hinder you from disgracing yourself."

John said nothing, and the other quietly went to the tree where his horse was fastened, and untying and mounting his steed, said lightly:

"Have you any messages to send to our fort? If so, I shall be pleased to carry them."

"Yes, you may tell your commander-in-chief that if he wishes to keep the heads of his men on their shoulders, he would do well to keep them away from our towns. We will defend our homes and our virtue with our lives."

The soldier was now on his horse, and comparatively safe, so he ventured to reply tauntingly:

"Ah, my dear fellow, don't trouble yourself; the women will hunt us up. I know the dear creatures better than you do. You are very unsophisticated, depend upon it. We shall soon have hard work to keep out of the way of them. Ta, ta!" And before John could move, he had dashed away in the trees, and was soon out of sight and hearing.

John Stevens was left behind with all the agonized load of fear and dread which swept over him like a mountain cloud-burst. He leaned against a tree and with arms folded across his breast and head dropped, he heaved many a sigh and shed some scalding tears. The thing he had most dreaded in the onslaught upon his people had come to pass. And to think that the two women he loved best upon the earth should be in the greatest danger from this scourge. Death for the men; hunger, cold, war, pain, all these were slight things compared with the danger which had been ever present. The temptation which would assail the youth of both sexes, but more particularly the young women, to forsake the simple, honest lives of their people, and to become involved in the sins and corruptions of the outside world; this had been his constant dread. Was this not Zion? Was God not coming from His hiding place to keep Babylon from our midst? With all the strength of his soul he loved chastity and purity. He had, at what cost no one but a strong man may tell, kept his own nature as sweet and pure as that of any woman, and he knew that in strictest chastity only there was safety and peace for either man or woman in this life or the life to come. Why was he so sensitive to all these impressions and fears? Why could he not be like Tom Allen, careless and unthinking as to past, present and future, unless it affected his own pleasure? But he knew he could not. Gifted with a peculiarly sensitive and keenly perceptive nature, he saw far beyond the present action; he saw the end to which such action tended, in a measure, and he suffered with the intensity of such a soul, when he or any he loved turned aside from the narrow, straight path of chastity and right.

After hours of silent suffering and struggle, he arose to find the stars shining above his head in a shimmering peace, and with a heavy, but quieted heart, he made his way home to the village beyond. He resolved that he would seek Bishop Winthrop the next day, and perhaps even go to President Young for some counsel in this terrible situation.

The bishop was much moved and excited over the events which had involved his own sister, as well as the step-daughter of his friend, Clara Tyler. The bishop suggested at once that they should go to see President Young, and lay the whole affair before him for counsel. They found President Young full of business cares and anxieties concerning the fate of his people, but when the two men entered, the President asked them to go with him to his inner room, and they could then present their business before him.

John Stevens told the whole story, not adding one detail, nor seeking in the least to exaggerate the danger or the wrong attempted. But his brief, quiet statement did more to lay the true state of the case before the President than a torrent of language could have conveyed. Bishop Winthrop was very much wrought up, and begged the President to take steps to prevent any such meetings in the future. He was for threatening to kill any soldier who was found outside of his own barracks.

The President listened to the wild talk and plans of his excited companion as he had to the quieter, yet intenser recital of John Stevens. After each had said all he cared to say on the matter, the President, who had been twirling his thumbs, as was his custom when in deep thought, turned his piercing eyes upon the two men so anxiously regarding him, and said slowly:

"It's no use, brethren, to try to force people to do right. You can't keep people virtuous by shutting them up in prisons. The only way that I know of to get men or women to walk in the path of virtue and righteousness, is to teach them correct principles, and then let each one govern himself. If our daughters want to do wrong, if they can't find any of our boys who will help them, they will find plenty of men in the world ready to ruin them. After such girls have learned their lessons they will be glad to creep back to father's hearthstone, and to sit under the shelter they once despised. Teach all to do right and to live their religion, and give them their agency. Let parents live their religion and go quietly along, and some day their children will all come back to them."

This was hard counsel for these two men to follow; they were so anxious, so full of loving solicitude for the two beautiful girls in question. After a moment the President looked searchingly at John Stevens, and said inquiringly:

"Brother Stevens, why don't you court one of those girls and marry her yourself? The best way to drive out evil is by introducing good in its place. Women and men both desire to love and be loved; and I sometimes think our Elders will be held responsible for the loss of our girls, if they make no effort to give them a love worthy and pure."

The conference was ended, and John felt the whole burden had been flung back on his shoulders. Well, he was strong and willing; he was no coward, either. But how could he do the impossible?