For some months Jefferson Hope lingered among the mountains，leading a strange wild life， and nursing in his heart the fierce desirefor vengeance which possessed him. Tales were told in the Cityof the weird figure which was seen prowling about the suburbs，and which haunted the lonely mountain gorges. Once a bulletwhistled through Stangerson’s window and flattened itself uponthe wall within a foot of him. On another occasion， as Drebberpassed under a cliff a great boulder crashed down on him， and heonly escaped a terrible death by throwing himself upon his face.
The two young Mormons were not long in discovering the reasonof these attempts upon their lives， and led repeated expeditionsinto the mountains in the hope of capturing or killing their enemy，but always without success. Then they adopted the precaution ofnever going out alone or after nightfall， and of having their housesguarded. After a time they were able to relax these measures， fornothing was either heard or seen of their opponent， and theyhoped that time had cooled his vindictiveness.
Far from doing so， it had， if anything， augmented it. The hunter’smind was of a hard， unyielding nature， and the predominant ideaof revenge had taken such complete possession of it that therewas no room for any other emotion. He was， however， above allthings， practical. He soon realized that even his iron constitutioncould not stand the incessant strain which he was putting upon it.
Exposure and want of wholesome food were wearing him out. Ifhe died like a dog among the mountains， what was to become ofhis revenge then？ And yet such a death was sure to overtake himif he persisted. He felt that that was to play his enemy’s game， sohe reluctantly returned to the old Nevada mines， there to recruithis health and to amass money enough to allow him to pursue hisobject without privation.
His intention had been to be absent a year at the most， but acombination of unforeseen circumstances prevented his leavingthe mines for nearly five. At the end of that time， however， hismemory of his wrongs and his craving for revenge were quiteas keen as on that memorable night when he had stood byJohn Ferrier’s grave. Disguised， and under an assumed name，he returned to Salt Lake City， careless what became of his ownlife， as long as he obtained what he knew to be justice. There hefound evil tidings awaiting him. There had been a schism amongthe Chosen People a few months before， some of the youngermembers of the Church having rebelled against the authorityof the Elders， and the result had been the secession of a certainnumber of the malcontents， who had left Utah and becomeGentiles. Among these had been Drebber and Stangerson； and noone knew whither they had gone. Rumour reported that Drebberhad managed 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 allthought of revenge in the face of such a difficulty， but JeffersonHope never faltered for a moment. With the small competencehe possessed， eked out by such employment as he could pickup， he travelled from town to town through the United States inquest of his enemies. Year passed into year， his black hair turnedgrizzled， but still he wandered on， a human bloodhound， with hismind wholly set upon the one object to which he had devoted hislife. At last his perseverance was rewarded. It was but a glance ofa face in a window， but that one glance told him that Cleveland inOhio possessed the men whom he was in pursuit of. He returnedto his miserable lodgings with his plan of vengeance all arranged.
It chanced， however， that Drebber， looking from his window， hadrecognized the vagrant in the street， and had read murder in hiseyes. He hurried before a justice of the peace accompanied byStangerson， who had become his private secretary， and representedto him that they were in danger of their lives from the jealousyand hatred of an old rival. That evening Jefferson Hope was takeninto custody， and not being able to find sureties， was detained forsome weeks. When at last he was liberated it was only to find thatDrebber’s house was deserted， and that he and his secretary haddeparted for Europe.
Again the avenger had been foiled， and again his concentratedhatred urged him to continue the pursuit. Funds were wanting，however， and for some time he had to return to work， saving everydollar for his approaching journey. At last， having collected enoughto keep life in him， he departed for Europe， and tracked his enemiesfrom city to city， working his way in any menial capacity， butnever overtaking the fugitives. When he reached St. Petersburg，they had departed for Paris； and when he followed them there helearned that they had just set off for Copenhagen. At the Danishcapital he was again a few days late， for they had journeyed on toLondon， where he at last succeeded in running them to earth. Asto what occurred there， we cannot do better than quote the oldhunter’s own account， as duly recorded in Dr. Watson’s Journal， towhich we are already under such obligations.
A Continuation of the Reminiscences of John Watson， M.D.
OUR prisoner’s furious resistance did not apparently indicateany ferocity in his disposition towards ourselves， for on findinghimself powerless， he smiled in an affable manner， and expressedhis hopes that he had not hurt any of us in the scuffle. “I guessYou’re going to take me to the police-station，” he remarked toSherlock Holmes. “My cab’s at the door. If you’ll loose my legs I’llwalk down to it. I’m not so light to lift as I used to be.”
