To this day, in the lonely ranches of the West, the name of the Danite Band, or

the Avenging Angels, is a sinister and an ill-omened one.

 

Fuller knowledge of the organization which produced such terrible results served

to increase rather than to lessen the horror which it inspired in the minds of

men. None knew who belonged to this ruthless society. The names of the

participators in the deeds of blood and violence done under the name of religion

were kept profoundly secret.

 

The very friend to whom you communicated your misgivings as to the Prophet and

his mission, might be one of those who would come forth at night with fire and

sword to exact a terrible reparation. Hence every man feared his neighbour, and

none spoke of the things which were nearest his heart.

 

One fine morning, John Ferrier was about to set out to his wheatfields, when he

heard the click of the latch, and, looking through the window, saw a stout,

sandy-haired, middle-aged man coming up the pathway. His heart leapt to his

mouth, for this was none other than the great Brigham Young himself. Full of

trepidation—for he knew that such a visit boded him little good—Ferrier ran to

the door to greet the Mormon chief. The latter, however, received his

salutations coldly, and followed him with a stern face into the sitting-room.

 

“Brother Ferrier,” he said, taking a seat, and eyeing the farmer keenly from

under his light-coloured eyelashes, “the true believers have been good friends