John was already driving heedlessly down the street, for he had neither time nor words to waste.
Not a word was spoken, for miles, by the three who rode so rapidly along the dusty, rough new road which stretched ghostlike along the barren valley between the tiny settlements in Utah Valley, and the distant encampment on the other side of the western hills.
As they flew along in the bright young moonlight, the swift light clouds anon parted and then banked up again, thus alternately revealing and concealing the scene about them; at each side of the road the great bristling sagebrush which covered the plain rose up like a high, rough hedge. Here and there a startled rabbit flew over the lower sage bushes, losing himself in the faint moonlight and the distance. The lake now lay before them, now behind them, like a dark, purple shadow, its quiet ripples untouched by breeze, and unbroken by any current. The dark mountains shut them in, and as they neared the western rim, it seemed as if a wall of impenetrable gloom shut off further progress; but a narrow defile led through the low hills, and on they sped.
In the near distance a coyote yelped in shrill hunger, or answered his mate's warning cry from the distant foothills. The cool air grew chill around them, and Aunt Clara drew her own shawl about her, and threw upon Dian's unconscious shoulders the extra shawl she herself had remembered to add to their hasty preparations.
As they neared the dusky group of tents in the outer village across the stream from Camp Floyd even John was startled as a voice sang out suddenly:
"Who goes there?"
John saw the gleam of a musket barrel as the sentinel stepped from behind the cedar tree.
"A friend," John answered. "Harney's the word," and John thanked his happy fate that he had by accident or inspiration hit upon the right pass-word. The sentinel lowered the musket, and as he approached the carriage, Diantha shrank with a nameless terror of the night and its unknown perils close to John's side. Without a word, John put out his arm, and drew her to him, as if to shield her from even the gaze of wicked men; and thus he held her close while he parleyed with the soldier.
XXXVI.
AT CAMP FLOYD