ore prosaic epistle: and neither scream
nor start was occasioned by its delivery. As soon as I saw that the
piece of paper was observed, I dropped it among the boxes, and withdrew
my hand. The fear that we might have been noticed standing too long in
one place, influenced us to move away. If fortune should favour the
reading of that note, on our return we might find our scheme much more
ripe for execution. With this reflection, we glided silently from the
spot.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO.

TO HORSE AND AWAY.

Our absence was of short duration--a turn to the tents and back again.
While there, I had spoken a word to Wingrove and Sure-shot. Archilete
was still absent. I had warned my comrades not to picket our horses at
too great a distance from the tents: as we knew not how soon we might
need them. Little thought I, as I delivered this cautionary counsel,
that within the hour--nay, almost within that minute--we should be
hastening to mount and be gone! Our idea had been that some time about
midnight--perhaps later--when the camp should be buried in sleep--
Lilian, already warned that we were in wait for her, would steal forth
and join us at the tents. Thence, trusting to the speed of our horses,
we should find no difficulty in escaping--even though pursuit might be
given on the instant of our departure. We were all well-mounted--as
well, at least, as the Mormons could be--and with a guide who knew the
passes, we should have the advantage of them.

It did not occur to Marian or myself, that that very moment might have
been more appropriate for flight, than the hour of midnight or any
other. Then, in the midst of their noisy revelry, when all eyes were
turned upon the dance, and souls absorbed in the giddy whirl of
pleasure--when slight sounds were unnoticed amidst the swelling music
and the clangour of voices--when even the hoof-stroke of a galloping
horse would have fallen unheard or unheeded--then, indeed, would have
been the very time for our designed abduction! The idea did not occur
to either of us. I cannot tell why it did not: unless it was that we
were hindered from thinking of final measures, by our uncertainty as to
the _disposition_ of Lilian. Her consent was _now_ the most important
condition to our success--as her refusal would be its grandest obstacle.
Surely she would _not_ refuse? We could not for a moment harbour the
apprehension. By this time she must have read the letter? We could