"Come and kiss yoo papa," yelled out the piping chorus of children's voices, while Charlie recited dramatically, "The boy stood on the burning deck," with his own absurd modifications of the original text. Dian was angry with the children, thus to taunt their helpless and now uncomfortable friend, but the children only cried out the refrain, again and again, and that piping treble swept over the waters, as the poor youth left behind waded up on to the shore of the island and turned his back resentfully upon his jeering tormentors. At that moment, John himself rounded the island with his own raft and picked up the discomfited youth, whose once brilliant red shirt, freshly ironed that morning by Rachel's kind hands, was once more faded and streaked, and added to that humiliation was the awful discomfiture of those dripping, wet, and heavy leathern pantaloons, bordered with dripping fringe. Surely his punishment was very heavy. "Hurry home," said John, kindly, as they landed, "and get on some dry clothing." As poor Boyle plunged and swashed on his hurried homeward way, the cluck of those swishing breeches and the sluice of his brand new but water-filled shoes made it difficult for even Ellen to keep herself from joining the children in their peals of naughty merriment. Yet, with all the sundry small mishaps, surely there had never been so happy and so blissful a day vouchsafed to the "Mormon" refugees in all their tempestuous short existence. But the echo calls and calls from peak to peak and cries the challenge out to happiness and freedom. And who shall answer, O spirit of a nameless past, so long pent up in these hoary mountain vales! V. "THE ARMY IS UPON US" Oyez!! It is a long and a difficult climb into the tops of the Wasatch mountains; and it takes hours and hours to climb; and the knees grow weak, and the breath comes hard, and the body bends to the grass. Oyez! Oyez! And the news of the evil day may travel so fast or travel so slow, good sir, but it travels apace, and reaches the hills by a steep and a difficult road. And long are the miles and dusty the path which stretch between the rolling river Platte and the tops of the Wasatch hills. But men must ride, good sirs, when they bear the message of evil report, for evil finds wings of wind, while good goes only by post, good sirs. And the men must ride fast, and the men must ride far, for the miles are many and the road is long that stretch between the Platte and the Wasatch hills. Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! The people in the hills are happy today, for they see not, neither do they hear, the echo which flies in sinister message from peak to peak as the men ride fast and spare not, climbing and climbing still, to reach the tops of the Wasatch hills. And the echo is caught and stilled in its upward peal by the curling folds of that star-lit flag which flutters and flies at full-masted pride on the top of the highest tree on the top of the Wasatch hills.