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Show 342 WESTERN WILDS. carried away by the same cannon shot. Never was prediction of a prophet more suddenly and terribly falsified. Ninety- three able-bodied men were all the camp could boast, but they at once flew to arms. The cannon and long- range rifles of the Brighamite militia completely raked the interior of the camp, the people being hid in holes and trenches, while the " Morrisites" had nothing but common guns with which to reply. Nevertheless, they refused to surrender, and for three days, fighting with the desperate energy of religious fanaticism, maintained the unequal battle. The third evening some one raised a white flag. Bishop Burton, after the prisoners were dis-armed and under guard, rode in among them and emptied his revolver right and left, killing Morris and two women, and mortally wounding John Banks. Thus ended the " Morrisite " secession. A second time was Thomas James disappointed; a second time was he the victim of his own fervent and fooling faith. But this time not without recompense. In the " Morrisite " camp he had met one to whom his religious nature instinctively paid reverence. A Danish girl, Christina Jahnsen, alone of her family had been a convert to the new prophet; and through all the troubles of that troublous time the young Briton had been cheered by her companionship and sym-pathy. Now all was over. The last hope of man for a living prophet was dispelled. He was a captive with the rest, and confessed in his inmost soul that he no longer believed, or could believe, in any man claiming a mission from God. For the rest of his life he was a skep-tic. He saw that the woman he loved was safe, at least from personal danger, then determined to escape. While the Brighamite posse were busy rifling the houses and tearing down the tents of the captive " Morrisites," he sprang into the bushes and ran swiftly up the Weber. A shot from one of the guards cut a deep flesh- wound along his side, but he escaped. To return to the settlements he knew would be certain capture ; there was no chance for him but to continue eastward through the mountains, till he could fall in with some Gentiles upon the Mon-tana trail. Weak from loss of blood, his wound inflamed by exposure, and with nothing but the wheat he could forage from the little patches on the Weber, he still continued his flight. In Echo Cafion, at the house of an old friend, he secretly received some aid and toiled on. Passing the Wasatch, he entered on Bear River Valley, but there his strength deserted him, and he sank helpless upon the ground. He reflected with agony that he was off the, main road and upon an obscure trail, and would probably lie there unnoticed till want and fever had done their work. The pain from his wound became unbearable. A |