y by the sight which met their
eyes.

On the little plateau which crowned the barren hill there stood a
single giant boulder, and against this boulder there lay a tall man,
long-bearded and hard-featured, but of an excessive thinness. His placid
face and regular breathing showed that he was fast asleep. Beside him
lay a little child, with her round white arms encircling his brown
sinewy neck, and her golden haired head resting upon the breast of his
velveteen tunic. Her rosy lips were parted, showing the regular line of
snow-white teeth within, and a playful smile played over her infantile
features. Her plump little white legs terminating in white socks and
neat shoes with shining buckles, offered a strange contrast to the long
shrivelled members of her companion. On the ledge of rock above this
strange couple there stood three solemn buzzards, who, at the sight of
the new comers uttered raucous screams of disappointment and flapped
sullenly away.

The cries of the foul birds awoke the two sleepers who stared about [20]
them in bewilderment. The man staggered to his feet and looked down upon
the plain which had been so desolate when sleep had overtaken him, and
which was now traversed by this enormous body of men and of beasts. His
face assumed an expression of incredulity as he gazed, and he passed his
boney hand over his eyes. "This is what they call delirium, I guess,"
he muttered. The child stood beside him, holding on to the skirt of
his coat, and said nothing but looked all round her with the wondering
questioning gaze of childhood.

The rescuing party were speedily able to convince the two castaways that
their appearance was no delusion. One of them seized the little girl,
and hoisted her upon his shoulder, while two others supported her gaunt
companion, and assisted him towards the waggons.

"My name is John Ferrier," the wanderer explained; "me and that little
un are all that's left o' twenty-one people. The rest is all dead o'
thirst and hunger away down in the south."

"Is she your child?" asked someone.

"I guess she is now," the other cried, defiantly; "she's mine 'cause I
saved her. No man will take her from me. She's Lucy Ferrier from this
day on. Who are you, though?" he continued, glancing with curiosity at
his stalwart, sunburned rescuers; "there seems to be a powerful lot of
ye."

"Nigh upon ten thousand," said one of the young men; "we are the
persecuted children of God--the chosen of the An