He saw now in her face an agony that appalled him. He would have gone to her again, but there came loud voices from the forest, and recovering his pistol he sprang to the door. Half a hundred paces away were Obadiah and the king's sheriffs. They had stopped and the councilor was expostulating excitedly with the men, evidently trying to keep them from the cabin. Suddenly one of the three broke past him and ran swiftly toward the open door, and with a shriek of warning to Nathaniel the old councilor drew a pistol and fired point blank in the sheriff's back. In another instant the two men behind had fired and Obadiah fell forward upon his face. With a yell of rage Nathaniel leaped from the door. He heard Marion cry out his name, but his fighting blood was stirred and he did not stop. Obadiah had given up his life for him, for Marion, and he was mad with a desire to wreak vengeance upon the murderers. The first man lay where he had fallen, with Obadiah's bullet through his back. The other two fired again as Nathaniel rushed down upon them. He heard the zip of one of the balls, which came so close that it stung his cheek. "Take that!" he cried. He fired, still running--once, twice, three times and one of the two men crumpled down as though a powerful blow had broken his legs under him. The other turned into the path and ran. Nathaniel caught a glimpse of a frightened, boyish face, and something of mercy prompted him to hold the shot he was about to send through his lungs. "Stop!" he shouted. "Stop!" He aimed at the fugitive's legs and fired. "Stop!" The boyish sheriff was lengthening the distance between them and Nathaniel halted to make sure of his last ball. He was about to shoot when there came a sharp command from down the path and a file of men burst into view, running at double-quick. He saw the flash of a saber, the gleam of brass buttons, the blue glare of the setting sun on leveled carbines, and he stopped, shoulder to shoulder with the man he had been pursuing. For a moment he stared as the man with the naked saber approached. Then he sprang toward him with a joyful cry of recognition. "My God, Sherly--Sherly--" He stood with his arms stretched out, his naked chest heaving. "Sherly--Lieutenant Sherly--don't you know me?" The lieutenant had dropped the point of his saber. He advanced a step, his face filled with astonishment. "Plum!" he cried incredulously. "Is it you?" For the moment Nathaniel could only wring the other's hand. He tried to speak but his breath choked him. "I told you in Chicago that I was going to blow up this damned island--if you wouldn't do it for me--", he gasped at last. "I've had--a hell of a time--" "You look it!" laughed the lieutenant. "We got our orders the second day after you left to 'Arrest Strang, and break up the Mormon kingdom!' We've got Strang aboard the _Michigan_. But he's dead." "Dead!"