“So I understand—­if I save my skin.  Obadiah Price, I have a notion to kill you!”

They had passed beyond the huge edifice of logs, and as he stopped, hidden from the view of the king’s office, Nathaniel caught the councilor’s arm in a grip that crushed to the bone.

“I have a notion to kill you!” he repeated.

The old man stood unflinching.  Not a muscle of his face quivered as the captain’s fingers sank into his flesh.

“At the first sign of treachery, at the first sign of danger to myself, I shall shoot you dead!” he finished.

“You may, Nat, you may.  From this moment until you leave the island I shall be at your side and no harm shall come to you.  But if there should, Nat, or if there should come a moment when you believe that I am your enemy—­shoot me!” There was sincerity in his voice that carried conviction to Nathaniel’s heart and he released his hold upon the councilor’s arm.  Regardless of the mystery that surrounded him he believed in Obadiah.  But there rose in his breast a mad desire to choke this old man into telling him the truth, to force him to reveal the secrets of this strange plot into which he had been drawn and of which he knew as little as when he first set foot in Strang’s kingdom.  Yet he realized even as the desire formed itself in his brain that such an effort would be useless.

“If you had remained at the cabin, Nat, you would have known that I was your friend,” continued Obadiah.  “She would have come to you, but now—­it is impossible.  You know.  You have been warned?”

Nathaniel drew Winnsome’s note from his pocket and read it aloud.  Obadiah smiled gleefully when he noticed how carefully he kept the handwriting from his eyes.

“Ah, Nat, you are a noble fellow!” he cried, rubbing his hands in his old tireless way.  “You would not betray pretty little Winn, eh?  And who do you suppose told Winnsome to give you this note?”

“Strang’s wife.”

“Yea, even so.  And it was she who set my old legs a-running for you, my boy.  Come, let us move!”

The little councilor was his old self again, chuckling and grimacing and rubbing his hands, and his eyes danced as he spoke of the girl.

“Casey is not a cautious man,” he gurgled with a sudden upward leer.  “Casey is a fool!”

“Casey!” almost shouted Captain Plum.  “What the devil do you mean?”

“Ho, ho, ho—­haven’t you guessed the truth yet, Nat?  While you and I were getting acquainted last night a couple of fishermen from the mainland dropped alongside your sloop.  They had been robbed by the Mormon pirates!  They cursed Strang.  They swore vengeance.  And your cautious Casey cursed with ’em, and fed ’em, and drank with ’em—­and he would have had them stay until morning only they were anxious to hurry with their report to Strang.  Understand, Nat?  Eh?  Do you understand?”

“What did Casey tell them?” gasped Nathaniel.