He turned like an enraged beast toward the circle of dumfounded spectators and launched himself at the second guard.  From behind him there sounded a shout and he caught the gleam of naked shoulders as the man who had been at the stake rushed to his side.  Together they tore through the narrow rim of the crowd, striking at the faces which appeared before them, their terrific blows driving men right and left.

“This way, Neil!” shouted Nathaniel.  “This way—­to the ship!”

They raced up the slope that led from the town to the forest.  Even the king’s officer, palsied by the suddenness of the attack, had not followed.  From a screened window in the king’s building two men had witnessed the exciting scene near the jail.  One of these men was Strang.  The other was Arbor Croche.  At another window a few feet away, hidden from their eyes by a high desk and masses of papers and books, Winnsome Croche was crumpled up on the floor hardly daring to breathe through fear of betraying her presence.  From these windows they had seen the girl run from behind the jail; they had watched her struggle through the line of spectators, saw Nathaniel leap forward—­saw the quick blow, the gleaming knife, and the escape.  So suddenly had it all occurred that not a sound escaped the two astonished men.  But as Nathaniel and Neil burst through the crowd and sped toward the forest Strang’s great voice boomed forth like the rumble of a gun.

“Arbor Croche, overtake those men—­and kill them!”

With a wild curse the chief of sheriffs dashed down the stairway and as she heard him go the terror of Winnsome’s heart seemed to turn her blood cold.  She knew what that command meant.  She knew that her father would obey it.  As the daughter of the chief of sheriffs more than one burning secret was hidden in her breast, more than one of those frightful daggers that had pricked at the soul of her mother until they had murdered her.  And the chief of them all was this:  that to Arbor Croche the words of Strang were the words of God and that if the prophet said kill, he would kill.  For a full minute she crouched in her concealment, stunned by the horror that had so quickly taken the place of the joy with which she had witnessed the escape.  She heard Strang leave the window, heard his heavy steps in the outer room, heard the door close, and knew that he, too, was gone.  She sprang to her feet and ran to the window at which the two men had stood.  The chief of sheriffs was already at the jail.  The crowd had begun to disperse.  Men were swarming like ants up the long slope reaching to the forest.  Three or four of the leaders were running and she knew that they were hot in pursuit of the fugitives.  Others were following more slowly and among these she saw that there were women.  As she looked there came a sound from the stair.  She recognized the step.  She recognized the voice that called her name a moment later and with a despairing cry she turned with outstretched arms to greet the girl for whom Nathaniel had interrupted the king’s whipping.