[Illustration:  His fingers twined about the purplish throat.]

“My God, you are killing him—­killing him!” she moaned.

Her eyes blazed as she tore at his fingers.

“You are killing him—­killing him!” she shrieked.  “He has not destroyed Marion!  You said you would take her and leave him—­for me—­” She struck her head against his breast, tearing the flesh of his wrists with her nails.

Nathaniel loosened his grip and staggered to his feet.

“For you!” he panted.  “If you had only come—­a little sooner—­” He stumbled to his pistol and picked it up.  “I am afraid he is—­dead!”

He did not look back.

Arbor Croche barred the door.  He had not moved since he had fallen.  His head was twisted so that his face was turned to the glow of the lamp and Nathaniel shuddered as he saw where his shot had struck.  He had apparently died with that last cry on his lips.

There was no longer a fear of the Mormons in Nathaniel.  He believed the king and Arbor Croche dead, and that in the gloom and excitement of the night he could go among the people of St. James undiscovered.  A great load was lifted from his soul, for if he had not been in time to save Marion he had at least delivered her after a short bondage.  He had now only to find Marion and she would go with him, for she loved him—­and Strang was no more.

He hurried through the grove toward the temple.  Even before he had come near to it he could see that a great crowd had congregated there.  The street which he passed was deserted.  No lights shone in the houses.  Even the dogs were gone.  For the first time he understood what it meant.  The whole town had fled to that huge log stronghold for protection.  Buildings and trees shut out his view seaward but he could see the flare of great fires mounting into the sky and he knew that those who were not at the temple were guarding the shore.

Suddenly he almost fell over a figure in his path.  It was an old woman mumbling and sobbing incoherently as she stumbled weakly in the direction of the temple.  Like an inspiration the thought came to him that here was his opportunity of gaining admittance to that multitude of women and children.  He seized the old woman by the arm and spoke words of courage to her as he half carried her on her way.  A few minutes more and a blaze of light burst upon them and the great square in which the temple was situated lay open before them.  Half a hundred yards ahead a fire was burning; oil and pine sent their lurid flame high up into the night, and in the thick gloom behind it, intensified by the blinding glare, Nathaniel saw the shadows of men.  He caught the old woman in his arms and went on boldly.  He passed close to a thin line of waiting men, saw the faint glint of firelight on their rifles, and staggering past them unchallenged with his weight he stopped for a moment to look back.  The effect was startling.  Beyond the three great fires that blazed around the temple the clearing was bathed in a sea of light; in its concealment of giant trees the temple was buried in gloom.  From the gloom a hundred cool men might slaughter five times their number charging across that illumined death-square!