The path widened and through the thin tree-tops above their heads the starlight filtered down upon them.  The leading guards were twenty feet away.  How far behind were the others?

A moment more and they plunged into deep night again.  The figures ahead were mere shadows.  Again the fingers dug into Nathaniel’s arm, and pressing close to the sheriff he bent down his head.

A low, quick whisper fell in his ear.

“Don’t give up hope!  Marion—­Winnsome—­”

The sheriff jerked himself erect without finishing.  Hurried footsteps had come close to their heels.  The rear guards were so near that they could have touched them with their guns.  Had some spot of lesser gloom ahead betrayed the prisoner’s bowed head and Jeekum’s white face turned to it?  There was a steady pressure on Nathaniel’s arm now, a warning, frightened pressure, and the hand that made it trembled.  Jeekum feared the worst—­but his fear was not greater than the chill of disappointment that came to smother the excited beating of Nathaniel’s heart.  What had the jailer meant to say?  What did he know about Marion and Winnsome, and why had he given birth to new hope in the same breath that he mentioned their names?

His words carried at least one conviction.  Marion was alive despite her brother’s somber prophesies.  If she had killed herself the sheriff would not have coupled her name with Winnsome’s in the way he had.

Nathaniel’s nerves were breaking with suspense.  He stifled his breath to listen, to catch the faintest whisper that might come to him from the white faced man at his side.  Each passing moment of silence added to his desperation.  He squeezed the sheriff’s hand with his arm, but there was no responding signal; in a patch of thick gloom that almost concealed the figures ahead he pressed near to him and lowered his head again—­and Jeekum pushed him back fiercely, with a low curse.

They emerged from the forest and the clear starlight shone down upon them.  A little distance off lay the lake in shimmering stillness.  Nathaniel looked boldly at the sheriff now, and as his glance passed beyond him he was amazed at the change that had come over Neil.  The young man’s head was bowed heavily upon his breast, his shoulders were hunched forward, and he walked with a listless, uneven step.  Was it possible that his magnificent courage had at last given way?

A hundred steps farther they came to the beach and Nathaniel saw a boat at the water’s edge with a single figure guarding it.  Straight to this Jeekum led his prisoners.  For the first time he spoke to them aloud.

“One in front, the other in back,” he said.

For an instant Nathaniel found himself close beside Neil and he prodded him sharply with his knee.  His companion did not lift his head.  He made no sign, gave no last flashing comradeship with his eyes, but climbed into the bow of the boat and sat down with his chin still on his chest, like a man lost in stupor.