“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!”

“He was shot in the back by one of his own men as we were bringing him up the gang-way.  The fellow who killed him has given himself up, and says that he did it because Strang had him publicly whipped day before yesterday.  I’m up here hunting for a man named Obadiah Price.  Do you know—­”

Nathaniel interrupted him excitedly.

“What do you want with Obadiah Price?”

“The president of the United States wants him.  That’s all I know.  Where is he?”

“Back there—­dead or very badly wounded!  We’ve just had a fight with the king’s men—­”

The lieutenant broke in with a sharp command to his men.

“Quick, lead us to him.  Captain Plum!  If he’s not dead—­”

He started off at a half run beside Nathaniel.

“Lord, it’s a pretty mess if he is!” he added breathlessly.  Without pausing he called back over his shoulder, “Regan, fall out and return to the ship.  Tell the captain that Obadiah Price is badly wounded and that we want the surgeon on the run!”