Were those frightened
cowards the fierce fighters of whom he had heard so much? Were they the
men who had made themselves masters of a kingdom in the land of their
enemies--whose mere name carried terror for a hundred miles along the
coast? He was stupefied, bewildered. He made no effort to conceal
himself as they approached the hill, but drew his pistol, ready to fire
down upon them as they came. Suddenly there was a change. So quickly
that he could scarcely believe his eyes the flying Mormons had
disappeared. Not a man was visible upon that narrow plain between the
hill and the sea. Like a huge covey of quail they had dropped to the
ground, their rifles lost in that ghostly gloom through which the voices
of the mainlanders came in fierce cries of triumph. It was magnificent!
Even as the crushing truth of what it all meant came to him, the
fighting blood in his veins leaped at the sight of it--the pretended
effect of the shots from sea, the sham confusion, the disorderly
flight, the wonderful quickness and precision with which the rabble of
armed men had thrown itself into ambush!
Would the mainlanders rush into the trap? Had some keen eye seen those
shadowy forms dropping through the mist? Each instant the ghostly pall
that shut out vision seaward seemed drifting away. Nathaniel's staring
eyes saw a vague shape appear in it, an indistinct dirt-gray blotch, and
he knew that it was a boat. Another followed, and then another; he heard
the sound of oars, the grinding of keels upon the sand, and where the
Mormons had been a few moments before the beach was now alive with
mainlanders.
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