In
another instant the two men behind had fired and Obadiah fell forward
upon his face.
With a yell of rage Nathaniel leaped from the door. He heard Marion cry
out his name, but his fighting blood was stirred and he did not stop.
Obadiah had given up his life for him, for Marion, and he was mad with a
desire to wreak vengeance upon the murderers. The first man lay where he
had fallen, with Obadiah's bullet through his back. The other two fired
again as Nathaniel rushed down upon them. He heard the zip of one of the
balls, which came so close that it stung his cheek.
"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.
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