Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1911-05-11
Even in these last hourt Of failure

Even In these last hours Of failure
and defeat the ire OF adventure
! famed up in Nathaniel,s blood. He
felt his nerves leaping again to action,
his arms grew tense with new ambi-
tion-almost he forgot that death had
him cornered and was already pre-
pairing to strike him down. Another
/ thought replaced all fear of this. A
/ few feet beyond that log wall were
gathered the men whose bloodthirsty
deeds had written for them one of the
reddest pages in history-men who
had burned their souls out in the de-
struction of human lives, whose pas
sions and loves and hatreds carried
with them life and death; men who
had bathed themselves in blood and
lived in blood until the people of the
mainland called them the leeches."
The Mormon jury" Nathaniel
spoke the words scarcely above his
breath.
I'D like to take look through that
hole, Nell" he added.
Easy enough-if you keep quiet.
Here!" He doubled himself against
the wall. "Climb up on my Shout
ders.''
No sooner had Nathaniel's face
come to level with the hole than
soft cry of establishment escaped him.
Neil whispered hoarsely but he did
not reply. He was looking into room
twice as large as the dungeon cell
and lighted by narrow windows whose
lower panes were on level with the
ground outside. At the farther end
of the room, in full view, was plat
form raised several feet from the
main floor. On this platform were
seated ten men, immovable as statues,
every face gazing straight ahead Di-
rect1y In front of them, on the lower
floor, stood the Mormon king, and at
his side, partly held in the embrace
OF one of his arms was Winnsome!
Strang's voice came to him in a
low, solemn monotone, it's rumbling
depth drowning the words he was
speaking, and as Nathaniel saw him
lift his arm from about the girls
shoulders and place his great hand
upon her head he dug his own fingers
iiercely into the rotting logs and an
lmprecation burned in his breath He
did not need to hear what the king
was saying. 1t was pantomime in
which every gesture was understand
able. But even Neil, huddled against
the wall, heard the last words of the
prophet as they Numbered forth in
sudden passion.
"Winnsome Croche demands the
death of her fathers murderer"
Nathaniel! Eel. his ccmpan!cn's
shoulders sinking under his weight
and he leaped quickly to the floor.
"Winnsome is there!" he painted
desperately. do you want to see
her?'
Neil hesitated.
No. Your boots gouge my shout
der. Take them off.
The scene had changed when Ma
thaniel took his position again. The
jury had left its platform and was
filing through small door. VIM
some and the king were alone.
The girl had turned from him. She
was deathly pale and yet she was
Wondrously beautiful, so beautiful that
Nathanieis breath came in quick
dread as the king approached her. He
could see the triumph in his eyes, a
terrible eagerness in his face. He
seized Winnsome's hand and spoke
to her in soft, low voice, so low that
It came to sMsstths2!e! cn!y IL muir
muir. Then, in moment, he began
stroking the shimmering glory of her
hair, caressing the silken curls be-
tween his fingers until the blood
seemed as If 1t must burst like hot
sweat from Nathanieps face. Sudden
ly Winnsome drew back from him, the
pallor gone from her face, her eyes
blazing like angry stars. She had re-
treated but step when the prophet
sprang to her and caught her in his
arms. straining her to him until the
scream on her lips was choked to a
gasping cry. In answer to that cry
yell of rage hurled itself from Nathan
iels throat.
Stop. you hell-hound!" he cried
threateningly. "Stop!''
TO Be CONTINUED)
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