and a curse they shall remain till the last one of them all
is perished from the face of the fair earth which they have polluted."

The boys were spellbound by the intense language of the strange man. All
fears that he might be one of the Danites departed from their minds.

"Begobs!" gasped Barney; "it's Satan's oun brewing they must be!"

"Come," said Old Solitary, "we must move on again. They will not find
you, and the morning will see them on your trail."

"If what you say is true, it were better to be trailed by bloodhounds or
wild Indians," said Frank.

"Far better. The Destroying Ones hastened to the slaughter with no more
mercy in their hearts than is to be found in the heart of a fierce
Apache. If they were instructed to kill, they believed it their
duty--more than that, they would suffer the tortures of hell if they
shirked or shrank from committing the deed."

"Oi'm not faling well at all, at all!" sighed Barney. "An' it's caught
we are in a place where such craythurs be! Och, hone! Whoy didn't we
shtay with th' profissor?"

Old Solitary again flitted away, and they hastened along at his heels.
Now he was silent of lip and silent of foot. He seemed more like a
shadow than anything else.

For more than an hour he led them forward with great swiftness, and then
they came to a small stream.

"You must cover your trail," said the old man. "Follow me."

He stepped into the running water, walking along the bed of the stream.

They did not hesitate to follow in his footsteps.

Before long they came to where the stream fell splashing and tinkling
down the mountain.

"Up," said Old Solitary.

It was a difficult climb, but the boys were young athletes, and they
would have been ashamed to let the man with the white hair and beard
climb where they could not go.

The stream was left, and, clinging to the points of rock with hands and
feet, the old man still mounted higher and higher. He seemed to know
every inch of the way, which became more and more difficult for the
lads.

"Begorra!" gurgled Barney; "we'll nivver get down from here, Frankie, me
jool."

"Well, we'll have no call to kick, if the Danites do not get up to us."

"Thot's right."

"But I cannot help thinking of Miskel's words. She declared that we were
hopelessly snared."

"She may have troied to scare ye to death, lad."

"Well, what Old Solitary has said about the Destroying Angels has not
made me feel any easier."

At last they c