s Marion's brother darted to his side.

"This way--from behind!"

The two led the way, side by side, followed by a dozen men. A glance
told Nathaniel that nothing much less than a miracle could turn the tide
of battle. Half of the mainlanders were fighting in the water. Others
were struggling desperately to get away in the boats. Foot by foot the
Mormons were crushing them back, their battle cries now turned into
demoniac yells of victory. Into the rear of the struggling mass, firing
as they ran, charged the handful of men behind Captain Plum and Neil.
For a little space the king's men gave way before them and with wild
cheers the powerful fishermen from the coast fought their way toward
their comrades. Many of them were armed with long knives; some had
pistols; others used their empty rifles as clubs. A dozen more men and
they would have split like a wedge through the Mormon mass. Above the
din of battle Nathaniel's voice rose in thundering shouts to the men in
the sea, and close beside him he heard Neil shrieking out a name between
his blows. Like demons they fought straight ahead, slashing with their
knives. The Mormon line was thinning. The mainlanders had turned and
were fighting their way back, gaining foot by foot what they had lost.
Suddenly there came a terrific cheer from the plain and the hope that
had flamed in Nathaniel's breast died out as he heard it. He knew what
it meant--that the Mormons at St. James had come to reinforce their
comrades. He fought now to reach the boats, calling to Neil, whom he
could no longer see. Even in that moment he thought of Marion. His only
chance was to escape with the others, his only hope of wresting her from
the kingdom lay in his own freedom. He had waited too long. A crushing
blow fell upon him from behind and with a last cry to Neil he sank under
the trampling feet. Indistinctly there came to him the surging shock of
the fresh body of Mormons. The din about him became fainter and fainter
as though he was being carried rapidly away from it; shouting voices
came to him in whispers, and deadened sounds, like the quick tapping of
a finger on his forehead, were all that he heard of the steady rifle
fire that pursued the defeated mainlanders in their flight.

After a little he began struggling back into consciousness. There was a
splitting pain somewhere in his head and he tried to reach his hand to
it.

"You won't have to carry him," he heard a voice say. "Give him a litt