tice anything queer about the way you're bound
to that stake, Nat?"

There was a thrilling emphasis in Nathaniel's answer. He nodded his head
affirmatively, again and again.

"Your hands are tied to the post very loosely, with a slack of say six
inches," continued Neil with an appalling precision. "There is a rawhide
thong about your neck, wet, and so tight that it chafes your skin when
you move your head. But the very uncomfortable thing just at this moment
is the way your feet are fastened. Isn't that so? Your legs are drawn
back, so that you are half resting on your toes, and I'm pretty sure
your knees are aching right now. Eh? Well, it won't be very long before
your legs will give way under you and the slack about your wrists will
keep you from helping yourself. Do you know what will happen then?"

He paused and Nathaniel stared at him, partly understanding, yet giving
no sign.

"You will hang upon the thong about your neck until you choke to death,"
finished Neil. "That's the 'Straight Death.' If the end doesn't come by
morning the sun will finish the job. It will dry out the wet rawhide
until it grips your throat like a hand. Poetically we call it the hand
of Strang. Pleasant, isn't it?"

The grim definiteness with which he described the manner of their end
added to those sensations which had already become acutely discomforting
to Nathaniel. Had he possessed the use of his voice when the Mormons
were leaving he would have called upon them to return and lengthen the
thongs about his ankles by an inch or two. Now, with almost brutal
frankness, Neil had explained to him the meaning of his strange
posture. His knees began to ache. An occasional sharp pain shot up from
them to his hips, and the thong about his neck, which at first he had
used as a support for his chin, began to irritate him. At times he found
himself resting upon it so heavily that it shortened his breath, and he
was compelled to straighten himself, putting his whole weight on his
twisted feet. It seemed an hour before Neil broke the terrible silence
again. Perhaps it was ten minutes.

"I'm going to begin," he said. "Listen. If you hear an answer nod your
head."

He drew a deep breath, turned his face as far as he could toward the
shore, and shouted.

"Help--help--help!"

Again and again the thrilling words burst from his throat, and as their
echoes floated back to them from the forest, like a thousand mocking
voices, Nathaniel grew hot wi