grove hesitatingly. "I can't say the word, Hick
Holt, in presence o' the girls--to make _wives_ to the Mormon Prophet--
that's what he intended wi' both o' 'em."

The scream that, like the neigh of an angry horse, burst from the lips
of the squatter, drowned the last words of Wingrove's speech; and
simultaneously the report of a rifle pealed upon the air. A cloud of
smoke for a moment enveloped Holt and his horse, from the midst of which
came a repetition of that wild vengeful cry. At the same instant the
steed of Stebbins was seen running riderless down the valley, while the
Saint himself lay stretched, face upward, upon the sward! His body
remained motionless. He was dead--a purple spot on his forehead showing
where the fatal bullet had entered his brain!

The sisters had just time to shelter themselves behind the rocks when a
volley from the Danites was poured upon us. Their shots fell harmlessly
around; while ours, fired in return, had been better aimed; and another
of these fearful men, dropping out of his saddle, yielded up his life
upon the spot. The remaining five, seeing that the day had gone against
them, wheeled suddenly about; and galloped back down the gorge--ten
times faster than they had ridden up it. It was the last we saw of the
_Destroying Angels_!

"O my children!" cried Holt, in a supplicating tone, as he staggered
forward, and received both within his outstretched embrace, "will ye--
can ye forgi' me? O God! I've been a bad father to ye; but I knew not
the wickedness o' these Mormon people. No--nor half o' _his_, till it
war too late; an' now--"

"And now, father!" said Marian, interrupting his contrite speech with a
consoling smile, "speak not of forgiveness! There is nothing to
forgive; and perhaps not much to regret: since the perils we have gone
through, have proved our fidelity to one another. We shall return home
all the happier, having escaped from so many dangers, dear father!"

"Ah, Marian, gurl, you don't know all--we hev now no home to go to!"

"The same you ever had," interposed I, "if you will consent to accept
it. The old cabin on Mud Creek will hold us all till we can build a
larger one. But no,"--I added, correcting myself--"I see two here who
will scarcely feel inclined to share its hospitality. Another cabin,
higher up the creek, will be likely to claim them for its tenants?"
Marian blushed; while the young backwoodsman, although turning equally
red at the all