He felt his nerves leaping again to action, his arms grew tense with new ambition--almost he forgot that death had him cornered and was already preparing 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 destruction of human lives, whose passions 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 a look through that hole, Neil," he added.
"Easy enough--if you keep quiet.

Here!" He doubled himself against the wall.

"Climb up on my shoulders." No sooner had Nathaniel's face come to a level with the hole than a soft cry of astonishment escaped him.

Neil whispered hoarsely but he did not reply.