As he spoke the cabin trembled, a tremor passed under them, and the tolling of the bell was lost in a sudden tumult that came like the bursting crash of low thunder.

“What is it?” cried Nathaniel.  He leaped into the room and caught Obadiah by the arm.  “What is it?”

“The hand of God!” whispered the old man again.  “Nat—­Nat—­” It was his old self that stood grimacing and twisting his hands before Nathaniel now.  “Nat—­a thousand armed men are off the coast!  The Lamanites of the mainland are descending upon the Mormon kingdom as the hosts of Israel upon Canaan!  Strang is doomed—­doomed—­doomed—­and to-morrow I shall be king!” His voice rose in a wailing shriek.  He darted to the door and his cackling laugh rang with the old madness as he pointed into the north where a lurid glow had mounted high into the sky.

“The signal fire—­the bell!” he gurgled chokingly.  “They are calling the Mormons to arms—­but it is too late—­too late!  Ho, ho, it is too late, Nat—­too late!” He staggered back, gripping his throat, and fell upon the floor.  “Too late—­too late,” he moaned, groveling weakly, as if struggling for breath.  “Too late—­Nat—­Marion—­”

A shiver passed through his body and he lay quite still.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SIX CASTLE CHAMBERS

In an instant Nathaniel was upon his knees beside the prostrate form of the old councilor.

Obadiah’s eyes were open, but unseeing; his face was blanched to the whiteness of paper; an almost imperceptible movement of his chest showed that he still breathed.  Nathaniel lifted one of the limp hands and its clammy chill struck horror to his heart.  Tenderly he lifted the old man and carried him to the cot at the end of the room.  He loosened his clothes, tore off the low collar about his throat, and felt with his hand to measure the faint beating of life in the councilor’s breast.  For a few moments it seemed to grow fainter and fainter, and a choking lump rose in his throat as he watched the pallor of death fixing itself on the councilor’s shriveled face.  What strange chord of sympathy was it that bound him to this old man?  Was it the same mysterious influence that had attracted Marion to him?  He dropped upon his knees and called the girl’s name softly but it awakened no response in the sightless eyes, no tremor in the parted, unquivering lips.  Very slowly as the minutes passed there came a reaction.  The pulsations of the weakened heart became a little stronger, he could catch faintly the sound of breath coming from between the old man’s lips.