The Greatest Works of James Oliver Curwood (Illustrated Edition). James Oliver Curwood
called after him.
"Yes, yes, I will tell you."
He ran back into the opening.
The lieutenant had doubled his coat under Obadiah's head and his face was pale as he looked up at Nathaniel. The latter saw in his eyes what his lips kept silent. The officer held something in his hand. It was the mysterious package which Captain Plum had taken his oath to deliver to the president of the United States.
"I don't dare move until the surgeon comes," said the lieutenant. "He wants to speak to you. I believe, if he has anything to say you had better hear it now."
His last words were in a whisper so low that Nathaniel scarcely heard them. As the lieutenant rose to his feet, he whispered again.
"He is dying!"
Obadiah's eyes opened as Nathaniel knelt beside him and from between his thin lips there came faintly the old, gurgling chuckle.
"Nat!" he breathed. His thin hand sought his companion's and clung to it tightly. "We have won. The vengeance of God—has come!"
In these last moments all madness had left the eyes of Obadiah Price.
"I want to tell you—" he whispered, and Nathaniel bent low. "I have given him the package. It is evidence I have gathered—all these years—to destroy the Mormon kingdom."
He tried to turn his head.
"Marion—" he whispered wistfully.
"She will come," said Nathaniel. "I will call her."
"No—not yet."
Obadiah's fingers tightened about Captain Plum's.
"I want to tell—you."
For a few moments he seemed struggling to command all his strength.
"A good many years ago," he said, as if speaking to himself, "I loved a girl—like Marion, and she loved me—as Marion loves you. Her people were Mormons, and they went to Kirtland—and I followed them. We planned to escape and go east, for my Jean was good and beautiful, and hated the Mormons as I hated them. But they caught us and—thought—they—killed—"
The old man's lips twitched and a convulsive shudder shook his body.
"When everything came back to me I was older—much older," he went on. "My hair was white. I was like an old man. My people had found me and they told me that I had been mad for three years, Nat—mad—mad—mad! and that a great surgeon had operated on my head, where they struck me—and brought me back to reason. Nat—Nat—" He strained to raise himself, gasping excitedly. "God, I was like you then, Nat! I went back to fight for my Jean. She was gone. Nobody knew me, for I was an old man. I hunted from settlement to settlement. In my madness I became a Mormon, for vengeance—in hope of finding her. I was rich, and I became powerful. I was made an elder because of my gold. Then I found—"
A moan trembled on the old man's lips.
"—they had forced her to marry—the son of a Mormon—"
He stopped, and for a moment his eyes seemed filling with the glazed shadows of death. He roused himself almost fiercely.
"But he loved my Jean, Nat—he loved her as I loved her—and he was a good man!", he whispered shrilly. "Quick—quick—I must tell you—they had tried to escape from Missouri and the Danites killed him,—and Joseph Smith wanted Jean and at the last moment she killed herself to save her honor as Marion was going to do, and she left two children—"
He coughed and blood flecked his lips.
"She left—Marion and Neil!"
He sank back, ashen white and still, and with a cry Nathaniel turned to the lieutenant. The officer ran forward with a flask in his hand.
"Give him this!"
The touch of liquor to Obadiah's lips revived him. He whispered weakly.
"The children, Nat—I tried to find them—and years after—I did—in Nauvoo. The man and woman who had killed the father in their own house had taken them and were raising them as their own. I went mad! Vengeance—vengeance—I lived for it, year after year. I wanted the children—but if I took them all would be lost. I followed them, watched them, loved them—and they loved me. I would wait—wait—until my vengeance would fall like the hand of God, and then I would free them, and tell them how beautiful their mother was. When Joseph Smith was killed and the split came the old folks followed Strang—and I—I too—"
He rested a moment, breathing heavily.
"I brought my Jean with me and buried her up there on the hill—the middle grave, Nat, the middle grave—Marion's mother."
Nathaniel pressed the liquor to the old man's lips again.
"My vengeance was at hand—I was almost ready—when Strang learned a part of the secret," he continued with an effort. "He found the old people were murderers. When Marion would not become his wife he told her what they had done. He showed her the evidence! He threatened them with death unless Marion became his wife. His sheriffs watched them night and day. He named the hour of their doom—unless Marion yielded to him. And to save them, her supposed parents—to keep the terrible knowledge of their crime from Neil—Marion—was—going—to—sacrifice—herself—when—"
Again he stopped. His breath was coming more faintly.
"I understand," whispered Nathaniel. "I understand—"
Obadiah's dimming eyes gazed at him steadily.
"I thought my vengeance would come—in time—to save her, Nat. But—it failed. I knew of one other way and when all seemed lost—I took it. I killed the old people—the murderers of her father—of my Jean! I knew that would destroy Strang's power—"
In a sudden spasm of strength he lifted his head. His voice came in a hoarse, excited whisper.
"You won't tell Marion—you won't tell Marion that I killed them—"
"No—never."
Obadiah fell back with a relieved sigh. After a moment he added.
"In a chest in the cabin there is a letter for Marion. It tells her about her mother—and the gold there—is for her—and Neil—"
His eyes closed. A shudder passed through his form.
"Marion—" he breathed. "Marion!"
Nathaniel rose to his feet and ran to the cabin door.
"Marion!" he called.
Blinding tears shut out the vision of the girl from his eyes. He pointed, looking from her, and she, knowing what he meant, sped past him to the old councilor.
In the great low room in which Obadiah Price had spent so many years planning his vengeance Captain Plum waited.
After a time, the girl came back.
There was great pain in her voice as she stretched out her arms to him blindly, sobbing his name.
"Gone—gone—they're all gone now—but Neil!"
Nathaniel held out his arms.
"Only Neil,"—he cried, "only Neil—Marion—?"
"And you—you—you—"
Her arms were around his neck, he held her throbbing against his breast.
"And you—"
She raised her face, glorious in its love.
"If you want me—still."
And he whispered:
"For ever and for ever!"
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