"Be aisy now, Frankie, and if ye can't be aisy, whoy jist be aisy as ye can. This loife has affected yer brain, me b'y."
Frank saw Barney really thought he spoke the truth.
"You are wrong," he said. "I will explain what I mean, and I assure you that I am in my sober senses."
Whereupon, he told Barney everything, and the Irish lad listened with drooping jaw.
"Th' saints protict us!" he cried. "Pwhat are we goin' to do, Frankie?"
"Get out of this before Uric Dugan and his gang make us a call."
"They move swiftly as an arrow, and strike deep and sure. You have no time to spare."
The voice was hollow and blood-chilling, coming out of the darkness as from the depths of a mighty cavern, causing both lads to whirl, clutching their weapons, ready for an attack.
"Who is there?" challenged Frank, sharply.
"One who will do you no harm," was the answer. "And I alone am able to save you from Uric Dugan."
Not far away could be seen the figure of a man, who seemed to be leaning on a stout staff. He made no menacing move.
"Tin to wan it is th' Ould B'y himsilf!" gasped the Irish lad.
Barney was very superstitious. While he was not afraid of anything made of flesh and blood, whatever seemed supernatural filled him with the greatest terror.
"Steady," warned Frank. "It is a human being, and he seems to be alone. One man will not harm us."
"I am a man, and I mean you no harm," declared the same deep voice. "If you will trust me, I may be able to save you. Look--I will advance, and you may keep your weapons turned upon me."
The figure came forward through the gloom, and in a few moments he stood close at hand, so they could see he was a man whose head was bare, and whose white beard flowed over his chest. What seemed to be a staff at first glance, proved to be a long-barreled rifle.
"It must be Santy Claus himsilf!" exclaimed the Irish lad.
"You must not linger here," said the stranger. "Even now the Destroying Ones may be moving to fall upon you. They would wipe you from the face of the earth, as they have wiped away hundreds and thousands. They are terrible, and they are merciless. Their tongues are forked, and the poison of adders lies beneath their lips. For the Gentile they know not mercy. If the Mormon Church decrees that they destroy the babe at its mother's breast, they snatch it away and dash out its brains. On their knees innocent girls have pleaded in vain to be spared. Fathers and mothers have fallen before them. Old men with snowy hair have been slaughtered without pity. And chief among these inhuman monsters is Dugan of the dark face. I know him, and I know that his heart is made of adamant. But he shall not always escape the wrath to come. His days are numbered, and the days of his merciless comrades are numbered! All are doomed! Not one shall escape!"