Nathaniel caught a glimpse of a frightened, boyish face, and something of mercy prompted him to hold the shot he was about to send through his lungs.
"Stop!" he shouted.

"Stop!" He aimed at the fugitive's legs and fired.
"Stop!" The boyish sheriff was lengthening the distance between them and Nathaniel halted to make sure of his last ball.

He was about to shoot when there came a sharp command from down the path and a file of men burst into view, running at double-quick.

He saw the flash of a saber, the gleam of brass buttons, the blue glare of the setting sun on leveled carbines, and he stopped, shoulder to shoulder with the man he had been pursuing.

For a moment he stared as the man with the naked saber approached.