She fled in a different direction.
She had gone perhaps sixty rods in the darkness out of sight of Smith and his tormentors when she was stopped by three men and her name and purpose demanded.

When she declared it in breathless voice they laughed aloud.

In the darkness she was deprived of that weapon, her beauty, by which she habitually, although unconsciously, held men in awe.
"Now, see here, sister, you jest sit quietly on the fence here, and see which of them's going to get the best of it.

Your man's a prophet, you know; let him call out his miracles now, and give us a good show of them for once.

He's jest got a few ordinary men to deal with; if he and his miracles can't git the best of them he ain't no prophet.