Meanwhile Cody scurried along the shore, but suddenly found himself cut off by a tongue of the fire that had got ahead of the main conflagration and was already burning fiercely at the very verge of the lake. Traveling through the brush in his bare skin was not pleasant at best, so the scout tried sneaking into the water behind the little point of land which chanced to hide the island. Cold as the water was, it was a blessed relief from the heat and smoke of the forest. As he struck out from the shore, blazing embers showered about him, hissing and smoking as they struck the water. The smoke rolled down upon the lake and now and then completely blinded him, and must certainly have hidden his head from the observation of anybody on the island. Cody was delighted with the apparent success of his scheme, and struck out strongly for the little patch of wooded soil in which he hoped, with Texas Jack, to find safety. That it was held in possession by a madman did not matter. It was the single refuge offered the scouts, and if the madman would not share it peacefully, he must be put out of the way. These were Cody’s thoughts as he swam across the intervening space. He finally came to the sloping shore, so that he could stand upright and wade in with his head and shoulders out of water. He had gone so far around the island that he believed that the madman, watching Texas Jack and his raft, would not see his own approach. And he did almost reach the shore unmolested. Suddenly, out of a dark hemlock at the extreme point of the island, there sprang a big crow, which, with raucous cry, flew over the scout and circled about him threateningly. The crow’s nest was evidently in that tree, and the coming of this strange maritime animal, who walked erect like a man, but wore no clothes, troubled the crow’s mind. The bird squawked like a hen with its head caught between two fence-palings. Cody made a dash for the shore, hoping to get under cover and so cease to disturb the telltale crow. But as he was about to step out on dry land a gigantic figure suddenly sprang through the brush at the water’s edge and appeared over him in a most threatening attitude. Above his head the man held a great rock, which he poised to fling upon the unarmed scout. CHAPTER XXVI. THE MASSACRE. Why the madman had not sought to shoot him Buffalo Bill did not ask at the moment. The fact that he was at such a disadvantage was enough to fill his mind with forebodings. The rock was poised in the giant’s hands just over his head, and, as the scout was more than knee-deep in the water, it seemed impossible for him to successfully dodge the missile if it were flung.