Marian, after the conversation with him, descended to the cabin; but her mind was in such a tumult of fear and apprehension that she could not restrain her agitation. She now firmly believed that the stranger above was an enemy, and that, even with the shrewdness of Jim Peterson to protect them, they were all still in the utmost peril. But she knew of no course to pursue, except to invoke Divine protection. Should she impart her suspicions to the females around her, they would either ridicule her or become so terrified themselves, that the case would be infinitely worse. She concluded, at last, that there was nothing she could do, and, under Heaven, the case must be left to Peterson. In a short time night commenced settling over the woods and river. The emigrants had now made such progress upon their way, that they were about half way between the Big Sandy and Sciota. The dense forests of Kentucky and Ohio shut down upon either hand, and not a sign of civilization met the eye. Before it was fairly dark, the flat-boat was suddenly hailed from the shore. A white man, limping and apparently in great distress, besought them to run in and take him on board before the Indians reached him. "He's a decoy," remarked the stranger, who had intently watched him from the first. "How do you know he is, colonel?" asked Peterson, who had intently watched the stranger all the time. "How do I know he is?" repeated the latter. "I reckon as how any fool as has one eye could tell the same mighty quick." "You're sure of it then, eh?" "In course I am, ain't you?" "Yas, sir." With this the ranger turned on his heel, satisfied that they had a traitor on board. This may seem strange to the reader, but it would not be to a backwoodsman who understood the case. The eagerness and quickness this man had evinced to point out danger, ever since he joined our friends, was good reason in itself for suspicion. Had he been a genuine ranger, he would have hesitated before giving his opinion, and not defeat his own ends by showing too much knowledge of what was unknown to the rest. Peterson walked away from him, and communicated his suspicions to several of his friends. Just as he expected, they laughed at him, and accused him almost of meanness. Stung by this rebuke, the ranger became silent and sullen and left them. In the meantime, the man upon shore was bellowing louder than ever. Not content with being once refused, he was limping along shore, and beseeching them in more piteous tones than ever. Still the whites resolutely turned their ears against him, and would not have noticed him at all, had not the stranger spoken. "I declare, it looks queer anyhow. I never knowed one of them decoys to hang on like that." "You have no notion that he is anything else but one, or that he has any object except our own destruction?" "I didn't think different at first, but it begins to look doubtful. Just let me say a few words to him."