Thus appealed to, the oarsmen commenced, although it cannot be said all were free from misgivings. But in the face of the suspicious actions of the man upon shore, and the continued warnings of the Frontier Angel, the flat-boat gradually approached its doom. Several of the men already half-repented their rashness, and stood with their eyes fixed upon shore, and an expression of painful doubt upon their features. Peterson saw all these manifestations, and thus communed with himself. "No use of talkin', they're all goin' sure, and, Jim Peterson, the question is what you purpose to do. You can tend to yourself well enough, but how 'bout Marian? It won't do to leave her. You hain't forgotten, Jim, the time them same reds butchered _your_ gal. No, Jim you never forgot that, and _you never will_; and how do you s'pose Mansfield will feel ef you leave his gal in the same fix? 'Twon't do, 'twon't do, Jim. Can you swim, Marian?" he asked, turning toward her. "Yes; why do you ask?" "It's what has got to be done, Marian. You see, we'll be inshore in a few minutes. Stick by me, and I'll take you overboard." "Why not now, Jim?" "You see it's getting dark fast, and every minute will help us. By the eternal! do you know that feller on shore? It is McGable! Hello! the boat has struck!" Such was the case, and what was more alarming they were but a few rods from shore. It was noticed, too, that the wailing tone of the decoy had changed to a more commanding one, while the Frontier Angel had disappeared. "What does this mean, sir?" asked one of the oarsmen, thoroughly alarmed. "_You're my prisoners, sir!_" replied the stranger. "Don't get excited--it's no use. That man is McGable, and the Shawnees are waitin' fur yer ha'r. Ef you undertake to fight, you'll be tomahawked in a minute; but ef you give in nice like, p'raps some of yer'll be let alone. Ef you've no objections, I'll give the signal for 'em to come aboard." All except Peterson were paralyzed with horror, and seemed utterly speechless. He stepped deliberately forward and said: "I'd like to ax a question afore you does that thing. What yer going to do with _me_?" "Burn and toast you as soon as we get ashore." "I rather reckon not, old hoss. _How does that suit?_" Before even his victim divined his intention, the ranger brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired, his ball passing clean through the breast of the villain. The latter gave a spasmodic start and gasp, a groan, and sucking the breath through his teeth, fell forward, the blood spouting in a stream from his wound. "Hyer's as opines as how it won't be _you_ that'll toast Jim Peterson just yit," remarked the ranger, coolly fastening his rifle to his back. "O God! what shall we do?" frantically wailed the settlers.