"Fight! you was so anxious to see McGable, you'll have the chance now. Ef yer'd a minded what me and the Frontier Angel said, you wouldn't got into this fix. It won't do no good to touch the oars. You're fast in the mud, and have got to fight it out!" Instantly the shore became alive with savages. Yells that might have curdled a demon's blood rent the air, and the whole mass of swarming bodies plunged into the shallow water, and made for the flat-boat. The whites discharged their shots, but the numbers and power of their enemies were irresistible. Onward they poured, shouting like madmen, and clambering up the sides, a scene of butchery took place that sickens the heart to contemplate. [Illustration: "Onward they poured, shouting like madmen."] Peterson saw the critical moment had arrived, and catching Marian by the waist, he sprang upon the gunwale, intending to leap over. But that instant a volley was poured into the boat, and a bullet struck her. The ranger felt her become a dead weight, at the same moment that a stream of hot blood poured over his hand. He bent his head down, and peered into her face. The dark, blue eyes were slowly shutting, and her head dropped heavily. "I am dying, Jim," she murmured. "God bless you for your effort. Give my last love to Russel, mother, and father--good-by!" "Heaven bless you!" said the ranger, laying her gently upon the deck, in spite of the wild scene that had commenced. "You've escaped that McGable, anyhow." Peterson again sprang to the gunwale, and, with an almost superhuman leap, bounded outward in the darkness and disappeared. CHAPTER III. THE TWO SCOUTS. ONE day in spring, a border ranger was making his way through the cane-brakes of Kentucky, in what is now called Lewis county. All through the frontier wars, such men were employed by the generals and leaders of the different forces, and they formed no insignificant part of their power. Of the American scouts is this especially true. A more daring, reckless, and effective set of men the world has never known. Scores of names have come down to us, whose record is but one long, brilliant array of thrilling acts, any one of which would have sufficed for the lifetime of an ordinary individual.