"There is danger it is true," remarked Mansfield, "but it only threatens weakness and inexperience. Your party are strong, and they surely have had enough experience, to avoid all stratagems and decoys of their enemy." "Yes, darling, don't let such thoughts trouble you. There is One who is able to protect the weakest in the hour of the greatest peril. Dangers will beset you on every hand, but there will be strong and friendly hearts around you, and a strong and friendly Heart overhead," added the mother. "There is but one thing that seriously troubles me," remarked Abbot, gravely, "and that is the thought of that McGable. He has now been absent a year, and you remember, Marian, that he threatened vengeance against you when he left." "Why, father, how can _he_ injure me?" asked Marian in surprise; "who knows where he has gone?" "I have been told that he was in the West," answered Abbot, quietly. "Well, and what of that? I am sure there is nothing in that, that need frighten us." "I have heard a darker story of him," added the father in a lower tone, and glancing around as if he feared other ears might hear him. "What was it?" asked Marian breathlessly. "I have been told by those whose word could not be doubted, that he has turned renegade, and that his atrocities are equal to those of Girty, McGee, Proctor, and the other similar fiends." "Where does he generally commit his outrages?" asked Mansfield. "I do not wish to alarm you, Marian, and I think there is no reason for your being alarmed; but, as all the others who will accompany you, know the same thing, there can be no harm in warning you. At first, when he joined the British and Indians, he united with the parties who attacked the defenseless settlements and travelers; but he is cowardly, and there was too much danger in that. He is now a decoy along the Ohio river, and uses all the means in his power to entice the passing flat-boats to shore. The devil himself seems to aid his invention, for he has contrived such ingenious schemes that it is said he has outwitted some of the old backwoodsmen and hunters themselves." "What does he do with his prisoners?" "He has never been known to give quarter to any one. All are consigned to the tomahawk or the stake, and the women perhaps to a still more dreadful fate." "What induced him to turn traitor?" "His own devilish disposition, I suppose. He has more than once given out that you will suffer, daughter, for your rejection of him; and next to you his especial enmity seems to be against Mansfield here." "I only ask Heaven that we two may meet on equal ground. He would never shame the race to which he belongs, again," exclaimed our hero, indignantly. "Perhaps you may, Russel--perhaps you may. Ah! is that thunder?"