Then the four left the trees and entered the ravine. Before the cave they counted twelve dead bodies which attested the desperate nature of the man against whom they had fought. Perhaps a man never battled as Rudolph Runnion had done, for his neck was near the hangman’s noose, and if a man will not fight to escape such disgraceful doom he must be a coward indeed. But now the Briton had struck his last blow; the avengers had arrived too late to complete the work of death, for not a sound came from the cave as they advanced. The smoke, what remained of it, was being driven down the ravine by a strong west wind, which filled the cave with a rejuvenating atmosphere. They had crossed the pebbly bed of the dry stream-course, and had reached the bank leading to the cave, when a husky voice, that spoke every syllable with the distinctness of determination, startled every ear. “Back! my rifle is aimed at one of your hearts. I will not surrender, nor will I be taken alive. I have five loads left, four for you, the last for myself. The girl is here, but cold as ice.” The last words drew a cry of horror from Mark Morgan’s lips, and nothing short of the united strength of his friends prevented him from rushing to certain destruction beneath the Briton’s rifle. CHAPTER XV. AN ATTACK IN THE REAR. While following the trail of Rudolph Runnion, a brief time prior to the battle in the ravine, Nanette and Kenowatha saw two plumed figures whom they took to be Indians. Instantly the youthful twain threw themselves behind trees; but a moment later were surprised to hear their names pronounced in good English. “’Tis Mark!” cried the Girl Avenger, looking at Kenowatha, as she stepped from behind the poplar. “I know his voice as though I had followed it from girlhood. He and a brother spy are but a short distance in advance of the avenging army.” While the last words still quivered Nanette’s lips, the two disguised scouts rushed forward, and a moment later the quartette had met. Mark Morgan was horrified at the story that the Girl Avenger related, and again the trail of the red-coated assassin was trod by the terrors of the wood. By-and-by the sounds of conflict fell upon their ears; they rushed forward, and, as the reader has seen, poured their deadly fire into the writhing ranks of the besiegers. It was plainly evident to the quartette, after the major’s words, that they had a truly desperate man to deal with, and they fell beyond range of his deadly rifle for consultation. They believed Effie dead; but whether she had fallen by the Briton’s hand or perished by suffocation, they knew not. As it was, her death should be terribly avenged; though Wayne were left to chastise the savages without their potent aid, and they longed to follow Mad Anthony to victory.