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.
"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.
"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."