“Safe!” ejaculated the girl, as she looked up into the eyes of her lover.
“Not yet, Effie—look yonder!” and the spy’s finger directed her to an unwelcome sight up the river.
The Indians were springing into the water, and swimming toward the island!
Effie turned to Mark with pallid cheek.
“I left my rifle here,” he said, “and with it we’ll keep the red-skins from landing.”
It was evident that his last words were uttered to reassure the girl, when he believed the odds terribly against him.
He led her from the bank, and from the hollow of a decayed log drew a long-barreled rifle.
Bidding Effie remain in the shadow of some poplars, the spy stepped toward the water with ready weapon.
A second later a hand touched his arm.
“Ef—”