I was ag'in her comin' all along, an' fust off I said 'No.' But when I seen tears in her blue eyes, an' she puts her little hand on mine, I jest wilted, an' says to Jim Blair, 'She goes.' Wal, jest as might hev been expected--an' fact is I looked fer it--we wus tackled by redskins.

Somehow, Jim Girty got wind of us hevin' a lass aboard, an' he ketched up with us jest below here.

It's a bad place, called Shawnee Rock, an' I'll show it to ye termorrer.

The renegade, with his red devils, attacked us thar, an' we had a time gittin' away.
Milly wus shot.

She lived fer awhile, a couple of days, an' all the time wus so patient, an' sweet, an' brave with thet renegade's bullet in her--fer he shot her when he seen he couldn't capture her--thet thar wusn't a blame man of us who wouldn't hev died to grant her prayer, which wus that she could live to onct more see her lover." There was a long silence, during which the old frontiersman sat gazing into the fire with sad eyes.
"We couldn't do nuthin', an' we buried her thar under thet birch, where she smiled her last sad, sweet smile, an' died.