 22 Spectre, though I be, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive, but in reward of thy fidelity, attributed to Wordsworth. It would be difficult to say which events the most satisfaction, when Mabel sprang to her feet and appeared in the centre of the room, our heroine, on finding that her visitor was the wife of Arrowhead and not Arrowhead himself, or June, at discovering that her advice had been followed, and that the blockhouse contained the person she had so anxiously and almost hopelessly sought. They embraced each other, and the unsophisticated Tuscarora woman laughed in her sweet accents, as she held her friend at arm's length, and made certain of her presence. Blockhouse, good, said the young Indian, got no scalp. It is indeed good, June. Mabel answered, with a shudder, veiling her eyes at the same time, as if to shut out a view of the horrors she had so lately witnessed. Tell me, for God's sake, if you know what has become of my dear uncle, I have looked in all directions without being able to see him. No here in blockhouse? June asked, with some curiosity. Indeed, he is not. I am quite alone in this place. Jenny, the woman who was with me, having rushed out to join her husband, and perishing for her imprudence. June, no. June, see. Very bad. Arrowhead no feel for any wife, no feel for his own. Ah, June, your life at least is safe. Don't know. Arrowhead kill me, if he know all. God bless and protect you, June. He will bless and protect you for this humanity. Tell me what is to be done, and if my poor uncle is still living? Don't know. Redwater has boat, maybe he go on river. The boat is still on the shore, but neither my uncle nor the quartermaster is anywhere to be seen. No kill, or June would see. Hide away. Redband hide, no shame for Pelface. It is not the shame that I fear for them, but the opportunity. Your attack was awful sudden, June. Miss Garora, return the other, smiling with exultation at the dexterity of her husband. Arrowhead great warrior. You are too good and gentle for this sort of life, June. You cannot be happy in such scenes. June's countenance grew clouded, and Mabel fancied there was some of the savage fire of a chief in her frown, as she answered. Yankee's too greedy. Take away all hunting grounds. Chase sixth nation from morning to night. Wicked king. Wicked people. Pelface very bad. Mabel knew that, even in that distant day, there was much truth in this opinion, though she was too well instructed not to understand that the monarch in this, as in a thousand other cases, was blamed for acts of which she was most probably ignorant. She felt the justice of the rebuke, therefore, too much to attempt an answer, and her thoughts naturally reverted to her own situation. And what am I to do, June? She demanded. It cannot be long before your people will assault this building. Blockhouse good. Got no scalp. But they will soon discover that it has got no garrison, too, if they do not know it already. You yourself told me the number of people that were on the island, and doubtless you learned it from Arrowhead. Arrowhead, no, answered June, holding up six fingers, to indicate the number of the men. All red men, no, for loose scalp already, to God am yet. Do not speak of it, June. The hard thought curdles my blood. Your people cannot know that I am alone in the blockhouse, but may fancy my uncle and the quartermaster with me, and may set fire to the building in order to dislodge them. They tell me that fire is the great danger to such places. No, burn blockhouse, said June quietly. You cannot know that, my good June, and I have no means to keep them off. No burn blockhouse, blockhouse good, got no scalp. But tell me why, June, I fear they will burn it. Blockhouse wet, much rain, logs green, no burn easy, red men know it, finding. Men know burn it, to tell Yankees that Iroquois been here. Father come back, miss blockhouse, no found. No, no, Indian too much cunning, no touch anything. I understand you, June, and hope your prediction may be true. For as regards my dear father, should he escape, perhaps he is already dead or captured, No touch, father, don't know where he gone, water got no trail, red men can't follow. No burn blockhouse, blockhouse good, got no scalp. Do you think it possible for me to remain here safely until my father returns? Don't know, daughter tell best when father come back. Mabel felt uneasy at the glance of June's dark eye as she uttered this, for the unpleasant surmise arose that her companion was endeavouring to discover a fact that might be useful to her own people, while it would lead to the destruction of her parent and his party. She was about to make an evasive answer when a heavy push at the outer door suddenly drew all her thoughts to the immediate danger. They come, she exclaimed. Perhaps, June, it is my uncle or the quartermaster. I cannot keep out even Mr. Muir at a moment like this. Why no look, plenty loophole, made purpose. Mabel took the hint, and going to one of the downward loops that had been cut through the logs in the part that overhung the basement, she cautiously raised a little block that ordinarily filled the small hole and caught a glance at what was passing at the door. The start and changing countenance told her companion that some of her own people were below. Red man, said June, lifting a finger in admonition to be prudent. Four, and horrible in their paint and bloody trophies, arrowhead is among them. June had moved to a corner where several spare rifles had been deposited and had already taken one into her hand when the name of her husband appeared to arrest her movements. It was but for an instant, however, for she immediately went to the loop and was about to thrust the muzzle of the piece through it when a feeling of natural aversion induced Mabel to seize her arm. No, no, no, June, said the latter, not against your own husband, though my life be the penalty. No hurt arrowhead! returned June with a slight shudder. No hurt red man at all! No fire-atom! Only scare! Mabel now comprehended the intention of June and no longer opposed it. The latter thrust the muzzle of the rifle through the loophole and, taking care to make noise enough to attract attention, she pulled the trigger. The piece had no sooner been discharged than Mabel reproached her friend for the very act that was intended to save her. You declared it was not your intention to fire, she said, and you may have destroyed your own husband. I'll run away before I fire! returned June, laughing, and going to another loop to watch the movements of her friends, laughing still heartier. See, get cover, every warrior! Think salt-water and quarter-master here! Take good care now. Heaven be praised! And now, June, I may hope for a little time to compose my thoughts to prayer that I may not die like Jenny, thinking only of life and the things of the world. June laid aside the rifle and came and seated herself near the box on which Mabel had sunk, under that physical reaction which accompanies joy as well as sorrow. She looked steadily in our heroine's face, and the latter thought that her countenance had an expression of severity mingled with its concern. Arrowhead, great warrior! said the Tuscarora's wife. All the girls of tribe, look at him much! The pale-faced beauty has eyes, too. June, what do these words that look imply? What would you say? Why you so afraid, June, shoot Arrowhead? Would it not have been horrible to see a wife destroy her own husband? No, June, rather would I have died myself. Very sure, that all? That was all, June, as God is my judge, and surely that was enough. No, no, there have been sufficient horrors today, without increasing them by an act like this. What other motive can you suspect? Don't know. Poor Tuscarora girl, very foolish. Arrowhead, great chief, and look all round him. Look of pale-faced beauty in his sleep. Great chief, like many wives. Can a chief possess more than one wife, June, among your people? Have as many as he can keep. Great hunter, Mary, often. Arrowhead got only June now, but he looked too much. See too much. Talk too much of pale-faced girl. People was conscious of this fact, which had distressed her not a little in the course of their journey, but it shocked her to hear this illusion, coming as it did from the mouth of the wife herself. She knew that habit and opinions make great differences in such matters, but in addition to the pain and mortification she experienced at being the unwilling rival of a wife, she felt an apprehension that jealousy would be but an equivocal guarantee for her personal safety in her present situation. A closer look at June, however, reassured her, for while it was easy to trace in the unpractised features of this unsophisticated being the pain of blighted affections, no distrust could have tortured the earnest expression of her honest countenance into that of treachery or hate. You will not betray me, June? People said, pressing the other's hand, and yielding to an impulse of generous confidence. You will not give up one of your own sex to the tomahawk? No tomahawk touch you. Arrowhead, no let him. If June must have sister-wife, love to have you. No June, my religion, my feelings, both forbid it, and if I could be the wife of an Indian at all, I would never take the place that is yours in a wigwam. June made no answer, but she looked gratified and even grateful. She knew that few, perhaps no Indian girl within the circle of Arrowhead's acquaintance could compare with her self-impersonal attractions, and though it might suit her husband to marry a dozen wives, she knew of no one beside Mabel whose influence she could really dread. So keen an interest, however, had she taken in the beauty, winning manners, kindness and feminine gentleness of our heroine, that when jealousy came to chill these feelings, it had rather lent strength to that interest, and under its wayward influence had actually been one of the strongest of the incentives that had induced her to risk so much in order to save her imaginary rival from the consequences of the attack that she so well knew was about to take place. In a word, June, with a wife's keenness of perception, had detected Arrowhead's admiration of Mabel, and instead of feeling that harrowing jealousy that might have rendered her rival hateful, as would have been apt to be the case with a woman unaccustomed to defer her to the superior rites of the lordly sex, she had studied the looks and character of the pale-faced beauty, until meeting with nothing to repel her own feelings, but everything to encourage them. She had got to entertain an admiration and love for her, which, though certainly very different, was scarcely less strong than that of her husband's. Arrowhead himself had sent her to warn Mabel of the coming danger, though he was ignorant that she had stolen upon the island in the rear of the assailants and was now entrenched in the citadel along with the object of their joint care. On the contrary, he supposed, as his wife had said, that Cap and Muir were in the blockhouse with Mabel, and that the attempt to repel him and his companions had been made by the men. June, sorry the lily! For so the Indian, in her poetical language, had named her harrowing, June, sorry the lily, no marry Arrowhead, his wigwam big, and a great chief must get wives enough to fill it. I thank you, June, for this preference, which is not according to the notion of us white women, returned Mabel smiling in spite of the fearful situation in which she was placed. But I may not, probably never shall, marry at all. Must have good husband, said June, marry O'Doose, if don't like Arrowhead. June, this is not a fit subject for a girl who scarcely knows if she is to live another hour or not. I would obtain some signs of my dear uncle's being alive and safe, if possible. June goes sea. Can you? Will you? Would it be safe for you to be seen on the island? Is your presence known to the warriors? And would they be pleased to find a woman on the war-path with them? All this Mabel asked in rapid connection, fearing that the answer might not be as she wished. She had thought it extraordinary that June should be of the party. And improbable as it seemed, she had fancied that the woman had covertly followed the Iroquois in her own canoe, and it got in their advance merely to give her the notice which had probably saved her life. But in all this she was mistaken, as June, in her imperfect manner, now found means to let her know. Arrowhead, though a chief, was in disgrace with his own people, and was acting with the Iroquois temporarily, though with a perfect understanding. He had a wigwam, it is true, but was seldom in it, feigning friendship for the English. He had passed the summer ostensibly in their service, while he was in truth acting for the French, and his wife journeyed with him in his many migrations, most of the distances being passed over in canoes. In a word, her presence was no secret, her husband seldom moving without her. Half of this to embolden Mabel to wish that her friend might go out, to ascertain the fate of her uncle, did June succeed in letting the other know, and it was soon settled between them that the Indian woman should quit the blockhouse with that object the moment a favorable opportunity offered. They first examined the island, as thoroughly as their position would allow, from the different loops, and found that its conquerors were preparing for a feast, having seized upon the provisions of the English and rifled the huts. Most of the stores were in the blockhouse, but enough were found outside to reward the Indians for an attack that had been attended by so little risk. A party had already removed the dead bodies, and Mabel saw that their arms were collected in a pile near the spot chosen for the banquet. June suggested that, by some signs which she understood, the dead themselves were carried into a thicket, and either buried or concealed from view. None of the more prominent objects on the island, however, were disturbed, it being the desire of the conquerors to lure the party of the sergeant into an ambush on its return. June made her companion observe a man in a tree, a lookout, as she said, to give timely notice of the approach of any boat. Although the departure of the expedition being so recent, nothing but some unexpected event would be likely to bring it back so soon. There did not appear to be any intention to attack the blockhouse immediately, but every indication, as understood by June, rather showed that it was the intention of the Indians to keep it besieged until the return of the sergeant's party, lest the signs of an assault should give a warning to eyes as practised as those of Pathfinder. The boat, however, had been secured, and was removed to the spot where the canoes of the Indians were hid in the bushes. June now announced her intention to join her friends, the moment being particularly favourable for her to quit the blockhouse. Mabel felt some distrust as they descended the latter, but at the next instant she was ashamed of the feeling, as unjust to her companion and unworthy of herself, and by the time they both stood on the ground her confidence was restored. The process of unbarring the door was conducted with the utmost caution, and when the last bar was ready to be turned, June took her station near the spot where the opening must necessarily be. The bar was just turned free of the brackets, the door was open merely wide enough to allow her body to pass, and June glided through the space. Mabel closed the door again with a convulsive movement, and as the bar turned into its place her heart beat audibly. She then felt secure, and the two other bars were turned down in a more deliberate manner. When all was fast again she ascended to the first floor, where alone she could get a glimpse of what was going on without. Long and payfully melancholy hours passed, during which Mabel had no intelligence from June. She heard the yells of the savages, for liquor had carried them beyond the bounds of precaution, and occasionally caught glimpses of their mad orgies through the loops, and at all times was conscious of their fearful presence by sounds and sights that would have chilled the blood of one who had not so lately witnessed scenes so much more terrible. Toward the middle of the day she fancied she saw a white man on the island, though his dress and wild appearance at first made her take him for a newly arrived savage. A view of his face, although it was swarthing naturally and much darkened by exposure, left no doubt that her conjecture was true, and she felt as if there was now one of a species more like her own present, and one to whom she might appeal for sucker in the last emergency. Mabel little knew, alas, how small was the influence exercised by the whites over their savage allies, when the latter had begun to taste of blood, or how slight indeed was the disposition to divert them from their cruelties. The day seemed a month by Mabel's computation, and the only part of it that did not drag were the minutes spent in prayer. She had recourse to this relief from time to time, and at each effort she found her spirit firmer, her mind more tranquil, and her resignation more confirmed. She understood the reasoning of June, and believed it highly probable that the blockhouse would be left unmolested until the return of her father, in order to entice him into an embuscade, and she felt much less apprehension of immediate danger in consequence, but the future offered little ground of hope, and her thoughts had already begun to calculate the chances of her captivity. At such moments arrowhead in his offensive admiration filled a prominent place in the background for our heroine well knew that the Indians usually carried off to their villages for the purposes of adoption, such captives as they did not slay, and that many instances had occurred in which individuals of her sex had passed the remainder of their lives in the wigwams of their conquerors. Such thoughts as these invariably drove her to her knees, and to her prayers. While the light lasted the situation of our heroine was sufficiently alarming, but as the shades of evening gradually gathered over the island it became fearfully appalling. By this time the savages had wrought themselves up to the point of fury, for they had possessed themselves of all the liquor of the English, and their outcries and gesticulations were those of men truly possessed by evil spirits. All the efforts of their French leader to restrain them were entirely fruitless, and he had wisely withdrawn to an adjacent island where he had a sort of bivouac that he might keep at a safe distance from friends so apt to run into excesses. Before quitting the spot, however, this officer, at great risk to his own life, had succeeded in extinguishing the fire and in securing the ordinary means to relight it. This precaution he took lest the Indians should burn the blockhouse, the preservation of which was necessary to the success of his future plans. He would gladly have removed all the arms also, but this he found impracticable. The warriors clinging to their knives and tomahawks would the tenacity of men who regarded a point of honour as long as a faculty was left. And to carry off the rifles, and leave behind him the very weapons that were generally used on such occasions, would have been an idle expedient. The extinguishing of the fire proved to be the most prudent measure, for no sooner was the officer's back turn than one of the warriors in fact proposed to fire the blockhouse. Arrowhead had also withdrawn from the group of drunkards as soon as he found that they were losing their senses, and had taken possession of a hut, where he had thrown himself on the straw and sought the rest the two wakeful and watchful knights had rendered necessary. It followed that no one was left among the Indians to care for Mabel, if indeed any knew of her existence at all, and the proposal of the drunkard was received with yells of delight by eight or ten more as much intoxicated and habitually as brutal as himself. This was the fearful moment for Mabel. The Indians, in their present condition, were reckless of any rifles that the blockhouse might hold, though they did retain dim recollections of its containing living beings, an additional incentive to their enterprise, and they approached its base whooping and leaping like demons. As yet they were excited, not overcome by the liquor they had drunk. The first attempt was made at the door, against which they ran in a body, but the solid structure which was built entirely of logs defied their efforts. The rush of a hundred men with the same object would have been useless. This Mabel, however, did not know, and her heart seemed to leap into her mouth as she heard the heavy shock at each renewed effort. At length, when she found that the door resisted these assaults, as if it were of stone, neither trembling nor yielding, and only betraying its not being a part of the wall, by rattling a little on its heavy hinges, her courage revived and she seized the first moment of a cessation to look down through the loop, in order if possible to learn the extent of her danger. A silence, for which it was not easy to account, stimulated her curiosity, for nothing is so alarming to those who are conscious of the presence of imminent danger as to be unable to trace its approach. Mabel found that two or three of the Iroquois had been raking the embers, where they had found a few small coals, and with these they were endeavoring to light a fire. The interests with which they labored, the hope of destroying, and the force of habit, enabled them to act intelligently and in unison, so long as their fell object was kept in view. A white man would have abandoned the attempt to light a fire in despair, with coals that came out of the ashes resembling sparks, but these children of the forest had many expedients that were unknown to civilization. By the aid of a few dry leaves, which they alone knew where to seek, a blaze was finally kindled, and then the addition of a few light sticks made sure of the advantage that had been obtained. When Mabel stooped down over the loop the Indians were making a pile of brush against the door, and as she remained gazing at their proceedings she saw the twigs ignite, the flame dart from branch to branch, until the whole pile was crackling and snapping under a bright blaze. The Indians now gave a yell of triumph and returned to their companions, well assured that the work of destruction was commenced. Mabel remained looking down, scarcely able to tear herself away from the spot, so intense and engrossing was the interest she felt in the progress of the fire. As the pile kindled throughout, however, the flames mounted, until they flashed so near her eyes as to compel her to retreat. Just as she reached the opposite side of the room to which she had retired in her alarm, a forked stream shot up through the loophole, the lid of which she had left open, and illuminated the rude apartment, with Mabel and her desolation. Our heroine now naturally enough supposed that her hour was come, for the door, the only means of retreat, had been blocked up by the brush and fire with hellish ingenuity, and she addressed herself, as she believed, for the last time, to her maker in prayer. Her eyes were closed, and for more than a minute her spirit was abstracted, but the interests of the world too strongly divided her feelings to be altogether suppressed, and when they involuntarily opened again she perceived that the streak of flame was no longer flaring in the room, though the wood around the little aperture had kindled, and the blaze was slowly mounting under the impulsion of a current of air that sucked inward. A barrel of water stood in a corner, and Mabel, acting more by instinct than by reason, caught up a vessel, filled it, and pouring it on the wood with a trembling hand, succeeded in extinguishing the fire at that particular spot. The smoke prevented her from looking down again for a couple minutes, and when she did her heart beat high with delight and hope at finding that the pile of blazing brush had been overturned and scattered, and that water had been thrown on the logs of the door, which were still smoking, though no longer burning. Who is there? said Mabel, with her mouth at the loop. What friendly hand has a merciful providence sent to my sucker? A light footstep was audible below, and one of those gentle pushes at the door was heard, which just moved the massive beams on the hinges. Who wishes to enter? Is it you, dear, dear uncle? Salt water, no here. St. Lawrence's sweet water was the answer. Open quick, want to come in. The step of Mabel was never lighter, or her movements more quick and natural, than while she was descending the ladder and turning the bars, for all her motions were earnest and active. This time she thought only of her escape, and she opened the door with a rapidity which did not admit of caution. Her frisked impulse was to rush into the open air, in the blind hope of quitting the blockhouse. But June repulsed the attempt, and entering she coolly barred the door again before she would notice Mabel's eager efforts to embrace her. Bless you, bless you, June! cried our heroine most fervently. You are sent by Providence to be my guardian angel! No hugs so tight!" answered the Tuscarora woman. Pale-faced women all cry, or all laugh, let June fasten door. Mabel became more rational, and in a few minutes the two were again in the upper room, seated as before, hand in hand, all feeling of distress between them being banished. Now tell me, June, Mabel commenced as soon as she had given and received one warm embrace. Have you seen or heard ought of my poor uncle? Don't know! No one see him, no one hear him, no one know anything. Saltwater running to river, I think, for I know find him. Quartermaster gone too. I look and look and look. But no see him, one, the other, no where. Bless it be God! They must have escaped, though the means are not known to us. I thought I saw a Frenchman on the island, June. Yes, French captain come, but he go away too. Plenty of Indian on island. Oh, June, June, are there no means to prevent my beloved father from falling into the hands of his enemies? Don't know! Tinked at warrior's weight in ambush, and Yankees must lose scalp. Surely, surely, June, you, who have done so much for the daughter, will not refuse to help the father. Don't know, father! Don't love, father! June, help her own people! Help arrowhead! Husband loves scalp. June, this is not yourself. I cannot, will not, believe that you wish to see our men murdered. June turned her dark eyes quietly on Mabel, and for a moment her look was stern, though it was soon changed into one of melancholy compassion. Lily, Yankees girl? She said, as one asked a question. Certainly, and any Yankees girl, I would save my countrymen from slaughter. Very good, if can. June know Yankees. June Tuscarora. Got Tuscarora husband. Tuscarora heart. Tuscarora feeling. All over Tuscarora. Lily wouldn't run and tell French that her father was coming to gain victory. Perhaps not. Returned Mabel, pressing a hand on a brain that felt bewildered. Perhaps not. But you serve me, aid me. Have saved me, June. Why have you done this if you only feel as a Tuscarora? Don't only feel as Tuscarora. Feel as girl. Feel as squaw. Love pretty Lily, and put it in my bosom. Mabel melted into tears, and she pressed the affectionate creature to her heart. It was near a minute before she could renew the discourse, but then she succeeded in speaking more calmly and with greater coherence. Let me know the worst, June, said she. Tonight your people are feasting. What do they intend to do to-morrow? Don't know, afraid to see Arrowhead, afraid to ask question. Tink hide away till Yankees come back. Will they not attempt anything against the blockhouse? You have seen what they can threaten if they will. Too much rum, Arrowhead sleep, or no dare. French captain gone away, or no dare. All go to sleep now. And you think I am safe for this night, at least? Too much rum, if Lily liked June, might too much for her people. I am like you, June, if a wish to serve my countrymen can make a resemblance with one as courageous as yourself. No, no, no. Mother June in a low voice. No God-heart, and June no let you, if had. June's mutter prisoner wants, and warriors got drunk. Mutter tomahawk dem all. Such the way red-skinned women do when people in danger and one scalp. You say what is true, return Mabel shuddering and unconsciously dropping June's hand. I cannot do that. I have neither the strength, the courage nor the will to dip my hands in blood. Tink that too, then stay where you be. Blockhouse good, got no scalp. You believe them that I am safe here, at least until my father and his people return? No so, no dare touch blockhouse in mourning. Dark. All still now. Drink rum till head fall down, and sleep like log. Might I not escape? Are there not several canoes on the island? Might I not get one and go and give my father notice of what has happened? Know how to paddle? Demanded June, glancing her eye furtively at her companion. Not so well as yourself, perhaps, but enough to get out of sight before morning. What do then? Couldn't paddle six, ten, eight mile? I do not know. I would do much to warn my father and the excellent pathfinder and all the rest of the danger they are in. Like pathfinder? All like him who know him. You would like him? Nay, love him if you only knew his heart. Know like him at all. Too good rifle, too good eye, too much chute Iroquois and June's people, must get his scalp if can. And I must save it if I can, June. In this respect, then, we are opposed to each other. I will go and find a canoe the instant they are all asleep and quit the island. No can, June won't let you, call Arrowhead. June, you would not betray me? You could not give me up after all you have done for me? Just so, returned June, making a backward gesture with her hand, and speaking with the warmth and earnestness Mabel had never witnessed in her before. Call Arrowhead in loud voice, one call from wife, wake a warrior up. June, no let Lily help enemy, no let Indian hurt Lily. I understand you, June, and feel the nature and justice of your sentiments. And after all it were better that I should remain here, for I have most probably overrated my strength. But tell me one thing, if my uncle comes in the night and asks to be admitted, you will let me open the door of the blockhouse that he may enter? Sarton, he prisoner here, and June like prisoner better than scalp. Scalp good for honor, prisoner good for feeling. But saltwater, hide so close, he don't know where he be himself. Here June laughed in her girlish, mirthful way, for to her scenes of violence were too familiar to leave impressions sufficiently deep to change her natural character. Along a discursive dialogue now followed, in which Mabel endeavored to obtain clearer notions of her actual situation, under a faint hope that she might possibly be enabled to turn some of the facts she had thus learned to advantage. June answered all her interrogatories simply, but with a caution which showed she fully distinguished between that which was immaterial and that which might endanger the safety or embarrass the future operations of her friends. The substance of the information she gave may be summed up as follows. Arrow headed long been in communication with the French, though this was the first occasion on which he had entirely thrown aside the mask. He no longer intended to trust himself among the English, for he had discovered traces of distrust, particularly in Pathfinder, and with Indian bravado he now rather wished to blazen than to conceal his treachery. He had led the party of warriors in the attack on the island, subject, however, to the supervision of the Frenchman who has been mentioned, though June declined in saying whether he had been the means of discovering the position of a place which had been thought to be so concealed from the enemy or not. On this point she would say nothing, but she admitted that she and her husband had been watching the departure of the scud at the time they were overtaken and captured by the cutter. The French had obtained their information of the precise position of the station, but very recently. Mabel felt apang when she thought that there were covert illusions of the Indian woman which would convey the meaning that the intelligence had come from a pale face in the employment of Duncan of Lundy. This was intimated, however, rather than said, and when Mabel had time to reflect on her companion's words she found room to hope that she had misunderstood her and that Jasper Western would yet come out of the affair freed from every injurious imputation. June did not hesitate to confess that she had been sent to the island to ascertain the precise number and the occupations of those who had been left on it, though she also betrayed in her naive way that the wish to serve Mabel had induced her principally to consent to come. In consequence of her report and information otherwise obtained, the enemy was aware of precisely the force that could be brought against them. They also knew the number of the men who had gone with Sergeant Dunham and were acquainted with the object he had in view, though they were ignorant of the spot where he expected to meet the French boats. It would have been a pleasant sight to witness the eager desire of each of these two sincere females to ascertain all that might be of consequence to their respective friends, and yet the native delicacy with which each refrained from pressing the other to make revelations which would have been improper, as well as the sensitive, almost intuitive feeling with which each avoided saying ought that might prove injurious to her own nation. As regards each other, there was perfect confidence, as regarded their respective people, entire fidelity. Dunham was quite as anxious as Mabel could be on any other point to know where the sergeant had gone and when he was expected to return, but she abstained from putting the question with the delicacy that would have done honour to the highest civilisation, nor did she once frame any other inquiry in a way to lead indirectly to a betrayal of the much-desired information on that particular point. Though when Mabel of her own accord touched on any matter that might by possibility throw a light on the subject, she listened with an intentness which almost suspended respiration. In this manner the hours passed away unheeded, for both were too much interested to think of rest. Nature asserted her rights, however, towards mourning, and Mabel was persuaded to lie down on one of the straw beds provided for the soldiers, where she soon fell into a deep sleep. June lay near her, and a quiet rain on the whole island, as profound as if the dominion of the forest had never been invaded by men. When Mabel awoke the light of the sun was streaming in through the loopholes, and she found that the day was considerably advanced, June still lay near her, sleeping as tranquilly as if she were posed on, we will not say down, for the superior civilisation of our times repudiates the simile, but on a French mattress, and as profoundly as if she had never experienced concern. The movements of Mabel, notwithstanding, soon awakened one so accustomed to vigilance, and then the two took a survey of what was passing around them by means of the friendly apertures. End of Chapter 23 What had the eternal maker need of thee, the world in his continual course to keep? That doest all things defaced, now let us see the beauty of his work. Indeed in sleep, the slothful body that doth love to steep his lustless limbs, and drown his baser mind, doth praise thee oft, and off from Stygian deep, calls thee his goddess, in his error blind, and great dame nature's handmade, cheering every kind. From the Fairy Queen The tranquillity of the previous night was not contradicted by the movements of the day, although Mabel in June went to every loophole, not a sign of the presence of a living being on the island was at first to be seen, themselves accepted. There was a smothered fire on the spot where McNabb and his comrades had cooked, as if the smoke which curled upwards from it was intended as allure to the absent, and all around the huts had been restored to former order and arrangement. Mabel started involuntarily when her eye at length fell on a group of three men, dressed in the scarlet of the fifty-fifth, seated on the grass in lounging attitudes as if they chatted in listless security, and her blood curdled as, on a second look, she traced the bloodless faces and glassy eyes of the dead. They were very near the blockhouse, so near indeed as to have been overlooked at the first eager inquiry, and there was a mocking levity in their postures and gestures, for their limbs were stiffening in different attitudes, intended to resemble life, at which the soul revolted. Still, horrible as these objects were to those near enough to discover the frightful discrepancy between their assumed and their real characters, their arrangement had been made with so much art that it would have deceived a negligent observer at the distance of a hundred yards. After carefully examining the shores of the island, June pointed out to her companion the fourth soldier, seated, with his feet hanging over the water, his back fastened to a sapling, and holding a fishing-rod in his hand. The scalpless heads were covered with the caps, and all appearance of blood had been carefully washed from each countenance. Mabel sickened at this sight, which not only did so much violence to all her notions of propriety, but which was in itself so revolting and so opposed to natural feeling. She withdrew to a seat and hid her face and her apron for several minutes, until a low call from June again drew her to a loophole. The latter then pointed out the body of Jenny, seemingly standing in the door of a hut, leaning forward as if to look at the group of men, her cap fluttering in the wind, and her hand grasping a broom. The distance was too great to distinguish the features very accurately, but Mabel fancied that the jaw had been depressed, as if to distort the mouth into a sort of horrible laugh. June! June! she exclaimed. This exceeds all I have ever heard or imagined as possible in the treachery and artifices of your people. Tuscarora, very cunning, said June in a way to show that she rather approved of, then condemned the uses to which the dead bodies had been implied. Do soldier no harm now! Do ear quite good! Got the scout first! Now make bodies work! Buy and buy! Burn them! This speech told Mabel how far she was separated from her friend and character, and it was several minutes before she could again address her. But this temporary aversion was lost on June, who set about preparing their simple breakfast in a way to show how insensible she was to feelings and others which her own habits taught her to discard. Mabel ate sparingly, and her companion, as if nothing had happened. Then they had leisure again for their thoughts and for further surveys of the island. Our heroine, though devoured with a feverish desire to be always at the loops, seldom went that she did not immediately quit them in disgust, though compelled by her apprehensions to return again in a few minutes, called by the rustling of leaves or the sighing of the wind. It was indeed a solemn thing to look out upon that deserted spot, peopled by the dead in the panoply of the living, and thrown into the attitudes and acts of careless merriment and rude enjoyment. The effect on our heroine was much as if she had found herself an observer of the revelries of demons. Throughout the live-long day not an Indian nor a Frenchman was to be seen, a night closed over the frightful but silent masquerade with a steady and unalterable progress with which the earth obeys her laws, indifferent to the petty actors and petty scenes that are in daily bustle and daily occurrence on her bosom. The night was far more quiet than that which had preceded it, and Mabel slept with an increasing confidence, for she now felt satisfied that her own fate would not be decided until the return of her father. The following day he was expected, however, and when our heroine awoke, she ran eagerly to the loops in order to ascertain the state of the weather and the aspect of the skies, as well as the condition of the island. There lounged the fearful group on the grass, the fishermen still hung over the water, seemingly intent on his sport, and the distorted countenance of Jenny glared from out the hut in horrible contortions. But the weather had changed, the wind blew fresh from the southward, and though the air was bland it was filled with the elements of storm. "'This grows more and more difficult to bear, June,' Mabel said, when she left the window. "'I could even prefer to see the enemy than to look any longer on this fearful array of the dead. Hush! Here they come!' June thought here a cry like a warrior's shout when he take a scalp. "'What mean you? There is no more butchery. There can be no more.' "'Salt water!' exclaimed June, laughing as she stood peeping through her loophole. "'My dear uncle, thank God! He then lives. Oh, June, June, you will not let them harm him!' "'June pours squaw! What warrior think of what she say? Arrowhead, bring him here!' By this time Mabel was at a loop, and sure enough there was cap in the quartermaster in the hands of the Indians, eight or ten of whom were conducting them to the foot of the block. For by this capture the enemy now well knew there could be no man in the building. Mabel scarcely breathed until a whole party stood ranged directly before the door when she was rejoiced to see that the French officer was among them. A low conversation followed, in which both the white leader and Arrowhead spoke earnestly to their captives, when the quartermaster called out to her in a voice loud enough to be heard. "'Pretty Mabel! Pretty Mabel!' said he. "'Look out of one of the loopholes and pity our condition. We are threatened with instant death unless you open the door to the conquerors. Relent, then, or will not be wearing our scalps half an hour from this blessed moment!' Mabel thought there were mockery and levity in this appeal, and its manner rather fortified than weakened her resolution to hold the place as long as possible. "'Speak to me, uncle,' said she, with her mouth at a loop, and tell me what I ought to do.' "'Thank God! Thank God!' ejaculated Cap. "'The sound of your sweet voice, Magnet, lightens my heart of a heavy load, for I feared you had shared the fate of poor Jenny. My breast has felt the last four and twenty hours as if a ton of kentledge had been stowed in it. You asked me what you ought to do, child, and I do not know how to advise you, though you are my own sister's daughter. The most I can say just now, my poor girl, is most heartily to curse the day you or I ever saw this bit of fresh water.' "'But, uncle, is your life in danger? Do you think I ought to open the door?' "'A round turn and two half-hitches make a fast belay, and I would counsel no one who is out of the hands of these devils to unbar or unfasten anything in order to fall into them. As to the quartermaster and myself, we are both elderly men, and not of much account to mankind in general, as on his pathfinder would say, and it can make no great odds to him whether he balances the purse's books this year or the next. And as for myself, why, if I were on the seaboard, I should know what to do. But up here, in this watery wilderness, I can only say that if I were behind that bit of a bulwark, it would take a good deal of Indian logic to rouse me out of it.' "'You'll not be mindin' all your uncle says, pretty Mabel,' put him muir. For distress is obviously fast unsettling his faculties, and he is far from calculating all the necessities of the emergency. We are in the hands here of very considerate and gentlemanly parson's. It must be acknowledged, and one has little occasion to apprehend disagreeable violence. The casualties that have occurred are the common incidents of war, and nor can change our sentiments of the enemy, for they are far from indicating that any injustice will be done the prisoners. I'm sure that neither master Capnall myself has any cause of complaint since we have given ourselves up to master Arrowhead, who reminds me of a Roman or a Spartan by his virtues and moderation. But you'll be a-rememberin' that usages differ, and that our scalps may be lawful sacrifices to appease the mains of fallen foes, unless you save them by capitulation.' "'I shall do wiser to keep within the blockhouse until the fate of the island is settled,' returned Mabel. "'Our enemies can feel no concern on account of one like me, knowing that I can do them no harm, and I greatly prefer to remain here as more befitting my sex and years.' "'If nothing but your convenience were concern, Mabel, we should all cheerfully acquiesce in your wishes. But these gentlemen fancy that the work will aid their operations, and they have a strong desire to possess it. To be frank with you, finding myself and your uncle in a very peculiar situation, I acknowledge that, to avert consequences, I have assumed the power that belongs to His Majesty's commission, and entered into a verbal capitulation, by which I have engaged to give up the blockhouse and the whole island. It is the fortune of war, and must be submitted to. So open the door, pretty Mabel, forthwith, and confide yourself to the care of those who know how to treat beauty and virtue in distress. There's no courtier in Scotland more complacent than this chief, or who is more familiar with the laws of decorum.' "'No, leave blockhouse!' muttered June, who stood at Mabel's side, attentive to all that pass. Blockhouse, good! Got no scalp!' Our heroine might have yielded but for this appeal. For it began to appear to her that the wisest course would be to conciliate the enemy by concessions, instead of exasperating them by resistance. They must know that Muir and her uncle were in their power, that there was no man in the building, and she fancied they might proceed to batter down the door, or cut their way through the logs with axes, if she obstinately refused to give them peaceable admission, since there was no longer any reason to dread the rifle. But the words of June induced her to hesitate, and the earnest pressure of the hand and intriguing looks of her companion strengthened a resolution that was faltering. "'No prisoner yet!' whispered June. "'Let them make prisoner before they take prisoner. Talk big. June manage them.' Mabel now began to parlay more resolutely with Muir, for her uncle seemed disposed to quiet his conscience by holding his tongue, and she plainly intimated that it was not her intention to yield the building. "'You forget the capitulation, Mr. Smabel,' said Muir. The honor of one of his majesty's servants is concerned, and the honor of his majesty through his servant. You will remember the finesse and delicacy that belong to military honor?' "'I know enough, Mr. Muir, to understand that you have no command in this expedition, and therefore can have no right to yield the blockhouse. "'And I remember, moreover, to have heard my dear father say that a prisoner loses all his authority for the time being.' "'Rank sofastry, pretty Mabel, and treason to the king, as well as dishonoring his commission and discrediting his name. You'll not be persevering in your intentions when your butter judgment has had leisure to reflect and to make conclusions on matters and circumstances.' "'I,' put in cap, this is a circumstance, and be damned to it.' "'No mind what the uncle say,' ejaculated June, who was occupied in a far corner of the room. "'Blockhouse good, got no scalp.' "'I shall remain as I am, Mr. Muir, until I get some tidings of my father. He will return in the course of the next ten days.' "'Ah, Mabel, this artifice will not deceive the enemy, who by means that would be unintelligible, did not our suspicions rest on an unhappy young man with too much plausibility, are familiar with all our doings and plans, and well know that the son will not set before the worthy sergeant and his companions will be in their power. "'How he yield! Submission to Providence is truly a Christian virtue.' "'Mr. Muir, you appear to be deceived in the strength of this work, and to fancy it is weaker than it is. Do you desire to see what I can do in the way of defense, if so disposed?' "'I didn't mind if I do,' answered the quartermaster, who always grew scotch as he grew interested. "'What do you think of that, then? Look at the loop of the upper story.' "'As soon as Mabel had spoken, all eyes were turned upward, and beheld the muzzle of a rifle cautiously thrust through a hole, June having resorted again to a ruse which had already proved so successful. The result did not disappoint expectation. No sooner did the Indians catch sight of the fatal weapon than they leaped aside, and in less than a minute every man among them had sought a cover. The French officer kept his eye on the barrel of the piece in order to ascertain that it was not pointed in his particular direction, and he coolly took a pinch of snuff. As neither Muir nor Cap had anything to apprehend from the quarter in which the others were menaced, they kept their ground. "'Be wise, my pretty Mabel, be wise!' exclaimed the former, and not be provoked in useless contention. On the name of all the kings of Alban, who have you closeted with you in that wooden tower that seemed so bloody-minded? There is necromancy about this matter, and all our characters may be involved in the explanation.' "'What do you think of the Pathfinder, Master Muir, for a garrison to so strong a post?' cried Mabel, resorting to an equivocation which the circumstances rendered very excusable. What will your French and Indian companions think of the aim of the Pathfinder's rifle?' "'Bear gently on the unfortunate pretty Mabel, and do not confound the king's servants, may heaven bless him and all his royal lineage, with the king's enemies. If Pathfinder be indeed in the blockhouse, let him speak, and we will hold our negotiations directly with him. He knows us as friends, and we fear no evil at his hands, and least of all to myself, for our generous mind is apt to render rivalry in a certain interest a sure ground of respect and amity, since admiration of the same woman proves a community of feeling and tastes.' The reliance on Pathfinder's friendship did not extend beyond the quartermaster and cap, however, for even the French officer, who had hitherto stood his ground so well, shrank back at the sound of the terrible name. So unwilling indeed did this individual, a man of iron-nerves, and one long accustomed to the dangers of the peculiar warfare in which he was engaged, appear to remain exposed to the assaults of Kildir, whose reputation throughout all that frontier was as well established as that of Marlborough in Europe, that he did not disdain to seek a cover, insisting that his two prisoners should follow him. Mabel was too glad to be rid of her enemies to lament the departure of her friends, though she kissed her hand to cap through the loop, and called out to him in terms of affection as he moved slowly and unwillingly away. The enemy now seemed disposed to abandon all attempts on the blockhouse for the present, and June, who had ascended to a trap in the roof, once the best view was to be obtained, reported that the whole party had assembled to eat on a distant and sheltered part of the island, where Mure and Cap were quietly sharing in the good things which were going, as if they had no concern on their minds. This information greatly relieved Mabel, and she began to turn her thoughts again to the means of affecting her own escape, or at least of letting her father know of the danger that had waited him. The sergeant was expected to return that afternoon, and she knew that a moment gained or lost might decide whether she had a moment gained or lost might decide his fate. Three or four hours flew by. The island was again buried in a profound quiet. The day was wearing away, and yet Mabel had decided on nothing. June was in the basement, preparing their frugal meal, and Mabel herself had ascended to the roof, which was provided with a trap which allowed her to go out on top of the building, whence she commanded the best view of surrounding objects that the island possessed. Still it was limited, and much obstructed by the tops of trees. The anxious girl did not dare to trust her person in sight, knowing well that the unrestrained passions of some savage might induce him to send a bullet through her brain. She merely kept her head out of the trap, therefore. Wence, in the course of the afternoon, she made as many surveys of the different channels about the island as Anne, Sister Anne, took of the environs of the castle of Bluebeard. The sun had actually set. No intelligence had been received from the boats, and Mabel ascended to the roof to take a last look, hoping that the party would arrive in the darkness, which would at least prevent the Indians from rendering their embuscade so fatal as it might otherwise prove, and which possibly might enable her to give some more intelligible signal, by means of fire, than it would otherwise be in her power to do. Her eye had turned carefully round the whole horizon, and she was just on the point of drawing in her person when an object that struck her as new caught her attention. The islands lay grouped so closely that six or eight different channels or passages between them were in view, and in one of the most covered, concealed in a great measure by the bushes of the shore lay what a second look assured her was a bark canoe. It contained a human being beyond a question. Confident that if an enemy her signal could do no harm, and if a friend that it might do good, the eager girl waved a little flag towards the stranger, which she had prepared for her father, taking care that it should not be seen from the island. Mabel had repeated her signal eight or ten times in vain, and she began to despair of its being noticed when a sign was given in return by the wave of a paddle, and the man so far discovered himself as to let her see it was Chingachuk. Here then at last was a friend, one, two, who was able, and she doubted not would be willing to aid her. From that instant her courage and her spirits revived. The Mohican had seen her, must have recognized her, as he knew that she was of the party, and no doubt as soon as it was sufficiently dark he would take the steps necessary to release her. That he was aware of the presence of the enemy was apparent by the great caution he observed, and she had every reliance on his prudence and address. The principal difficulty now existed with June, for Mabel had seen too much of her fidelity to her own people, relieved as it was by sympathy for herself to believe she would consent to a hostile Indians entering the blockhouse, or indeed to her leaving it with a view to defeat Arrowhead's plans. The half-hour which succeeded the discovery of the presence of the great serpent was the most painful of Mabel Dunham's life. She saw the means of affecting all she wished, as it might be within reach of her hand, and yet it eluded her grasp. She knew June's decision and coolness, notwithstanding all her gentleness and womanly feeling, and at last she came reluctantly to the conclusion that there was no other way of attaining her end than by deceiving her tried companion and protector. It was revolting to one so sincere and natural, so pure of heart, and so much disposed to ingenuousness as Mabel Dunham to practice deception on a friend like June, but her own father's life was at stake, her companion would receive no positive injury, and she had feelings and interests directly touching herself which would have removed greater scruples. As soon as it was dark Mabel's heart began to beat with increased violence, and she adopted and changed her plan of proceeding at least a dozen times in a single hour. June was always the source of her greatest embarrassment, for she did not well see, first, how she was to ascertain when Chingachkoek was at the door, where she doubted not he would soon appear, and secondly how she was to admit him, without giving the alarm to her watchful companion. Time pressed, however, for the Mohican might come and go away again, unless she was ready to receive him. It would be too hazardous to the Delaware to remain long on the island, and it became absolutely necessary to determine on some course, even at the risk of choosing one that was indiscreet. After running over various projects in her mind, therefore, Mabel came to her companion and said, with as much calmness as she could assume, Are you not afraid, June, now your people believe Pathfinder is in the blockhouse, that they will come and try to set it on fire? No tink such tink! No burned blockhouse! That's good! Got no scalp! June, we cannot know! They hid because they believed what I told them of Pathfinder's being with us. Believe fear. Fear come quick, go quick. Fear make run away. Wit make come back. Fear make warrior fool, as well as young girl. Here June laughed, as her sex is apt to laugh when anything particularly ludicrous crosses their youthful fancies. I feel uneasy, June, and wish you yourself would go up again to the roof and look out upon the island, to make certain that nothing is plotting against us. You know the signs of what your people intend to do better than I. June go, lily wish, but very well know that Indians sleep. Wait for the Pathfinder. Warrior eat, drink, sleep all time, when don't fight and go on war-trail. Den never sleep, eat, drink, never feel. Warrior sleep now. God send it may be so, but go up, dear June, and look well about you. Danger may come when we least expect it. June arose and prepared to ascend to the roof, but she paused with her foot on the first round of the ladder. Mabel's heart beat so violently that she was fearful its throbs would be heard, and she fancied that some gleamings of her real intentions had crossed the mind of her friend. She was right in part. The Indian woman having actually stopped to consider whether there was any indiscretion in what she was about to do. At first the suspicion that Mabel intended to escape flashed across her mind. Then she rejected it on the ground that the pale face had no means of getting off the island, and that the blockhouse was much the most secure place she could find. The next thought was that Mabel had detected some sign of the near approach of her father. This idea too lasted but an instant, for June entertained some such opinion of her companion's ability to understand symptoms of this sort, symptoms that had escaped her own sagacity. As a woman of high fashion entertains of the accomplishments of her maid, nothing else in the way offering she began slowly to mount the ladder. Just as she reached the upper floor a lucky thought suggested itself to our heroine, and by expressing it in a hurried but natural manner she gained great advantage in executing her projected scheme. I will go down, she said, and listen by the door, June, while you are on the roof, and we will thus be on our guard at the same time, above and below. Though June thought this savoured of unnecessary caution, well knowing that no one could enter the building unless aided from within, nor any serious danger menaced them from the exterior without giving sufficient warning, she attributed the proposition to Mabel's ignorance and alarm, and as it was made apparently with frankness it was received without distrust. By these means our heroine was enabled to descend to the door as her friend ascended to the roof. The distance between the two was now too great to admit of conversation, and for three or four minutes one was occupied in looking about her as well as the darkness would allow, and the other in listening at the door with as much intentness as if all her senses were absorbed in the single faculty of hearing. June discovered nothing from her elevated stand, the obscurity indeed almost forbade the hope of such a result, but it would not be easy to describe the sensation with which Mabel thought she perceived a slight and guarded push against the door. Fearful that all might not be as she wished, and anxious to let Shingachuk know that she was near, she began, though in tremulous and low notes, to sing. So profound was the stillness of the moment that the sound of the unsteady warbling ascended to the roof, and in a minute June began to descend. A slight tap at the door was heard immediately after. Mabel was bewildered, for there was no time to lose. Hope proved stronger than fear, and with unsteady hands she commenced unbarring the door. The moccasin of June was heard on the floor above her when only a single bar was turned. The second was released as her form reached half-way down the lower ladder. "'What you do?' exclaimed June angrily. "'Run away! Mad! Leave Blockhouse! Blockhouse, good!' The hands of both were on the last bar, and it would have been cleared from the fastenings but for a vigorous shove from without, which jammed the wood. A short struggle ensued, though both were disinclined to violence. June would probably have prevailed had not another and a more vigorous push from without forced the bar past the trifling impediment that held it, when the door opened. The form of a man was seen to enter, and both the females rushed up the ladder as if equally afraid of the consequences. The stranger secured the door, and first examining the lower room with great care he cautiously ascended the ladder. June, as soon as it became dark, had closed the loops of the principal floor and lighted a candle. By means of this dim taper, then, the two females stood in expectation waiting to ascertain the person of their visitor, whose wary ascent of the ladder was distinctly audible, though sufficiently deliberate. It would not be easy to say which was the more astonished on finding, when the stranger had got through the trap, that pathfinder stood before them. God, be praised! Mabel exclaimed for the idea that the blockhouse would be impregnable with such a garrison at once crossed her mind. Oh, pathfinder! What has become of my father? The sergeant is safe as yet, and victorious, though it is not in the gift of man to say what will be the end of it. Is not that the wife of Arrowhead skulking in the corner there? Speak not of her reproachfully, pathfinder. I owe her my life, my present security. Tell me what has happened to my father's party, why you are here, and I will relate all the horrible events that have passed upon this island. Few words will do the last, Mabel, for one used to Indian devouries needs but little explanations on such a subject. Nothing turned out as we had hoped with the expedition, for the sergeant was on the lookout, and he met us with all the information heart could desire. We ambushed three boats, drove the Frenchers out of them, got possession and sunk them, according to orders, in the deepest part of the channel, and the savages of Upper Canada will fare badly for Indian goods this winter. Both powder and ball, too, will be scarcer among them than keen hunters and active warriors may relish. We did not lose a man, or even have a skin-barked. Nor do I think the enemy suffered to speak of. In short, Mabel, it has been just such an expedition as Lundy likes, much harm to the foe, and little harm to ourselves. Ah, pathfinder, I fear when Major Duncan comes to hear the whole of the sad tale he will find reason to regret he ever undertook the affair. I know what you mean, I know what you mean. But by telling my story straight you will understand it better. As soon as the sergeant found himself successful, he sent me and the serpent off in canoes to tell you how matters had turned out, and he is following with the two boats, which being so much heavier, cannot arrive before morning. I parted from Chinggach cook this forenoon, if being agreed that he should come up one set of channels, and I another, to see that the path was clear. I've not seen the chief since. Mabel now explained the manner in which she had discovered the Mohican, and her expectation that he would yet come to the blockhouse. Not he! Not he! A regular scout will never get behind walls or logs so long as he can keep the open air and find useful employment. I should not have come myself, Mabel, but I promised the sergeant to comfort you and to look after your safety. Ah, it's me. I reconordered the island with a heavy heart this forenoon, and there was a bitter hour, when I fancied you might be among the slain. By what lucky accident were you prevented from paddling up boldly to the island and from falling into the hands of the enemy? By such an accident, Mabel, as Providence employs to tell the hound where to find the deer, and the deer how to throw off the hound. No, no, these artifices and devouries with dead bodies may deceive the soldiers of the Fifty-Fifth and the King's officers, but they are all lost upon men who have passed their days in the forest. I came down the channel in face of the pretended fishermen, and though the reptiles have set up the poor wretch with art, it was not ingenious enough to take in a practice eye. The rod was held too high, for the Fifty-Fifth have learned to fish at Oswego, if they never knew how before, and then the man was too quiet for one who got neither prey nor bite. But we never come in upon a post blindly, and I have lain outside a garrison the whole night, because they had changed their sentries and their mode of standing guard. Neither the serpent nor myself would be likely to be taken in by these clumsy contrivances, which were most probably intended for the scotch, who were cunning enough in some particulars, though anything but witches when Indian sarc-inventions are in the wind. "'Do you think my father and his men may yet be deceived?' said Mabel quickly. "'Not if I can prevent it, Mabel. You say the serpent is on the lookout, too, so there is a double chance of our succeeding in letting him know his danger, though it is by no means sartan by which channel the party may come.' "'Pathfinder,' said our heroine solemnly, for the frightful scene she had witnessed, had clothed death with unusual horrors. "'Pathfinder, you have professed love for me. A wish to make me your wife?' "'I did venture to speak on that subject, Mabel, and the sergeant has even lately said that you are kindly disposed, but I am not a man to persecute the thing I love. "'Hear me, Pathfinder. I respect you, honor you, revere you. Save my father from this dreadful death, and I can worship you. Here is my hand, as a solemn pledge for my faith when you come to claim it.' "'Bless you, bless you, Mabel. This is more than I desire. More I fear than I shall know how to profit by as I ought. It was not wanting, however, to make me serve the sergeant. We are old comrades and know each other a life. Though I fear me, Mabel, being a father's comrade is not always the best recommendation with a daughter. You want no other recommendation than your own acts, your courage, your fidelity. All that you do and say, Pathfinder, my reason approves, and the heart will, nay, it shall follow.' "'This is a happiness I little expected this night. But we are in God's hands, and He will protect us in His own way. These are sweet words, Mabel, but they were not wanting to make me do all that man can do in the present circumstances. They will not lessen my endeavours, neither.' "'Now we understand each other, Pathfinder,' Mabel added hoarsely. Let us not lose one of the precious moments which may be of incalculable value. Can we not get into your canoe and go and meet my father?' "'That is not the course I advise. I don't know by which channel the sergeant will come, and there are twenty. Rely on it, the serpent will be winding his way through the mall. No, no, my advice is to remain here. The logs of this blockhouse are still green, and it will not be easy to set them on fire, and I can make good the place, bating of burning again a tribe. The Iroquois Nation cannot dislodge me from this fortress, so long as we can keep the flames off it. The sergeant is now camped on some island and will not come in until morning. If we hold the block, we can give him timely warning by firing rifles, for instance, and should he determine to attack the savages, as a man of his temper will be very likely to do, the possession of this building will be of great account in the affair. No. No. My judgment says remain if the object be to serve the sergeant, though escape for our two selves will be no very difficult manner. Stay, murmured Mabel, stay for God's sake, Pathfinder, anything, everything, to save my father. Yes, that is nature. I am glad to hear you say this, Mabel, for I own a wish to see the sergeant fairly supported. As the matter now stands he has gained himself credit, and could he once drive off these miscreants and make an honourable retreat, laying the huts and block and ashes, no doubt Lundy will remember it and serve him accordingly. Yes, yes, Mabel, we must not only save the sergeant's life, but we must save his reputation. No blame can rest on my father on account of the surprise of this island. There's no telling. There's no telling. Military glory is a most uncertain thing. I've seen the Delaware's routed when they deserve more credit than at other times when they've carried the day. A man is wrong to set his head on success of any sort, and worst of all on success in war. I know little of the settlements or of the notions that men hold in them, but up here away even the Indians rate a warrior's character according to his luck. The principal thing with a soldier is never to be whipped, nor do I think mankind stops long to consider how the day was won or lost. For my part, Mabel, I make it a rule when facing the enemy to give him as good as I can send, and to try to be moderate after a defeat, little need to be set on that score, as a flogging is one of the most humbling things in nature. The Parsons preach about humility in the garrison, but if humility would make us Christians, the king's troops ought to be saints, for they've done little as yet this war but take lessons from the French, beginning at Fort Duquesne and ending at Tye. My father could not have suspected that the position of the island was known to the enemy. Resume Mabel, whose thoughts were running on the probable effect of the recent events, on the sergeant. That is true, nor do I well see how the Frenchers found it out. The spot is well chosen, and it is not an easy matter, even for one who has traveled the road to and from it, to find it again. There has been treachery, I fear. Yes, yes, there must have been treachery. Oh, Pathfinder, can this be? Nothing is easier, Mabel, for treachery comes as natural to some men as eating. Now when I find a man all fair words I look close to his deeds, for when the heart is right, and really intends to do good, it is generally satisfied to let the conduct speak instead of the tongue. Jasper Western is not one of these, said Mabel impetuously. No youth can be more sincere in his manner, or less apt to make the tongue act for the head. Jasper Western. Tongue and heart are both right with that lad, depend on it, Mabel, in the notion taken up by Lundy, and the quartermaster, and the sergeant, and your uncle, too, is as wrong as it would be to think that the sun shone by night, and the stars shone by day. No, no, I'll answer to Odus's honesty with my own scalp, or at need with my own rifle. Bless you, bless you, Pathfinder! exclaimed Mabel, extending her own hand, and pressing the iron fingers of her companion, under a state of feeling that far surpassed her own consciousness of its strength. You are all that is generous, all that is noble, God will reward you for it. Ha! Mabel! I fear me, if this be true, I should not covet such a wife as yourself, but would leave you to be sued for by some gentleman of the garrison, as your deserts require. We will not talk of this any more to-night. Mabel answered in a voice so smothered, as to seem nearly choked. We must thank less of ourselves just now, Pathfinder, and more of our friends. But I rejoice from my soul that you believe Jasper innocent. Now let us talk of other things. Aught we not to release June? I have been thinking about the woman, for it will not be safe to shut our eyes and leave hers open on this side of the blockhouse door. If we put her in the upper room and take away the ladder, she'll be a prisoner at least. I cannot treat one thus who has saved my life. It would be better to let her depart, for I think she is too much my friend to do anything to harm me. You do not know the race, Mabel. You do not know the race. It's true she's not a full-blooded mango, but she consorts with the vagabonds and must have learned some of their tricks. What is that? It sounds like oars. Some boat is passing through the channel. Pathfinder closed the trap that led to the lower room to prevent June from escaping, extinguished the candle, and went hastily to a loop, Mabel looking over his shoulder in breathless curiosity. These several movements consumed a minute or two, and by the time the eye of the scout had got a dim view of things without, two boats had swept past and shot up to the shore at a spot some fifty yards beyond the block, where there was a regular landing. The obscurity prevented more from being seen, and Pathfinder whispered to Mabel that the newcomers were as likely to be foes as friends, for he did not think her father could possibly have arrived so soon. A number of men were now seen to quit the boats, and then followed three hearty English cheers, leaving no further doubts of the character of the party. Pathfinder sprang to the trap, raised it, glided down the ladder, and began to unbar the door, with an earnestness that proved how critical he deemed the moment. Mabel had followed, but she rather impeded than aided his exertions, and but a single bar was turned when a heavy discharge of rifles was heard. They were still standing in breathless suspense as the war-whoop rang in all the surrounding thickets. The door now opened, and both Pathfinder and Mabel rushed into the open air. All human sounds had ceased. After listening half a minute, however, Pathfinder thought he heard a few stifled groans near the boats, but the wind blew so fresh, and the rustling of the leaves mingled so much with the murmurs of the passing air that he was far from certain. But Mabel was borne away by her feelings, and she rushed by him, taking the way towards the boats. "'This will not do, Mabel,' said the scout, in an earnest but low voice, seizing her by an arm. "'This will never do. Certain death would follow, and that without starving any one. We must return to the block.' "'Father! My poor dear murdered father!' said the girl wildly, though habitual caution even at that trying moment induced her to speak low. Pathfinder, if you love me, let me go to my dear father!' "'This will not do, Mabel. It is singular that no one speaks. No one returns the fire from the boats. And I have left Kildir in the block. But of what use would a rifle be when no one is to be seen?' At that moment the quick eye of Pathfinder, which, while he held Mabel firmly in his grasp, had never ceased to roam over the dim scene, caught an indistinct view of five or six dark crouching forms endeavouring to steal past him, doubtless with the intention of intercepting the retreat to the block-house. Catching up Mabel and putting her under an arm, as if she were an infant, the sinewy frame of the woodsman was exerted to the utmost, and he succeeded in entering the building. The tramp of his pursuer seemed immediately at his heels. During his burden he turned, closed the door, and it fastened one bar as a rush against the solid mass threatened to force it from the hinges. To secure the other bars was the work of an instant. Mabel now ascended to the first floor, while Pathfinder remained as a sentinel below. Our hero was still in that state in which the body exerts itself, apparently without the control of the mind. She relighted the candle mechanically, as her companion had desired, and returned with it below, where he was waiting her reappearance. No sooner was Pathfinder in possession of the light than he examined the place carefully to make certain no one was concealed in the fortress, ascending to each floor in succession, after assuring himself that he left no enemy in his rear. The result was the conviction that the block-house now contained no one but Mabel and himself, June having escaped. Everyone perfectly convinced on this material point, Pathfinder rejoined our heroine in the principal apartment, setting down the light and examining the priming of Kildere before he seated himself. Our worst fears are realized, said Mabel, to whom the hurry and excitement of the last five minutes appeared to contain the emotions of a life. My beloved father and all his party are slain or captured. We don't know that. Morning will tell us all. I do not think the affair is so settled as that, or we should hear the vagabond mingos yelling out their triumph around the block-house. Of one thing we may be certain, if the enemy has really got the better, he will not be long in calling upon us to surrender. The squal will let him into the secret of our situation, and as they well know the place cannot be fired by daylight, so long as Kildere continues to desire his reputation. You may depend on it. They will not be backward in making their attempt while darkness helps them. Surely I hear a groan. Tis fancy, Mabel, when the mind gets to be skeery, especially a woman's mind, she often conceives things that have no reality. I've known them that imagine there was truth in dreams. Nay, I am not deceived. There is surely one below, and in pain. Pathfinder was compelled to own that the quick senses of Mabel had not deceived her. He cautioned her, however, to repress her feelings, and reminded her that the savages were in the practice of resorting to every artifice to attain their ends, and that nothing was more likely than that the groans were feigned with a view to lure them from the block-house, or at least to induce them to open the door. No, no, no! said Mabel hurriedly. There is no artifice in those sounds, and they come from anguish of body, if not of spirit. They are fearfully natural. Well, we shall soon see whether a friend is there or not. Hide the light again, Mabel, and I will speak the person from a loop. Not a little precaution was necessary, according to Pathfinder's judgment and experience, in performing even this simple act, for he had known the careless slain by their want of proper attention to what might have seemed to be the ignorant super-erogatory means of safety. He did not place his mouth to the loop itself, but so near it that he could be heard without raising his voice, and the same precaution was observed as regards his ear. Who is below? Pathfinder demanded, when his arrangements were made to his mind. Is anyone in suffering? If a friend speak boldly, and depend on our aid. Pathfinder answered a voice that both Mabel and the person addressed at once knew to be the sergeants. Pathfinder, in the name of God, tell me what has become of my daughter. Father, I am here, unhurt, safe, and oh, that I could think the same of you. The ejaculation of thanksgiving that followed was distinctly audible to the two, but it was clearly mingled with a groan of pain. My worst forebodings are realized, said Mabel with a sort of desperate calmness. Pathfinder, my father must be brought within the block, though we hazard everything to do it. This is nature, and it is the law of God. But Mabel, be calm and endeavor to be cool. All that can be affected for the sergeant by human invention shall be done. I only ask you to be cool. I am, I am, Pathfinder. Never in my life was I more calm, more collected than at this moment. But remember how perilous may be every instant. For heaven's sake, what we do, let us do without delay. Pathfinder was struck with the firmness of Mabel's tones, and perhaps he was a little deceived by the forced tranquility and self-possession she had assumed. At all events he did not deem any further explanations necessary, but descended forthwith and began to unbar the door. This delicate process was conducted with usual caution, but as he warily permitted the mass of timber to swing back on the hinges, he felt a pressure against it that had nearly induced him to close it again. But catching a glimpse of the cause through the crack, the door was permitted to swing back when the body of Sergeant Dunham, which was propped against it, fell partly within the block. To draw in the legs and secure the fastenings occupied the Pathfinder but a moment. Then there existed no obstacle to their giving their undivided care to the wounded man. Mabel, in this trying scene, conducted herself with a sort of unnatural energy that her sex, when aroused, is apt to manifest. She got the light, administered water to the parched lips of her father, and assisted Pathfinder in forming a bed of straw for his body and a pillow of clothes for his head. All this was done earnestly and almost without speaking, nor did Mabel shed a tear until she heard the blessings of her father murmured on her head for this tenderness and care. All this time Mabel had merely conjectured the condition of her parent. Pathfinder, however, had shown greater attention to the physical danger of the Sergeant. He had ascertained that a rifle ball had passed through the body of the wounded man, and he was sufficiently familiar with the injuries of this nature to be certain that the chances of his surviving the hurt were very trifling.