What had the Eternall Maker need of thee,
The world in his continuall course to keepe,
That doest all things deface? ne lettest see
The beautie of his worke? Indeede in sleepe,
The slouth full body that doth love to steepe
His lustlesse limbs, and drowne his baser mind,
Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe,
Calles thee his goddesse, in his errour blind,
And great dame Nature's hand-maide, chearing every kinde.
_Faerie Queene._
The tranquillity of the previous night was not contradicted by the
movements of the day. Although Mabel and 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 excepted. There was a smothered fire on the spot
where M'Nab and his comrades had cooked, as if the smoke which curled
upwards from it was intended as a lure 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 55th, 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, the 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 in
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 Jennie 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 than condemned the uses to which the dead bodies had been
applied. “Do soldier no harm now; do Iroquois good; got the scalp first;
now make bodies work. By and by, burn 'em.”
This speech told Mabel how far she was separated from her friend in
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 in 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 livelong day not an Indian nor a Frenchman was to be
seen, and night closed over the frightful but silent masquerade, with
the 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 fisherman still hung over the water,
seemingly intent on his sport; and the distorted countenance of Jennie
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 hear 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.”
“Saltwater!” exclaimed June, laughing, as she stood peeping through a
loophole.
“My dear uncle! Thank God! he then lives! Oh, June, June, _you_ will not
let them harm _him?_”
“June, poor squaw. What warrior t'ink of what she say? Arrowhead bring
him here.”
By this time Mabel was at a loop; and, sure enough, there were Cap and
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 that there could be no man in the building. Mabel
scarcely breathed until the 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 we'll no' 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 Jennie. My breast has felt the last four-and-twenty
hours as if a ton of kentledge had been stowed in it. You ask 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 honest Pathfinder would say; and it can make no great
odds to him whether he balances the purser'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 no' be minding all your uncle says, pretty Mabel,” put in 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 pairsons, 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 can no' 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 Cap nor 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 ye'll be remembering
that usages differ, and that our scalps may be lawful sacrifices to
appease the manes 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 concerned, 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 complaisant 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 passed. “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 entreating looks of
her companion strengthened a resolution that was faltering.
“No prisoner yet,” whispered June; “let 'em make prisoner before 'ey
take prisoner--talk big; June manage 'em.”
Mabel now began to parley 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, Mistress Mabel,” 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 sophistry, pretty Mabel, and treason to the king, as well as
dishonoring his commission and discrediting his name. You'll no' be
persevering in your intentions, when your better judgment has
had leisure to reflect and to make conclusions on matters and
circumstances.”
“Ay,” put in Cap, “this is a circumstance, and be d----d to it!”
“No mind what'e 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 no' 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 sun will not set before the worthy
Sergeant and his companions will be in their power. Aweel! 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 weaker than it is. Do you desire to see what I can do in the
way of defence, if so disposed?”
“I dinna 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 a 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 no' be
provoking useless contention. In the name of all the kings of Albin,
who have ye closeted with you in that wooden tower that seemeth 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 a 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
Killdeer, 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,
whence 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 Muir 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 effecting her own escape, or at least of letting her father
know of the danger that awaited him. The Sergeant was expected to return
that afternoon, and she knew that 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 that allowed
her to go out on the 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,
whence, 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 Blue Beard.
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 ambuscade 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 Chingachgook. Here, then, at last, was a friend; one, too,
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 Indian's 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 effecting 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 practise 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 Chingachgook 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 t'ink such t'ing. No burn blockhouse. Blockhouse 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 Indian sleep; wait for 'e
fader. 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 same 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 a 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 savored of unnecessary caution, well knowing
that no one could enter the building unless aided from within, nor any
serious danger menace 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 Chingachgook 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. “O
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 ind 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 devilries
needs but little explanations on such a subject. Everything turned
out as we had hoped with the expedition; for the Sarpent was on the
look-out, and he met us with all the information heart could desire. We
ambushed three boats, druv' 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 have
even a skin barked; nor do I think the inimy suffered to speak of. In
short, Mabel, it has been just such an expedition as Lundie 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 Sarpent 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 Chingachgook this forenoon, it 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's me! I reconnoitred 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 devilries with dead bodies may deceive the soldiers
of the 55th 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 fisherman; and, though the riptyles have set up the poor
wretch with art, it was not ingenious enough to take in a practysed eye.
The rod was held too high, for the 55th 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 a whole night, because they had
changed their sentries and their mode of standing guard. Neither the
Sarpent nor myself would be likely to be taken in by these clumsy
contrivances, which were most probably intended for the Scotch, who are
cunning enough in some particulars, though anything but witches when
Indian sarcumventions 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 Sarpent is on the look-out
too; so there is a double chance of our succeeding in letting him know
his danger; though it is by no means sartain by which channel the party
may come.”
“Pathfinder,” said our heroine solemnly, for the frightful scenes 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 ventur' 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 desarve--more, I
fear, than I shall know how to profit by as I ought. It was not wanting,
however, to make me sarve the Sergeant. We are old comrades, and owe
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 endeavors, 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 Sarpent will
be winding his way through them all. 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 a
burning, ag'in 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 sarve the Sergeant, though escape for our two selves
will be no very difficult matter.”
“Stay,” murmured Mabel, “stay, for God's sake, Pathfinder! Anything,
everything to save my father!”
“Yes, that is natur'. 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 honorable retreat, laying the huts and block
in ashes, no doubt, Lundie would remember it and sarve 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
unsartain thing. I've seen the Delawares routed, when they desarved 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 hereaway even the Indians rate a warrior's character
according to his luck. The principal thing with a soldier is never to be
whipt; 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 inimy
to give him as good as I can send, and to try to be moderate after a
defeat, little need be said on that score, as a flogging is one of the
most humbling things in natur'. The parsons preach about humility in the
garrison; but if humility would make 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 du Quesne and ending at Ty.”
“My father could not have suspected that the position of the island was
known to the enemy,” resumed 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 travelled 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 nat'ral 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; and the notion taken up by Lundie, 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 for Eau-douce'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.”
“Ah, 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 desarts 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 think 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--ought we not to release June?”
“I've 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 Mingo, but she consorts with the vagabonds, and
must have larned 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 new-comers 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. Sartain death would follow,
and that without sarving 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 Killdeer 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, endeavoring to
steal past him, doubtless with the intention of intercepting the retreat
to the blockhouse. 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 pursuers seemed immediately at his heels. Dropping his burden, he
turned, closed the door, and had 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 heroine was 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 blockhouse now contained no one
but Mabel and himself, June having escaped. When perfectly convinced on
this material point, Pathfinder rejoined our heroine in the principal
apartment, setting down the light and examining the priming of Killdeer
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
so settled as that, or we should hear the vagabond Mingos yelling out
their triumph around the blockhouse. Of one thing we may be sartain; if
the inimy has really got the better, he will not be long in calling
upon us to surrender. The squaw will let him into the secret of our
situation; and, as they well know the place cannot be fired by daylight,
so long as Killdeer continues to desarve his reputation, you may depend
on it that 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 skeary, especially a
woman's mind, she often concaits things that have no reality. I've known
them that imagined 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
blockhouse, 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 know 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 the ignorant supererogatory 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 any one 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 Sergeant's,--“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 natur', and it is the law of God. But, Mabel, be calm, and
endivor to be cool. All that can be effected 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 tranquillity 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 the 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 the 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
injuries of this nature to be certain that the chances of his surviving
the hurt were very trifling, if any.