Books: The Pathfinder

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The object being purely defence, care had been taken to place the
blockhouse so near an opening in the limestone rock that formed
the base of the island as to admit of a bucket being dropped into
the water, in order to obtain that great essential in the event of
a siege. In order to facilitate this operation, and to enfilade
the base of the building, the upper stories projected several feet
beyond the lower in the manner usual to blockhouses, and pieces of wood
filled the apertures cut in the log flooring, which were intended
as loops and traps. The communications between the different stories
were by means of ladders. If we add that these blockhouses were
intended as citadels for garrisons or settlements to retreat to, in
the cases of attacks, the general reader will obtain a sufficiently
correct idea of the arrangements it is our wish to explain.

But the situation of the island itself formed its principal merit
as a military position. Lying in the midst of twenty others, it
was not an easy matter to find it; since boats might pass quite
near, and, by glimpses caught through the openings, this particular
island would be taken for a part of some other. Indeed, the
channels between the islands which lay around the one we have been
describing were so narrow that it was even difficult to say which
portions of the land were connected, or which separated, even as
one stood in the centre, with the express desire of ascertaining
the truth. The little bay in particular, which Jasper used as
a harbor, was so embowered with bushes and shut in with islands,
that, the sails of the cutter being lowered, her own people on one
occasion had searched for hours before they could find the _Scud_,
in their return from a short excursion among the adjacent channels
in quest of fish. In short, the place was admirably adapted to its
present objects, and its natural advantages had been as ingeniously
improved as economy and the limited means of a frontier post would
very well allow.

The hour which succeeded the arrival of the _Scud_ was one of hurried
excitement. The party in possession had done nothing worthy of
being mentioned, and, wearied with their seclusion, they were all
eager to return to Oswego. The Sergeant and the officer he came
to relieve had no sooner gone through the little ceremonies of
transferring the command, than the latter hurried on board the
_Scud_ with his whole party; and Jasper, who would gladly have passed
the day on the island, was required to get under way forthwith, the
wind promising a quick passage up the river and across the lake.
Before separating, however, Lieutenant Muir, Cap, and the Sergeant
had a private conference with the ensign who had been relieved,
in which the last was made acquainted with the suspicions that
existed against the fidelity of the young sailor. Promising due
caution, the officer embarked, and in less than three hours from
the time when she had arrived the cutter was again in motion.

Mabel had taken possession of a hut; and with female readiness
and skill she made all the simple little domestic arrangements of
which the circumstances would admit, not only for her own comfort, but
for that of her father. To save labor, a mess-table was prepared
in a hut set apart for that purpose, where all the heads of the
detachment were to eat, the soldier's wife performing the necessary
labor. The hut of the Sergeant, which was the best on the island,
being thus freed from any of the vulgar offices of a household,
admitted of such a display of womanly taste, that, for the first
time since her arrival on the frontier, Mabel felt proud of her
home. As soon as these important duties were discharged, she
strolled out on the island, taking a path which led through the
pretty glade, and which conducted to the only point not covered with
bushes. Here she stood gazing at the limpid water, which lay with
scarcely a ruffle on it at her feet, musing on the novel situation
in which she was placed, and permitting a pleasing and deep excitement
to steal over her feelings, as she remembered the scenes through
which she had so lately passed, and conjectured those which still
lay veiled in the future.

"You're a beautiful fixture, in a beautiful spot, Mistress Mabel,"
said David Muir, suddenly appearing at her elbow; "and I'll no'
engage you're not just the handsomest of the two."

"I will not say, Mr. Muir, that compliments on my person are
altogether unwelcome, for I should not gain credit for speaking
the truth, perhaps," answered Mabel with spirit; "but I will say
that if you would condescend to address to me some remarks of a
different nature, I may be led to believe you think I have sufficient
faculties to understand them."

"Hoot! your mind, beautiful Mabel, is polished just like the barrel
of a soldier's musket, and your conversation is only too discreet
and wise for a poor d---l who has been chewing birch up here these
four years on the lines, instead of receiving it in an application
that has the virtue of imparting knowledge. But you are no' sorry,
I take it, young lady, that you've got your pretty foot on _terra
firma_ once more."

"I thought so two hours since, Mr. Muir; but the _Scud_ looks so
beautiful as she sails through these vistas of trees, that I almost
regret I am no longer one of her passengers."

As Mabel ceased speaking, she waved her handkerchief in return to
a salutation from Jasper, who kept his eyes fastened on her form
until the white sails of the cutter had swept round a point, and
were nearly lost behind its green fringe of leaves.

"There they go, and I'll no' say 'joy go with them;' but may they
have the luck to return safely, for without them we shall be in
danger of passing the winter on this island; unless, indeed, we
have the alternative of the castle at Quebec. Yon Jasper Eau-douce
is a vagrant sort of a lad, and they have reports of him in the
garrison that it pains my very heart to hear. Your worthy father,
and almost as worthy uncle, have none of the best opinion of him."

"I am sorry to hear it, Mr. Muir; I doubt not that time will remove
all their distrust."

"If time would only remove mine, pretty Mabel," rejoined the
Quartermaster in a wheedling tone, "I should feel no envy of the
commander-in-chief. I think if I were in a condition to retire,
the Sergeant would just step into my shoes."

"If my dear father is worthy to step into your shoes, Mr. Muir,"
returned the girl, with malicious pleasure, "I'm sure that the
qualification is mutual, and that you are every way worthy to step
into his."

"The deuce is in the child! you would not reduce me to the rank of
a non-commissioned officer, Mabel?"

"No, indeed, sir; I was not thinking of the army at all as you spoke
of retiring. My thoughts were more egotistical, and I was thinking
how much you reminded me of my dear father, by your experience,
wisdom, and suitableness to take his place as the head of a family."

"As its bridegroom, pretty Mabel, but not as its parent or natural
chief. I see how it is with you, loving your repartee, and brilliant
with wit. Well, I like spirit in a young woman, so it be not the
spirit of a scold. This Pathfinder is all extraordinair, Mabel,
if truth may be said of the man."

"Truth should be said of him or nothing. Pathfinder is my friend
-- my very particular friend, Mr. Muir, and no evil can be said of
him in my presence that I shall not deny."

"I shall say nothing evil of him, I can assure you, Mabel; but, at
the same time, I doubt if much good can be said in his favor."

"He is at least expert with the rifle," returned Mabel, smiling.
"That you cannot deny."

"Let him have all the credit of his exploits in that way if you
please; but he is as illiterate as a Mohawk."

"He may not understand Latin, but his knowledge of Iroquois is
greater than that of most men, and it is the more useful language
of the two in this part of the world."

"If Lundie himself were to call on me for an opinion which I
admire more, your person or your wit, beautiful and caustic Mabel,
I should be at a loss to answer. My admiration is so nearly divided
between them, that I often fancy this is the one that bears off the
palm, and then the other! Ah! the late Mrs. Muir was a paragon
in that way also."

"The latest Mrs. Muir, did you say, sir?" asked Mabel, looking up
innocently at her companion.

"Hoot, hoot! That is some of Pathfinder's scandal. Now I daresay
that the fellow has been trying to persuade you, Mabel, that I have
had more than one wife already."

"In that case his time would have been thrown away, sir, as everybody
knows that you have been so unfortunate as to have had four."

"Only three, as sure as my name is David Muir. The fourth is pure
scandal -- or rather, pretty Mabel, she is yet _in petto_, as they
say at Rome; and that means, in matters of love, in the heart, my
dear."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not that fourth person, _in petto_, or in
anything else, as I should not like to be a scandal."

"No fear of that, charming Mabel; for were you the fourth, all
the others would be forgotten, and your wonderful beauty and merit
would at once elevate you to be the first. No fear of your being
the fourth in any thing."

"There is consolation in that assurance, Mr. Muir," said Mabel,
laughing, "whatever there may be in your other assurance; for I
confess I should prefer being even a fourth-rate beauty to being
a fourth wife."

So saying she tripped away, leaving the Quartermaster to meditate
on his success. Mabel had been induced to use her female means of
defence thus freely, partly because her suitor had of late been so
pointed as to stand in need of a pretty strong repulse, and partly
on account of his innuendoes against Jasper and the Pathfinder.
Though full of spirit and quick of intellect, she was not naturally
pert; but on the present occasion she thought circumstances called
for more than usual decision. When she left her companion, therefore,
she believed she was now finally released from attentions which she
thought as ill-bestowed as they were certainly disagreeable. Not
so, however, with David Muir; accustomed to rebuffs, and familiar
with the virtue of perseverance, he saw no reason to despair, though
the half-menacing, half-self-satisfied manner in which he shook
his head towards the retreating girl might have betrayed designs
as sinister as they were determined. While he was thus occupied,
the Pathfinder approached, and got within a few feet of him unseen.

"'Twill never do, Quartermaster, 'twill never do," commenced the
latter, laughing in his noiseless way; "she is young and active,
and none but a quick foot can overtake her. They tell me you are
her suitor, if you are not her follower."

"And I hear the same of yourself, man, though the presumption would
be so great that I scarcely can think it true."

"I fear you're right, I do; yes, I fear you're right; --when I
consider myself, what I am, how little I know, and how rude my life
has been, I altogether distrust my claim, even to think a moment
of one so tutored, and gay, and light of heart, and delicate -- "

"You forget handsome," coarsely interrupted Muir.

"And handsome, too, I fear," returned the meek and self-abased guide;
"I might have said handsome at once, among her other qualities; for
the young fa'n, just as it learns to bound, is not more pleasant
to the eye of the hunter than Mabel is lovely in mine. I do indeed
fear that all the thoughts I have harbored about her are vain and
presumptuous."

"If you think this, my friend, of your own accord and natural
modesty, as it might be, my duty to you as an old fellow-campaigner
compels me to say -- "

"Quartermaster," interrupted the other, regarding his companion
keenly, "you and I have lived together much behind the ramparts of
forts, but very little in the open woods or in front of the enemy."

"Garrison or tent, it all passes for part of the same campaign, you
know, Pathfinder; and then my duty keeps me much within sight of
the storehouses, greatly contrary to my inclinations, as ye may well
suppose, having yourself the ardor of battle in your temperament.
But had ye heard what Mabel had just been saying of you, ye'd no
think another minute of making yourself agreeable to the saucy and
uncompromising hussy."

Pathfinder looked earnestly at the lieutenant, for it was impossible
he should not feel an interest in what might be Mabel's opinion;
but he had too much of the innate and true feeling of a gentleman
to ask to hear what another had said of him. Muir, however, was not
to be foiled by this self-denial and self-respect; for, believing
he had a man of great truth and simplicity to deal with, he determined
to practise on his credulity, as one means of getting rid of his
rivalry. He therefore pursued the subject, as soon as he perceived
that his companion's self-denial was stronger than his curiosity.

"You ought to know her opinion, Pathfinder," he continued; "and
I think every man ought to hear what his friends and acquaintances
say of him: and so, by way of proving my own regard for your character
and feelings, I'll just tell you in as few words as possible. You
know that Mabel has a wicked, malicious way with them eyes of her
own, when she has a mind to be hard upon one's feelings."

"To me her eyes, Lieutenant Muir, have always seemed winning and
soft, though I will acknowledge that they sometimes laugh; yes, I
have known them to laugh, and that right heartily, and with downright
goodwill."

"Well, it was just that then; her eyes were laughing with all their
might, as it were; and in the midst of all her fun, she broke out
with an exclamation to this effect: - I hope 'twill no' hurt your
sensibility, Pathfinder?"

"I will not say Quartermaster, I will not say. Mabel's opinion of
me is of no more account than that of most others."

"Then I'll no' tell ye, but just keep discretion on the subject;
and why should a man be telling another what his friends say of him,
especially when they happen to say that which may not be pleasant
to hear? I'll not add another word to this present communication."

"I cannot make you speak, Quartermaster, if you are not so minded,
and perhaps it is better for me not to know Mabel's opinion, as
you seem to think it is not in my favor. Ah's me! if we could be
what we wish to be, instead of being only what we are, there would
be a great difference in our characters and knowledge and appearance.
One may be rude and coarse and ignorant, and yet happy, if he does
not know it; but it is hard to see our own failings in the strongest
light, just as we wish to hear the least about them."

"That's just the _rationale_, as the French say, of the matter;
and so I was telling Mabel, when she ran away and left me. You
noticed the manner in which she skipped off as you approached?"

"It was very observable," answered Pathfinder, drawing a long breath
and clenching the barrel of his rifle as if the fingers would bury
themselves in the iron.

"It was more than observable -- it was flagrant; that's just the
word, and the dictionary wouldn't supply a better, after an hour's
search. Well, you must know, Pathfinder, -- for I cannot reasonably
deny you the gratification of hearing this, -- so you must know
the minx bounded off in that manner in preference to hearing what
I had to say in your justification."

"And what could you find to say in my behalf, Quartermaster?"

"Why, d'ye understand, my friend, I was ruled by circumstances, and
no' ventured indiscreetly into generalities, but was preparing to
meet particulars, as it might be, with particulars. If you were
thought wild, half-savage, or of a frontier formation, I could tell
her, ye know, that it came of the frontier, wild and half-savage
life ye'd led; and all her objections must cease at once, or there
would be a sort of a misunderstanding with Providence."

"And did you tell her this, Quartermaster?"

"I'll no' swear to the exact words, but the idea was prevalent in
my mind, ye'll understand. The girl was impatient, and would not
hear the half I had to say; but away she skipped, as ye saw with
your own eyes, Pathfinder, as if her opinion were fully made up,
and she cared to listen no longer. I fear her mind may be said to
have come to its conclusion?"

"I fear it has indeed, Quartermaster, and her father, after all, is
mistaken. Yes, yes; the Sergeant has fallen into a grievous error."

"Well, man, why need ye lament, and undo all the grand reputation
ye've been so many weary years making? Shoulder the rifle that ye
use so well, and off into the woods with ye, for there's not the
female breathing that is worth a heavy heart for a minute, as I
know from experience. Tak' the word of one who knows the sax, and
has had two wives, that women, after all, are very much the sort of
creatures we do not imagine them to be. Now, if you would really
mortify Mabel, here is as glorious an occasion as any rejected
lover could desire."

"The last wish I have, Lieutenant, would be to mortify Mabel."

"Well, ye'll come to that in the end, notwithstanding; for it's
human nature to desire to give unpleasant feelings to them that give
unpleasant feelings to us. But a better occasion never offered to
make your friends love you, than is to be had at this very moment,
and that is the certain means of causing one's enemies to envy us."

"Quartermaster, Mabel is not my inimy; and if she was, the last
thing I could desire would be to give her an uneasy moment."

"Ye say so, Pathfinder, ye say so, and I daresay ye think so; but
reason and nature are both against you, as ye'll find in the end.
Ye've heard the saying 'love me, love my dog:' well, now, that
means, read backwards, 'don't love me, don't love my dog.' Now,
listen to what is in your power to do. You know we occupy an
exceedingly precarious and uncertain position here, almost in the
jaws of the lion, as it were?"

"Do you mean the Frenchers by the lion, and this island as his
jaws, Lieutenant?"

"Metaphorically only, my friend, for the French are no lions, and
this island is not a jaw -- unless, indeed, it may prove to be,
what I greatly fear may come true, the jaw-bone of an ass."

Here the Quartermaster indulged in a sneering laugh, that proclaimed
anything but respect and admiration for his friend Lundie's sagacity
in selecting that particular spot for his operations.

"The post is as well chosen as any I ever put foot in," said
Pathfinder, looking around him as one surveys a picture.

"I'll no' deny it, I'll no' deny it. Lundie is a great soldier,
in a small way; and his father was a great laird, with the same
qualification. I was born on the estate, and have followed the
Major so long that I've got to reverence all he says and does:
that's just my weakness, ye'll know, Pathfinder. Well, this post
may be the post of an ass, or of a Solomon, as men fancy; but it's
most critically placed, as is apparent by all Lundie's precautions
and injunctions. There are savages out scouting through these
Thousand Islands and over the forest, searching for this very
spot, as is known to Lundie himself, on certain information; and
the greatest service you can render the 55th is to discover their
trails and lead them off on a false scent. Unhappily Sergeant Dunham
has taken up the notion that the danger is to be apprehended from
up-stream, because Frontenac lies above us; whereas all experience
tells us that Indians come on the side which is most contrary to
reason, and, consequently, are to be expected from below. Take
your canoe, therefore, and go down-stream among the islands, that
we may have notice if any danger approaches from that quarter."

"The Big Sarpent is on the look-out in that quarter; and as he knows
the station well, no doubt he will give us timely notice, should
any wish to sarcumvent us in that direction."

"He is but an Indian, after all, Pathfinder; and this is an affair
that calls for the knowledge of a white man. Lundie will be eternally
grateful to the man who shall help this little enterprise to come
off with flying colors. To tell you the truth, my friend, he is
conscious it should never have been attempted; but he has too much
of the old laird's obstinacy about him to own an error, though it
be as manifest as the morning star."

The Quartermaster then continued to reason with his companion, in
order to induce him to quit the island without delay, using such
arguments as first suggested themselves, sometimes contradicting
himself, and not unfrequently urging at one moment a motive that at
the next was directly opposed by another. The Pathfinder, simple
as he was, detected these flaws in the Lieutenant's philosophy,
though he was far from suspecting that they proceeded from a desire
to clear the coast of Mabel's suitor. He did not exactly suspect
the secret objects of Muir, but he was far from being blind to
his sophistry. The result was that the two parted, after a long
dialogue, unconvinced, and distrustful of each other's motives,
though the distrust of the guide, like all that was connected with
the man, partook of his own upright, disinterested, and ingenuous
nature.

A conference that took place soon after between Sergeant Dunham
and the Lieutenant led to more consequences. When it was ended,
secret orders were issued to the men, the blockhouse was taken
possession of, the huts were occupied, and one accustomed to the
movements of soldiers might have detected that an expedition was
in the wind. In fact, just as the sun was setting, the Sergeant,
who had been much occupied at what was called the harbor, came
into his own hut, followed by Pathfinder and Cap; and as he took
his seat at the neat table which Mabel had prepared for him, he
opened the budget of his intelligence.

"You are likely to be of some use here, my child," the old soldier
commenced, "as this tidy and well-ordered supper can testify; and
I trust, when the proper moment arrives, you will show yourself to
be the descendant of those who know how to face their enemies."

"You do not expect me, dear father, to play Joan of Arc, and to
lead the men to battle?"

"Play whom, child? Did you ever hear of the person Mabel mentions,
Pathfinder?"

"Not I, Sergeant; but what of that? I am ignorant and unedicated,
and it is too great a pleasure to me to listen to her voice, and
take in her words, to be particular about persons."

"I know her," said Cap decidedly; "she sailed a privateer out of
Morlaix in the last war; and good cruises she made of them."

Mabel blushed at having inadvertently made an allusion that went
beyond her father's reading, to say nothing of her uncle's dogmatism,
and, perhaps, a little at the Pathfinder's simple, ingenuous
earnestness; but she did not forbear the less to smile.

"Why, father, I am not expected to fall in with the men, and to
help defend the island?"

"And yet women have often done such things in this quarter of the
world, girl, as our friend, the Pathfinder here, will tell you.
But lest you should be surprised at not seeing us when you awake
in the morning, it is proper that I now tell you we intend to march
in the course of this very night."

"_We_, father! and leave me and Jennie on this island alone?"

"No, my daughter; not quite as unmilitary as that. We shall leave
Lieutenant Muir, brother Cap, Corporal M'Nab, and three men to
compose the garrison during our absence. Jennie will remain with
you in this hut, and brother Cap will occupy my place."

"And Mr. Muir?" said Mabel, half unconscious of what she uttered,
though she foresaw a great deal of unpleasant persecution in the
arrangement.

"Why, he can make love to you, if you like it, girl; for he is
an amorous youth, and, having already disposed of four wives, is
impatient to show how much he honors their memories by taking a
fifth."

"The Quartermaster tells me," said Pathfinder innocently, "that
when a man's feelings have been harassed by so many losses, there
is no wiser way to soothe them than by ploughing up the soil anew,
in such a manner as to leave no traces of what have gone over it
before."

"Ay, that is just the difference between ploughing and harrowing,"
returned the Sergeant, with a grim smile. "But let him tell Mabel
his mind, and there will be an end of his suit. I very well know
that _my_ daughter will never be the wife of Lieutenant Muir."

This was said in a way that was tantamount to declaring that
no daughter of his ever _should_ become the wife of the person in
question. Mabel had colored, trembled, half laughed, and looked
uneasy; but, rallying her spirit, she said, in a voice so cheerful
as completely to conceal her agitation, "But, father, we might
better wait until Mr. Muir manifests a wish that your daughter
would have him, or rather a wish to have your daughter, lest we
get the fable of sour grapes thrown into our faces."

"And what is that fable, Mabel?" eagerly demanded Pathfinder, who
was anything but learned in the ordinary lore of white men. "Tell
it to us, in your own pretty way; I daresay the Sergeant never
heard it."

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