Books: The Pathfinder

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Dew-of-June was quick of comprehension; and with half a dozen noiseless
strokes of the paddles, her canoe was concealed in the bushes of
Station Island. In another minute, Mabel held her hand, and was
leading her through the grove towards her own hut. Fortunately
the latter was so placed as to be completely hid from the sight
of those at the fire, and they both entered it unseen. Hastily
explaining to her guest, in the best manner she could, the
necessity of quitting her for a short time, Mabel, first placing
the Dew-of-June in her own room, with a full certainty that she
would not quit it until told to do so, went to the fire and took
her seat among the rest, with all the composure it was in her power
to command.

"Late come, late served, Mabel," said her uncle, between mouthfuls
of broiled salmon; for though the cookery might be very unsophisticated
on that remote frontier, the viands were generally delicious, --
"late come, late served; it is a good rule, and keeps laggards up
to their work."

"I am no laggard, Uncle; for I have been stirring nearly an hour,
and exploring our island."

"It's little you'll make o' that, Mistress Mabel," put in Muir;
"that's little by nature. Lundie -- or it might be better to style
him Major Duncan in this presence" (this was said in consideration
of the corporal and the common men, though they were taking their
meal a little apart) --"has not added an empire to his Majesty's
dominions in getting possession of this island, which is likely
to equal that of the celebrated Sancho in revenues and profits
--Sancho, of whom, doubtless, Master Cap, you'll often have been
reading in your leisure hours, more especially in calms and moments
of inactivity."

"I know the spot you mean, Quartermaster; Sancho's Island -- coral
rock, of new formation, and as bad a landfall, in a dark night and
blowing weather, as a sinner could wish to keep clear of. It's
a famous place for cocoanuts and bitter water, that Sancho's Island."

"It's no' very famous for dinners," returned Muir, repressing the
smile which was struggling to his lips out of respect to Mabel;
"nor do I think there'll be much to choose between its revenue
and that of this spot. In my judgment, Master Cap, this is a very
unmilitary position, and I look to some calamity befalling it,
sooner or later."

"It is to be hoped not until our turn of duty is over," observed
Mabel. "I have no wish to study the French language."

"We might think ourselves happy, did it not prove to be the
Iroquois. I have reasoned with Major Duncan on the occupation
of this position, but 'a wilfu' man maun ha' his way.' My first
object in accompanying this party was to endeavor to make myself
acceptable and useful to your beautiful niece, Master Cap; and
the second was to take such an account of the stores that belong
to my particular department as shall leave no question open to
controversy, concerning the manner of expenditure, when they shall
have disappeared by means of the enemy."

"Do you look upon matters as so serious?" demanded Cap, actually
suspending his mastication of a bit of venison -- for he passed
alternately from fish to flesh and back again -- in the interest
he took in the answer. "Is the danger pressing?"

"I'll no' say just that; and I'll no' say just the contrary. There
is always danger in war, and there is more of it at the advanced
posts than at the main encampment. It ought, therefore, to occasion
no surprise were we to be visited by the French at any moment."

"And what the devil is to be done in that case? Six men and two
women would make but a poor job in defending such a place as this,
should the enemy invade us; as, no doubt, Frenchman-like, they
would take very good care to come strong-handed."

"That we may depend on -- some very formidable force at the
very lowest. A military disposition might be made in defence of
the island, out of all question, and according to the art of war,
though we would probably fail in the force necessary to carry out
the design in any very creditable manner. In the first place, a
detachment should be sent off to the shore, with orders to annoy
the enemy in landing; a strong party ought instantly to be thrown
into the blockhouse, as the citadel, for on that all the different
detachments would naturally fall back for support, as the French
advanced; and an entrenched camp might be laid out around the
stronghold, as it would be very unmilitary indeed to let the foe get
near enough to the foot of the walls to mine them. Chevaux-de-frise
would keep the cavalry in check; and as for the artillery, redoubts
should be thrown up under cover of yon woods. Strong skirmishing
parties, moreover, would be exceedingly serviceable in retarding
the march of the enemy; and these different huts, if properly
piqueted and ditched, would be converted into very eligible positions
for that object."

"Whe-e-e-w-, Quartermaster! And who the d---l is to find all the
men to carry out such a plan?"

"The king, out of all question, Master Cap. It is his quarrel,
and it's just he should bear the burthen o' it."

"And we are only six! This is fine talking, with a vengeance.
You could be sent down to the shore to oppose the landing, Mabel
might skirmish with her tongue at least, the soldier's wife might
act chevaux-de-frise to entangle the cavalry, the corporal should
command the entrenched camp, his three men could occupy the five
huts, and I would take the blockhouse. Whe-e-e-w! you describe well,
Lieutenant; and should have been a limner instead of a soldier."

"Na, I've been very literal and upright in my exposition of matters.
That there is no greater force here to carry out the plan is a
fault of his Majesty's ministers, and none of mine."

"But should our enemy really appear," asked Mabel, with more interest
than she might have shown, had she not remembered the guest in the
hut, "what course ought we to pursue?"

"My advice would be to attempt to achieve that, pretty Mabel, which
rendered Xenophon so justly celebrated."

"I think you mean a retreat, though I half guess at your allusion."

"You've imagined my meaning from the possession of a strong native
sense, young lady. I am aware that your worthy father has pointed
out to the Corporal certain modes and methods by which he fancies
this island could be held, in case the French should discover its
position; but the excellent Sergeant, though your father, and as
good a man in his duties as ever wielded a spontoon, is not the
great Lord Stair, or even the Duke of Marlborough. I'll not deny
the Sergeant's merits in his particular sphere; though I cannot
exaggerate qualities, however excellent, into those of men who
may be in some trifling degree his superiors. Sergeant Dunham has
taken counsel of his heart, instead of his head, in resolving to
issue such orders; but, if the fort fall, the blame will lie on
him that ordered it to be occupied, and not on him whose duty it
was to defend it. Whatever may be the determination of the latter,
should the French and their allies land, a good commander never
neglects the preparations necessary to effect a retreat; and I would
advise Master Cap, who is the admiral of our navy, to have a boat
in readiness to evacuate the island, if need comes to need. The
largest boat that we have left carries a very ample sail; and by
hauling it round here, and mooring it under those bushes, there will
be a convenient place for a hurried embarkation; and then you'll
perceive, pretty Mabel, that it is scarcely fifty yards before we
shall be in a channel between two other islands, and hid from the
sight of those who may happen to be on this."

"All that you say is very true, Mr. Muir; but may not the French
come from that quarter themselves? If it is so good for a retreat,
it is equally good for an advance."

"They'll no' have the sense to do so discreet a thing," returned
Muir, looking furtively and a little uneasily around him; "they'll
no' have sufficient discretion. Your French are a head-over-heels
nation, and usually come forward in a random way; so we may look
for them, if they come at all, on the other side of the island."

The discourse now became exceedingly desultory, touching principally,
however, on the probabilities of an invasion, and the best means
of meeting it.

To most of this Mabel paid but little attention; though she felt
some surprise that Lieutenant Muir, an officer whose character for
courage stood well, should openly recommend an abandonment of what
appeared to her to be doubly a duty, her father's character being
connected with the defence of the island. Her mind, however, was
so much occupied with her guest, that, seizing the first favorable
moment, she left the table, and was soon in her own hut again.
Carefully fastening the door, and seeing that the simple curtain
was drawn before the single little window, Mabel next led the
Dew-of-June, or June, as she was familiarly termed by those who spoke
to her in English, into the outer room, making signs of affection
and confidence.

"I am glad to see you, June," said Mabel, with one of her sweetest
smiles, and in her own winning voice, -- "very glad to see you.
What has brought you hither, and how did you discover the island?"

"Speak slow," said June, returning smile for smile, and pressing
the little hand she held with one of her own that was scarcely
larger, though it had been hardened by labor; "more slow -- too
quick."

Mabel repeated her questions, endeavoring to repress the impetuosity
of her feelings; and she succeeded in speaking so distinctly as to
be understood.

"June, friend," returned the Indian woman.

"I believe you, June -- from my soul I believe you; what has this
to do with your visit?"

"Friend come to see friend," answered June, again smiling openly
in the other's face.

"There is some other reason, June, else would you never run this
risk, and alone. You are alone, June?"

"June wid you, no one else. June come alone, paddle canoe."

"I hope so, I think so -- nay, I know so. You would not be
treacherous with me, June?"

"What treacherous?"

"You would not betray me, would not give me to the French, to the
Iroquois, to Arrowhead?"

June shook her head earnestly.

"You would not sell my scalp?"

Here June passed her arm fondly around the slender waist of Mabel
and pressed her to her heart with a tenderness and affection that
brought tears into the eyes of our heroine. It was done in the
fond caressing manner of a woman, and it was scarcely possible
that it should not obtain credit for sincerity with a young and
ingenuous person of the same sex. Mabel returned the pressure,
and then held the other off at the length of her arm, looked her
steadily in the face, and continued her inquiries.

"If June has something to tell her friend, let her speak plainly,"
she said. "My ears are open."

"June 'fraid Arrowhead kill her."

"But Arrowhead will never know it." Mabel's blood mounted to her
temples as she said this; for she felt that she was urging a wife
to be treacherous to her husband. "That is, Mabel will not tell
him."

"He bury tomahawk in June's head."

"That must never be, dear June; I would rather you should say no
more than run this risk."

"Blockhouse good place to sleep, good place to stay."

"Do you mean that I may save my life by keeping in the blockhouse,
June? Surely, surely, Arrowhead will not hurt you for telling me
that. He cannot wish me any great harm, for I never injured him."

"Arrowhead wish no harm to handsome pale-face," returned June,
averting her face; and, though she always spoke in the soft, gentle
voice of an Indian girl, now permitting its notes to fall so low
as to cause them to sound melancholy and timid. "Arrowhead love
pale-face girl."

Mabel blushed, she knew not why, and for a moment her questions were
repressed by a feeling of inherent delicacy. But it was necessary
to know more, for her apprehensions had been keenly awakened, and
she resumed her inquiries.

"Arrowhead can have no reason to love or to hate _me_," she said.
"Is he near you?"

"Husband always near wife, here," said June, laying her hand on
her heart.

"Excellent creature! But tell me, June, ought I to keep in the
blockhouse to-day -- this morning -- now?"

"Blockhouse very good; good for women. Blockhouse got no scalp."

"I fear I understand you only too well, June. Do you wish to see
my father?"

"No here; gone away."

"You cannot know that, June; you see the island is full of his
soldiers."

"No full; gone away," -- here June held up four of her fingers, --
"so many red-coats."

"And Pathfinder? would you not like to see the Pathfinder? He can
talk to you in the Iroquois tongue."

"Tongue gone wid him," said June, laughing; "keep tongue in his
mout'."

There was something so sweet and contagious in the infantile laugh
of an Indian girl, that Mabel could not refrain from joining in
it, much as her fears were aroused by all that had passed.

"You appear to know, or to think you know, all about us, June. But
if Pathfinder be gone, Eau-douce can speak French too. You know
Eau-douce; shall I run and bring him to talk with you?"

"Eau-douce gone too, all but heart; that there." As June said this,
she laughed again; looked in different directions, as if unwilling
to confuse the other, and laid her hand on Mabel's bosom.

Our heroine had often heard of the wonderful sagacity of the Indians,
and of the surprising manner in which they noted all things, while
they appeared to regard none; but she was scarcely prepared for
the direction the discourse had so singularly taken. Willing to
change it, and at the same time truly anxious to learn how great
the danger that impended over them might really be, she rose from
the camp-stool on which she had been seated; and, by assuming an
attitude of less affectionate confidence, she hoped to hear more
of that she really desired to learn, and to avoid allusions to that
which she found so embarrassing.

"You know how much or how little you ought to tell me, June," she
said; "and I hope you love me well enough to give me the information
I ought to hear. My dear uncle, too, is on the island, and you
are, or ought to be, his friend as well as mine; and both of us
will remember your conduct when we get back to Oswego."

"Maybe, never get back; who know?" This was said doubtingly, or as
one who lays down an uncertain proposition, and not with a taunt,
or a desire to alarm.

"No one knows what will happen but God. Our lives are in His hands.
Still, I think you are to be His instrument in saving us."

This passed June's comprehension, and she only looked her ignorance;
for it was evident she wished to be of use.

"Blockhouse very good," she repeated, as soon as her countenance
ceased to express uncertainty, laying strong emphasis on the last
two words.

"Well, I understand this, June, and will sleep in it to-night. Of
course I am to tell my uncle what you have said?"

The Dew-of-June started, and she discovered a very manifest uneasiness
at the interrogatory.

"No, no, no, no!" she answered, with a volubility and vehemence
that was imitated from the French of the Canadas; "no good to tell
Saltwater. He much talk and long tongue. Thinks woods all water,
understand not'ing. Tell Arrowhead, and June die."

"You do my dear uncle injustice, for he would be as little likely
to betray you as any one."

"No understand. Saltwater got tongue, but no eyes, no ears, no
nose -- not'ing but tongue, tongue, tongue!"

Although Mabel did not exactly coincide in this opinion, she saw
that Cap had not the confidence of the young Indian woman, and that
it was idle to expect she would consent to his being admitted to
their interview.

"You appear to think you know our situation pretty well, June,"
Mabel continued; "have you been on the island before this visit?"

"Just come."

"How then do you know that what you say is true? My father, the
Pathfinder, and Eau-douce may all be here within sound of my voice,
if I choose to call them."

"All gone," said June positively, smiling good-humoredly at the
same time.

"Nay, this is more than you can say certainly, not having been over
the island to examine it."

"Got good eyes; see boat with men go away -- see ship with Eau-douce."

"Then you have been some time watching us: I think, however, you
have not counted them that remain."

June laughed, held up her four fingers again, and then pointed to
her two thumbs; passing a finger over the first, she repeated the
words "red-coats;" and touching the last, she added, "Saltwater,"
"Quartermaster." All this was being very accurate, and Mabel began
to entertain serious doubts as to the propriety of her permitting
her visitor to depart without her becoming more explicit. Still
it was so repugnant to her feelings to abuse the confidence this
gentle and affectionate creature had evidently reposed in her, that
Mabel had no sooner admitted the thought of summoning her uncle,
than she rejected it as unworthy of herself and unjust to her
friend. To aid this good resolution, too, there was the certainty
that June would reveal nothing, but take refuge in a stubborn
silence, if any attempt were made to coerce her.

"You think, then, June," Mabel continued, as soon as these thoughts had
passed through her mind, "that I had better live in the blockhouse?"

"Good place for woman. Blockhouse got no scalp. Logs t'ick."

"You speak confidently, June; as if you had been in it, and had
measured its walls."

June laughed; and she looked knowing, though she said nothing.

"Does any one but yourself know how to find this island? Have any
of the Iroquois seen it?"

June looked sad, and she cast her eyes warily about her, as if
distrusting a listener.

"Tuscarora, everywhere -- Oswego, here, Frontenac, Mohawk --
everywhere. If he see June, kill her."

"But we thought that no one knew of this island, and that we had
no reason to fear our enemies while on it."

"Much eye, Iroquois."

"Eyes will not always do, June, This spot is hid from ordinary
sight, and few of even our own people know how to find it."

"One man can tell; some Yengeese talk French."

Mabel felt a chill at her heart. All the suspicions against
Jasper, which she had hitherto disdained entertaining, crowded in
a body on her thoughts; and the sensation that they brought was so
sickening, that for an instant she imagined she was about to faint.
Arousing herself, and remembering her promise to her father, she
arose and walked up and down the hut for a minute, fancying that
Jasper's delinquencies were naught to her, though her inmost heart
yearned with the desire to think him innocent.

"I understand your meaning, June," she then said; "you wish me to
know that some one has treacherously told your people where and how
to find the island?"

June laughed, for in her eyes artifice in war was oftener a merit
than a crime; but she was too true to her tribe herself to say
more than the occasion required. Her object was to save Mabel,
and Mabel only; and she saw no sufficient reason for "travelling
out of the record," as the lawyers express it, in order to do
anything else.

"Pale-face know now," she added. "Blockhouse good for girl, no
matter for men and warriors."

"But it is much matter with me, June; for one of those men is my
uncle, whom I love, and the others are my countrymen and friends.
I must tell them what has passed."

"Then June be kill," returned the young Indian quietly, though she
evidently spoke with concern.

"No; they shall not know that you have been here. Still, they must
be on their guard, and we can all go into the blockhouse."

"Arrowhead know, see everything, and June be kill. June come to
tell young pale-face friend, not to tell men. Every warrior watch
his own scalp. June woman, and tell woman; no tell men."

Mabel was greatly distressed at this declaration of her wild
friend, for it was now evident the young creature understood that
her communication was to go no further. She was ignorant how far
these people consider the point of honor interested in her keeping
the secret; and most of all was she unable to say how far any
indiscretion of her own might actually commit June and endanger her
life. All these considerations flashed on her mind, and reflection
only rendered their influence more painful. June, too, manifestly
viewed the matter gravely; for she began to gather up the
different little articles she had dropped in taking Mabel's hand,
and was preparing to depart. To attempt detaining her was out of
the question; and to part from her, after all she had hazarded to
serve her, was repugnant to all the just and kind feelings of our
heroine's nature.

"June," said she eagerly, folding her arms round the gentle but
uneducated being, "we are friends. From me you have nothing to
fear, for no one shall know of your visit. If you could give me
some signal just before the danger comes, some sign by which to
know when to go into the blockhouse, how to take care of myself."

June paused, for she had been in earnest in her intention to depart;
and then she said quietly, "Bring June pigeon."

"A pigeon! Where shall I find a pigeon to bring you?"

"Next hut; bring old one; June go to canoe."

"I think I understand you, June; but had I not better lead you back
to the bushes, lest you meet some of the men?"

"Go out first; count men, one, two, t'ree, four, five, six" - here
June held up her fingers, and laughed -- "all out of the way --
good; all but one, call him one side. Then sing, and fetch pigeon."

Mabel smiled at the readiness and ingenuity of the girl, and prepared
to execute her requests. At the door, however, she stopped, and
looked back entreatingly at the Indian woman. "Is there no hope
of your telling me more, June?" she said.

"Know all now, blockhouse good, pigeon tell, Arrowhead kill."

The last words sufficed; for Mabel could not urge further
communications, when her companion herself told her that the penalty
of her revelations might be death by the hand of her husband.
Throwing open the door, she made a sign of adieu to June, and went
out of the hut. Mabel resorted to the simple expedient of the young
Indian girl to ascertain the situation of the different individuals
on the island. Instead of looking about her with the intention
of recognizing faces and dresses, she merely counted them; and
found that three still remained at the fire, while two had gone to
the boat, one of whom was Mr. Muir. The sixth man was her uncle; and
he was coolly arranging some fishing-tackle at no great distance
from the fire. The woman was just entering her own hut; and
this accounted for the whole party. Mabel now, affecting to have
dropped something, returned nearly to the hut she had left, warbling
an air, stooped as if to pick up some object from the ground, and
hurried towards the hut June had mentioned. This was a dilapidated
structure, and it had been converted by the soldiers of the last
detachment into a sort of storehouse for their live stock. Among
other things, it contained a few dozen pigeons, which were regaling
on a pile of wheat that had been brought off from one of the farms
plundered on the Canada shore. Mabel had not much difficulty in
catching one of these pigeons, although they fluttered and flew
about the hut with a noise like that of drums; and, concealing it
in her dress, she stole back towards her own hut with the prize.
It was empty; and, without doing more than cast a glance in at
the door, the eager girl hurried down to the shore. She had no
difficulty in escaping observation, for the trees and bushes made
a complete cover to her person. At the canoe she found June, who
took the pigeon, placed it in a basket of her own manufacturing,
and, repeating the words, "blockhouse good," she glided out of the
bushes and across the narrow passage, as noiselessly as she had
come. Mabel waited some time to catch a signal of leave-taking or
amity after her friend had landed, but none was given. The adjacent
islands, without exception, were as quiet as if no one had ever
disturbed the sublime repose of nature, and nowhere could any sign
or symptom be discovered, as Mabel then thought, that might denote
the proximity of the sort of danger of which June had given notice.

On returning, however, from the shore, Mabel was struck with
a little circumstance, that, in an ordinary situation, would have
attracted no attention, but which, now that her suspicions had been
aroused, did not pass before her uneasy eye unnoticed. A small
piece of red bunting, such as is used in the ensigns of ships, was
fluttering at the lower branch of a small tree, fastened in a way
to permit it to blow out, or to droop like a vessel's pennant.

Now that Mabel's fears were awakened, June herself could not have
manifested greater quickness in analyzing facts that she believed
might affect the safety of the party. She saw at a glance that
this bit of cloth could be observed from an adjacent island; that
it lay so near the line between her own hut and the canoe as to
leave no doubt that June had passed near it, if not directly under
it; and that it might be a signal to communicate some important
fact connected with the mode of attack to those who were probably
lying in ambush near them. Tearing the little strip of bunting
from the tree, Mabel hastened on, scarcely knowing what her duty
next required of her. June might be false to her, but her manner,
her looks, her affection, and her disposition as Mabel had known
it in the journey, forbade the idea. Then came the allusion to
Arrowhead's admiration of the pale-face beauties, some dim recollections
of the looks of the Tuscarora, and a painful consciousness that few
wives could view with kindness one who had estranged a husband's
affections. None of these images were distinct and clear, but
they rather gleamed over the mind of our heroine than rested in
it, and they quickened her pulses, as they did her step, without
bringing with them the prompt and clear decisions that usually
followed her reflections. She had hurried onwards towards the hut
occupied by the soldier's wife, intending to remove at once to the
blockhouse with the woman, though she could persuade no other to
follow, when her impatient walk was interrupted by the voice of
Muir.

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