“Particularly hu-woman’s nature, David.”

“Ye will have yer joke, Lundie, let who will suffer.  But I did not think it possible I could be deceived as to the young woman’s inclinations, which I think I may boldly pronounce to be altogether above the condition of Pathfinder.  As for the individual himself —­ why, time will show.”

“Now, tell me frankly, Davy Muir,” said Lundie, stepping short in his walk, and looking the other earnestly in the face with a comical expression of surprise, that rendered the veteran’s countenance ridiculously earnest, —­“do you really suppose a girl like the daughter of Sergeant Dunham can take a serious fancy to a man of your years and appearance, and experience, I might add?”

“Hout, awa’, Lundie! ye dinna know the sax, and that’s the reason yer unmarried in yer forty-fifth year.  It’s a fearfu’ time ye’ve been a bachelor, Major!”

“And what may be your age, Lieutenant Muir, if I may presume to ask so delicate a question?”

“Forty-seven; I’ll no’ deny it, Lundie; and if I get Mabel, there’ll be just a wife for every twa lustrums.  But I didna think Sergeant Dunham would be so humble minded as to dream of giving that sweet lass of his to one like the Pathfinder.”

“There’s no dream about it, Davy; the man is as serious as a soldier about to be flogged.”

“Well, well, Major, we are auld friends,” —­ both ran into the Scotch or avoided it, as they approached or drew away from their younger days, in the dialogue, —­ “and ought to know how to take and give a joke, off duty.  It is possible the worthy man has not understood my hints, or he never would have thought of such a thing.  The difference between an officer’s consort and a guide’s woman is as vast as that between the antiquity of Scotland and the antiquity of America.  I’m auld blood, too, Lundie.”

“Take my word for it Davy, your antiquity will do you no good in this affair; and as for your blood, it is not older than your bones.  Well, well, man, ye know the Sergeant’s answer; and so ye perceive that my influence, on which ye counted so much, can do nought for ye.  Let us take a glass thegither, Davy, for auld acquaintance sake; and then ye’ll be doing well to remember the party that marches the morrow, and to forget Mabel Dunham as fast as ever you can.”

“Ah, Major!  I have always found it easier to forget a wife than to forget a sweetheart.  When a couple are fairly married, all is settled but the death, as one may say, which must finally part us all; and it seems to me awfu’ irreverent to disturb the departed; whereas there is so much anxiety and hope and felicity in expectation like, with the lassie, that it keeps thought alive.”

“That is just my idea of your situation, Davy; for I never supposed you expected any more felicity with either of your wives.  Now, I’ve heard of fellows who were so stupid as to look forward to happiness with their wives even beyond the grave.  I drink to your success, or to your speedy recovery from this attack, Lieutenant; and I admonish you to be more cautious in future, as some of these violent cases may yet carry you off.”