“I hope, sir, my child will make a prudent choice, and I think her mind is already pretty much made up in favor of Pathfinder.  Still she shall have fair play, though disobedience is the next crime to mutiny.”

“Have all the ammunition carefully examined and dried as soon as you arrive; the damp of the lake may affect it.  And now, once more, farewell, Sergeant.  Beware of that Jasper, and consult with Muir in any difficulty.  I shall expect you to return, triumphant, this day month.”

“God bless your honor!  If anything should happen to me, I trust to you, Major Duncan, to care for an old soldier’s character.”

“Rely on me, Dunham —­ you will rely on a friend.  Be vigilant:  remember you will be in the very jaws of the lion; —­ pshaw! of no lion neither; but of treacherous tigers:  in their very jaws, and beyond support.  Have the flints counted and examined in the morning —­ and —­ farewell, Dunham, farewell!”

The Sergeant took the extended hand of his superior with proper respect, and they finally parted; Lundie hastening into his own movable abode, while the other left the fort, descended to the beach, and got into a boat.

It is not to be supposed that Sergeant Dunham, after he had parted from his commanding officer, was likely to forget the injunctions he had received.  He thought highly of Jasper in general; but distrust had been insinuated between his former confidence and the obligations of duty; and, as he now felt that everything depended on his own vigilance, by the time the boat reached the side of the Scud he was in a proper humor to let no suspicious circumstance go unheeded, or any unusual movement in the young sailor pass without its comment.  As a matter of course, he viewed things in the light suited to his peculiar mood; and his precautions, as well as his distrust, partook of the habits, opinions, and education of the man.

The Scud’s kedge was lifted as soon as the boat with the Sergeant, who was the last person expected, was seen to quit the shore, and the head of the cutter was cast to the eastward by means of the sweeps.  A few vigorous strokes of the latter, in which the soldiers aided, now sent the light craft into the line or the current that flowed from the river, when she was suffered to drift into the offing again.  As yet there was no wind, the light and almost imperceptible air from the lake, that had existed previously to the setting of the sun, having entirely failed.

All this time an unusual quiet prevailed in the cutter.  It appeared as if those on board of her felt that they were entering upon an uncertain enterprise, in the obscurity of night; and that their duty, the hour, and the manner of their departure lent a solemnity to their movements.  Discipline also came in aid of these feelings.  Most were silent; and those who did speak spoke seldom and in low voices.  In this manner the cutter set slowly out into the