“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.”