“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.”