“This I know, and it may be well, nor would I give my dear father any cause of complaint; but you may influence the Corporal to his own good.”

“I’ll no’ say that,” returned Muir in his sly Scotch way; “it would be far safer to promise to influence him to his injury.  Mankind, pretty Mabel, have their peculiarities; and to influence a fellow-being to his own good is one of the most difficult tasks of human nature, while the opposite is just the easiest.  You’ll no’ forget this, my dear, but bear it in mind for your edification and government.  But what is that you’re twisting round your slender finger as you may be said to twist hearts?”

“It is nothing but a bit of cloth —­ a sort of flag —­ a trifle that is hardly worth our attention at this grave moment.  If —­ "

“A trifle!  It’s no’ so trifling as ye may imagine, Mistress Mabel,” taking the bit of bunting from her, and stretching it at full length with both his arms extended, while his face grew grave and his eye watchful.  “Ye’ll no’ ha’ been finding this, Mabel Dunham, in the breakfast?”

Mabel simply acquainted him with the spot where and the manner in which she had found the bit of cloth.  While she was speaking, the eye of the Quartermaster was not quiet for a moment, glancing from the rag to the face of our heroine, then back again to the rag.  That his suspicions were awakened was easy to be seen, nor was he long in letting it be known what direction they had taken.

“We are not in a part of the world where our ensigns and gauds ought to be spread abroad to the wind, Mabel Dunham!” he said, with an ominous shake of the head.

“I thought as much myself, Mr. Muir, and brought away the little flag lest it might be the means of betraying our presence here to the enemy, even though nothing is intended by its display.  Ought not my uncle to be made acquainted with the circumstance?”

“I no’ see the necessity for that, pretty Mabel; for, as you justly say, it is a circumstance, and circumstances sometimes worry the worthy mariner.  But this flag, if flag it can be called, belongs to a seaman’s craft.  You may perceive that it is made of what is called bunting, and that is a description of cloth used only by vessels for such purposes, our colors being of silk, as you may understand, or painted canvas.  It’s surprisingly like the fly of the Scud’s ensign.  And now I recollect me to have observed that a piece had been cut from that very flag.”

Mabel felt her heart sink, but she had sufficient self-command not to attempt an answer.

“It must be looked to,” Muir continued, “and, after all, I think it may be well to hold a short consultation with Master Cap, than whom a more loyal subject does not exist in the British empire.”

“I have thought the warning so serious,” Mabel rejoined, “that I am about to remove to the blockhouse, and to take the woman with me.”