“T’ink that too; then stay where you be —­ blockhouse good —­ got no scalp.”

“You believe, then, that I am safe here, at least until my father and his people return?”

“Know so.  No dare touch blockhouse in morning.  Hark! all still now —­ drink rum till head fall down, and sleep like log.”

“Might I not escape?  Are there not several canoes on the island?  Might I not get one, and go and give my father notice of what has happened?”

“Know how to paddle?” demanded June, glancing her eye furtively at her companion.

“Not so well as yourself, perhaps; but enough to get out of sight before morning.”

“What do then? —­ couldn’t paddle six —­ ten —­ eight mile!”

“I do not know; I would do much to warn my father, and the excellent Pathfinder, and all the rest, of the danger they are in.”

“Like Pathfinder?”

“All like him who know him —­ you would like him, nay, love him, if you only knew his heart!”

“No like him at all.  Too good rifle —­ too good eye —­too much shoot Iroquois and June’s people.  Must get his scalp if can.”

“And I must save it if I can, June.  In this respect, then, we are opposed to each other.  I will go and find a canoe the instant they are all asleep, and quit the island.”

“No can —­ June won’t let you.  Call Arrowhead.”

“June! you would not betray me —­ you could not give me up after all you have done for me?”

“Just so,” returned June, making a backward gesture with her hand, and speaking with a warmth and earnestness Mabel had never witnessed in her before.  “Call Arrowhead in loud voice.  One call from wife wake a warrior up.  June no let Lily help enemy —­ no let Indian hurt Lily.”

“I understand you, June, and feel the nature and justice of your sentiments; and, after all, it were better that I should remain here, for I have most probably overrated my strength.  But tell me one thing:  if my uncle comes in the night, and asks to be admitted, you will let me open the door of the blockhouse that he may enter?”

“Sartain —­ he prisoner here, and June like prisoner better than scalp; scalp good for honor, prisoner good for feeling.  But Saltwater hide so close, he don’t know where he be himself.”

Here June laughed in her girlish, mirthful way, for to her scenes of violence were too familiar to leave impressions sufficiently deep to change her natural character.  A long and discursive dialogue now followed, in which Mabel endeavored to obtain clearer notions of her actual situation, under a faint hope that she might possibly be enabled to turn some of the facts she thus learned to advantage.  June answered all her interrogatories simply, but with a caution which showed she fully distinguished between that which was immaterial and that which might endanger the safety or embarrass the future operations of her friends.  The substance of the information she gave may be summed up as follows.