“By such an accident, Mabel, as Providence employs to tell the hound where to find the deer and the deer how to throw off the hound.  No, no! these artifices and devilries with dead bodies may deceive the soldiers of the 55th and the king’s officers; but they are all lost upon men who have passed their days in the forest.  I came down the channel in face of the pretended fisherman; and, though the riptyles have set up the poor wretch with art, it was not ingenious enough to take in a practysed eye.  The rod was held too high, for the 55th have learned to fish at Oswego, if they never knew how before; and then the man was too quiet for one who got neither prey nor bite.  But we never come in upon a post blindly; and I have lain outside a garrison a whole night, because they had changed their sentries and their mode of standing guard.  Neither the Sarpent nor myself would be likely to be taken in by these clumsy contrivances, which were most probably intended for the Scotch, who are cunning enough in some particulars, though anything but witches when Indian sarcumventions are in the wind.”

“Do you think my father and his men may yet be deceived?” said Mabel quickly.

“Not if I can prevent it, Mabel.  You say the Sarpent is on the look-out too; so there is a double chance of our succeeding in letting him know his danger; though it is by no means sartain by which channel the party may come.”

“Pathfinder,” said our heroine solemnly, for the frightful scenes she had witnessed had clothed death with unusual horrors, —­ “Pathfinder, you have professed love for me, a wish to make me your wife?”

“I did ventur’ to speak on that subject, Mabel, and the Sergeant has even lately said that you are kindly disposed; but I am not a man to persecute the thing I love.”

“Hear me, Pathfinder, I respect you, honor you, revere you; save my father from this dreadful death, and I can worship you.  Here is my hand, as a solemn pledge for my faith, when you come to claim it.”

“Bless you, bless you, Mabel; this is more than I desarve — more, I fear, than I shall know how to profit by as I ought.  It was not wanting, however, to make me sarve the Sergeant.  We are old comrades, and owe each other a life; though I fear me, Mabel, being a father’s comrade is not always the best recommendation with a daughter.”

“You want no other recommendation than your own acts —­ your courage, your fidelity.  All that you do and say, Pathfinder, my reason approves, and the heart will, nay, it shall follow.”

“This is a happiness I little expected this night; but we are in God’s hands, and He will protect us in His own way.  These are sweet words, Mabel; but they were not wanting to make me do all that man can do in the present circumstances; they will not lessen my endeavors, neither.”

“Now we understand each other, Pathfinder,” Mabel added hoarsely, “let us not lose one of the precious moments, which may be of incalculable value.  Can we not get into your canoe and go and meet my father?”