“Oh, Pathfinder! can this be?”

“Nothing is easier, Mabel, for treachery comes as nat’ral to some men as eating.  Now when I find a man all fair words I look close to his deeds; for when the heart is right, and really intends to do good, it is generally satisfied to let the conduct speak instead of the tongue.”

“Jasper Western is not one of these,” said Mabel impetuously.  “No youth can be more sincere in his manner, or less apt to make the tongue act for the head.”

“Jasper Western! tongue and heart are both right with that lad, depend on it, Mabel; and the notion taken up by Lundie, and the Quartermaster, and the Sergeant, and your uncle too, is as wrong as it would be to think that the sun shone by night and the stars shone by day.  No, no; I’ll answer for Eau-douce’s honesty with my own scalp, or, at need, with my own rifle.”

“Bless you, bless you, Pathfinder!” exclaimed Mabel, extending her own hand and pressing the iron fingers of her companion, under a state of feeling that far surpassed her own consciousness of its strength.  “You are all that is generous, all that is noble!  God will reward you for it.”

“Ah, Mabel, I fear me, if this be true, I should not covet such a wife as yourself; but would leave you to be sued for by some gentleman of the garrison, as your desarts require.”

“We will not talk of this any more to-night,” Mabel answered in a voice so smothered as to seem nearly choked.  “We must think less of ourselves just now, Pathfinder, and more of our friends.  But I rejoice from my soul that you believe Jasper innocent.  Now let us talk of other things —­ ought we not to release June?”

“I’ve been thinking about the woman; for it will not be safe to shut our eyes and leave hers open, on this side of the blockhouse door.  If we put her in the upper room, and take away the ladder, she’ll be a prisoner at least.”

“I cannot treat one thus who has saved my life.  It would be better to let her depart, for I think she is too much my friend to do anything to harm me.”

“You do not know the race, Mabel, you do not know the race.  It’s true she’s not a full-blooded Mingo, but she consorts with the vagabonds, and must have larned some of their tricks.  What is that?”

“It sounds like oars; some boat is passing through the channel.”

Pathfinder closed the trap that led to the lower room, to prevent June from escaping, extinguished the candle, and went hastily to a loop, Mabel looking over his shoulder in breathless curiosity.  These several movements consumed a minute or two; and by the time the eye of the scout had got a dim view of things without, two boats had swept past and shot up to the shore, at a spot some fifty yards beyond the block, where there was a regular landing.  The obscurity prevented more from being seen; and Pathfinder whispered to Mabel that the new-comers were as likely to be foes