“So much, sir, for the judgment of a sailor,” returned the Sergeant with dignity; “but perhaps you are not aware that it requires a year to teach a true soldier how to eat?”

“So much the worse for him.  The militia know how to eat at starting; for I have often heard that, on their marches, they commonly eat all before them, even if they do nothing else.”

“They have their gifts, I suppose, like other men,” observed Pathfinder, with a view to preserve the peace, which was evidently in some danger of being broken by the obstinate predilection of each of the disputants in favor of his own calling; “and when a man has his gift from Providence, it is commonly idle to endeavor to bear up against it.  The 55th, Sergeant, is a judicous regiment in the way of eating, as I know from having been so long in its company, though I daresay militia corps could be found that would outdo them in feats of that natur’ too.”

“Uncle;” said Mabel, “if you have breakfasted, I will thank you to go out upon the bastion with me again.  We have neither of us half seen the lake, and it would be hardly seemly for a young woman to be walking about the fort, the first day of her arrival, quite alone.”

Cap understood the motive of Mabel; and having, at the bottom, a hearty friendship for his brother-in-law, he was willing enough to defer the argument until they had been longer together, for the idea of abandoning it altogether never crossed the mind of one so dogmatical and obstinate.  He accordingly accompanied his niece, leaving Sergeant Dunham and his friend, the Pathfinder, alone together.  As soon as his adversary had beat a retreat, the Sergeant, who did not quite so well understand the manoeuvre of his daughter, turned to his companion, and, with a smile which was not without triumph, he remarked, —­

“The army, Pathfinder, has never yet done itself justice in the way of asserting its rights; and though modesty becomes a man, whether he is in a red coat or a black one, or, for that matter, in his shirt-sleeves, I don’t like to let a good opportunity slip of saying a word in its behalf.  Well, my friend,” laying his own hand on one of the Pathfinder’s, and giving it a hearty squeeze, “how do you like the girl?”

“You have reason to be proud of her, Sergeant.  I have seen many of her sex, and some that were great and beautiful; but never before did I meet with one in whom I thought Providence had so well balanced the different gifts.”

“And the good opinion, I can tell you, Pathfinder, is mutual.  She told me last night all about your coolness, and spirit, and kindness, —­ particularly the last, for kindness counts for more than half with females, my friend, —­and the first inspection seems to give satisfaction on both sides.  Brush up the uniform, and pay a little more attention to the outside, Pathfinder, and you will have the girl heart and hand.”

“Nay, nay, Sergeant, I’ve forgotten nothing that you have told me, and grudge no reasonable pains to make myself as pleasant in the eyes of Mabel as she is getting to be in mine.  I cleaned and brightened up Killdeer this morning as soon as the sun rose; and, in my judgment, the piece never looked better than it does at this very moment.”