"Lord bless you, Mabel! there is no more need of your talking in favor of my shooting on this frontier, than of your talking about the water in the lake or the sun in the heavens.
Everybody knows what I can do in that way, and your words would be thrown away, as much as French would be thrown away on an American bear."
"Then you think that Jasper knew you were giving him this advantage, of which he had so unhandsomely availed himself?" said Mabel, the color which had imparted so much lustre to her eyes gradually leaving her face, which became grave and thoughtful.
"I do not say that, but very far from it.
We all forget things that we have known, when eager after our wishes.
Jasper is satisfied that I can pass one bullet through two potatoes, as I sent my bullet through the gulls; and he knows no other man on the frontier can do the same thing.
But with the calash before his eyes, and the hope of giving it to you, the lad was inclined to think better of himself, just at that moment, perhaps, than he ought.
No, no, there's nothing mean or distrustful about Jasper Eau-douce, though it is a gift natural to all young men to wish to appear well in the eyes of handsome young women."
"I'll try to forget all, but the kindness you've both shown to a poor motherless girl," said Mabel, struggling to keep down emotions she scarcely knew how to account for herself.
"Believe me, Pathfinder, I can never forget all you have already done for me -- you and Jasper; and this new proof of your regard is not thrown away.
Here, here is a brooch that is of silver, and I offer it as a token that I owe you life or liberty."
"What shall I do with this, Mabel?" asked the bewildered hunter, holding the simple trinket in his hand.
"I have neither buckle nor button about me, for I wear nothing but leathern strings, and them of good deer-skins.
It's pretty to the eye, but it is prettier far on the spot it came from than it can be about me."
"Nay, put it in your hunting-shirt; it will become it well.
Remember, Pathfinder, that it is a token of friendship between us, and a sign that I can never forget you or your services."
Mabel then smiled an adieu; and, bounding up the bank, she was soon lost to view behind the mound of the fort.
CHAPTER XII.
Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight,
Along the leaguer'd wall, and bristling bank,
Of the arm'd river; while with straggling light,
The stars peep through the vapor, dim and dank.
BYRON.
A few hours later Mabel Dunham was on the bastion that overlooked the river and the lake, seemingly in deep thought.
The evening was calm and soft, and the question had arisen whether the party for the Thousand Islands would be able to get out that night or not, on account of the total absence of wind.
The stores, arms, and ammunition were already shipped, and even Mabel's effects were on board; but the small draft of men that was to go was still ashore, there being no apparent prospect of the cutter's getting under way.
Jasper had warped the Scud out of the cove, and so far up the stream as to enable him to pass through the outlet of the river whenever he chose; but there he still lay, riding at single anchor.
The drafted men were lounging about the shore of the cove, undecided whether or not to pull off.
The sports of the morning had left a quiet in the garrison which was in harmony with the whole of the beautiful scene, and Mabel felt its influence on her feelings, though probably too little accustomed to speculate on such sensations to be aware of the cause.
Everything near appeared lovely and soothing, while the solemn grandeur of the silent forest and placid expanse of the lake lent a sublimity that other scenes might have wanted.
For the first time, Mabel felt the hold that the towns and civilization had gained on her habits sensibly weakened; and the warm-hearted girl began to think that a life passed amid objects such as those around her might be happy.
How far the experience of the last days came in aid of the calm and holy eventide, and contributed towards producing that young conviction, may be suspected, rather than affirmed, in this early portion of our legend.
"A charming sunset, Mabel!" said the hearty voice of her uncle, so close to the ear of our heroine as to cause her to start, -- "a charming sunset, girl, for a fresh-water concern, though we should think but little of it at sea."
"And is not nature the same on shore or at sea -- on a lake like this or on the ocean?
Does not the sun shine on all alike, dear uncle; and can we not feel gratitude for the blessings of Providence as strongly on this remote frontier as in our own Manhattan?"
"The girl has fallen in with some of her mother's books.
Is not nature the same, indeed!
Now, Mabel, do you imagine that the nature of a soldier is the same as that of a seafaring man?
You've relations in both callings, and ought to be able to answer."
"But uncle, I mean human nature."
"So do I, girl; the human nature of a seaman, and the human nature of one of these fellows of the 55th, not even excepting your own father.
Here have they had a shooting-match -- target-firing I should call it -- this day, and what a different thing has it been from a target-firing afloat!
There we should have sprung our broadside, sported with round shot, at an object half a mile off, at the very nearest; and the potatoes, if there happened to be any on board, as very likely would not have been the case, would have been left in the cook's coppers.
It may be an honorable calling, that of a soldier, Mabel; but an experienced hand sees many follies and weaknesses in one of these forts.
As for that bit of a lake, you know my opinion of it already, and I wish to disparage nothing.
No real seafarer disparages anything; but, d--- me, if I regard this here Ontario, as they call it, as more than so much water in a ship's scuttle-butt.
Now, look you here, Mabel, if you wish to understand the difference between the ocean and a lake, I can make you comprehend it with a single look: this is what one may call a calm, seeing that there is no wind; though, to own the truth, I do not think the calms are as calm as them we get outside -- "
"Uncle, there is not a breath of air.
I do not think it possible for the leaves to be more immovably still than those of the entire forest are at this very moment."
"Leaves! what are leaves, child? there are no leaves at sea.