Instead of looking about her with the intention of recog-nizing faces and dresses, she merely counted them; and found that three still remained at the fire, while two had gone to the boat, one of whom was Mr.Muir.The sixth man was her uncle; and he was coolly arranging some fish-ing-tackle at no great distance from the fire.The woman was just entering her own hut; and this accounted for the whole party.Mabel now, affecting to have dropped some-thing, returned nearly to the hut she had left, warbling an air, stooped as if to pick up some object from the ground, and hurried towards the hut June had mentioned.This was a dilapidated structure, and it had been converted by the soldiers of the last detachment into a sort of store-house for their live stock.Among other things, it con-tained a few dozen pigeons, which were regaling on a pile of wheat that had been brought off from one of the farms plundered on the Canada shore.Mabel had not much difficulty in catching one of these pigeons, although they fluttered and flew about the hut with a noise like that of drums; and, concealing it in her dress, she stole back towards her own hut with the prize.It was empty; and, without doing more than cast a glance in at the door, the eager girl hurried down to the shore.She had no diffi-culty in escaping observation, for the trees and bushes made a complete cover to her person.At the canoe she found June, who took the pigeon, placed it in a basket of her own manufacturing, and, repeating the words, "blockhouse good," she glided out of the bushes and across the narrow passage, as noiselessly as she had come.Mabel waited some time to catch a signal of leave-taking or amity after her friend had landed, but none was given.The adjacent islands, without exception, were as quiet as if no one had ever disturbed the sublime repose of nature, and nowhere could any sign or symptom be discovered, as Mabel then thought, that might denote the proximity of the sort of danger of which June had given notice.
On returning, however, from the shore, Mabel was struck with a little circumstance, that, in an ordinary situation, would have attracted no attention, but which, now that her suspicions had been aroused, did not pass before her uneasy eye unnoticed.A small piece of red bunting, such as is used in the ensigns of ships, was fluttering at the lower branch of a small tree, fastened in a way to permit it to blow out, or to droop like a vessel's pennant.
Now that Mabel's fears were awakened, June herself could not have manifested greater quickness in analyzing facts that she believed might affect the safety of the party.
She saw at a glance that this bit of cloth could be ob-served from an adjacent island; that it lay so near the line between her own hut and the canoe as to leave no doubt that June had passed near it, if not directly under it; and that it might be a signal to communicate some important fact connected with the mode of attack to those who were probably lying in ambush near them.Tearing the little strip of bunting from the tree, Mabel hastened on, scarcely knowing what her duty next required of her.June might be false to her, but her manner, her looks, her affection, and her disposition as Mabel had known it in the journey, forbade the idea.Then came the allusion to Arrowhead's admiration of the pale-face beauties, some dim recollections of the looks of the Tuscarora, and a painful consciousness that few wives could view with kindness one who had es-tranged a husband's affections.None of these images were distinct and clear, but they rather gleamed over the mind of our heroine than rested in it, and they quickened her pulses, as they did her step, without bringing with them the prompt and clear decisions that usually followed her reflec-tions.She had hurried onwards towards the hut occupied by the soldier's wife, intending to remove at once to the blockhouse with the woman, though she could persuade no other to follow, when her impatient walk was interrupted by the voice of Muir.
"Whither so fast, pretty Mabel?" he cried; "and why so given to solitude? The worthy Sergeant will deride my breeding, if he hear that his daughter passes the morn-ings alone and unattended to, though he well knows it is my ardent wish to be her slave and companion from the beginning of the year to its end.""Surely, Mr.Muir, you must have some authority here?"Mabel suddenly arrested her steps to say."One of your rank would be listened to, at least, by a corporal?""I don't know that, I don't know that," interrupted Muir, with an impatience and appearance of alarm that might have excited Mabel's attention at another moment.
"Command is command; discipline, discipline; and au-thority, authority.Your good father would be sore grieved did he find me interfering to sully or carry off the laurels he is about to win; and I cannot command the Corporal without equally commanding the Sergeant.The wisest way will be for me to remain in the obscurity of a private individual in this enterprise; and it is so that all parties, from Lundie down, understand the transaction.""This I know, and it may be well, nor would I give my dear father any cause of complaint; but you may influence the Corporal to his own good.""I'll no' say that," returned Muir in his sly Scotch way;"it would be far safer to promise to influence him to his injury.Mankind, pretty Mabel, have their peculiarities;and to influence a fellow-being to his own good is one of the most difficult tasks of human nature, while the oppo-site is just the easiest.You'll no' forget this, my dear, but bear it in mind for your edification and government.
But what is that you're twisting round your slender finger as you may be said to twist hearts?""It is nothing but a bit of cloth -- a sort of flag -- a trifle that is hardly worth our attention at this grave moment.
