ife ago."

"Na, na," interrupted Muir in his broadest Scotch, "this is injustice,
man. I've no' lived so very long, neither."

"I'll do you justice, Lieutenant, even if you get the best in the potato
trial. I say you've passed a good human life, for a soldier, in places
where the rifle is daily used, and I know you are a creditable and
ingenious marksman; but then you are not a true rifle-shooter. As for
boasting, I hope I'm not a vain talker about my own exploits; but a
man's gifts are his gifts, and it's flying in the face of Providence to
deny them. The Sergeant's daughter, here, shall judge between us, if you
have the stomach to submit to so pretty a judge."

The Pathfinder had named Mabel as the arbiter because he admired her,
and because, in his eyes, rank had little or no value; but Lieutenant
Muir shrank at such a reference in the presence of the wives of the
officers. He would gladly keep himself constantly before the eyes and
the imagination of the object of his wishes; but he was still too much
under the influence of old prejudices, and perhaps too wary, to appear
openly as her suitor, unless he saw something very like a certainty of
success. On the discretion of Major Duncan he had a full reliance, and
he apprehended no betrayal from that quarter; but he was quite aware,
should it ever get abroad that he had been refused by the child of a
non-commissioned officer, he would find great difficulty in making
his approaches to any other woman of a condition to which he might
reasonably aspire. Notwithstanding these doubts and misgivings, Mabel
looked so prettily, blushed so charmingly, smiled so sweetly, and
altogether presented so winning a picture of youth, spirit, modesty, and
beauty, that he found it exceedingly tempting to be kept so prominently
before her imagination, and to be able to address her freely.

"You shall have it your own way, Pathfinder," he answered, as soon as
his doubts had settled down into determination; "let the Sergeant's
daughter--his charming daughter, I should have termed her--be the umpire
then; and to her we will both dedicate the prize, that one or the other
must certainly win. Pathfinder must be humored, ladies, as you perceive,
else, no doubt, we should have had the honor to submit ourselves to one
of your charming society."

A call for the competitors now drew the Quartermaster and his adversary
away, and in a few moments the second trial of skill commenced. A common
wrough