ld make you less bold, and more unwilling to meet the French than
you were before?"

"Not so, not so. With you in danger, for instance, I fear I might become
foolhardy; but before we became so intimate, as I may say, I loved to
think of my scoutings, and of my marches, and outlyings, and fights, and
other adventures: but now my mind cares less about them; I think more of
the barracks, and of evenings passed in discourse, of feelings in which
there are no wranglings and bloodshed, and of young women, and of their
laughs and their cheerful, soft voices, their pleasant looks and their
winning ways. I sometimes tell the Sergeant that he and his daughter
will be the spoiling of one of the best and most experienced scouts on
the lines."

"Not they, Pathfinder; they will try to make that which is already so
excellent, perfect. You do not know us, if you think that either wishes
to see you in the least changed. Remain as at present, the same honest,
upright, conscientious, fearless, intelligent, trustworthy guide that
you are, and neither my dear father nor myself can ever think of you
differently from what we now do."

It was too dark for Mabel to note the workings of the countenance of her
listener; but her own sweet face was turned towards him, as she spoke
with an energy equal to her frankness, in a way to show how little
embarrassed were her thoughts, and how sincere were her words.
Her countenance was a little flushed, it is true; but it was with
earnestness and truth of feeling, though no nerve thrilled, no limb
trembled, no pulsation quickened. In short, her manner and appearance
were those of a sincere-minded and frank girl, making such a declaration
of good-will and regard for one of the other sex as she felt that his
services and good qualities merited, without any of the emotion that
invariably accompanies the consciousness of an inclination which might
lead to softer disclosures.

The Pathfinder was too unpractised, however, to enter into distinctions
of this kind, and his humble nature was encouraged by the directness and
strength of the words he had just heard. Unwilling, if not unable, to
say any more, he walked away, and stood leaning on his rifle and looking
up at the stars for full ten minutes in profound silence.

In the meanwhile the interview on the bastion, to which we have already
alluded, took place between Lundie and the Sergeant.

"Have the men's knapsacks been examined?" demanded Major Duncan,