orthy to step into your shoes, Mr. Muir,"
returned the girl, with malicious pleasure, "I'm sure that the
qualification is mutual, and that you are every way worthy to step into
his."

"The deuce is in the child! you would not reduce me to the rank of a
non-commissioned officer, Mabel?"

"No, indeed, sir; I was not thinking of the army at all as you spoke of
retiring. My thoughts were more egotistical, and I was thinking how
much you reminded me of my dear father, by your experience, wisdom, and
suitableness to take his place as the head of a family."

"As its bridegroom, pretty Mabel, but not as its parent or natural
chief. I see how it is with you, loving your repartee, and brilliant
with wit. Well, I like spirit in a young woman, so it be not the spirit
of a scold. This Pathfinder is all extraordinair, Mabel, if truth may be
said of the man."

"Truth should be said of him or nothing. Pathfinder is my friend--my
very particular friend, Mr. Muir, and no evil can be said of him in my
presence that I shall not deny."

"I shall say nothing evil of him, I can assure you, Mabel; but, at the
same time, I doubt if much good can be said in his favor."

"He is at least expert with the rifle," returned Mabel, smiling. "That
you cannot deny."

"Let him have all the credit of his exploits in that way if you please;
but he is as illiterate as a Mohawk."

"He may not understand Latin, but his knowledge of Iroquois is greater
than that of most men, and it is the more useful language of the two in
this part of the world."

"If Lundie himself were to call on me for an opinion which I admire
more, your person or your wit, beautiful and caustic Mabel, I should be
at a loss to answer. My admiration is so nearly divided between them,
that I often fancy this is the one that bears off the palm, and then the
other! Ah! the late Mrs. Muir was a paragon in that way also."

"The latest Mrs. Muir, did you say, sir?" asked Mabel, looking up
innocently at her companion.

"Hoot, hoot! That is some of Pathfinder's scandal. Now I daresay that
the fellow has been trying to persuade you, Mabel, that I have had more
than one wife already."

"In that case his time would have been thrown away, sir, as everybody
knows that you have been so unfortunate as to have had four."

"Only three, as sure as my name is David Muir. The fourth is pure
scandal--or rather, pretty Mabel, she is yet _in petto_, as they say at
Rome; and that means, in matters