th which Mabel thought she perceived a slight
and guarded push against the door. Fearful that all might not be as
she wished, and anxious to let Chingachgook know that she was near, she
began, though in tremulous and low notes, to sing. So profound was the
stillness of the moment that the sound of the unsteady warbling ascended
to the roof and in a minute June began to descend. A slight tap at the
door was heard immediately after. Mabel was bewildered, for there was
no time to lose. Hope proved stronger than fear; and with unsteady hands
she commenced unbarring the door. The moccasin of June was heard on
the floor above her when only a single bar was turned. The second was
released as her form reached half-way down the lower ladder.

"What you do?" exclaimed June angrily. "Run away--mad--leave blockhouse;
blockhouse good." The hands of both were on the last bar, and it would
have been cleared from the fastenings but for a vigorous shove from
without, which jammed the wood. A short struggle ensued, though both
were disinclined to violence. June would probably have prevailed, had
not another and a more vigorous push from without forced the bar past
the trifling impediment that held it, when the door opened. The form of
a man was seen to enter; and both the females rushed up the ladder, as
if equally afraid of the consequences. The stranger secured the door;
and, first examining the lower room with great care, he cautiously
ascended the ladder. June, as soon as it became dark, had closed the
loops of the principal floor, and lighted a candle. By means of this dim
taper, then, the two females stood in expectation, waiting to ascertain
the person of their visitor, whose wary ascent of the ladder was
distinctly audible, though sufficiently deliberate. It would not be easy
to say which was the more astonished on finding, when the stranger had
got through the trap, that Pathfinder stood before them.

"God be praised!" Mabel exclaimed, for the idea that the blockhouse
would be impregnable with such a garrison at once crossed her mind. "O
Pathfinder! what has become of my father?"

"The Sergeant is safe as yet, and victorious; though it is not in the
gift of man to say what will be the ind of it. Is not that the wife of
Arrowhead skulking in the corner there?"

"Speak not of her reproachfully, Pathfinder; I owe her my life, my
present security. Tell me what has happened to my father's party--why
you are here; and I will relate