I know I am wild, and uncouth, and ungainly -- ""Pathfinder!"
"Well, well, we'll forget it; you did not mean it, you could not think it.It is useless now to talk of escaping, for the Sergeant cannot be moved; and the blockhouse must be defended, cost what it will.Maybe Lundie will get the tidings of our disaster, and send a party to raise the siege.""Pathfinder -- Mabel!" said the Sergeant, who had been writhing with pain until the cold sweat stood on his fore-head; "come both to my side.You understand each other, I hope?""Father, say nothing of that; it is all as you wish.""Thank God! Give me your hand, Mabel -- here, Path-finder, take it.I can do no more than give you the girl in this way.I know you will make her a kind husband.
Do not wait on account of my death; but there will be a chaplain in the fort before the season closes, and let him marry you at once.My brother, if living, will wish.to go back to his vessel, and then the child will have no pro-tector.Mabel, your husband will have been my friend, and that will be some consolation to you, I hope.""Trust this matter to me, Sergeant," put in Pathfinder;"leave it all in my hands as your dying request; and, de-pend on it, all will go as it should."
"I do, I do put all confidence in you, my trusty friend, and empower you to act as I could act myself in every particular.Mabel, child, -- hand me the water, -- you will never repent this night.Bless you, my daughter! God bless, and have you in His holy keeping!"This tenderness was inexpressibly touching to one of Mabel's feelings; and she felt at that moment as if her feuture union with Pathfinder had received a solemnization that no ceremony of the Church could render more holy.
Still, a weight, as that of a mountain, lay upon her heart, and she thought it would be happiness to die.Then fol-lowed a short pause, when the Sergeant, in broken sen-tences, briefly related what had passed since he parted with Pathfinder and the Delaware.The wind had come more favorable; and, instead of encamping on an island agreeably to the original intention, he had determined to continue, and reach the station that night.Their approach would have been unseen, and a portion of the calamity avoided, he thought, had they not grounded on the point of a neighboring island, where, no doubt, the noise made by the men in getting off the boat gave notice of their ap-proach, and enabled the enemy to be in readiness to receive them.They had landed without the slightest suspicion of danger, though surprised at not finding a sentinel, and had actually left their arms in the boat, with the intention of first securing their knapsacks and provisions.The fire had been so close, that, notwithstanding the obscurity, it was very deadly.Every man had fallen, though two or three subsequently arose and disappeared.Four or five of the soldiers had been killed, or so nearly so as to survive but a few minutes; though, for some unknown reason, the enemy did not make the usual rush for the scalps.Ser-geant Dunham fell with the others; and he had heard the voice of Mabel, as she rushed from the blockhouse.This frantic appeal aroused all his parental feelings, and had enabled him to crawl as far as the door of the building, where he had raised himself against the logs in the manner already mentioned.
After this ****** explanation was made, the Sergeant was so weak as to need repose, and his companions, while they ministered to his wants, suffered some time to pass in silence.Pathfinder took the occasion to reconnoitre from the loops and the roof, and he examined the condition of the rifles, of which there were a dozen kept in the build-ing, the soldiers having used their regimental muskets in the expedition.But Mabel never left her father's side for an instant; and when, by his breathing, she fancied he slept, she bent her knees and prayed.
The half-hour that succeeded was awfully solemn and still.The moccasin of Pathfinder was barely heard over-head, and occasionally the sound of the breech of a rifle fell upon the floor, for he was busied in examining the pieces, with a view to ascertain the state of their charges and their primings.Beyond this, nothing was so loud as the breathing of the wounded man.Mabel's heart yearned to be in communication with the father she was so soon to lose, and yet she would not disturb his apparent repose.
But Dunham slept not; he was in that state when the world suddenly loses its attractious, its illusions, and its power; and the unknown future fills the mind with its conjectures, its revelations, and its immensity.He had been a moral man for one of his mode of life, but he had thought little of this all-important moment.Had the din of battle been ringing in his ears, his martial ardor might have endured to the end; but there, in the silence of that nearly untenanted blockhouse, with no sound to enliven him, no appeal to keep alive factitious sentiment, no hope of victory to impel, things began to appear in their true colors, and this state of being to be estimated at its just value.He would have given treasures for religious con-solation, and yet he knew not where to turn to seek it.
He thought of Pathfinder, but he distrusted his knowl-edge.He thought of Mabel, but for the parent to appeal to the child for such succor appeared like reversing the order of nature.Then it was that he felt the full re-sponsibility of the parental character, and had some clear glimpse of the manner in which he himself had discharged the trust towards an orphan child.While thoughts like these were rising in his mind, Mabel, who watched the slightest change in his breathing, heard a guarded knock at the door.Supposing it might be Chingachgook, she rose, undid two of the bars, and held the third in her hand, as she asked who was there.The answer was in her uncle's voice, and he implored her to give him instant admission.
