The Pathfinder; Or, The Inland Sea

by James Fenimore Cooper

  CHAPTER XI.

  Compel the hawke to sit that is unmann'd, Or make the hound, untaught, to draw the deere, Or bring the free against his will in band, Or move the sad a pleasant tale to heere, Your time is lost, and you no whit the neere! So love ne learnes, of force the heart to knit: She serves but those that feel sweet fancies' fit. _Mirror for Magistrates._

  It is not often that hope is rewarded by fruition so completely as thewishes of the young men of the garrison were met by the state of theweather on the succeeding day. The heats of summer were little feltat Oswego at the period of which we are writing; for the shade of theforest, added to the refreshing breezes from the lake, so far reducedthe influence of the sun as to render the nights always cool and thedays seldom oppressive.

  It was now September, a month in which the strong gales of the coastoften appear to force themselves across the country as far as the greatlakes, where the inland sailor sometimes feels that genial influencewhich characterizes the winds of the ocean invigorating his frame,cheering his spirits, and arousing his moral force. Such a day was thaton which the garrison of Oswego assembled to witness what its commanderhad jocularly called a "passage of arms." Lundie was a scholar inmilitary matters at least, and it was one of his sources of honest prideto direct the reading and thoughts of the young men under his ordersto the more intellectual parts of their profession. For one in hissituation, his library was both good and extensive, and its books werefreely lent to all who desired to use them. Among other whims that hadfound their way into the garrison through these means, was a relish forthe sort of amusement in which it was now about to indulge; and aroundwhich some chronicles of the days of chivalry had induced them tothrow a parade and romance not unsuited to the characters and habits ofsoldiers, or to the insulated and wild post occupied by this particulargarrison. While so earnestly bent on pleasure, however, they on whomthat duty devolved did not neglect the safety of the garrison. Onestanding on the ramparts of the fort, and gazing on the waste ofglittering water that bounded the view all along the northern horizon,and on the slumbering and seemingly boundless forest which filled theother half of the panorama, would have fancied the spot the very abodeof peacefulness and security; but Duncan of Lundie too well knew thatthe woods might, at any moment, give up their hundreds, bent onthe destruction of the fort and all it contained; and that even thetreacherous lake offered a highway of easy approach by which his morecivilized and scarcely less wily foes, the French, could come upon himat an unguarded moment. Parties were sent out under old and vigilantofficers, men who cared little for the sports of the day, to scour theforest; and one entire company held the fort, under arms, with ordersto maintain a vigilance as strict as if an enemy of superior force wasknown to be near. With these precautions, the remainder of the officersand men abandoned themselves, without apprehension, to the business ofthe morning.

  The spot selected for the sports was a sort of esplanade, a little westof the fort, and on the immediate bank of the lake. It had beencleared of its trees and stumps, that it might answer the purpose ofa parade-ground, as it possessed the advantages of having its rearprotected by the water, and one of its flanks by the works. Men drillingon it could be attacked, consequently, on two sides only; and as thecleared space beyond it, in the direction of the west and south, waslarge, any assailants would be compelled to quit the cover of the woodsbefore they could make an approach sufficiently near to render themdangerous.

  Although the regular arms of the regiment were muskets, some fiftyrifles were produced on the present occasion. Every officer had one as apart of his private provision for amusement; many belonged to the scoutsand friendly Indians, of whom more or less were always hanging about thefort; and there was a public provision of them for the use of those whofollowed the game with the express object of obtaining supplies. Amongthose who carried the weapon were some five or six, who had reputationfor knowing how to use it particularly well--so well, indeed, as tohave given them a celebrity on the frontier; twice that number who werebelieved to be much better than common and many who would have beenthought expert in almost any situation but the precise one in which theynow happened to be placed.

  The distance was a hundred yards, and the weapon was to be used withouta rest; the target, a board, with the customary circular lines in whitepaint, having the bull's-eye in the centre. The first trials in skillcommenced with challenges among the more ignoble of the competitors todisplay their steadiness and dexterity in idle competition. None butthe common men engaged in this strife, which had little to interest thespectators, among whom no officer had yet appeared.

  Most of the soldiers were Scotch, the regiment having been raised atStirling and its vicinity not many years before, though, as in the caseof Sergeant Dunham, many Americans had joined it since its arrival inthe colonies. As a matter of course, the provincials were generally themost expert marksmen; and after a desultory trial of half an hour it wasnecessarily conceded that a youth who had been born in the colony of NewYork, and who coming of Dutch extraction, was the most expert of all whohad yet tried their skill. It was just as this opinion prevailed thatthe oldest captain, accompanied by most of the gentlemen and ladiesof the fort, appeared on the parade. A train of some twenty females ofhumbler condition followed, among whom was seen the well-turned form,intelligent, blooming, animated countenance, and neat, becoming attireof Mabel Dunham.

  Of females who were officially recognized as belonging to the class ofladies, there were but three in the fort, all of whom were officers'wives; Mabel being strictly, as had been stated by the Quartermaster,the only real candidate for matrimony among her sex.

  Some little preparation had been made for the proper reception of thefemales, who were placed on a low staging of planks near the immediatebank of the lake. In this vicinity the prizes were suspended from apost. Great care was taken to reserve the front seat of the stage forthe three ladies and their children; while Mabel and those who belongedto the non-commissioned officers of the regiment, occupied the second.The wives and daughters of the privates were huddled together in therear, some standing and some sitting, as they could find room. Mabel,who had already been admitted to the society of the officers' wives, onthe footing of a humble companion, was a good deal noticed by the ladiesin front, who had a proper appreciation of modest self-respect andgentle refinement, though they were all fully aware of the value ofrank, more particularly in a garrison.

  As soon as this important portion of the spectators had got into theirplaces, Lundie gave orders for the trial of skill to proceed in themanner that had been prescribed in his previous orders. Some eight orten of the best marksmen of the garrison now took possession of thestand, and began to fire in succession. Among them were officers andmen indiscriminately placed, nor were the casual visitors in the fortexcluded from the competition.

  As might have been expected of men whose amusements and comfortablesubsistence equally depended on skill in the use of their weapons,it was soon found that they were all sufficiently expert to hit thebull's-eye, or the white spot in the centre of the target. Others whosucceeded them, it is true, were less sure, their bullets striking inthe different circles that surrounded the centre of the target withouttouching it.

  According to the rules of the day, none could proceed to the secondtrial who had failed in the first, and the adjutant of the place, whoacted as master of the ceremonies, or marshal of the day, called uponthe successful adventurers by name to get ready for the next effort,while he gave notice that those who failed to present themselves for theshot at the bull's-eye would necessarily be excluded from all thehigher trials. Just at this moment Lundie, the Quartermaster, and JasperEau-douce appeared in the group at the stand, while the Pathfinderwalked leisurely on the ground without his beloved rifle, for him ameasure so unusual, as to be understood by all present as a proof thathe did not consider himself a competitor for the honors of the day.All made way for Major Duncan, who, as he approached the stand in agood-humored wa
y, took his station, levelled his rifle carelessly, andfired. The bullet missed the required mark by several inches.

  "Major Duncan is excluded from the other trials!" proclaimed theAdjutant, in a voice so strong and confident that all the elder officersand the sergeants well understood that this failure was preconcerted,while all the younger gentlemen and the privates felt new encouragementto proceed on account of the evident impartiality with which the laws ofthe sports were administered.

  "Now, Master Eau-douce, comes your turn," said Muir; "and if you do notbeat the Major, I shall say that your hand is better skilled with theoar than with the rifle."

  Jasper's handsome face flushed, he stepped upon the stand, cast a hastyglance at Mabel, whose pretty form he ascertained was bending eagerlyforward as if to note the result, dropped the barrel of his rifle withbut little apparent care into the palm of his left hand, raised themuzzle for a single instant with exceeding steadiness, and fired. Thebullet passed directly through the centre of the bull's-eye, much thebest shot of the morning, since the others had merely touched the paint.

  "Well performed, Master Jasper," said Muir, as soon as the result wasdeclared; "and a shot that might have done credit to an older head and amore experienced eye. I'm thinking, notwithstanding, there was some ofa youngster's luck in it; for ye were no' partic'lar in the aim ye took.Ye may be quick, Eau-douce, in the movement, but yer not philosophic norscientific in yer management of the weepon. Now, Sergeant Dunham, I'llthank you to request the ladies to give a closer attention than commonfor I'm about to make that use of the rifle which may be called theintellectual. Jasper would have killed, I allow; but then there wouldnot have been half the satisfaction in receiving such a shot as inreceiving one that is discharged scientifically."

  All this time the Quartermaster was preparing himself for the scientifictrial; but he delayed his aim until he saw that the eye of Mabel, incommon with those of her companions, was fastened on him in curiosity.As the others left him room, out of respect to his rank, no one stoodnear the competitor but his commanding officer, to whom he now said inhis familiar manner,--

  "Ye see, Lundie, that something is to be gained by exciting a female'scuriosity. It's an active sentiment is curiosity, and properly improvedmay lead to gentler innovations in the end."

  "Very true, Davy; but ye keep us all waiting while ye make yourpreparations; and here is Pathfinder drawing near to catch a lesson fromyour greater experience."

  "Well Pathfinder, and so _you_ have come to get an idea too, concerningthe philosophy of shooting? I do not wish to hide my light under abushel, and yer welcome to all ye'll learn. Do ye no' mean to try a shotyersel', man?"

  "Why should I, Quartermaster, why should I? I want none of the prizes;and as for honor, I have had enough of that, if it's any honor to shootbetter than yourself. I'm not a woman to wear a calash."

  "Very true; but ye might find a woman that is precious in your eyes towear it for ye, as----"

  "Come, Davy," interrupted the Major, "your shot or a retreat. TheAdjutant is getting impatient."

  "The Quartermaster's department and the Adjutant's department are seldomcompliable, Lundie; but I'm ready. Stand a little aside, Pathfinder, andgive the ladies an opportunity."

  Lieutenant Muir now took his attitude with a good deal of studiedelegance, raised his rifle slowly, lowered it, raised it again, repeatedthe manoeuvres, and fired.

  "Missed the target altogether!" shouted the man whose duty it was tomark the bullets, and who had little relish for the Quartermaster'stedious science. "Missed the target!"

  "It cannot be!" cried Muir, his face flushing equally with indignationand shame; "it cannot be, Adjutant; for I never did so awkward a thingin my life. I appeal to the ladies for a juster judgment."

  "The ladies shut their eyes when you fired!" exclaimed the regimentalwags. "Your preparations alarmed them."

  "I will na believe such calumny of the leddies, nor sic' a reproach onmy own skill," returned the Quartermaster, growing more and more Scotchas he warmed with his feelings; "it's a conspiracy to rob a meritoriousman of his dues."

  "It's a dead miss, Muir," said the laughing Lundie; "and ye'll jist sitdown quietly with the disgrace."

  "No, no, Major," Pathfinder at length observed; "the Quartermaster_is_ a good shot for a slow one and a measured distance, though nothingextr'ornary for real service. He has covered Jasper's bullet, as will beseen, if any one will take the trouble to examine the target."

  The respect for Pathfinder's skill and for his quickness and accuracyof sight was so profound and general, that, the instant he made thisdeclaration, the spectators began to distrust their own opinions, and adozen rushed to the target in order to ascertain the fact. There, sureenough, it was found that the Quartermaster's bullet had gone throughthe hole made by Jasper's, and that, too, so accurately as to requirea minute examination to be certain of the circumstance; which, however,was soon clearly established, by discovering one bullet over the otherin the stump against which the target was placed.

  "I told ye, ladies, ye were about to witness the influence of science ongunnery," said the Quartermaster, advancing towards the staging occupiedby the females. "Major Duncan derides the idea of mathematics enteringinto target-shooting; but I tell him philosophy colors, and enlarges,and improves, and dilates, and explains everything that belongs to humanlife, whether it be a shooting-match or a sermon. In a word, philosophyis philosophy, and that is saying all that the subject requires."

  "I trust you exclude love from the catalogue," observed the wife of acaptain who knew the history of the Quartermaster's marriages, and whohad a woman's malice against the monopolizer of her sex; "it seems thatphilosophy has little in common with love."

  "You wouldn't say that, madam, if your heart had experienced manytrials. It's the man or the woman that has had many occasions to improvethe affections that can best speak of such matters; and, believe me,of all love, philosophical is the most lasting, as it is the mostrational."

  "You would then recommend experience as an improvement on the passion?"

  "Your quick mind has conceived the idea at a glance. The happiestmarriages are those in which youth and beauty and confidence on oneside, rely on the sagacity, moderation, and prudence of years--middleage, I mean, madam, for I'll no' deny that there is such a thing as ahusband's being too old for a wife. Here is Sergeant Dunham's charmingdaughter, now, to approve of such sentiments, I'm certain; her characterfor discretion being already well established in the garrison, short ashas been her residence among us."

  "Sergeant Dunham's daughter is scarcely a fitting interlocutor in adiscourse between you and me, Lieutenant Muir," rejoined the captain'slady, with careful respect for her own dignity; "and yonder is thePathfinder about to take his chance, by way of changing the subject."

  "I protest, Major Duncan, I protest," cried Muir hurrying back towardsthe stand, with both arms elevated by way of enforcing his words,--"Iprotest in the strongest terms, gentlemen, against Pathfinder's beingadmitted into these sports with Killdeer, which is a piece, to saynothing of long habit that is altogether out of proportion for a trialof skill against Government rifles."

  "Killdeer is taking its rest, Quartermaster," returned Pathfindercalmly, "and no one here thinks of disturbing it. I did not think,myself, of pulling a trigger to-day; but Sergeant Dunham has beenpersuading me that I shall not do proper honor to his handsome daughter,who came in under my care, if I am backward on such an occasion. I'musing Jasper's rifle, Quartermaster, as you may see, and that is nobetter than your own."

  Lieutenant Muir was now obliged to acquiesce, and every eye turnedtowards the Pathfinder, as he took the required station. The air andattitude of this celebrated guide and hunter were extremely fine, ashe raised his tall form and levelled the piece, showing perfectself-command, and a through knowledge of the power of the human frameas well as of the weapon. Pathfinder was not what is usually termeda handsome man, though his appearance excited so much confidence andcommanded respect. Ta
ll, and even muscular, his frame might have beenesteemed nearly perfect, were it not for the total absence of everythinglike flesh. Whipcord was scarcely more rigid than his arms and legs, or,at need, more pliable; but the outlines of his person were rathertoo angular for the proportion that the eye most approves. Still, hismotions, being natural, were graceful, and, being calm and regulated,they gave him an air and dignity that associated well with the idea,which was so prevalent, of his services and peculiar merits. His honest,open features were burnt to a bright red, that comported well with thenotion of exposure and hardships, while his sinewy hands denoted force,and a species of use removed from the stiffening and deforming effectsof labor. Although no one perceived any of those gentler or moreinsinuating qualities which are apt to win upon a woman's affections,as he raised his rifle not a female eye was fastened on him without asilent approbation of the freedom of his movements and the manliness ofhis air. Thought was scarcely quicker than his aim; and, as the smokefloated above his head, the butt-end of the rifle was seen on theground, the hand of the Pathfinder was leaning on the barrel, and hishonest countenance was illuminated by his usual silent, hearty laugh.

  "If one dared to hint at such a thing," cried Major Duncan, "I shouldsay that the Pathfinder had also missed the target."

  "No, no, Major," returned the guide confidently; "that _would_ be arisky declaration. I didn't load the piece, and can't say what was init; but if it was lead, you will find the bullet driving down those ofthe Quartermaster and Jasper, else is not my name Pathfinder."

  A shout from the target announced the truth of this assertion.

  "That's not all, that's not all, boys," called out the guide, who wasnow slowly advancing towards the stage occupied by the females; "if youfind the target touched at all, I'll own to a miss. The Quartermastercut the wood, but you'll find no wood cut by that last messenger."

  "Very true, Pathfinder, very true," answered Muir, who was lingeringnear Mabel, though ashamed to address her particularly in the presenceof the officers' wives. "The Quartermaster did cut the wood, and by thatmeans he opened a passage for your bullet, which went through the holehe had made."

  "Well, Quartermaster, there goes the nail and we'll see who can driveit closer, you or I; for, though I did not think of showing what arifle can do to-day, now my hand is in, I'll turn my back to no man thatcarries King George's commission. Chingachgook is outlying, or hemight force me into some of the niceties of the art; but, as for you,Quartermaster, if the nail don't stop you, the potato will."

  "You're over boastful this morning, Pathfinder; but you'll find you'veno green boy fresh from the settlements and the towns to deal with, Iwill assure ye!"

  "I know that well, Quartermaster; I know that well, and shall not denyyour experience. You've lived many years on the frontiers, and I'veheard of you in the colonies, and among the Indians, too, quite a humanlife 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 potatotrial. I say you've passed a good human life, for a soldier, in placeswhere the rifle is daily used, and I know you are a creditable andingenious marksman; but then you are not a true rifle-shooter. As forboasting, I hope I'm not a vain talker about my own exploits; but aman's gifts are his gifts, and it's flying in the face of Providence todeny them. The Sergeant's daughter, here, shall judge between us, if youhave 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 LieutenantMuir shrank at such a reference in the presence of the wives of theofficers. He would gladly keep himself constantly before the eyes andthe imagination of the object of his wishes; but he was still too muchunder the influence of old prejudices, and perhaps too wary, to appearopenly as her suitor, unless he saw something very like a certainty ofsuccess. On the discretion of Major Duncan he had a full reliance, andhe 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 anon-commissioned officer, he would find great difficulty in makinghis approaches to any other woman of a condition to which he mightreasonably aspire. Notwithstanding these doubts and misgivings, Mabellooked so prettily, blushed so charmingly, smiled so sweetly, andaltogether presented so winning a picture of youth, spirit, modesty, andbeauty, that he found it exceedingly tempting to be kept so prominentlybefore her imagination, and to be able to address her freely.

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

  A call for the competitors now drew the Quartermaster and his adversaryaway, and in a few moments the second trial of skill commenced. A commonwrought nail was driven lightly into the target, its head having beenfirst touched with paint, and the marksman was required to hit it, orhe lost his chances in the succeeding trials. No one was permitted toenter, on this occasion, who had already failed in the essay against thebull's-eye.

  There might have been half a dozen aspirants for the honors of thistrial; one or two, who had barely succeeded in touching the spot ofpaint in the previous strife, preferring to rest their reputationsthere, feeling certain that they could not succeed in the greater effortthat was now exacted of them. The first three adventurers failed, allcoming very near the mark, but neither touching it. The fourth personwho presented himself was the Quartermaster, who, after going throughhis usual attitudes, so far succeeded as to carry away a small portionof the head of the nail, planting his bullet by the side of its point.This was not considered an extraordinary shot, though it brought theadventurer within the category.

  "You've saved your bacon, Quartermaster, as they say in the settlementsof their creaturs," cried Pathfinder, laughing; "but it would take along time to build a house with a hammer no better than yours. Jasper,here, will show you how a nail is to be started, or the lad has lostsome of his steadiness of hand and sartainty of eye. You would havedone better yourself, Lieutenant, had you not been so much bent onsoldierizing your figure. Shooting is a natural gift, and is to beexercised in a natural way."

  "We shall see, Pathfinder; I call that a pretty attempt at a nail; andI doubt if the 55th has another hammer, as you call it, that can do justthe same thing over again."

  "Jasper is not in the 55th, but there goes his rap."

  As the Pathfinder spoke, the bullet of Eau-douce hit the nail square,and drove it into the target, within an inch of the head.

  "Be all ready to clench it, boys!" cried out Pathfinder, stepping intohis friend's tracks the instant they were vacant. "Never mind a newnail; I can see that, though the paint is gone, and what I can see I canhit, at a hundred yards, though it were only a mosquito's eye. Be readyto clench!"

  The rifle cracked, the bullet sped its way, and the head of the nail wasburied in the wood, covered by the piece of flattened lead.

  "Well, Jasper, lad," continued Pathfinder, dropping the butt-end ofhis rifle to the ground, and resuming the discourse, as if he thoughtnothing of his own exploit, "you improve daily. A few more tramps onland in my company, and the best marksman on the frontiers willhave occasion to look keenly when he takes his stand ag'in you. TheQuartermaster is respectable, but he will never get any farther; whereasyou, Jasper, have the gift, and may one day defy any who pull trigger."

  "Hoot, hoot!" exclaimed Muir; "do you call hitting the head of the nailrespectable only, when it's the perfection of the art? Any one the leastrefined and elevated in sentiment knows that the delicate touches denotethe master; whereas your sledge-hammer blows come from the rude anduninstructed. If 'a miss is as good
as a mile,' a hit ought to bebetter, Pathfinder, whether it wound or kill."

  "The surest way of settling this rivalry will be to make another trial,"observed Lundie, "and that will be of the potato. You're Scotch, Mr.Muir, and might fare better were it a cake or a thistle; but frontierlaw has declared for the American fruit, and the potato it shall be."

  As Major Duncan manifested some impatience of manner, Muir had too muchtact to delay the sports any longer with his discursive remarks, butjudiciously prepared himself for the next appeal. To say the truth, theQuartermaster had little or no faith in his own success in the trial ofskill that was to follow, nor would he have been so free in presentinghimself as a competitor at all had he anticipated it would have beenmade; but Major Duncan, who was somewhat of a humorist in his ownquiet Scotch way, had secretly ordered it to be introduced expressly tomortify him; for, a laird himself, Lundie did not relish the notionthat one who might claim to be a gentleman should bring discredit onhis caste by forming an unequal alliance. As soon as everything wasprepared, Muir was summoned to the stand, and the potato was held inreadiness to be thrown. As the sort of feat we are about to offer to thereader, however, may be new to him, a word in explanation will renderthe matter more clear. A potato of large size was selected, and givento one who stood at the distance of twenty yards from the stand. At theword "heave!" which was given by the marksman, the vegetable wasthrown with a gentle toss into the air, and it was the business of theadventurer to cause a ball to pass through it before it reached theground.

  The Quartermaster, in a hundred experiments, had once succeeded inaccomplishing this difficult feat; but he now essayed to perform itagain, with a sort of blind hope that was fated to be disappointed. Thepotato was thrown in the usual manner, the rifle was discharged, but theflying target was untouched.

  "To the right-about, and fall out, Quartermaster," said Lundie, smilingat the success of the artifice. "The honor of the silken calash will liebetween Jasper Eau-douce and Pathfinder."

  "And how is the trial to end, Major?" inquired the latter. "Are we tohave the two-potato trial, or is it to be settled by centre and skin?"

  "By centre and skin, if there is any perceptible difference; otherwisethe double shot must follow."

  "This is an awful moment to me, Pathfinder," observed Jasper, as hemoved towards the stand, his face actually losing its color in intensityof feeling.

  Pathfinder gazed earnestly at the young man; and then, begging MajorDuncan to have patience for a moment, he led his friend out of thehearing of all near him before he spoke.

  "You seem to take this matter to heart, Jasper?" the hunter remarked,keeping his eyes fastened on those of the youth.

  "I must own, Pathfinder, that my feelings were never before so muchbound up in success."

  "And do you so much crave to outdo me, an old and tried friend?--andthat, as it might be, in my own way? Shooting is my gift, boy, and nocommon hand can equal mine."

  "I know it--I know it, Pathfinder; but yet--"

  "But what, Jasper, boy?--speak freely; you talk to a friend."

  The young man compressed his lips, dashed a hand across his eye, andflushed and paled alternately, like a girl confessing her love. Then,squeezing the other's hand, he said calmly, like one whose manhood hasovercome all other sensations, "I would lose an arm, Pathfinder, to beable to make an offering of that calash to Mabel Dunham."

  The hunter dropped his eyes to the ground, and as he walked slowly backtowards the stand, he seemed to ponder deeply on what he had just heard.

  "You never could succeed in the double trial, Jasper!" he suddenlyremarked.

  "Of that I am certain, and it troubles me."

  "What a creature is mortal man! He pines for things which are not ofhis gift and treats the bounties of Providence lightly. No matter, nomatter. Take your station, Jasper, for the Major is waiting; andharken, lad,--I must touch the skin, for I could not show my face in thegarrison with less than that."

  "I suppose I must submit to my fate," returned Jasper, flushing andlosing his color as before; "but I will make the effort, if I die."

  "What a thing is mortal man!" repeated Pathfinder, falling back to allowhis friend room to take his arm; "he overlooks his own gifts, and cravesthose of another!"

  The potato was thrown, Jasper fired, and the shout that followedpreceded the announcement of the fact that he had driven his bulletthrough its centre, or so nearly so as to merit that award.

  "Here is a competitor worthy of you, Pathfinder," cried Major Duncanwith delight, as the former took his station "and we may look to somefine shooting in the double trial."

  "What a thing is mortal man!" repeated the hunter, scarcely seeming tonotice what was passing around him, so much were his thoughts absorbedin his own reflections. "Toss!"

  The potato was tossed, the rifle cracked,--it was remarked just asthe little black ball seemed stationary in the air, for themarksman evidently took unusual heed to his aim,--and then a look ofdisappointment and wonder succeeded among those who caught the fallingtarget.

  "Two holes in one?" called out the Major.

  "The skin, the skin!" was the answer; "only the skin!"

  "How's this, Pathfinder? Is Jasper Eau-douce to carry off the honors ofthe day?"

  "The calash is his," returned the other, shaking his head and walkingquietly away from the stand. "What a creature is mortal man! neversatisfied with his own gifts, but for ever craving that which Providencedenies!"

  As Pathfinder had not buried his bullet in the potato, but had cutthrough the skin, the prize was immediately adjudged to Jasper. Thecalash was in the hands of the latter when the Quartermaster approached,and with a polite air of cordiality he wished his successful rival joyof his victory.

  "But now you've got the calash, lad, it's of no use to you," he added;"it will never make a sail, nor even an ensign. I'm thinking, Eau-douce,you'd no' be sorry to see its value in good siller of the king?"

  "Money cannot buy it, Lieutenant," returned Jasper, whose eye lightedwith all the fire of success and joy. "I would rather have won thiscalash than have obtained fifty new suits of sails for the _Scud!_"

  "Hoot, hoot, lad! you are going mad like all the rest of them. I'd evenventure to offer half a guinea for the trifle rather than it shouldlie kicking about in the cabin of your cutter, and in the end become anornament for the head of a squaw."

  Although Jasper did not know that the wary Quartermaster had notoffered half the actual cost of the prize, he heard the proposition withindifference. Shaking his head in the negative, he advanced towardsthe stage, where his approach excited a little commotion, the officers'ladies, one and all, having determined to accept the present, shouldthe gallantry of the young sailor induce him to offer it. But Jasper'sdiffidence, no less than admiration for another, would have preventedhim from aspiring to the honor of complimenting any whom he thought somuch his superiors.

  "Mabel," said he, "this prize is for you, unless--"

  "Unless what, Jasper?" answered the girl, losing her own bashfulness inthe natural and generous wish to relieve his embarrassment, though bothreddened in a way to betray strong feeling.

  "Unless you may think too indifferently of it, because it is offered byone who may have no right to believe his gift will be accepted."

  "I do accept it, Jasper; and it shall be a sign of the danger I havepassed in your company, and of the gratitude I feel for your care ofme--your care, and that of the Pathfinder."

  "Never mind me, never mind me!" exclaimed the latter; "this is Jasper'sluck, and Jasper's gift: give him full credit for both. My turn may comeanother day; mine and the Quartermaster's, who seems to grudge the boythe calash; though what _he_ can want of it I cannot understand, for hehas no wife."

  "And has Jasper Eau-douce a wife? Or have you a wife yoursel',Pathfinder? I may want it to help to get a wife, or as a memorial that Ihave had a wife, or as proof how much I admire the sex, or because it isa female garment, or for some other equally respectable motive. It's notthe
unreflecting that are the most prized by the thoughtful, and thereis no surer sign that a man made a good husband to his first consort,let me tell you all, than to see him speedily looking round for acompetent successor. The affections are good gifts from Providence, andthey that have loved one faithfully prove how much of this bounty hasbeen lavished upon them by loving another as soon as possible."

  "It may be so, it may be so. I am no practitioner in such things, andcannot gainsay it. But Mabel here, the Sergeant's daughter, will giveyou full credit for the words. Come, Jasper, although our hands are out,let us see what the other lads can do with the rifle."

  Pathfinder and his companions retired, for the sports were aboutto proceed. The ladies, however, were not so much engrossed withrifle-shooting as to neglect the calash. It passed from hand to hand;the silk was felt, the fashion criticized, and the work examined, anddivers opinions were privately ventured concerning the fitness of sohandsome a thing passing into the possession of a non-commissionedofficer's child.

  "Perhaps you will be disposed to sell that calash, Mabel, when it hasbeen a short time in your possession?" inquired the captain's lady."Wear it, I should think, you never can."

  "I may not wear it, madam," returned our heroine modestly; "but I shouldnot like to part with it either."

  "I daresay Sergeant Dunham keeps you above the necessity of selling yourclothes, child; but, at the same time, it is money thrown away to keepan article of dress you can never wear."

  "I should be unwilling to part with the gift of a friend."

  "But the young man himself will think all the better of you for yourprudence after the triumph of the day is forgotten. It is a pretty and abecoming calash, and ought not to be thrown away."

  "I've no intention to throw it away, ma'am; and, if you please, wouldrather keep it."

  "As you will, child; girls of your age often overlook the realadvantages. Remember, however, if you do determine to dispose of thething, that it is bespoke, and that I will not take it if you ever evenput it on your own head."

  "Yes, ma'am," said Mabel, in the meekest voice imaginable, though hereyes looked like diamonds, and her cheeks reddened to the tints oftwo roses, as she placed the forbidden garment over her well-turnedshoulders, where she kept it a minute, as if to try its fitness, andthen quietly removed it again.

  The remainder of the sports offered nothing of interest. The shootingwas reasonably good; but the trials were all of a scale lower than thoserelated, and the competitors were soon left to themselves. The ladiesand most of the officers withdrew, and the remainder of the females soonfollowed their example. Mabel was returning along the low flat rocksthat line the shore of the lake, dangling her pretty calash from aprettier finger, when Pathfinder met her. He carried the rifle whichhe had used that day; but his manner had less of the frank ease of thehunter about it than usual, while his eye seemed roving and uneasy.After a few unmeaning words concerning the noble sheet of water beforethem, he turned towards his companion with strong interest in hiscountenance, and said,--

  "Jasper earned that calash for you, Mabel, without much trial of hisgifts."

  "It was fairly done, Pathfinder."

  "No doubt, no doubt. The bullet passed neatly through the potato, and noman could have done more; though others might have done as much."

  "But no one did as much!" exclaimed Mabel, with an animation that sheinstantly regretted; for she saw by the pained look of the guide that hewas mortified equally by the remark and by the feeling with which it wasuttered.

  "It is true, it is true, Mabel, no one did as much then; but--yet thereis no reason I should deny my gifts which come from Providence--yes,yes; no one did as much there, but you shall know what _can_ be donehere. Do you observe the gulls that are flying over our heads?"

  "Certainly, Pathfinder; there are too many to escape notice."

  "Here, where they cross each other in sailing about," he added, cockingand raising his rifle; "the two--the two. Now look!"

  The piece was presented quick as thought, as two of the birds came ina line, though distant from each other many yards; the report followed,and the bullet passed through the bodies of both victims. No sooner hadthe gulls fallen into the lake, than Pathfinder dropped the butt-endof the rifle, and laughed in his own peculiar manner, every shade ofdissatisfaction and mortified pride having left his honest face.

  "That is something, Mabel, that is something; although I have no calashto give you! But ask Jasper himself; I'll leave it all to Jasper, for atruer tongue and heart are not in America."

  "Then it was not Jasper's fault that he gained the prize?"

  "Not it. He did his best, and he did well. For one that has water gifts,rather than land gifts, Jasper is uncommonly expert, and a better backerno one need wish, ashore or afloat. But it was my fault, Mabel, that hegot the calash; though it makes no difference--it makes no difference,for the thing has gone to the right person."

  "I believe I understand you, Pathfinder," said Mabel, blushing in spiteof herself, "and I look upon the calash as the joint gift of yourselfand Jasper."

  "That would not be doing justice to the lad, neither. He won thegarment, and had a right to give it away. The most you may think,Mabel, is to believe that, had I won it, it would have gone to the sameperson."

  "I will remember that, Pathfinder, and take care that others know yourskill, as it has been proved upon the poor gulls in my presence."

  "Lord bless you, Mabel! there is no more need of your talking in favorof my shooting on this frontier, than of your talking about the waterin the lake or the sun in the heavens. Everybody knows what I can do inthat way, and your words would be thrown away, as much as French wouldbe thrown away on an American bear."

  "Then you think that Jasper knew you were giving him this advantage,of which he had so unhandsomely availed himself?" said Mabel, the colorwhich had imparted so much lustre to her eyes gradually leaving herface, which became grave and thoughtful.

  "I do not say that, but very far from it. We all forget things that wehave known, when eager after our wishes. Jasper is satisfied that I canpass one bullet through two potatoes, as I sent my bullet through thegulls; and he knows no other man on the frontier can do the same thing.But with the calash before his eyes, and the hope of giving it to you,the lad was inclined to think better of himself, just at that moment,perhaps, than he ought. No, no, there's nothing mean or distrustfulabout Jasper Eau-douce, though it is a gift natural to all young men towish to appear well in the eyes of handsome young women."

  "I'll try to forget all, but the kindness you've both shown to a poormotherless girl," said Mabel, struggling to keep down emotions shescarcely knew how to account for herself. "Believe me, Pathfinder, I cannever forget all you have already done for me--you and Jasper; and thisnew proof of your regard is not thrown away. Here, here is a brooch thatis of silver, and I offer it as a token that I owe you life or liberty."

  "What shall I do with this, Mabel?" asked the bewildered hunter, holdingthe simple trinket in his hand. "I have neither buckle nor buttonabout me, for I wear nothing but leathern strings, and them of gooddeer-skins. It's pretty to the eye, but it is prettier far on the spotit came from than it can be about me."

  "Nay, put it in your hunting-shirt; it will become it well. Remember,Pathfinder, that it is a token of friendship between us, and a sign thatI can never forget you or your services."

  Mabel then smiled an adieu; and, bounding up the bank, she was soon lostto view behind the mound of the fort.