You saw but sorrow in its waning form;
A working sea remaining from a storm,
Where now the weary waves roll o'er the deep,
And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.
DRYDEN.
Men accustomed to a warfare like that we have been describing are
not apt to be much under the influence of the tender feelings
while still in the field. Notwithstanding their habits, however,
more than one heart was with Mabel in the block, while the incidents
we are about to relate were in the course of occurrence; and even
the indispensable meal was less relished by the hardiest of the
soldiers than it might have been had not the Sergeant been so near
his end.
As Pathfinder returned from the block, he was met by Muir, who
led him aside in order to hold a private discourse. The manner of
the Quartermaster had that air of supererogatory courtesy about it
which almost invariably denotes artifice; for, while physiognomy
and phrenology are but lame sciences at the best, and perhaps lead
to as many false as right conclusions, we hold that there is no
more infallible evidence of insincerity of purpose, short of overt
acts, than a face that smiles when there is no occasion, and the
tongue that is out of measure smooth. Muir had much of this manner
in common, mingled with an apparent frankness that his Scottish
intonation of voice, Scottish accent, and Scottish modes of expression
were singularly adapted to sustain. He owed his preferment, indeed,
to a long-exercised deference to Lundie and his family; for, while
the Major himself was much too acute to be the dupe of one so much
his inferior in real talents and attainments, most persons are
accustomed to make liberal concessions to the flatterer, even while
they distrust his truth and are perfectly aware of his motives. On
the present occasion, the contest in skill was between two men as
completely the opposites of each other in all the leading essentials
of character as very well could be. Pathfinder was as simple as
the Quartermaster was practised; he was as sincere as the other
was false, and as direct as the last was tortuous. Both were cool
and calculating, and both were brave, though in different modes and
degrees; Muir never exposing his person except for effect, while
the guide included fear among the rational passions, or as a
sensation to be deferred to only when good might come of it.
"My dearest friend," Muir commenced, -- "for ye'll be dearer to us
all, by seventy and sevenfold, after your late conduct than ever ye
were, -- ye've just established yourself in this late transaction.
It's true that they'll not be making ye a commissioned officer, for
that species of prefairment is not much in your line, nor much in
your wishes, I'm thinking; but as a guide, and a counsellor, and
a loyal subject, and an expert marksman, yer renown may be said to
be full. I doubt if the commander-in-chief will carry away with
him from America as much credit as will fall to yer share, and
ye ought just to set down in content and enjoy yoursal' for the
remainder of yer days. Get married, man, without delay, and look
to your precious happiness; for ye've no occasion to look any
longer to your glory. Take Mabel Dunham, for Heaven's sake, to your
bosom, and ye'll have both a bonnie bride and a bonnie reputation."
"Why, Quartermaster, this is a new piece of advice to come from
your mouth. They've told me I had a rival in you."
"And ye had, man, and a formidible one, too, I can tell you, -- one
that has never yet courted in vain, and yet one that has courted
five times. Lundie twits me with four, and I deny the charge; but
he little thinks the truth would outdo even his arithmetic. Yes,
yes, ye had a rival, Pathfinder; but ye've one no longer in me.
Ye've my hearty wishes for yer success with Mabel; and were the
honest Sergeant likely to survive, ye might rely on my good word
with him, too, for a certainty."
"I feel your friendship, Quartermaster, I feel your friendship,
though I have no great need of any favor with Sergeant Dunham, who
has long been my friend. I believe we may look upon the matter
to be as sartain as most things in war-time; for, Mabel and her
father consenting, the whole 55th couldn't very well put a stop to
it. Ah's me! The poor father will scarcely live to see what his
heart has so long been set upon."
"But he'll have the consolation of knowing it will come to pass,
in dying. Oh, it's a great relief, Pathfinder, for the parting
spirit to feel certain that the beloved ones left behind will be
well provided for after its departure. All the Mistress Muirs have
duly expressed that sentiment with their dying breaths."
"All your wives, Quartermaster, have been likely to feel this
consolation."
"Out upon ye, man! I'd no' thought ye such a wag. Well, well;
pleasant words make no heart-burnings between auld fri'nds. If
I cannot espouse Mabel, ye'll no object to my esteeming her, and
speaking well of her, and of yoursal', too, on all suitable occasions
and in all companies. But, Pathfinder, ye'll easily understan'
that a poor deevil who loses such a bride will probably stand in
need of some consolation?"
"Quite likely, quite likely, Quartermaster," returned the simple-minded
guide; "I know the loss of Mabel would be found heavy to be borne
by myself. It may bear hard on your feelings to see us married;
but the death of the Sergeant will be likely to put it off, and
you'll have time to think more manfully of it, you will."
"I'll bear up against it; yes, I'll bear up against it, though my
heart-strings crack! And ye might help me, man, by giving me something
to do. Ye'll understand that this expedition has been of a very
peculiar nature; for here am I, bearing the king's commission,
just a volunteer, as it might be; while a mere orderly has had the
command. I've submitted for various reasons, though my blood has
boiled to be in authority, while ye war' battling, for the honor
of the country and his Majesty's rights -- "
"Quartermaster," interrupted the guide, "you fell so early into the
enemy's hands that your conscience ought to be easily satisfied on
that score; so take my advice, and say nothing about it."
"That's just my opinion, Pathfinder; we'll all say nothing
about it. Sergeant Dunham is _hors de combat_ -- "
"Anan?" said the guide.
"Why, the Sergeant can command no longer, and it will hardly do to
leave a corporal at the head of a victorious party like this; for
flowers that will bloom in a garden will die on a heath; and I was
just thinking I would claim the authority that belongs to one who
holds a lieutenant's commission. As for the men, they'll no dare
to raise any objaction; and as for yoursal', my dear friend, now
that ye've so much honor, and Mabel, and the consciousness of having
done yer duty, which is more precious than all, I expect to find
an ally rather than one to oppose the plan."
"As for commanding the soldiers of the 55th, Lieutenant, it is your
right, I suppose, and no one here will be likely to gainsay it;
though you've been a prisoner of war, and there are men who might
stand out ag'in giving up their authority to a prisoner released by
their own deeds. Still no one here will be likely to say anything
hostile to your wishes."
"That's just it, Pathfinder; and when I come to draw up the report
of our success against the boats, and the defence of the block,
together with the general operations, including the capitulation,
ye'll no' find any omission of your claims and merits."
"Tut for my claims and merits, Quartermaster! Lundie knows what I
am in the forest and what I am in the fort; and the General knows
better than he. No fear of me; tell your own story, only taking
care to do justice by Mabel's father, who, in one sense, is the
commanding officer at this very moment."
Muir expressed his entire satisfaction with this arrangement, as
well as his determination to do justice by all, when the two went
to the group assembled round the fire. Here the Quartermaster
began, for the first time since leaving Oswego, to assume some
of the authority that might properly be supposed to belong to his
rank. Taking the remaining corporal aside, he distinctly told
that functionary that he must in future be regarded as one holding
the king's commission, and directed him to acquaint his subordinates
with the new state of things. This change in the dynasty was
effected without any of the usual symptoms of a revolution; for,
as all well understood the Lieutenant's legal claims to command,
no one felt disposed to dispute his orders. For reasons best known
to themselves, Lundie and the Quartermaster had originally made a
different disposition; and now, for reasons of his own, the latter
had seen fit to change it. This was reasoning enough for soldiers,
though the hurt received by Sergeant Dunham would have sufficiently
explained the circumstance had an explanation been required.
All this time Captain Sanglier was looking after his own breakfast
with the resignation of a philosopher, the coolness of a veteran,
the ingenuity and science of a Frenchman, and the voracity of an
ostrich. This person had now been in the colony some thirty years,
having left France in some such situation in his own army as Muir
filled in the 55th. An iron constitution, perfect obduracy of
feeling, a certain address well suited to manage savages, and an
indomitable courage, had early pointed him out to the commander-in-chief
as a suitable agent to be employed in directing the military
operations of his Indian allies. In this capacity, then, he had
risen to the titular rank of captain; and with his promotion had
acquired a portion of the habits and opinions of his associates
with a facility and an adaptation of self which are thought in
America to be peculiar to his countrymen. He had often led parties
of the Iroquois in their predatory expeditions; and his conduct on
such occasions exhibited the contradictory results of both alleviating
the misery produced by this species of warfare, and of augmenting
it by the broader views and greater resources of civilization. In
other words, he planned enterprises that, in their importance and
consequences, much exceeded the usual policy of the Indians, and
then stepped in to lessen some of the evils of his own creating.
In short, he was an adventurer whom circumstances had thrown into
a situation where the callous qualities of men of his class might
readily show themselves for good or for evil; and he was not of a
character to baffle fortune by any ill-timed squeamishness on the
score of early impressions, or to trifle with her liberality by
unnecessarily provoking her frowns through wanton cruelty. Still,
as his name was unavoidably connected with many of the excesses
committed by his parties, he was generally considered in the American
provinces a wretch who delighted in bloodshed, and who found his
greatest happiness in tormenting the helpless and the innocent;
and the name of Sanglier, which was a sobriquet of his own adopting,
or of Flint Heart, as he was usually termed on the borders, had
got to be as terrible to the women and children of that part of
the country as those of Butler and Brandt became at a later day.
The meeting between Pathfinder and Sanglier bore some resemblance
to that celebrated interview between Wellington and Blucher which
has been so often and graphically told. It took place at the fire;
and the parties stood earnestly regarding each other for more than
a minute without speaking. Each felt that in the other he saw a
formidable foe; and each felt, while he ought to treat the other
with the manly liberality due to a warrior, that there was little
in common between them in the way of character as well as of
interests. One served for money and preferment; the other, because
his life had been cast in the wilderness, and the land of his
birth needed his arm and experience. The desire of rising above his
present situation never disturbed the tranquillity of Pathfinder;
nor had he ever known an ambitious thought, as ambition usually
betrays itself, until he became acquainted with Mabel. Since then,
indeed, distrust of himself, reverence for her, and the wish to
place her in a situation above that which he then filled, had caused
him some uneasy moments; but the directness and simplicity of his
character had early afforded the required relief; and he soon came
to feel that the woman who would not hesitate to accept him for her
husband would not scruple to share his fortunes, however humble.
He respected Sanglier as a brave warrior; and he had far too much
of that liberality which is the result of practical knowledge to
believe half of what he had heard to his prejudice, for the most
bigoted and illiberal on every subject are usually those who know
nothing about it; but he could not approve of his selfishness,
cold-blooded calculations, and least of all of the manner in which
he forgot his "white gifts," to adopt those that were purely "red."
On the other hand, Pathfinder was a riddle to Captain Sanglier.
The latter could not comprehend the other's motives; he had often
heard of his disinterestedness, justice, and truth; and in several
instances they had led him into grave errors, on that principle
by which a frank and open-mouthed diplomatist is said to keep his
secrets better than one that is close-mouthed and wily.
After the two heroes had gazed at each other in the manner
mentioned, Monsieur Sanglier touched his cap; for the rudeness of
a border life had not entirely destroyed the courtesy of manner he
had acquired in youth, nor extinguished that appearance of _bonhomie_
which seems inbred in a Frenchman.
"Monsieur le Pathfinder," said he, with a very decided accent,
though with a friendly smile, "_un militaire_ honor _le courage,
et la loyaute_. You speak Iroquois?"
"Ay, I understand the language of the riptyles, and can get along
with it if there's occasion," returned the literal and truth-telling
guide; "but it's neither a tongue nor a tribe to my taste. Wherever
you find the Mingo blood, in my opinion, Master Flinty-heart, you
find a knave. Well, I've seen you often, though it was in battle;
and I must say it was always in the van. You must know most of
our bullets by sight?"
"Nevvair, sair, your own; _une balle_ from your honorable hand be
sairtaine deat'. You kill my best warrior on some island."
"That may be, that may be; though I daresay, if the truth was known,
they would turn out to be great rascals. No offence to you, Master
Flinty-heart, but you keep desperate evil company."
"Yes, sair," returned the Frenchman, who, bent on saying that
which was courteous himself, and comprehending with difficulty,
was disposed to think he received a compliment, "you too good.
But _un brave_ always _comme ca_. What that mean? ha! what that
_jeune homme_ do?"
The hand and eye of Captain Sanglier directed the look of Pathfinder
to the opposite side of the fire, where Jasper, just at that moment,
had been rudely seized by two of the soldiers, who were binding
his arms under the direction of Muir.
"What does that mean, indeed?" cried the guide, stepping forward
and shoving the two subordinates away with a power of muscle
that would not be denied. "Who has the heart to do this to Jasper
Eau-douce? And who has the boldness to do it before my eyes?"
"It is by my orders, Pathfinder," answered the Quartermaster, "and
I command it on my own responsibility. Ye'll no' tak' on yourself
to dispute the legality of orders given by one who bears the king's
commission to the king's soldiers?"
"I'd dispute the king's words, if they came from the king's own
mouth, did he say that Jasper desarves this. Has not the lad just
saved all our scalps, taken us from defeat, and given us victory?
No, no, Lieutenant; if this is the first use that you make of your
authority, I, for one, will not respect it."
"This savors a little of insubordination," answered Muir; "but we
can bear much from Pathfinder. It is true this Jasper has _seemed_
to serve us in this affair, but we ought not to overlook past
transactions. Did not Major Duncan himself denounce him to Sergeant
Dunham before we left the post? Have we not seen sufficient with
our own eyes to make sure of having been betrayed? And is it not
natural, and almost necessary, to believe that this young man has
been the traitor? Ah, Pathfinder! Ye'll no' be making yourself
a great statesman or a great captain if you put too much faith in
appearances. Lord bless me! Lord bless me! If I do not believe,
could the truth be come at, as you often say yourself, Pathfinder,
that hypocrisy is a more common vice than even envy, and that's
the bane of human nature."
Captain Sanglier shrugged his shoulders; then he looked earnestly
from Jasper towards the Quartermaster, and from the Quartermaster
towards Jasper.
"I care not for your envy, or your hypocrisy, or even for your human
natur'," returned Pathfinder. "Jasper Eau-douce is my friend; Jasper
Eau-douce is a brave lad, and an honest lad, and a loyal lad; and
no man of the 55th shall lay hands on him, short of Lundie's own
orders, while I'm in the way to prevent it. You may have authority
over your soldiers; but you have none over Jasper and me, Master
Muir."
"_Bon!_" ejaculated Sanglier, the sound partaking equally of the
energies of the throat and of the nose.
"Will ye no' hearken to reason, Pathfinder? Ye'll no' be forgetting
our suspicions and judgments; and here is another circumstance
to augment and aggravate them all. Ye can see this little bit of
bunting; well, where should it be found but by Mabel Dunham, on
the branch of a tree on this very island, just an hour or so before
the attack of the enemy; and if ye'll be at the trouble to look at
the fly of the _Scud's_ ensign, ye'll just say that the cloth has
been cut from out it. Circumstantial evidence was never stronger."
"_Ma foi, c'est un peu fort, ceci,_" growled Sanglier between his
teeth.
"Talk to me of no ensigns and signals when I know the heart,"
continued the Pathfinder. "Jasper has the gift of honesty; and it
is too rare a gift to be trifled with, like a Mingo's conscience.
No, no; off hands, or we shall see which can make the stoutest battle;
you and your men of the 55th, or the Sarpent here, and Killdeer,
with Jasper and his crew. You overrate your force, Lieutenant
Muir, as much as you underrate Eau-douce's truth."
"_Tres bon!_"
"Well, if I must speak plainly, Pathfinder, I e'en must. Captain
Sanglier here and Arrowhead, this brave Tuscarora, have both
informed me that this unfortunate boy is the traitor. After such
testimony you can no longer oppose my right to correct him, as well
as the necessity of the act."
"_Scelerat,_" muttered the Frenchman.
"Captain Sanglier is a brave soldier, and will not gainsay the
conduct of an honest sailor," put in Jasper. "Is there any traitor
here, Captain Flinty-heart?"
"Ay," added Muir, "let him speak out then, since ye wish it,
unhappy youth! That the truth may be known. I only hope that ye
may escape the last punishment when a court will be sitting on your
misdeeds. How is it, Captain; do ye, or do ye not, see a traitor
amang us?"
"_Oui_ -- yes, sair -- _bien sur_."
"Too much lie!" said Arrowhead in a voice of thunder, striking the
breast of Muir with the back of his own hand in a sort of ungovernable
gesture; "where my warriors? - where Yengeese scalp? Too much
lie!"
Muir wanted not for personal courage, nor for a certain sense of
personal honor. The violence which had been intended only for a
gesture he mistook for a blow; for conscience was suddenly aroused
within him, and he stepped back a pace, extending his hand towards
a gun. His face was livid with rage, and his countenance expressed
the fell intention of his heart. But Arrowhead was too quick for
him; with a wild glance of the eye the Tuscarora looked about him;
then thrust a hand beneath his own girdle, drew forth a concealed
knife, and, in the twinkling of an eye, buried it in the body of
the Quartermaster to the handle. As the latter fell at his feet,
gazing into his face with the vacant stare of one surprised by
death, Sanglier took a pinch of snuff, and said in a calm voice,
--
"_Voila l'affaire finie; mais,_" shrugging his shoulders, "_ce
n'est qu'un scelerat de moins._"
The act was too sudden to be prevented; and when Arrowhead, uttering
a yell, bounded into the bushes, the white men were too confounded
to follow. Chingachgook, however, was more collected; and the
bushes had scarcely closed on the passing body of the Tuscarora
than they were again opened by that of the Delaware in full pursuit.
Jasper Western spoke French fluently, and the words and manner of
Sanglier struck him.
"Speak, Monsieur," said he in English; "_am_ I the traitor?"
"_Le voila_," answered the cool Frenchman, "dat is our _espion_ --
our _agent_ -- our friend -- _ma foi_ -- _c'etait un grand scelerat_
-- _voici_."
While speaking, Sanglier bent over the dead body, and thrust his
hand into a pocket of the Quartermaster, out of which he drew a
purse. Emptying the contents on the ground, several double-louis
rolled towards the soldiers, who were not slow in picking them up.
Casting the purse from him in contempt, the soldier of fortune
turned towards the soup he had been preparing with so much care,
and, finding it to his liking, he began to break his fast with an
air of indifference that the most stoical Indian warrior might have
envied.