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
the wishes of the young men of the garrison were met by the state
of the weather on the succeeding day. The heats of summer were
little felt at Oswego at the period of which we are writing; for
the shade of the forest, added to the refreshing breezes from the
lake, so far reduced the influence of the sun as to render the
nights always cool and the days seldom oppressive.
It was now September, a month in which the strong gales of the coast
often appear to force themselves across the country as far as the
great lakes, where the inland sailor sometimes feels that genial
influence which characterizes the winds of the ocean invigorating
his frame, cheering his spirits, and arousing his moral force.
Such a day was that on which the garrison of Oswego assembled to
witness what its commander had jocularly called a "passage of arms."
Lundie was a scholar in military matters at least, and it was one
of his sources of honest pride to direct the reading and thoughts
of the young men under his orders to the more intellectual parts of
their profession. For one in his situation, his library was both
good and extensive, and its books were freely lent to all who
desired to use them. Among other whims that had found their way
into the garrison through these means, was a relish for the sort
of amusement in which it was now about to indulge; and around which
some chronicles of the days of chivalry had induced them to throw
a parade and romance not unsuited to the characters and habits
of soldiers, or to the insulated and wild post occupied by this
particular garrison. While so earnestly bent on pleasure, however,
they on whom that duty devolved did not neglect the safety of the
garrison. One standing on the ramparts of the fort, and gazing on
the waste of glittering water that bounded the view all along the
northern horizon, and on the slumbering and seemingly boundless
forest which filled the other half of the panorama, would have
fancied the spot the very abode of peacefulness and security; but
Duncan of Lundie too well knew that the woods might, at any moment,
give up their hundreds, bent on the destruction of the fort and
all it contained; and that even the treacherous lake offered a
highway of easy approach by which his more civilized and scarcely
less wily foes, the French, could come upon him at an unguarded
moment. Parties were sent out under old and vigilant officers, men
who cared little for the sports of the day, to scour the forest;
and one entire company held the fort, under arms, with orders to
maintain a vigilance as strict as if an enemy of superior force
was known to be near. With these precautions, the remainder of
the officers and men abandoned themselves, without apprehension,
to the business of the morning.
The spot selected for the sports was a sort of esplanade, a little
west of the fort, and on the immediate bank of the lake. It had been
cleared of its trees and stumps, that it might answer the purpose
of a parade-ground, as it possessed the advantages of having its
rear protected by the water, and one of its flanks by the works.
Men drilling on it could be attacked, consequently, on two sides
only; and as the cleared space beyond it, in the direction of the
west and south, was large, any assailants would be compelled to
quit the cover of the woods before they could make an approach
sufficiently near to render them dangerous.
Although the regular arms of the regiment were muskets, some fifty
rifles were produced on the present occasion. Every officer had
one as a part of his private provision for amusement; many belonged
to the scouts and friendly Indians, of whom more or less were
always hanging about the fort; and there was a public provision
of them for the use of those who followed the game with the express
object of obtaining supplies. Among those who carried the weapon
were some five or six, who had reputation for knowing how to use
it particularly well -- so well, indeed, as to have given them a
celebrity on the frontier; twice that number who were believed to
be much better than common; and many who would have been thought
expert in almost any situation but the precise one in which they
now happened to be placed.
The distance was a hundred yards, and the weapon was to be used
without a rest; the target, a board, with the customary circular
lines in white paint, having the bull's-eye in the centre. The
first trials in skill commenced with challenges among the more
ignoble of the competitors to display their steadiness and dexterity
in idle competition. None but the common men engaged in this
strife, which had little to interest the spectators, among whom no
officer had yet appeared.
Most of the soldiers were Scotch, the regiment having been raised
at Stirling and its vicinity not many years before, though, as in
the case of Sergeant Dunham, many Americans had joined it since its
arrival in the colonies. As a matter of course, the provincials
were generally the most expert marksmen; and after a desultory
trial of half an hour it was necessarily conceded that a youth who
had been born in the colony of New York, and who coming of Dutch
extraction, was the most expert of all who had yet tried their
skill. It was just as this opinion prevailed that the oldest
captain, accompanied by most of the gentlemen and ladies of the
fort, appeared on the parade. A train of some twenty females of
humbler condition followed, among whom was seen the well-turned
form, intelligent, blooming, animated countenance, and neat,
becoming attire of Mabel Dunham.
Of females who were officially recognized as belonging to the class
of ladies, 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 the females, who were placed on a low staging of planks near
the immediate bank of the lake. In this vicinity the prizes were
suspended from a post. Great care was taken to reserve the front
seat of the stage for the three ladies and their children; while
Mabel and those who belonged to the non-commissioned officers of
the regiment, occupied the second. The wives and daughters of
the privates were huddled together in the rear, some standing and
some sitting, as they could find room. Mabel, who had already been
admitted to the society of the officers' wives, on the footing of
a humble companion, was a good deal noticed by the ladies in front,
who had a proper appreciation of modest self-respect and gentle
refinement, though they were all fully aware of the value of rank,
more particularly in a garrison.
As soon as this important portion of the spectators had got into
their places, Lundie gave orders for the trial of skill to proceed
in the manner that had been prescribed in his previous orders.
Some eight or ten of the best marksmen of the garrison now took
possession of the stand, and began to fire in succession. Among
them were officers and men indiscriminately placed, nor were the
casual visitors in the fort excluded from the competition.
As might have been expected of men whose amusements and comfortable
subsistence equally depended on skill in the use of their weapons,
it was soon found that they were all sufficiently expert to hit the
bull's-eye, or the white spot in the centre of the target. Others
who succeeded them, it is true, were less sure, their bullets striking
in the different circles that surrounded the centre of the target
without touching it.
According to the rules of the day, none could proceed to the second
trial who had failed in the first, and the adjutant of the place,
who acted as master of the ceremonies, or marshal of the day, called
upon the successful adventurers by name to get ready for the next
effort, while he gave notice that those who failed to present
themselves for the shot at the bull's-eye would necessarily be
excluded from all the higher trials. Just at this moment Lundie,
the Quartermaster, and Jasper Eau-douce appeared in the group
at the stand, while the Pathfinder walked leisurely on the ground
without his beloved rifle, for him a measure so unusual, as to
be understood by all present as a proof that he 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 a good-humored
way, took his station, levelled his rifle carelessly, and fired.
The bullet missed the required mark by several inches.
"Major Duncan is excluded from the other trials!" proclaimed the
Adjutant, in a voice so strong and confident that all the elder
officers and the sergeants well understood that this failure was
preconcerted, while all the younger gentlemen and the privates felt
new encouragement to proceed on account of the evident impartiality
with which the laws of the sports were administered.
"Now, Master Eau-douce, comes your turn," said Muir; "and if you
do not beat the Major, I shall say that your hand is better skilled
with the oar than with the rifle."
Jasper's handsome face flushed, he stepped upon the stand, cast a
hasty glance at Mabel, whose pretty form he ascertained was bending
eagerly forward as if to note the result, dropped the barrel of his
rifle with but little apparent care into the palm of his left hand,
raised the muzzle for a single instant with exceeding steadiness,
and fired. The bullet passed directly through the centre of the
bull's-eye, much the best shot of the morning, since the others
had merely touched the paint.
"Well performed, Master Jasper," said Muir, as soon as the result
was declared; "and a shot that might have done credit to an older
head and a more experienced eye. I'm thinking, notwithstanding,
there was some of a 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 nor scientific in yer management of the
weepon. Now, Sergeant Dunham, I'll thank you to request the ladies
to give a closer attention than common; for I'm about to make that
use of the rifle which may be called the intellectual. Jasper would
have killed, I allow; but then there would not have been half the
satisfaction in receiving such a shot as in receiving one that is
discharged scientifically."
All this time the Quartermaster was preparing himself for the
scientific trial; but he delayed his aim until he saw that the eye
of Mabel, in common 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 stood near the competitor but his commanding
officer, to whom he now said in his familiar manner, --
"Ye see, Lundie, that something is to be gained by exciting
a female's curiosity. It's an active sentiment is curiosity, and
properly improved may lead to gentler innovations in the end."
"Very true, Davy; but ye keep us all waiting while ye make your
preparations; and here is Pathfinder drawing near to catch a lesson
from your greater experience."
"Well Pathfinder, and so _you_ have come to get an idea too,
concerning the philosophy of shooting? I do not wish to hide my
light under a bushel, and yer welcome to all ye'll learn. Do ye
no' mean to try a shot yersel', 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 shoot better 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 to wear it for ye, as -- -- "
"Come, Davy," interrupted the Major, "your shot or a retreat. The
Adjutant is getting impatient."
"The Quartermaster's department and the Adjutant's department are
seldom compliable, Lundie; but I'm ready. Stand a little aside,
Pathfinder, and give the ladies an opportunity."
Lieutenant Muir now took his attitude with a good deal of studied
elegance, raised his rifle slowly, lowered it, raised it again,
repeated the manoeuvres, and fired.
"Missed the target altogether!" shouted the man whose duty it was
to mark the bullets, and who had little relish for the Quartermaster's
tedious science. "Missed the target!"
"It cannot be!" cried Muir, his face flushing equally with indignation
and shame; "it cannot be, Adjutant; for I never did so awkward a
thing in my life. I appeal to the ladies for a juster judgment."
"The ladies shut their eyes when you fired!" exclaimed the regimental
wags. "Your preparations alarmed them."
"I will na believe such calumny of the leddies, nor sic' a reproach
on my own skill," returned the Quartermaster, growing more and
more Scotch as he warmed with his feelings; "it's a conspiracy to
rob a meritorious man of his dues."
"It's a dead miss, Muir," said the laughing Lundie; "and ye'll jist
sit down 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
nothing extr'ornary for real service. He has covered Jasper's
bullet, as will be seen, if any one will take the trouble to examine
the target."
The respect for Pathfinder's skill and for his quickness and
accuracy of sight was so profound and general, that, the instant
he made this declaration, the spectators began to distrust their
own opinions, and a dozen rushed to the target in order to ascertain
the fact. There, sure enough, it was found that the Quartermaster's
bullet had gone through the hole made by Jasper's, and that, too,
so accurately as to require a minute examination to be certain of
the circumstance; which, however, was soon clearly established, by
discovering one bullet over the other in the stump against which
the target was placed.
"I told ye, ladies, ye were about to witness the influence of
science on gunnery," said the Quartermaster, advancing towards the
staging occupied by the females. "Major Duncan derides the idea of
mathematics entering into target-shooting; but I tell him philosophy
colors, and enlarges, and improves, and dilates, and explains
everything that belongs to human life, whether it be a shooting-match
or a sermon. In a word, philosophy is philosophy, and that is
saying all that the subject requires."
"I trust you exclude love from the catalogue," observed the wife
of a captain who knew the history of the Quartermaster's marriages,
and who had a woman's malice against the monopolizer of her sex;
"it seems that philosophy has little in common with love."
"You wouldn't say that, madam, if your heart had experienced many
trials. It's the man or the woman that has had many occasions to
improve the affections that can best speak of such matters; and,
believe me, of all love, philosophical is the most lasting, as it
is the most rational."
"You would then recommend experience as an improvement on the
passion?"
"Your quick mind has conceived the idea at a glance. The happiest
marriages are those in which youth and beauty and confidence on
one side, rely on the sagacity, moderation, and prudence of years
-- middle age, I mean, madam, for I'll no' deny that there is such
a thing as a husband's being too old for a wife. Here is Sergeant
Dunham's charming daughter, now, to approve of such sentiments, I'm
certain; her character for discretion being already well established
in the garrison, short as has been her residence among us."
"Sergeant Dunham's daughter is scarcely a fitting interlocutor in
a discourse between you and me, Lieutenant Muir," rejoined the
captain's lady, with careful respect for her own dignity; "and yonder
is the Pathfinder about to take his chance, by way of changing the
subject."
"I protest, Major Duncan, I protest," cried Muir hurrying back
towards the stand, with both arms elevated by way of enforcing
his words, -- "I protest in the strongest terms, gentlemen, against
Pathfinder's being admitted into these sports with Killdeer, which
is a piece, to say nothing of long habit that is altogether out of
proportion for a trial of skill against Government rifles."
"Killdeer is taking its rest, Quartermaster," returned Pathfinder
calmly, "and no one here thinks of disturbing it. I did not think,
myself, of pulling a trigger to-day; but Sergeant Dunham has been
persuading 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'm using Jasper's rifle, Quartermaster, as you may see,
and that is no better than your own."
Lieutenant Muir was now obliged to acquiesce, and every eye turned
towards the Pathfinder, as he took the required station. The air
and attitude of this celebrated guide and hunter were extremely
fine, as he raised his tall form and levelled the piece, showing
perfect self-command, and a through knowledge of the power of the
human frame as well as of the weapon. Pathfinder was not what is
usually termed a handsome man, though his appearance excited so
much confidence and commanded respect. Tall, and even muscular,
his frame might have been esteemed nearly perfect, were it not for
the total absence of everything like flesh. Whipcord was scarcely
more rigid than his arms and legs, or, at need, more pliable; but the
outlines of his person were rather too angular for the proportion
that the eye most approves. Still, his motions, 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 the notion of
exposure and hardships, while his sinewy hands denoted force, and
a species of use removed from the stiffening and deforming effects
of labor. Although no one perceived any of those gentler or more
insinuating 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 a
silent approbation of the freedom of his movements and the manliness
of his air. Thought was scarcely quicker than his aim; and, as
the smoke floated above his head, the butt-end of the rifle was
seen on the ground, the hand of the Pathfinder was leaning on the
barrel, and his honest countenance was illuminated by his usual
silent, hearty laugh.
"If one dared to hint at such a thing," cried Major Duncan, "I
should say that the Pathfinder had also missed the target."
"No, no, Major," returned the guide confidently; "that _would_ be
a risky declaration. I didn't load the piece, and can't say what
was in it; but if it was lead, you will find the bullet driving down
those of the 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
was now slowly advancing towards the stage occupied by the females;
"if you find the target touched at all, I'll own to a miss. The
Quartermaster cut the wood, but you'll find no wood cut by that
last messenger."
"Very true, Pathfinder, very true," answered Muir, who was lingering
near Mabel, though ashamed to address her particularly in the
presence of the officers' wives. "The Quartermaster did cut the
wood, and by that means he opened a passage for your bullet, which
went through the hole he had made."
"Well, Quartermaster, there goes the nail and we'll see who can
drive it closer, you or I; for, though I did not think of showing
what a rifle can do to-day, now my hand is in, I'll turn my back
to no man that carries King George's commission. Chingachgook is
outlying, or he might 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've no green boy fresh from the settlements and the towns to
deal with, I will assure ye!"
"I know that well, Quartermaster; I know that well, and shall not
deny your experience. You've lived many years on the frontiers,
and I've heard of you in the colonies, and among the Indians, too,
quite a human life 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 potato trial. I say you've passed a good human life, for a
soldier, in places where the rifle is daily used, and I know you
are a creditable and ingenious marksman; but then you are not a
true rifle-shooter. As for boasting, I hope I'm not a vain talker
about my own exploits; but a man's gifts are his gifts, and it's
flying in the face of Providence to deny them. The Sergeant's
daughter, here, shall judge between us, if you have 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
Lieutenant Muir shrank at such a reference in the presence of the
wives of the officers. He would gladly keep himself constantly
before the eyes and the imagination of the object of his wishes;
but he was still too much under the influence of old prejudices,
and perhaps too wary, to appear openly as her suitor, unless he
saw something very like a certainty of success. On the discretion
of Major Duncan he had a full reliance, and he 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 a non-commissioned
officer, he would find great difficulty in making his approaches
to any other woman of a condition to which he might reasonably
aspire. Notwithstanding these doubts and misgivings, Mabel looked
so prettily, blushed so charmingly, smiled so sweetly, and altogether
presented so winning a picture of youth, spirit, modesty, and beauty,
that he found it exceedingly tempting to be kept so prominently
before her imagination, and to be able to address her freely.
"You shall have it your own way, Pathfinder," he answered, as
soon as his doubts had settled down into determination; "let the,
Sergeant's daughter -- his charming daughter, I should have termed
her -- be the umpire then; and to her we will both dedicate the
prize, that one or the other must certainly win. Pathfinder must
be humored, ladies, as you perceive, else, no doubt, we should have
had the honor to submit ourselves to one of your charming society."
A call for the competitors now drew the Quartermaster and his
adversary away, and in a few moments the second trial of skill
commenced. A common wrought nail was driven lightly into the target,
its head having been first touched with paint, and the marksman
was required to hit it, or he lost his chances in the succeeding
trials. No one was permitted to enter, on this occasion, who had
already failed in the essay against the bull's-eye.
There might have been half a dozen aspirants for the honors of
this trial; one or two, who had barely succeeded in touching the
spot of paint in the previous strife, preferring to rest their
reputations there, feeling certain that they could not succeed in
the greater effort that was now exacted of them. The first three
adventurers failed, all coming very near the mark, but neither
touching it. The fourth person who presented himself was the
Quartermaster, who, after going through his usual attitudes, so
far succeeded as to carry away a small portion of the head of the
nail, planting his bullet by the side of its point. This was not
considered an extraordinary shot, though it brought the adventurer
within the category.
"You've saved your bacon, Quartermaster, as they say in the
settlements of their creaturs," cried Pathfinder, laughing; "but
it would take a long 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 lost some of his steadiness of hand and sartainty
of eye. You would have done better yourself, Lieutenant, had you
not been so much bent on soldierizing your figure. Shooting is a
natural gift, and is to be exercised in a natural way."
"We shall see, Pathfinder; I call that a pretty attempt at a nail;
and I doubt if the 55th has another hammer, as you call it, that
can do just the 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
into his friend's tracks the instant they were vacant. "Never mind
a new nail; I can see that, though the paint is gone, and what I can
see I can hit, at a hundred yards, though it were only a mosquito's
eye. Be ready to clench!"
The rifle cracked, the bullet sped its way, and the head of the nail
was buried in the wood, covered by the piece of flattened lead.
"Well, Jasper, lad," continued Pathfinder, dropping the butt-end
of his rifle to the ground, and resuming the discourse, as if he
thought nothing of his own exploit, "you improve daily. A few
more tramps on land in my company, and the best marksman on the
frontiers will have occasion to look keenly when he takes his
stand ag'in you. The Quartermaster is respectable, but he will
never get any farther; whereas you, 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
nail respectable only, when it's the perfection of the art? Any
one the least refined and elevated in sentiment knows that the
delicate touches denote the master; whereas your sledge-hammer
blows come from the rude and uninstructed. If 'a miss is as good
as a mile,' a hit ought to be better, 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 frontier law has declared for the American fruit, and the potato
it shall be."
As Major Duncan manifested some impatience of manner, Muir had
too much tact to delay the sports any longer with his discursive
remarks, but judiciously prepared himself for the next appeal. To
say the truth, the Quartermaster had little or no faith in his
own success in the trial of skill that was to follow, nor would
he have been so free in presenting himself as a competitor at all
had he anticipated it would have been made; but Major Duncan, who
was somewhat of a humorist in his own quiet Scotch way, had secretly
ordered it to be introduced expressly to mortify him; for, a laird
himself, Lundie did not relish the notion that one who might claim
to be a gentleman should bring discredit on his caste by forming
an unequal alliance. As soon as everything was prepared, Muir was
summoned to the stand, and the potato was held in readiness to be
thrown. As the sort of feat we are about to offer to the reader,
however, may be new to him, a word in explanation will render the
matter more clear. A potato of large size was selected, and given
to one who stood at the distance of twenty yards from the stand.
At the word "heave!" which was given by the marksman, the vegetable
was thrown with a gentle toss into the air, and it was the business
of the adventurer to cause a ball to pass through it before it
reached the ground.
The Quartermaster, in a hundred experiments, had once succeeded in
accomplishing this difficult feat; but he now essayed to perform it
again, with a sort of blind hope that was fated to be disappointed.
The potato was thrown in the usual manner, the rifle was discharged,
but the flying target was untouched.
"To the right-about, and fall out, Quartermaster," said Lundie,
smiling at the success of the artifice. "The honor of the silken
calash will lie between Jasper Eau-douce and Pathfinder."
"And how is the trial to end, Major?" inquired the latter. "Are
we to have the two-potato trial, or is it to be settled by centre
and skin?"
"By centre and skin, if there is any perceptible difference;
otherwise the double shot must follow."
"This is an awful moment to me, Pathfinder," observed Jasper, as
he moved towards the stand, his face actually losing its color in
intensity of feeling.
Pathfinder gazed earnestly at the young man; and then, begging
Major Duncan to have patience for a moment, he led his friend out
of the hearing 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 much
bound up in success."
"And do you so much crave to outdo me, an old and tried friend?
-- and that, as it might be, in my own way? Shooting is my gift,
boy, and no common 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,
and flushed and paled alternately, like a girl confessing her love.
Then, squeezing the other's hand, he said calmly, like one whose
manhood has overcome all other sensations, "I would lose an arm,
Pathfinder, to be able to make an offering of that calash to Mabel
Dunham."
The hunter dropped his eyes to the ground, and as he walked slowly
back towards the stand, he seemed to ponder deeply on what he had
just heard.
"You never could succeed in the double trial, Jasper!" he suddenly
remarked.
"Of that I am certain, and it troubles me."
"What a creature is mortal man! He pines for things which are
not of his gift and treats the bounties of Providence lightly. No
matter, no matter. Take your station, Jasper, for the Major is
waiting; and harken, lad, -- I must touch the skin, for I could
not show my face in the garrison with less than that."
"I suppose I must submit to my fate," returned Jasper, flushing
and losing his color as before; "but I will make the effort, if I
die."
"What a thing is mortal man!" repeated Pathfinder, falling back to
allow his friend room to take his arm; "he overlooks his own gifts,
and craves those of another!"
The potato was thrown, Jasper fired, and the shout that followed
preceded the announcement of the fact that he had driven his bullet
through its centre, or so nearly so as to merit that award.
"Here is a competitor worthy of you, Pathfinder," cried Major Duncan
with delight, as the former took his station; "and we may look to
some fine shooting in the double trial."
"What a thing is mortal man!" repeated the hunter, scarcely seeming
to notice what was passing around him, so much were his thoughts
absorbed in his own reflections. "Toss!"
The potato was tossed, the rifle cracked, -- it was remarked just
as the little black ball seemed stationary in the air, for the
marksman evidently took unusual heed to his aim, -- and then a look
of disappointment and wonder succeeded among those who caught the
falling target.
"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 of the day?"
"The calash is his," returned the other, shaking his head and
walking quietly away from the stand. "What a creature is mortal
man! never satisfied with his own gifts, but for ever craving that
which Providence denies!"
As Pathfinder had not buried his bullet in the potato, but had cut
through the skin, the prize was immediately adjudged to Jasper.
The calash was in the hands of the latter when the Quartermaster
approached, and with a polite air of cordiality he wished his
successful rival joy of 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
lighted with all the fire of success and joy. "I would rather
have won this calash 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
even venture to offer half a guinea for the trifle rather than it
should lie kicking about in the cabin of your cutter, and in the
end become an ornament for the head of a squaw."
Although Jasper did not know that the wary Quartermaster had not
offered half the actual cost of the prize, he heard the proposition
with indifference. Shaking his head in the negative, he advanced
towards the stage, where his approach excited a little commotion,
the officers' ladies, one and all, having determined to accept the
present, should the gallantry of the young sailor induce him to
offer it. But Jasper's diffidence, no less than admiration for
another, would have prevented him from aspiring to the honor of
complimenting any whom he thought so much his superiors.
"Mabel," said he, "this prize is for you, unless -- "
"Unless what, Jasper?" answered the girl, losing her own bashfulness
in the natural and generous wish to relieve his embarrassment,
though both reddened in a way to betray strong feeling.
"Unless you may think too indifferently of it, because it is offered
by one 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
have passed in your company, and of the gratitude I feel for your
care of me -- your care, and that of the Pathfinder."
"Never mind me, never mind me!" exclaimed the latter; "this is
Jasper's luck, and Jasper's gift: give him full credit for both.
My turn may come another day; mine and the Quartermaster's, who
seems to grudge the boy the calash; though what _he_ can want of
it I cannot understand, for he has 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 I have had a wife, or as proof how much I admire the sex, or
because it is a female garment, or for some other equally respectable
motive. It's not the unreflecting that are the most prized by
the thoughtful, and there is 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 a competent successor. The affections
are good gifts from Providence, and they that have loved one
faithfully prove how much of this bounty has been 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,
and cannot gainsay it. But Mabel here, the Sergeant's daughter,
will give you 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 about
to proceed. The ladies, however, were not so much engrossed with
rifle-shooting as to neglect the calash. It passed from hand
to hand; the silk was felt, the fashion criticized, and the work
examined, and divers opinions were privately ventured concerning
the fitness of so handsome a thing passing into the possession of
a non-commissioned officer's child.
"Perhaps you will be disposed to sell that calash, Mabel, when it
has been 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
should not like to part with it either."
"I daresay Sergeant Dunham keeps you above the necessity of selling
your clothes, child; but, at the same time, it is money thrown
away to keep an 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
your prudence after the triumph of the day is forgotten. It is a
pretty and a becoming calash, and ought not to be thrown away."
"I've no intention to throw it away, ma'am; and, if you please,
would rather keep it."
"As you will, child; girls of your age often overlook the real
advantages. Remember, however, if you do determine to dispose of
the thing, that it is bespoke, and that I will not take it if you
ever even put it on your own head."
"Yes, ma'am," said Mabel, in the meekest voice imaginable, though
her eyes looked like diamonds, and her cheeks reddened to the
tints of two roses, as she placed the forbidden garment over her
well-turned shoulders, where she kept it a minute, as if to try
its fitness, and then quietly removed it again.
The remainder of the sports offered nothing of interest. The
shooting was reasonably good; but the trials were all of a scale
lower than those related, and the competitors were soon left to
themselves. The ladies and most of the officers withdrew, and the
remainder of the females soon followed their example. Mabel was
returning along the low flat rocks that line the shore of the lake,
dangling her pretty calash from a prettier finger, when Pathfinder
met her. He carried the rifle which he had used that day; but
his manner had less of the frank ease of the hunter about it than
usual, while his eye seemed roving and uneasy. After a few unmeaning
words concerning the noble sheet of water before them, he turned
towards his companion with strong interest in his countenance, and
said, --
"Jasper earned that calash for you, Mabel, without much trial of
his gifts."
"It was fairly done, Pathfinder."
"No doubt, no doubt. The bullet passed neatly through the potato,
and no man could have done more; though others might have done as
much."
"But no one did as much!" exclaimed Mabel, with an animation that
she instantly regretted; for she saw by the pained look of the guide
that he was mortified equally by the remark and by the feeling with
which it was uttered.
"It is true, it is true, Mabel, no one did as much then; but -- yet
there is 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 done here. 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,
cocking and raising his rifle; "the two -- the two. Now look!"
The piece was presented quick as thought, as two of the birds came
in a line, though distant from each other many yards; the report
followed, and the bullet passed through the bodies of both victims.
No sooner had the gulls fallen into the lake, than Pathfinder
dropped the butt-end of the rifle, and laughed in his own peculiar
manner, every shade of dissatisfaction and mortified pride having
left his honest face.
"That is something, Mabel, that is something; although I have no
calash to give you! But ask Jasper himself; I'll leave it all to
Jasper, for a truer 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 backer no one need wish, ashore or afloat. But it was my
fault, Mabel, that he got 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
spite of herself, "and I look upon the calash as the joint gift of
yourself and Jasper."
"That would not be doing justice to the lad, neither. He won the
garment, 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
same person."
"I will remember that, Pathfinder, and take care that others know
your skill, 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
favor of my shooting on this frontier, than of your talking about
the water in the lake or the sun in the heavens. Everybody knows
what I can do in that way, and your words would be thrown away, as
much as French would be 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 color which had imparted so much lustre to her eyes gradually
leaving her face, which became grave and thoughtful.
"I do not say that, but very far from it. We all forget things that
we have known, when eager after our wishes. Jasper is satisfied
that I can pass one bullet through two potatoes, as I sent my bullet
through the gulls; 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 distrustful about Jasper Eau-douce, though
it is a gift natural to all young men to wish 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 poor
motherless girl," said Mabel, struggling to keep down emotions she
scarcely knew how to account for herself. "Believe me, Pathfinder,
I can never forget all you have already done for me -- you and Jasper;
and this new proof of your regard is not thrown away. Here, here
is a brooch that is 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,
holding the simple trinket in his hand. "I have neither buckle
nor button about me, for I wear nothing but leathern strings, and
them of good deer-skins. It's pretty to the eye, but it is prettier
far on the spot it 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 that I can never forget you or your services."
Mabel then smiled an adieu; and, bounding up the bank, she was soon
lost to view behind the mound of the fort.