“You say true, Sergeant,” Pathfinder answered; “a mistake in one like you is a more serious matter.”

“You will find Mabel sincere and honest in the end; give her but a little time.”

“Ah’s me, Sergeant!”

“A man of your merits would make an impression on a rock, give him time, Pathfinder.”

“Sergeant Dunham, we are old fellow-campaigners —­that is, as campaigns are carried on here in the wilderness; and we have done so many kind acts to each other that we can afford to be candid —­ what has caused you to believe that a girl like Mabel could ever fancy one so rude as I am?”

“What? —­ why, a variety of reasons, and good reasons too, my friend.  Those same acts of kindness, perhaps, and the campaigns you mention; moreover, you are my sworn and tried comrade.”

“All this sounds well, so far as you and I are consarned; but they do not touch the case of your pretty daughter.  She may think these very campaigns have destroyed the little comeliness I may once have had; and I am not quite sartain that being an old friend of her father would lead any young maiden’s mind into a particular affection for a suitor.  Like loves like, I tell you, Sergeant; and my gifts are not altogether the gifts of Mabel Dunham.”

“These are some of your old modest qualms, Pathfinder, and will do you no credit with the girl.  Women distrust men who distrust themselves, and take to men who distrust nothing.  Modesty is a capital thing in a recruit, I grant you; or in a young subaltern who has just joined, for it prevents his railing at the non-commissioned officers before he knows what to rail at; I’m not sure it is out of place in a commissary or a parson, but it’s the devil and all when it gets possession of a real soldier or a lover.  Have as little to do with it as possible, if you would win a woman’s heart.  As for your doctrine that like loves like, it is as wrong as possible in matters of this sort.  If like loved like, women would love one another, and men also.  No, no, like loves dislike,” —­ the Sergeant was merely a scholar of the camp, —­ “and you have nothing to fear from Mabel on that score.  Look at Lieutenant Muir; the man has had five wives already, they tell me, and there is no more modesty in him than there is in a cat-o’-nine-tails.”

“Lieutenant Muir will never be the husband of Mabel Dunham, let him ruffle his feathers as much as he may.”

“That is a sensible remark of yours, Pathfinder; for my mind is made up that you shall be my son-in-law.  If I were an officer myself, Mr. Muir might have some chance; but time has placed one door between my child and myself, and I don’t intend there shall be that of a marquee also.”

“Sergeant, we must let Mabel follow her own fancy; she is young and light of heart, and God forbid that any wish of mine should lay the weight of a feather on a mind that is all gaiety now, or take one note of happiness from her laughter!”