as friends, for he did not think her father could possibly have arrived so soon.  A number of men were now seen to quit the boats, and then followed three hearty English cheers, leaving no further doubts of the character of the party.  Pathfinder sprang to the trap, raised it, glided down the ladder, and began to unbar the door, with an earnestness that proved how critical he deemed the moment.  Mabel had followed, but she rather impeded than aided his exertions, and but a single bar was turned when a heavy discharge of rifles was heard.  They were still standing in breathless suspense, as the war-whoop rang in all the surrounding thickets.  The door now opened, and both Pathfinder and Mabel rushed into the open air.  All human sounds had ceased.  After listening half a minute, however, Pathfinder thought he heard a few stifled groans near the boats; but the wind blew so fresh, and the rustling of the leaves mingled so much with the murmurs of the passing air, that he was far from certain.  But Mabel was borne away by her feelings, and she rushed by him, taking the way towards the boats.

“This will not do, Mabel,” said the scout in an earnest but low voice, seizing her by an arm; “this will never do.  Sartain death would follow, and that without sarving any one.  We must return to the block.”

“Father! my poor, dear, murdered father!” said the girl wildly, though habitual caution, even at that trying moment, induced her to speak low.  “Pathfinder, if you love me, let me go to my dear father.”

“This will not do, Mabel.  It is singular that no one speaks; no one returns the fire from the boats; and I have left Killdeer in the block!  But of what use would a rifle be when no one is to be seen?”

At that moment the quick eye of Pathfinder, which, while he held Mabel firmly in his grasp, had never ceased to roam over the dim scene, caught an indistinct view of five or six dark crouching forms, endeavoring to steal past him, doubtless with the intention of intercepting the retreat to the blockhouse.  Catching up Mabel, and putting her under an arm, as if she were an infant, the sinewy frame of the woodsman was exerted to the utmost, and he succeeded in entering the building.  The tramp of his pursuers seemed immediately at his heels.  Dropping his burden, he turned, closed the door, and had fastened one bar, as a rush against the solid mass threatened to force it from the hinges.  To secure the other bars was the work of an instant.

Mabel now ascended to the first floor, while Pathfinder remained as a sentinel below.  Our heroine was in that state in which the body exerts itself, apparently without the control of the mind.  She relighted the candle mechanically, as her companion had desired, and returned with it below, where he was waiting her reappearance.  No sooner was Pathfinder in possession of the light than he examined the place carefully, to make certain no one was concealed in the fortress, ascending to each floor in succession, after assuring himself that he left no enemy in his rear.  The result was the conviction that the blockhouse now contained no one but Mabel and himself, June having escaped.  When perfectly convinced on this material point, Pathfinder rejoined our heroine in the principal apartment, setting down the light and examining the priming of Killdeer before he seated himself.