“Ask yer own father, Mistress Dunham; he is acquaint’ with Corporal M’Nab, and will no’ be backward to point out his demerits.  We have been in battle thegither, and he is my superior officer, and has a sort o’ official right to give the characters of his subordinates.”

“My father thinks well of you, M’Nab, or he would not have left you in charge of this island and all it contains, his own daughter included.  Among other things, I well know that he calculates largely on your prudence.  He expects the blockhouse in particular to be strictly attended to.”

“If he wishes to defend the honor of the 55th behind logs, he ought to have remained in command himsel’; for, to speak frankly, it goes against a Scotchman’s bluid and opinions to be beaten out of the field even before he is attacked.  We are broadsword men, and love to stand foot to foot with the foe.  This American mode of fighting, that is getting into so much favor, will destroy the reputation of his Majesty’s army, if it no’ destroy its spirit.”

“No true soldier despises caution.  Even Major Duncan himself, than whom there is none braver, is celebrated for his care of his men.”

“Lundie has his weakness, and is fast forgetting the broadsword and open heaths in his tree and rifle practice.  But, Mistress Dunham, tak’ the word of an old soldier, who has seen his fifty-fifth year, when he talls ye that there is no surer method to encourage your enemy than to seem to fear him; and that there is no danger in this Indian warfare that the fancies and imaginations of your Americans have not enlarged upon, until they see a savage in every bush.  We Scots come from a naked region, and have no need and less relish for covers, and so ye’ll be seeing, Mistress Dunham —­ "

The Corporal gave a spring into the air, fell forward on his face, and rolled over on his back, the whole passing so suddenly that Mabel had scarcely heard the sharp crack of the rifle that had sent a bullet through his body.  Our heroine did not shriek —­ did not even tremble; for the occurrence was too sudden, too awful, and too unexpected for that exhibition of weakness; on the contrary, she stepped hastily forward, with a natural impulse to aid her companion.  There was just enough of life left in M’Nab to betray his entire consciousness of all that had passed.  His countenance had the wild look of one who had been overtaken by death by surprise; and Mabel, in her cooler moments, fancied that it showed the tardy repentance of a willful and obstinate sinner.

“Ye’ll be getting into the blockhouse as fast as possible,” M’Nab whispered, as Mabel leaned over him to catch his dying words.