“You are likely to be of some use here, my child,” the old soldier commenced, “as this tidy and well-ordered supper can testify; and I trust, when the proper moment arrives, you will show yourself to be the descendant of those who know how to face their enemies.”
“You do not expect me, dear father, to play Joan of Arc, and to lead the men to battle?”
“Play whom, child? Did you ever hear of the person Mabel mentions, Pathfinder?”
“Not I, Sergeant; but what of that? I am ignorant and unedicated, and it is too great a pleasure to me to listen to her voice, and take in her words, to be particular about persons.”
“I know her,” said Cap decidedly; “she sailed a privateer out of Morlaix in the last war; and good cruises she made of them.”
Mabel blushed at having inadvertently made an allusion that went beyond her father's reading, to say nothing of her uncle's dogmatism, and, perhaps, a little at the Pathfinder's simple, ingenuous earnestness; but she did not forbear the less to smile.
“Why, father, I am not expected to fall in with the men, and to help defend the island?”
“And yet women have often done such things in this quarter of the world, girl, as our friend, the Pathfinder here, will tell you. But lest you should be surprised at not seeing us when you awake in the morning, it is proper that I now tell you we intend to march in the course of this very night.”
“We, father! and leave me and Jennie on this island alone?”
“No, my daughter; not quite as unmilitary as that. We shall leave Lieutenant Muir, brother Cap, Corporal M'Nab, and three men to compose the garrison during our absence. Jennie will remain with you in this hut, and brother Cap will occupy my place.”