“Excellent creature! But tell me, June, ought I to keep in the blockhouse to-day—this morning—now?”
“Blockhouse very good; good for women. Blockhouse got no scalp.”
“I fear I understand you only too well, June. Do you wish to see my father?”
“No here; gone away.”
“You cannot know that, June; you see the island is full of his soldiers.”
“No full; gone away,”—here June held up four of her fingers,—“so many red-coats.”
“And Pathfinder? would you not like to see the Pathfinder? He can talk to you in the Iroquois tongue.”
“Tongue gone wid him,” said June, laughing; “keep tongue in his mout'.”
There was something so sweet and contagious in the infantile laugh of an Indian girl, that Mabel could not refrain from joining in it, much as her fears were aroused by all that had passed.
“You appear to know, or to think you know, all about us, June. But if Pathfinder be gone, Eau-douce can speak French too. You know Eau-douce; shall I run and bring him to talk with you?”