Chapter 21

Each one has had his supping mess,
The cheese is put into the press,
The pans and bowls, clean scalded all,
Reared up against the milk-house wall.
COTTON.

It seemed strange to Mabel Dunham, as she passed along on her way
to find her female companion, that others should be so composed,
while she herself felt as if the responsibilities of life and
death rested on her shoulders. It is true that distrust of June's
motives mingled with her forebodings; but when she came to recall
the affectionate and natural manner of the young Indian girl,
and all the evidences of good faith and sincerity she had seen in
her conduct during the familiar intercourse of their journey, she
rejected the idea with the unwillingness of a generous disposition
to believe ill of others. She saw, however, that she could not put
her companions properly on their guard without letting them into
the secret of her conference with June; and she found herself
compelled to act cautiously and with a forethought to which she
was unaccustomed, more especially in a matter of so much moment.

The soldier's wife was told to transport the necessaries into the
blockhouse, and admonished not to be far from it at any time during
the day. Mabel did not explain her reasons. She merely stated
that she had detected some signs in walking about the island, which
induced her to apprehend that the enemy had more knowledge of its
position than had been previously believed, and that they two at
least, would do well to be in readiness to seek a refuge at the
shortest notice. It was not difficult to arouse the apprehension
of this person, who, though a stout-hearted Scotchwoman, was ready
enough to listen to anything that confirmed her dread of Indian
cruelties. As soon as Mabel believed that her companion was
sufficiently frightened to make her wary, she threw out some hints
touching the inexpediency of letting the soldiers know the extent
of their own fears. This was done with a view to prevent discussions
and inquiries that might embarrass our heroine: she determining
to render her uncle, the Corporal, and his men more cautious,
by adopting a different course. Unfortunately, the British army
could not have furnished a worse person for the particular duty that
he was now required to discharge than Corporal M'Nab, the individual
who had been left in command during the absence of Sergeant Dunham.
On the one hand, he was resolute, prompt, familiar with all the
details of a soldier's life, and used to war; on the other, he
was supercilious as regards the provincials, opinionated on every
subject connected with the narrow limits of his professional practice,
much disposed to fancy the British empire the centre of all that
is excellent in the