Chapter 26

You saw but sorrow in its waning form;
A working sea remaining from a storm,
Where now the weary waves roll o'er the deep,
And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.
DRYDEN.

Men accustomed to a warfare like that we have been describing are
not apt to be much under the influence of the tender feelings
while still in the field. Notwithstanding their habits, however,
more than one heart was with Mabel in the block, while the incidents
we are about to relate were in the course of occurrence; and even
the indispensable meal was less relished by the hardiest of the
soldiers than it might have been had not the Sergeant been so near
his end.

As Pathfinder returned from the block, he was met by Muir, who
led him aside in order to hold a private discourse. The manner of
the Quartermaster had that air of supererogatory courtesy about it
which almost invariably denotes artifice; for, while physiognomy
and phrenology are but lame sciences at the best, and perhaps lead
to as many false as right conclusions, we hold that there is no
more infallible evidence of insincerity of purpose, short of overt
acts, than a face that smiles when there is no occasion, and the
tongue that is out of measure smooth. Muir had much of this manner
in common, mingled with an apparent frankness that his Scottish
intonation of voice, Scottish accent, and Scottish modes of expression
were singularly adapted to sustain. He owed his preferment, indeed,
to a long-exercised deference to Lundie and his family; for, while
the Major himself was much too acute to be the dupe of one so much
his inferior in real talents and attainments, most persons are
accustomed to make liberal concessions to the flatterer, even while
they distrust his truth and are perfectly aware of his motives. On
the present occasion, the contest in skill was between two men as
completely the opposites of each other in all the leading essentials
of character as very well could be. Pathfinder was as simple as
the Quartermaster was practised; he was as sincere as the other
was false, and as direct as the last was tortuous. Both were cool
and calculating, and both were brave, though in different modes and
degrees; Muir never exposing his person except for effect, while
the guide included fear among the rational passions, or as a
sensation to be deferred to only when good might come of it.

"My dearest friend," Muir commenced, -- "for ye'll be dearer to us
all, by seventy and sevenfold, after your late conduct than ever ye
were, -- ye've just established yourself in this late transaction.
It's true that they'll not be making ye a commissioned officer, for
that species of prefairment is not much in your line, nor much in
your wishes, I'm