"Mr. Hunter!" exclaimed Harriet, in as much wonder as dismay. "What! Red-Jacket? a stranger, a vagabond dauber, to be made the repository of such confidence! Really, Kate, you will drive me mad. How could you be so insane?" "These are severe rebukes, Harriet," said Miss Loring, "and perhaps, in my case, they are just and well deserved; but you will not be so harsh with Mr. Hunter, when you know him better. He is a gentleman, Harriet,--in every particular, a high-minded, honourable man. On his good will and friendly co-operation, I knew I could rely; he was shrewd, sensible, and had seen one individual you inquired after; I had no other person to look to for advice. I acted with my best discretion, Harriet, and for your sake." "Well, don't pout now," cried Miss Falconer, throwing her arms round her neck. "Soldiers--that is, generals,--as Harry vows, are ever pestilent scolds; and you must lay my shrewishness to the door of military impulses. The thing can't be helped; I don t blame you; if Red-Jacket be really a sensible fellow, why there is no harm done; and, as I said before, I'll patronise him; and if the matter be not blown already, in good truth, he will not have time left him to do mischief. But now for my story--and know, Catherine, in the first place, you are surrounded by cut-throat tories,--by skulking refugees,--by the Hawks of Hawk-Hollow!" "Sure, Harriet, you are raving!" cried the Captain's daughter, in affright. "It is as true as that the stars are shining above us," said Miss Falconer, her eyes flashing with a soldier-like fire; "and to-morrow, when you look only for mirth and merry-making, you will perhaps see--ay, Kate, _see_ them fight their last battle. It is well you had me to watch over you, you poor cowardly mouse; or you might have been scalped and murdered, a week before your wedding-day. But all's safe, Kate; so leave trembling, and put yourself under my protection. To think we had that blood-stained demon so near to us, when we were talking about him! Nay, to think we had him in the house here, and my brother and myself standing hard by! Truly, Kate, had I known him, and could have laid my hand on a pistol, I should have fired it at the audacious monster--though I have no doubt, I should have hit some one else. That vagabond, malignant-mouthed villain with the red hat--who would have dreamed that blood-coloured covering was on the head of Oran Gilbert?" "Impossible, Harriet! Remember, that he was in the house here nearly an hour,--that Green, the Indian trader; and at that very moment, the party was chasing the true murderer beyond the river." "Nonsense!" cried Miss Falconer,--"nonsense and ignorance together. Listen to my story, and talk no more of impossibilities."