“The thirty years that you mention, are not often thought to be an advantage in the eyes of girls of nineteen.”

Mabel colored, and in turning aside her face to avoid the looks of those in the bow of the canoe, she encountered the admiring gaze of the young man in the stern. As a last resource, her spirited, but soft blue eyes sought refuge in the water. Just at this moment a dull, heavy sound swept up the avenue formed by the trees, borne along by a light air that hardly produced a ripple on the water.

“That sounds pleasantly,” said Cap, pricking up his ears like a dog that hears a distant baying; “it is the surf on the shores of your lake, I suppose?”

“Not so—not so,” answered the Pathfinder; “it is merely this river tumbling over some rocks half a mile below us.”

“Is there a fall in the stream?” demanded Mabel, a still brighter flush glowing in her face.

“The devil! Master Pathfinder—or you, Mr. Oh! The-deuce (for so Cap began to style Jasper, by way of entering cordially into the border usages)—had you not better give the canoe a sheer and get nearer to the shore? These waterfalls have generally rapids above them, and one might as well get into the maelstrom at once as to run into their suction.”

“Trust to us—trust to us, friend Cap,” answered Pathfinder; “we are but fresh-water sailors, it is true, and I cannot boast of being much, even of that; but we understand rifts, and rapids, and cataracts; and in going down these, we shall do our endeavours not to disgrace our edication.”

“In going down!” exclaimed Cap. “The devil, man. You do not dream of going down a waterfall in this eggshell of bark!”

“Sartain; the path lies over the falls, and it is much easier to shoot them than to unload the canoe and to carry that, and all it contains, around a portage of a mile, by hand.”

Mabel turned her pallid countenance toward the young man in the stern of the canoe, for just at that moment a fresh roar of the fall was borne to her ears by a new current of the air, and it really sounded terrific, now that the cause was understood.

“We thought that by landing the females and the two Indians,” Jasper quietly observed, “we three white men, all of whom are used to the water, might carry the canoe over in safety, for we often shoot these falls.”

“And we counted on you, friend mariner, as a main-stay,” said Pathfinder, winking at Jasper over his shoulder, “for you are accustomed to see waves tumbling about, and without someone to steady the cargo, all the finery of the sergeant’s daughter might be washed into the river and be lost.”

Cap was puzzled. The idea of going over a waterfall was perhaps more serious, in his eyes, than it would have been in those of one totally ignorant of all that pertained to boats; for he understood the power of the element and the total feebleness of man when exposed to its fury. Still, his pride revolted at the thought of deserting the boat while others not only courageously, but coolly, proposed to continue in it. Notwithstanding the latter feeling, and his innate as well as acquired steadiness in danger, he would probably have deserted his post had not the images of Indians tearing scalps from the human head taken so strong hold of his fancy as to induce him to imagine the canoe a sort of sanctuary.

“What is to be done with Magnet?” he demanded, affection for his niece raising another qualm in his conscience. “We cannot allow Magnet to land if there are enemy’s Indians near?”

“Nay—no Mingo will be near the portage, for that is a spot too public for their deviltries,” answered the Pathfinder, confidently. “Natur’ is natur’, and it is an Injin’s natur’ to be found where he is least expected. No fear of him on a beaten path, for he wishes to come upon you when unprepared to meet him, and the fiery villains make it a point to deceive you, one way or another. Sheer in, Eau-douce; we will land the sergeant’s daughter on the end of that log, where she can reach the shore with a dry foot.”

The injunction was obeyed, and in a few minutes the whole party had left the canoe, with the exception of Pathfinder and the two sailors. Notwithstanding his professional pride, Cap would have gladly followed, but he did not like to exhibit so unequivocal a weakness in the presence of a fresh-water sailor.

“I call all hands to witness,” he said, as those who had landed moved away, “that I do not look on this affair as anything more than canoeing in the woods. There is no seamanship in tumbling over a waterfall, which is a feat the greatest lubber can perform as well as the oldest mariner.”

“Nay, nay, you needn’t despise the Oswego Falls, neither,” put in Pathfinder, “for though they may not be Niagara, nor the Genesee, nor the Cahoos, nor Glen’s, nor them on the Canada, they are narvous enough for a new beginner. Let the sergeant’s daughter stand on yonder rock and she will see the manner in which we ignorant backwoodsmen get over a difficulty that we can’t get under. Now, Eau-douce, a steady hand and a true eye, for all rests on you, seeing that we can count Master Cap for no more than a passenger.”

The canoe was leaving the shore as he concluded, while Mabel went hurriedly and trembling to the rock that had been pointed out, talking to her companion of the danger her uncle so unnecessarily ran, while her eyes were riveted on the agile and vigorous form of Eau-douce as he stood erect in the stern of the light boat, governing its movements. As soon, however, as she reached a point where she got a view of the fall, she gave an involuntary but suppressed scream and covered her eyes. At the next instant, the latter were again free, and the entranced girl stood immovable as a statue, a scarcely breathing observer of all that passed. The two Indians seated themselves passively on a log, hardly looking toward the stream, while the wife of Arrowhead came near Mabel and appeared to watch the motions of the canoe with some such interest as a child regards the leaps of a tumbler.

As soon as the boat was in the stream, Pathfinder sank on his knees, continuing to use the paddle, though it was slowly, and in a manner not to interfere with the efforts of his companion. The latter still stood erect, and, as he kept his eye on some object beyond the fall, it was evident that he was carefully looking for the spot proper for their passage.

“Farther west, boy; farther west,” muttered Pathfinder; “there, where you see the water foam. Bring the top of the dead oak in a line with the stem of the blasted hemlock.”

Eau-douce made no answer, for the canoe was in the center of the stream with its head pointed toward the fall, and it had already begun to quicken its motion by the increased force of the current. At that moment, Cap would cheerfully have renounced every claim to glory that could possibly be acquired by the feat to have been safe again on shore. He heard the roar of the water, thundering as it might be, behind a screen, but becoming more and more distinct, louder and louder; and before him he saw its line cutting the forest below, along which the green and angry element seemed stretched and shining, as if the particles were about to lose their principle of cohesion.

“Down with your helm—down with your helm, man!” he exclaimed, unable any longer to suppress his anxiety, as the canoe glided toward the edge of the fall.

“Aye—aye—down it is, sure enough,” answered Pathfinder, looking behind him for a single instant, with his silent, joyous laugh. “Down we go, of a sartainty! Heave her starn up, boy; farther up with her starn!”

The rest was like the passage of the viewless wind. Eau-douce gave the required sweep with his paddle, the canoe glanced into the channel, and for a few seconds it seemed to Cap that he was tossing in a cauldron. He felt the bow of the canoe tip, saw the raging, foaming water careering madly by his side, was sensible that the light fabric in which he floated was tossed about like an eggshell, and then, not less to his great joy than to his surprise, he discovered that it was gliding across the basin of still water, below the fall, under the steady impulse of Jasper’s paddle.

The Pathfinder continued to laugh, but he arose from his knees and, searching for a tin pot and a horn spoon, he began deliberately to measure the water that had been taken in in the passage.

“Fourteen spoonfuls, Eau-douce; fourteen fairly measured spoonfuls. I have, you must acknowledge, known you to go down with only ten.”

“Master Cap leaned so hard upstream,” returned Jasper, seriously, “that I had difficulty in trimming the canoe.”

“It may be so—it may be so; no doubt it was so, since you say it; but I have known you go over with only ten.”

Cap now gave a tremendous hem, felt for his queue, as if to ascertain its safety, and then looked back, in order to examine the danger he had gone through. His impunity is easily explained. Most of the river fell perpendicularly ten or twelve feet; but near its center, the force of the current had so far worn away the rock as to permit the water to shoot through a narrow passage at an angle of about forty or forty-five degrees.