"Hilloa! which the devil way does the wind blow now?"
muttered Fuller, the leer of self-satisfaction that had
hitherto played in his eye rapidly giving place to an
air of seriousness and surprise; an expression that was
not at all diminished by an observation from his new
commander.
"I tell you what it is, Jack," said the latter,
impressively; "I don't pretend to have more gumption (qu.
discernment?) than my messmates; but I can see through
a millstone as clear as any man as ever heaved a lead in
these here lakes; and may I never pipe boatswain's whistle
again, if you 'ar'n't, some how or other, in the wrong
box. That 'ere Ingian's one of us!"
The feelings of Captain de Haldimar may easily be
comprehended by our readers, when, on glancing at the
paper, he found himself confirmed in the impression
previously made on him by the outline of the captive's
form. The writing, nearly obliterated by damp, had been
rudely traced by his own pencil on a leaf torn from his
pocket-book. In the night of his visit to the Indian
encampment, and at the moment when, seated on the fatal
log, Oucanasta had generously promised her assistance in
at least rescuing his betrothed bride.
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