“Father!” was all the son answered. He still kept his eyes on the French trader, who shrank back in consternation.
“Come on, all of you!” cried Joseph Morris, who now saw that further secrecy would be useless. “Surrender, you villains, or we’ll shoot you down like dogs!”
“Thet’s the talk!” came from Barringford, and as he saw one of the Indians raise a gun he shot the warrior through the heart.
The next instant the entire camp was in alarm. Thinking a large body of English had arrived, the few Indians present took to their heels and disappeared into the forest as if by magic. The Frenchmen tried to follow, fighting as they did so. Jean Bevoir aimed a pistol at Dave and fired, the bullet striking the youth in the side. As he staggered and fell Henry fired at the French trader, and so did two others, and Bevoir threw up his arms and pitched headlong into the smoldering campfire, scattering the embers in all directions.
Inside of five minutes the battle was at an end and the English were in complete possession of the camp and had also gained possession of their horses and a large portion of their stores. What was left of the French and Indians disappeared, and that was the last seen of them.
[Illustration: Bevoir pitched headlong into the smoldering campfire.—_Page 298._]
Dave’s wound was but slight, and his first thoughts were of his father. The two embraced over and over again, the tears of joy standing in the eyes of each. Joseph Morris, Henry, and Barringford were likewise more than happy to learn that the trader was really alive.
“I am the only one living to tell the tale,” said James Morris. “The others were killed or mortally wounded.”
“Not all,” answered Dave. “Peaceful Jones escaped and told us the news, and that is what brought us here so quickly.”
“You have had a great fight. I could hear some of the shooting,” continued the trader.
“Yes, and we might have had the worst of it, only White Buffalo came to our aid.”
“Gone in pursuit of Moon Eye and his followers.”
After that James Morris told his story in detail, to which Dave and the others listened with much interest.
“At first I was kept at the post,” said he. “Jean Bevoir pretended to be kind and considerate, but I soon found out his object. He had drawn up some documents stating that I surrendered to him all my rights and interests in the trading post and he wanted me to sign them. When I refused he got angry and wanted to kill me. But some of the men interfered and then I was brought to this place. Then, of a sudden, I was treated better again. From the Indians I learned that Bevoir had an idea that if he got cornered later on he would use me in some way for his benefit—as a hostage, or something like that.”