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Updated: June 7, 2025
Like a flash the full realization of Jean Bevoir's plot forced itself upon the young pioneer. He was truly in the hands of the enemy, and it was safe to say that Bevoir would not treat him any better than had Pontiac, if as well. "Supposing I won't go with you?" he said. "You shall go with us," replied Jean Bevoir. "You are my prisonair and must do as I say. Jacques, bring up the horses."
They listened with interest to what Bergerac had to tell, and when the Frenchman had warmed up he related the full particulars of how Bevoir, Valette, and Flat Nose had concocted the plan to loot the Morris' pack-train, corroborating Glotte's story in all details.
Had somebody suddenly arisen from the dead before him, Dave would have been no more astonished than he was when he beheld the Frenchman, who, in the past, had caused him and his relatives so much trouble. "Jean Bevoir!" he gasped. "But no, it cannot be, for Bevoir was killed at the fall of Montreal!" The three Frenchmen did not notice the youth until the very edge of the creek was reached.
But my good friends nursed me to health, malgre moll And now I am come to claim what is my own." By this time James Morris had noted the appearance of the newcomers, and leaving his work over the ruins, he walked forward to see who they were. "Can it be possible that this is Jean Bevoir!" he ejaculated. "Yes, father," answered Dave. "The report that he was killed was false."
He knew that his only safety lay in escape. But while he was running from Flat Nose and Jean Bevoir he was making directly towards Jacques Valette, and in less than a minute the two came face to face. Valette had his gun handy and the moment the young pioneer appeared he raised the weapon. "Stop!" he roared. "Stop, or I shoot!" "Do not let him escape!" cried Jean Bevoir, in French.
"We had better not say anything about Bevoir and his crowd," said James Morris as they journeyed along. "Let the men and the Indians find it out for themselves." "All right, father; just as you say," answered Dave. "But when they find it out, what then?" "Then let the men say what they please. We will try to avoid a quarrel." "Jean Bevoir hates White Buffalo worse than poison."
In the timber they halted, and in a short while the snow, now whirling in every direction, hid their trail completely from view. Listening intently they heard many shots at a distance and knew that a fierce fight was on, between those from the village and the party under Jean Bevoir. The fighting kept on for a good half-hour, then gradually died away to the northward.
As it was impossible for the handful of Frenchmen under Bevoir to do anything alone the whole scheme fell through, and then Bevoir lost no time in getting back to where he had left the loot from the pack-train, claiming that which had been allotted to him and his men, and getting away further to the northwestward, where he felt tolerably safe from pursuit.
There was a promise of a storm in the air and soon the snow began to come down. This did not suit Bevoir, for it would make tracking easy, but as this could not be avoided, he determined to make the best of it. Should it continue to snow, the tracks made during the night would soon be obliterated. The news that Dave was not at the Indian village of Shanorison was dismaying to Mr.
"He is 'most as mean a skunk as Jean Bevoir." They now came in view of the post and were quickly admitted by those on guard. "Sam Barringford!" cried Dave and Henry in a breath, and ran up to greet their old friend. After he had been fed and allowed to rest a bit, Barringford told his story in detail.
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