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Updated: July 7, 2025
Strange as it may seem, nothing more was heard from Jacques Valette and Jean Bevoir, and the Morrises often wondered what had become of them, and of their companion, Hector Bergerac. They questioned the hunters, both white and red, but could get no information. "They must have gone up to the Lakes after all," said James Morris. "If it is so, I am thankful for it."
He has told me his story, and told me all about Jean Bevoir, Jacques Valette, and that redskin they call Flat Nose. Hector Bergerac wants to cut the whole crowd, and I am going to help him to do it." The weather had threatened a change, and inside of a week after Dave and his companions returned to the trading-post there was a heavy frost, and, two days later, a touch of ice.
"The Frenchmen and the Indians have a village back there, on the bank of a creek that flows into this river. Jean Bevoir is there, and also Jacques Valette, and I rather think all the stolen goods are there also." "Did you see anything of Sam Barringford?" asked Dave, who was just then thinking more of his old friend than of his father's belongings. "I did not.
Then Jean Bevoir uttered an exclamation in French. "Settlers, after all," he said, to his companions. "Where?" asked both, and came forward, one on each side of him. By this time Dave was confronting the trio boldly, and now Jean Bevoir looked at him more closely. "Parbleu!" he muttered. "'Tis that Dave Morris, or mayhap I am dreaming!" "Jean Bevoir!" faltered the youth.
"But the soldiers were so sure " "They made a mistake. It is Jean Bevoir beyond any doubt." "So you are here," declared the Frenchman, glaring darkly at the trader. "I was told that the Englishmen had come no further westward than Fort Duquesne." "You mean Fort Pitt," answered James Morris pointedly. "Fort Duquesne is a thing of the past."
Instead of going directly toward the signal, Dave attempted to go around it. His object in doing this was to get behind Bevoir, obtain one of the horses the Frenchman had mentioned, and be off before Jean Bevoir could stop him. He knew he would run the risk of being shot should the Frenchman still be treacherous, but hoped that the darkness of the night would favor him.
The young pioneer was immediately surrounded, and Flat Nose caught him around the breast from the rear, pinning his arms to his side. The hunting knife was taken from him, and he realized at once that further resistance would be useless. "Ha! so you think to escape, not so?" sneered Jean Bevoir. "I was afraid it would be so. But now you are my prisonair, ha! ha!"
"Ha! that makes you shiver, does it?" cried Jean Bevoir wickedly. "We shall not have to say much, The red men can take their own part. They know well that the French are their true friends, and the English their real enemies." "You scoundrel!" cried James Morris hotly. "Dare to provoke the red men to fight, and I will see to it that you shall not escape as you did at Montreal.
"You are right, Lucy," her husband had returned. "There is nothing worse than war, unless it be a pestilence. I, too, want nothing but peace hereafter." "And I agree most heartily," had come from James Morris. "One cannot till the soil nor hunt unless we are at peace with both the French and the Indians." "Be thankful that Jean Bevoir has been removed from your path," had come from his brother.
After some hesitation Pontiac allowed him to see Dave, and soon the two were face to face in the hut. Pontiac wished to set a spy to listen to what was said, but another matter claimed his attention. "Jean Bevoir!" cried Dave. "What brings you to this place?" "Not so loud!" answered Jean Bevoir in a whisper. "Morris, I am your friend, believe me." "My friend?" ejaculated the young pioneer. "Oui!
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