AN OLD ENEMY APPEARS
After the departure of Rodney, Nell, and the twins from Fort Pitt,
matters at that stronghold went along smoothly for several weeks. Once
Dave and Henry went out hunting with Mr. Morris, and managed to secure a
deer and some smaller game, but that was all.
In the meantime the meeting that Sir William Johnson had arranged with
the Six Nations and other tribes of Indians from upper New York and from
Canada came to a conclusion. Many of the red men agreed to keep the
peace and some even agreed to take up arms against the Indians of the
Mississippi region, being offered good pay for this service. But others,
including the Senecas, went away murmuring, saying that the English were
trying to rob them of their lands and they would not submit to it. Then
there were certain bands, like that under Moon Eye, that had become
absolutely lawless, killing and plundering whenever the opportunity
offered. Some of these bands united with some of the most lawless of the
French, especially those who held isolated trading posts, and what they
did to make life miserable for the frontiersmen will be told later on.
The coming of winter in the vicinity of Fort Pitt made hunting extra
good, and both Dave and Henry urged Mr. Morris to go out again. As a
result a party of five was organized, the two others being Tony Jadwin
the frontiersman and another character well known to my old readers,
Peaceful Jones, who had fought so bravely when the Morrises had defended
their trading post the season previous.
The party took along something in the way of a camping outfit and
expected to be gone at least three days. Although he did not tell those
at the fort, James Morris decided to push westward, to note if the way
was clear, so he might start for his trading post in the spring.
The first day out the party got on the trail of a whole herd of deer.
But something scared the timid creatures, and they bounded away to the
westward, through a thick snow that was falling at the time.
“Oh, we must get some of those deer!” cried Henry. “We can’t afford to
miss them!”
“Well, we’ll get them if the falling snow doesn’t put us off the trail,”
answered his uncle.
But the snow continued to come down heavily, and by nightfall the chase
had to be abandoned, at least for the time being. They went into camp
between the hemlocks, finding a comfortable shelter under some thick,
snow-laden branches.
“I wonder if there are any Indians around?” remarked Dave, while they
were eating supper. “I hope not.”
“It is possible some of them may be out hunting like ourselves,”
answered his father. “Somebody will have to stand guard.”
But the night passed without interruption. In the morning it began to
snow once more, and this time so furiously that they did not know what
to do.
“Hunting is all out of the question in sech a storm as this,” said Tony
Jadwin, with a deep sigh. “No game stirring, onless it’s a rabbit, an’
they ain’t wuth wastin’ powder an’ shot on.”
The snow kept up until noon and was then over a foot in depth. But after
that the sun came out, making the landscape dazzling white.
The party was coming out of a heavy stretch of timber when James Morris
called a sudden halt. At a distance could be seen the smoke of a
campfire.
“Must be Injuns,” was Peaceful Jones’s comment.
A brief consultation was held, and Tony Jadwin took it on himself to go
forward and investigate. He skirted the clearing and passed among the
trees, and that was the last the others saw of him for a full half-hour.
“Got news fer ye,” he said, to James Morris, on returning. “Powerful
news, too.”
“What is it?” demanded the trader, quickly.
“Who do ye reckon I see over yonder?”
“Some Indians?”
“Yes, a handful. But thet ain’t all. I see thet good-fer-nuthin’
Frenchman thet made so much trouble fer ye fer years.”
“What, you don’t mean Jean Bevoir!” broke in Dave.
“Thet’s exactly the pusson I do mean.”
“I shouldn’t think he’d dare to show his face around here,” said Henry.
“He must know that if he is captured it will go hard with him.”
“An’ thet ain’t the whole o’ it,” went on Tony Jadwin. “Do ye remember
thet Frenchman as run away from Fort Pitt—the feller thet had somethin’
to do with stealin’ them twins?”
“You mean Benoit Vascal?” asked the trader.
“Yes. Wall, he’s thar too, an’ he an’ Bevoir seem to be putty thick, ez
near ez I kin figger it.”
“Father, we ought to try to capture ’em both!” burst out Dave.
“That’s the talk,” said Henry. “Why, it will never be safe around the
trading post as long as Jean Bevoir is at large. He will incite other
Frenchmen and also Indians to do us harm.”
“Who else is in the party?” asked James Morris of Jadwin.
“Two other Frenchmen—trappers who used to help Bevoir—and about a dozen
Injuns—the crowd that used to be under Flat Nose.”
“Yes, I remember that crowd,” said Dave. “They were certainly a
bloodthirsty set.”
“Sixteen all told,” mused James Morris. “I am afraid they are too many
for us.”
“Perhaps the Indians won’t fight,” suggested Henry.
“They’ll fight right enough,” answered Tony Jadwin. “They have just
enough rum in them to make ’em ugly. I think Bevoir had been supplyin’
’em with liquor.”
“His old trick,” murmured Dave. “And it always works—with such Indians
as he gets to aid him in his dirty work.”
The matter was talked over, and James Morris said he would take a look
at the enemy himself. Dave begged to be taken along, and his parent
consented.
It was an easy matter to follow the trail Tony Jadwin had made. Walking
through the snow, they made no noise, and soon reached the point of
vantage the old trapper had occupied. They found the enemy encamped in
the midst of a patch of wood, with some rocks on one side. Stationing
themselves behind the rocks they readily saw and heard a good deal of
what occurred.
The four Frenchmen spoke in French, while the Indians used their native
language. As a consequence, Dave understood but little of what was said.
But Mr. Morris could speak French fairly well, and understood much of
the red men’s dialect. He took in every word that reached his ears, and
as he listened his brow darkened.
At the end of an hour the talk came to an end, and Indians and French
got ready to move. There were four horses in the camp, which Jean Bevoir
and his countrymen rode, leaving the Indians to accompany them on foot.
Bevoir was scarred from his wounds, and limped as he mounted his steed.
“I ought to put a bullet through that rascal’s head!” whispered James
Morris. “He is not worthy to live.”
“If they discover us they will surely kill us, father,” whispered Dave,
in return. “They can easily track us through the snow. Even as it is,
they may come across our tracks and follow us up.”
“I know it, Dave—and I shall do nothing now.”
The enemy were soon on their way, following what was a trail leading to
the far west. James Morris saw them depart with a darker look than ever
on his face.
“The rascals! The infamous scoundrels!” he cried, when he dared to speak
in louder tones.
“What did you learn, father?” asked the son.
“A great deal, Dave. Do you know what Jean Bevoir intends to do?”
“I haven’t the least idea.”
“He and his followers, including that Benoit Vascal, are going to join
forces with a large body of Indians. They are going to induce other
Frenchmen to do likewise, if they can. The Indians are to aid the
Frenchmen in an attack on every trading post for miles around, and
whenever successful French and Indians are to divide the plunder.”
“Well, they have done just as bad things before.”
“That is not all. If the other Indians are finally subdued Jean Bevoir
is to take charge of my old trading post, producing a paper to the
effect that I once signed over all my rights to the place to him. To
this document the other Frenchmen will affix their names as witnesses.”
“Oh, what a rascally thing to do!”
“In return for aiding Jean Bevoir, Benoit Vascal is also to receive
favors,” went on James Morris. “Do you remember the papers that were
lost—those relating to Mr. Maurice Hamilton’s right to certain tracts of
land along the St. Lawrence?”
“Of course.”
“Well, Vascal will have duplicates made and have the rights transferred
to himself, the others being witnesses to this instrument. Thus, they
will cheat the father of the twins out of his property.”
“But what will they do when you turn up, and when Mr. Hamilton appears?”
“That is the most dastardly part of the whole business. They are either
going to poison us in secret or else capture us and turn us over to some
Indians, who, for a consideration, will make way with us in such a
fashion that the authorities will be completely baffled.”
“How awful, father! How can a man like Jean Bevoir be so bloodthirsty?”
“It is his old hatred of me grown more bitter day by day. He hated me
when first we established rival trading posts, and now he cannot bear to
think of the English winning this war against the French and Indians and
see me getting what is justly my due.”
“And what do you intend to do about it?”
“I do not know yet—I must think the matter over, and perhaps I will
consult with Captain Ecuyer and Colonel Bouquet. They certainly ought to
know about such dastardly plots as these.”
Mr. Morris and Dave rejoined the others, and there told of what had been
heard. Peaceful Jones, who was in reality a most pugnacious trapper,
wanted to attack the enemy on the spot.
“We kin mow ’em all down afore they know what’s struck ’em,” said he.
“Come on in an’ have a shindy!”
“I will not risk it—it is asking too much of you,” answered James
Morris. “Were it necessary it would be different. Let them escape for
the time being. Another time we may be better able to cope with them.”
From a safe distance they saw the Frenchmen and the Indians move along
the trail they had chosen. Soon the coming of night hid them from view.
Dave drew a sigh of relief.
“I wish we could get rid of Jean Bevoir,” he said. “He has caused us so
much trouble.”
“There is one comfort,” said his father, with a faint smile.
“‘Forewarned is forearmed.’ I know what he intends to do, and I can
accordingly lay my plans to thwart him.”
“Do you think the French government will allow such actions?”
“Scarcely, Dave—yet, as matters stand to-day, he may be able to explain
matters to their satisfaction. Remember, at the present time all
Frenchmen are very bitter against the English.”
“I wish we could capture that Benoit Vascal. I am certain he can tell us
a good deal more about the twins, if he will only open his mouth.”
“Vascal and Bevoir seem to be tarred with the same stick. Both are
rascals and will do anything to get hold of money. I am afraid we shall
have a great deal of trouble before we have seen the last of them,”
concluded James Morris, and his forecast was correct, as later events
amply proved.