Pontiac was in deep thought when a young brave came to him and said two French hunters wished to speak to him. Thinking they might have news of value, he consented to the interview, and was soon in conversation with Jean Bevoir and Jacques Valette. Of Bevoir Pontiac had heard several times. He knew the French trader to be a two-faced rascal, and probably he despised him accordingly, for, judged solely by Indian standards, Pontiac was an upright and honest man. His duplicity was only that of the red man when on the war-path. In his personal dealing he would not have cheated a fellow Indian or a white man out of a farthing. Jean Bevoir was not long in coming to the point. He said he had heard that Dave Morris had been made a prisoner by the Indians. If Pontiac wanted to get rid of the young fellow he, Bevoir, would take him off his hands and be glad to do it. "But what will my French friend do with this Morris?" asked Pontiac. "Leave that to me," answered Bevoir. "I'll take good care that he does not bother you again." By skillful questioning Pontiac managed to learn a great deal of what was in Bevoir's mind, and he saw at once that the Frenchman was indeed an enemy to the young pioneer. Then Valette began to talk, saying Morris should never cross the path of the Indians again, once he and Bevoir got their hands upon him. "Pontiac wishes him to live," said the chief shrewdly. "He shall not die," said Bevoir. "But we shall take care that he comes not to this neighborhood again." Pontiac said he would think it over. He felt certain that Bevoir and Valette were up to some foul deed, and was half inclined to send them from the village. "While Pontiac thinks it over can I speak to the prisoner?" asked Jean Bevoir. 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!_ Listen! The Indians wish to kill you. I wish to save you. If I do that, will you--you--" "What?" "Will you promise to go to your father and tell him I have saved you?" "Why do you want that?" "We are now enemies. I wish to be friends. He will be a friend to one who saves his son's life." "Perhaps, Bevoir." Dave's head was in a whirl. "But this,--of you! I can scarcely believe it! And then that attack on the pack-train!" "Was Hector Bergerac's work! I can prove it! Come, shall I save you or not?" "Yes, save me if you can," muttered Dave. "And you will tell your father of it?" "Yes."