"You shall not get away!" cried the rascally French hunter, and raised his gun. But before he could use the weapon James Morris fired upon him, and Valette pitched into the snow, shot through the thigh. Then Dave went on, and in a moment more found himself among his friends and relatives. There was no time to answer questions. The Wyandots and Ottawas were coming up swiftly, and once more the Wanderers and Jean Bevoir attempted to outdistance them. Jacques Valette also attempted to remount his horse, but ere he could do so a Wyandot reached him and struck him down again. The blow crushed the Frenchman's skull, and he died before sunrise. "We must get out of this," said Dave, when he could speak. "The Indians are after us! If we stay here we may be caught between two fires." "Come with me!" came from White Buffalo. "White Buffalo knows a good hiding place." James Morris' party turned back, and with Dave by his father's side, all rode through the forest to the southward. Here they reached a small brook, backed up by rugged rocks and a thick patch of timber. 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. Safe in the shelter near the brook, Dave told his story, to which his father, Henry, and the others listened with great interest. "You can be thankful that we came up as we did," said James Morris. "I am thankful," said the young pioneer. "I never want to see Jean Bevoir and his rascally companions again." "Perhaps Jean Bevoir is dead," put in Henry. "That shooting must have meant something." "I brought down Jacques Valette," continued Mr. Morris. "But I don't believe I killed him." "I hit Bevoir in the arm," came from Barringford. "He'll remember it a while, I'll warrant." "It was all Pontiac's fault," came from Dave. "I think the authorities ought to bring him to book for it." "Perhaps they will," answered James Morris seriously. Let me add a few words more and then bring to a close this story of pioneer life, and of adventures while "On the Trail of Pontiac." The snowstorm that started that evening proved a heavy one, and it was not until nearly a week later that the Morris party managed to get back to Fort Pitt. Here the commandant listened to what they had to relate with close attention and said he would report to the proper authorities at the first opportunity. But means of communication were now almost entirely cut off; and in the end little or nothing was done to make Pontiac and his followers explain their actions, matters of greater importance coming up in the meantime.