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. 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. "I--I thought you were dead." "Dead? And how came you to think that?" "They told us you were shot down at Montreal." "Ha! I see. And you were glad of it, not so? But I have disappointed you." The Frenchman paused and then chuckled to himself. "You cannot flee from Jean Bevoir so easily." "What do you want here?" "Want, do you ask? What would any honest man want? Yes, I was shot, and left for dead. 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." "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." "Some day the fort shall come back to its own," put in one of Bevoir's companions, whose name was Jacques Valette. "You English have but a slim foothold." "That is a matter of opinion, Valette," answered James Morris. He knew Jacques Valette to be a hunter of the rougher sort, given to much fighting and dissipating. "The war is at an end, and for the present my country is master of the situation." "The English do not own this land," put in Jean Bevoir. "It has always belonged to the French and the Indians, and it belongs to them still. No army has been sent out here to take possession, and how can the English claim that which they have not even seen or marked out?" "I won't discuss the old quarrel with you, Bevoir," said James Morris briefly. "We are here to stay, and that is the end of the matter, so far as I am concerned. You can do as you please, but I warn you not to interfere with me. If you do, you will get your fingers burnt."