"I reckon we air all with you," drawled one of the trappers. "We want an English tradin'-post hyer, eh, boys?" "That's the tune," added another. "The only question is, air we strong enough for 'em?" "Got to be!" exclaimed Sanderson emphatically. "I'll fight 'em for all I know how!" muttered Henry. His rest had done him much good. The details of the defense were quickly arranged, for James Morris had often speculated upon just what to do in such a situation as was now at hand. Everything left outside of the palisade was brought in and then the gates were closed, barred, and reenforced by large rocks which lay handy. This accomplished, every gun and pistol in the post was examined, cleaned, and put into perfect order for use, and powder and ball were dealt out liberally. The Indians also looked after their bows and arrows, and hunting knives and tomahawks were not forgotten. By the time arrangements were all complete, the sun was shining in the eastern sky. Hour after hour passed and no strangers put in an appearance. "But they will come, never fear," said Jadwin. "I've made no mistake." "Somebody coming now!" shouted James Morris, who was near the gate. A moment later an Indian came strolling along the bank of the river. Evidently he had expected to find the gate to the stockade wide open. Seeing it closed, he hesitated for a moment. "_Hoola_! _hoola_!" he shouted. "Brown Bear come to trade!" "Where are your furs?" asked James Morris, mounting some steps so that he could see over the gate. "Furs in canoe on river," answered Brown Bear. His eyes were full of distrust and suspicion. "You are one of the Wanderers, I believe," said James Morris. "You trade with the French, not with the English." "Trade with English now," said the red man doggedly. "You can't trade here, so pass on." "No take furs from Brown Bear?" "No." "Make much cheap trade. Buffalo skin, too, an' bear." "Bring them up till I see them." "White man open gate." "Show me your buffalo and bear skins," was all James Morris would answer. With a grunt of disgust Brown Bear walked away and disappeared among the bushes. "Do you think he really has the furs?" asked Henry. "I don't." "No, Henry. He came to report what we were doing. He is a spy. We'll see some more of them soon." [Illustration: 'Where are your furs?' asked James Morris] Mr. Morris was right; half an hour later another Indian, accompanied by Louis Glotte, came into view from over the hill. "Open the gate! Want to trade!" cried the Indian. "Vat for you close ze gate, Meester Morris?" asked Glotte smoothly. "No fighting now, no!" And he laughed shortly. "No, I don't reckon there will be any fighting," answered the trader. "But if it comes, I am ready for it. The Indian can't come in, but you can, if you wish." And he threw a ladder over the gate, keeping hold of the top.