Young Groseillers’ anger at the turn of affairs knew no bounds. In his fort were twelve thousand beaver skins and eight thousand other pelts of the same value as beaver. To the expedition the year before, he had contributed £500 of his own money, and the cargo of that voyage had been confiscated at Quebec. Now, he had rich store of pelts to compensate for the two years’ toil, and by the order of the French Government—a secret back-stairs, treacherous order which could not stand daylight and would brand him as a renegade—he was to turn these furs over to the enemy. The young man was furious, and surrendered his charge with an ill grace. Radisson had been commissioned to offer the Frenchmen employment in the English Company at £100 a year for Chouart, £50 for Durvall, Lamotte, Greymaire and the rest. They heard his offer in sullen silence, for it meant they must forswear allegiance to France. They preferred to remain free-lances and take chances of crossing overland to Quebec two thousand miles through the wilderness. Then came what was truly the crowning treachery. A square deal is safest in the long run. The man of double dealing forgets that he often compels men, who would otherwise deal squarely, to meet him on his own ground—double dealing; to stoop to the trickery that his dishonesty has taught. Radisson had been assured that the Frenchmen left in Hudson Bay should be free to do as they wished, or if they joined the English they should be well treated; but when they evinced no haste to become English subjects, Governor Phipps took his own counsel. By September, a new fort had been built on Hayes River five miles from the mouth. The Indians had come down stream with an enormous trade and Radisson had made a treaty of peace between them and the English, which has lasted to this day. Finally, the cargo of beaver was on board _The Happy Return_. Sailors were chanting their sing-song as they ran round the capstan bars heaving up anchor on September the 4th, when Governor Phipps suddenly summoned a final council on board the decks of _The Happy Return_. To this council came the unsuspecting Frenchmen from the shore. Three—as it happened—had gone to the woods, but young Groseillers and the rest clambered up the accommodation ladder for last orders. No sooner were they on board, than sails were run out. _The Happy Return_ spread her wings to the wind and was off for England carrying the unwilling Frenchmen passengers.