"So, you are zere, too, it seems?" sneered the man. "I remember zere was also ze second Armstrong cub. Zis is vat I call neat. Two new Shawanee boys, adopted into ze tribe! Perhaps ze new Eenglish trader like to exchange hees goods for sons! Sacre! suppose you come back to lodges wiz me. I haf got ze gun pointed straight; and my fingair, it press on ze trigger. You refuse, and pouf! bang, down you go!" "What! do you mean that you would force us to go back to captivity; and you a white man at that? Shame on you, Jacques Larue! Better paint your face, and stick feathers in your hair; for you are more savage than the reddest Indian!" cried the reckless Sandy. The trader gave vent to a low cry of anger. Bob feared that the Frenchman might be urged to shoot by these taunts, for he was undoubtedly hot-blooded, like most of his countrymen. It was surely a time for action. The young pioneer made a sudden lunge forward and struck out with his right arm. Long handling of the axe had given Bob the muscles of an athlete; and when his clenched fist came in contact with the jaw of the French trader the result was disastrous to Larue. He went floundering on his back. His gun was discharged; but the missile that it had contained did no more damage than to shoot a hole through the atmosphere, for it was aimed at the time at the sky. "Away!" cried Blue Jacket, pushing Bob toward the boat; for the boy had acted as though tempted to follow up his one blow by giving the insulting trader the whipping he deserved. Prudence prevailed, and Bob hastened to leap aboard. Then the young Shawanee gave the canoe a shove that sent it out through the rushes, and upon the bosom of the flowing stream. Jacques Larue struggled to his feet, and wildly pranced up and down on the shore, shouting threats of what he would do if ever he came in contact with either of those Armstrong "cubs" again. But Bob gave little heed to what he said, being much more concerned with other matters. Of course the report of the heavily-charged gun, together with the cries of the angry French trader, must by this time have aroused the village. "I wonder if they will pursue us?" ventured Sandy, as he worked away valiantly at the paddle which he had taken up. "The current of this stream is swift, and the shores so filled with underbrush that we can make faster time than any brave could afoot," remarked Bob, while he, too, bent to the task before him, so that the little boat fairly danced along on the starlit stream, heading down toward the junction with the big Ohio. "But they have other canoes, for I saw three at least?" ventured Sandy. "But Blue Jacket knew that," returned the other, shrewdly; "and depend on it he saw to it that they were hidden away where they could not be found in a hurry. We may be pursued, but I am not afraid."