“You have had a great fight. I could hear some of the shooting,” continued the trader. “Yes, and we might have had the worst of it, only White Buffalo came to our aid.” “And where is he now?” “Gone in pursuit of Moon Eye and his followers.” After that James Morris told his story in detail, to which Dave and the others listened with much interest. “At first I was kept at the post,” said he. “Jean Bevoir pretended to be kind and considerate, but I soon found out his object. He had drawn up some documents stating that I surrendered to him all my rights and interests in the trading post and he wanted me to sign them. When I refused he got angry and wanted to kill me. But some of the men interfered and then I was brought to this place. Then, of a sudden, I was treated better again. From the Indians I learned that Bevoir had an idea that if he got cornered later on he would use me in some way for his benefit—as a hostage, or something like that.” “Just what he wanted to do with me, when I was a prisoner,” said Henry. “It is queer that I didn’t see you when I was here,” he added. “They must have kept us apart purposely, Henry.” James Morris drew a long breath. “How good it feels to be together once more. I declare, it seems to brace me up wonderfully!” And his face showed his relief. Somebody had dragged Jean Bevoir’s body from the fire just after the man fell. The trader was not yet dead, and lay groaning and writhing in a fearful manner. Nothing could be done for him, and he died at sunrise. It was the last of a misspent life, full of golden opportunities which the rascal had trampled under foot. His body was laid in a hollow and some flat stones placed over it, to keep off the wild animals. His pockets were searched and the fraudulent documents confiscated by Joseph Morris. “We must get back to the post as soon as we can,” said Barringford, after the excitement was over. “Remember, we don’t know how matters are a-goin’ there.” “I have heard no shots,” answered Henry. “And that is a good sign.” “I do not see how anything can be wrong there,” said Dave. “We have wound up the Bevoir crowd and you can trust White Buffalo to take care of Moon Eye’s tribe.” Nevertheless, the start for the trading post was made as soon as matters could be gotten into shape for the journey. The two sick men were carried on stretchers made of blankets tied to long poles, and all took turns at the task. Dave did not mind the load at all, and in the joy at finding his parent forgot all about his own injuries, which, fortunately, proved slight. The strange man who was sick wanted to know what it all meant, and smiled when told. Then he heaved a sudden sigh. “I, too, have had many troubles,” he said. “Many, many troubles. I wish that I could get some help.” “We will aid you all we can,” said Henry, kindly. “Yes, yes, I know. But my head—it is not clear. My brain whirls when I try to think. The past is such a blank!”