“That seems a long time ago,” said the trader, to Tony Jadwin. “And think of all that has happened since! The war with France, and the capture of Fort Pitt, Niagara, Quebec, Montreal, and a number of other places, and then this war with Pontiac and the tribes under him. Surely, Tony, we can be thankful that we live to tell about it.” “Yes,” answered the trapper addressed. “And think of the fights at the old trading post and then at the new one! And we ain’t done yet, I am sorry to say.” “Sometimes I wonder if it is worth all the trouble and risk”, continued James Morris. “I have gained a little, but it has cost me dear.” “I’d never give in to the Indians or to them Frenchmen, Mr. Morris. Why, if you give ’em a pound they’ll want a thousand.” “I know that.” “The land in the west belongs to the English now, and a fair share of it is yours. Those Indians and those Frenchmen have got to leave us alone, an’ the sooner they learn the lesson the better,” concluded Tony Jadwin. The new resting-place was where some tall trees grew on the very edge of a cliff. One tree had fallen, and its gigantic roots hung over the cliff, forming a network over which it was easy to place some pine branches. As the cliff was hollowed out just beyond the trees, this left a space about eight feet deep by twenty feet long where they could make themselves comfortable. Against the rocks they built a fire, the smoke escaping through some crevices. They cooked themselves a haunch of venison and some beans and biscuits, and took their own time about eating. All went to sleep as soon as it grew dark, knowing that a long, hard tramp lay before them at daybreak. The travelers were destined not to be allowed to rest undisturbed. James Morris slept several hours when he was awakened by having a cold nose pressed against his face. He opened his eyes and sat up and at the same instant heard a low growl. “A bear!” he yelled, as loudly as he could. “A bear! Two of them!” The trader was right—two full-grown bears had entered the camp, evidently attracted by the smell of venison and bacon. As James Morris arose the bears retreated to another part of the shelter, one stepping directly upon Peaceful Jones. “Git orf o’ me, ye sinner!” gasped the frontiersman, wrathfully. “Git orf, I say!” And then as the bear backed away, he reached for his rifle and tried to take aim. But Mr. Morris was in the way, and he did not dare to pull the trigger. By this time the whole camp was in an uproar. Tony Jadwin tried to rise, but just as he did so one of the bears ran against him, pitching him down in such a fashion that one hand went into the smoldering fire. “Great hamstrings!” roared the trapper, wiping the hot ashes from his hand. “What’s this mean? Two b’ars, eh? Shoot ’em, somebody! Shoot em!”