“You were shot?” queried Dave; “and by Bevoir’s crowd? What of my father?” And the youth’s heart seemed to stop beating. “Dead—everybody is dead but me, and I—I—oh!” And then Peaceful Jones dropped limply into the arms of Dave and Henry. His eyes closed, and for the time being he knew no more. “He has fainted from exhaustion,” said an under officer who had come up. “Carry him to the fort, and we will do what we can to revive him. He must have important news to tell.” “Yes,” said Dave, brokenly. The mist was swimming before his eyes. “Oh, Henry, can this be true? Can father be dead?” “Let us hope for the best,” answered his cousin. He, too, could hardly speak. Then some soldiers raised Peaceful Jones to their shoulders and marched off to the fort with him. Dave and Henry followed in their rear, each with a heart that sank lower and lower at every step. CHAPTER XX ANOTHER LONG JOURNEY For several hours Peaceful Jones lay in a stupor of pain and exhaustion. He was given the best medical attention the fort afforded, and at last dropped into a deep sleep, from which he did not awaken until the next day. He was then still weak, but able to tell his story in detail. Much of it we already know. After leaving the vicinity of the cedar with his bear meat over his shoulder he had wandered around in the woods and gotten lost. Then he had been snowed in for over a week, and at the end of that period had been taken down with a fever, and had come out of it to find himself in an Indian camp and under the care of a medicine man for whom he had once done a favor. The medicine man told him that some other Indians wished to kill him, and at the first opportunity the trapper had fled from the Indian village and started again for Fort Pitt. He had fallen over some rocks into a hollow while on the last three miles of his journey and was so weak that he could hardly stand when discovered by his friends. “But are you certain the others were all killed—that my father was killed?” asked Dave. “He must be dead, Dave—although I didn’t see him go down. I was outside of the tradin’ post. But I heard a Frenchman and an Indian speak about it. They were more than anxious to kill me too.” “Oh, I cannot believe that father is dead!” burst out the youth, and had to turn away to hide his tears. Henry did what he could to comfort his cousin, but was himself much downcast. That evening the pair talked the matter over for several hours, but the discussion did not appear to help the situation. “I wish we could get Colonel Bouquet or Captain Ecuyer to march against Jean Bevoir,” said Dave. “That Frenchman and his associates ought to be shot down or hanged.”