The runner had not told Bevoir or Moon Eye how many men there were with Joseph Morris, but said there must be at least a dozen. In the post were now assembled ten Frenchmen, several of whom had been soldiers in the army during the war for the possession of Canada, and fourteen Indians under Moon Eye. There were also three Indian women and five Indian children—all that were left of the tribe since the downfall of Pontiac’s conspiracy. What to do next was a problem hard for Joseph Morris to solve. The more he surveyed the situation the more he became convinced that to attack the post openly would prove highly disastrous. “They have the best of the situation,” said he to Dave and the others. “They could pick us off through the loopholes at will. Perhaps I had better parley with them.” “Ye can’t parley with Bevoir,” answered Sam Barringford, in disgust. “And why not?” “Because ye can’t believe a word the Frencher says. Thet man would rather lie nor eat.” “But perhaps I can convince him that he cannot hold the post,” went on the planter. “Well, ye kin do as ye please, Mr. Morris, but I don’t agree to it. Ye don’t know the varmint as I do, an’ as Mr. James Morris did,—an’ as Dave an’ Henry do. We have got to git the best o’ them, either in the open or by trickery. He won’t listen to reason until he’s licked good an’ proper.” “I think Sam is right,” said Dave, as his uncle looked at him. “Jean Bevoir is not to be trusted—father and I found that out a number of times, to our sorrow. He may promise all sorts of things,—but he won’t keep his word unless it suits him to do so.” Nevertheless, rather than risk a fight at the beginning, Joseph Morris resolved to have a talk with the French trader, and for that purpose sent a frontiersman named Hope to the post. Hope carried a white handkerchief tied to a stick, and was allowed to come to within a few paces of the stockade gate, when he was halted. “I want to talk to Jean Bevoir,” said the frontiersman. “Vat you vant?” demanded the Frenchman, from within, and without showing himself. “Is that you, Jean Bevoir?” “Yees.” “Joseph Morris is here with a large party, and he demands that you throw the gate of this post open.” “Ha! Vat for, tell me zat? So he can come in and murder us, not so?” “If you will not open the gate and let him march in he will come in by force.” “Let heem try it! Let heem try it!” cried Jean Bevoir, in a rage. “Zis is my post—I vill defend my property. Now I vant you to go avay—an’ stay avay!” he added, sharply. “Will you talk to Mr. Morris?” “Vy I do zat? Haf I not told you vat to do? Go avay!” “He has something of great importance to say to you. Perhaps he will make terms,” continued Hope, wishing to bring the two men together, so that he might not have too much responsibility on his own shoulders.