"Jean Bevoir!" he exclaimed. "Jean Bevoir, jest as sure as fate!"
"Bevoir!" ejaculated Dave.
"Bevoir?" repeated Henry, who stood near. "Do you mean to say that fellow is Bevoir?"
"It is!" answered Barringford. "He's wounded, too."
Without waiting to hear more, Henry, followed by Dave, ran forward to where the prisoner had been placed on a moss-grown bank.
"You are Jean Bevoir," he began, sternly.
"Ah! you know me, eh?" returned the French trader. "I do not seem to know you?" and a puzzled look crossed his face.
"Then I'll tell you who I am!" roared Henry, clenching his fists. "I am Henry Morris, of Will's Creek. This is my cousin Dave Morris. You helped to steal my little sister Nell. Where is she? Tell me this minute!"
As Henry finished he advanced, as if to strike the prisoner down where he sat. Jean Bevoir grew pale and trembled with fear.
"No! no! do not heet me!" he cried. "I no do zat. Eet ees von mistake! I no see ze gal! I——"