"We'll not surrender," said the trader and made a sign that the interview was over. As he did this a rifle shot rang out, and he fell back into Henry's arms, limp and unconscious.
CHAPTER X
JEAN BEVOIR APPEARS
"Uncle Jim, are you—you——" began Henry. He could not finish.
Crack! It was the rifle of one of the frontiersmen that rang out, and Rain Cloud, rushing back toward the forest, gave a shudder, whirled around and fell on his back, stone dead.
"My uncle has been wounded in the head," cried Henry. His heart was in his throat. What if his relative was dead? The thought was a horrible one. He saw that the blood was streaming down over the man's face. There was a wound running over the temple toward the left ear.
Laying his uncle down in the snow, Henry knelt beside him. He heard several shots fired but paid no attention. He took up some snow and soaked away the blood with it.
"Oh!" murmured the wounded man, and opened his eyes with a quiver. Then he started up. "The rascals! What a dastardly thing to do!"
"Uncle Jim! Then you are not killed!" ejaculated Henry. "Oh, thank God for that!"
Now that the blood was away he saw that James Morris had suffered nothing more than a scratch, ugly enough, it is true, but not at all serious.