“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.
Jean Bevoir demurred and was evidently seconded by some other Frenchmen within the post, but at last he consented to talk to Joseph Morris, provided the planter would come to the gate unattended. Secretly the French trader was anxious to know just what the English had in mind to do.
Hope went back and delivered his message. At once Dave, Henry, and Barringford set up another protest.
“There is sure to be treachery, father!” cried Henry. “Why, they may even shoot you down in cold blood. You do not know the temper of these black-hearted rascals.”
“I do not think they will dare to go as far as that,” answered Joseph Morris. He was brave-hearted to the core. “If they do kill me attack them and show no mercy,” he added.
The conference between Jean Bevoir and the planter took place an hour later. Joseph Morris, waving a white handkerchief, approached the front of the trading post boldly. He saw himself covered by several rifle barrels, but did not falter. As he came to a halt there was a slight noise, as a short ladder was thrown into place, and then the head of Jean Bevoir appeared over the stockade gate.
“Hullo! Jean Bevoir has shown himself!” cried Dave, who was at a distance. “I must say, I didn’t think he would do it.”
“He wants us to believe that he is not afraid,” answered Henry. “Probably he has been fortifying his courage with a few drinks of rum.” And in this guess Henry hit the nail on the head.
“Jean Bevoir,” began James Morris. “Do you realize that you have committed a great wrong?”