"Stop! Jest drop them muskets. That air the ticket. Now put yer knives and tomahawks down, and Jules Lapon, you as wanted to get our scalps over by Albany, jest hook that ere whistle out'er yer belt. Now yer can go, and jest remember this. When we meet again there won't be no warnin'. It'll be shoot at sight. Don't ax fer nor expect no favors."
Jim watched with a grim smile of triumph as the three disconsolate Frenchmen put down their weapons and embarked. Then he and his comrades emerged and took up their stations beside Steve, staring out at the canoe as it stole away from the bank. More than a minute passed before Steve turned to look at those who had come so opportunely to his help. Beside the lanky form of Jim was Mac, his beard flaming in the sun, his broad hand gripping the stock of his musket, and a look of bitterness on his usually jolly features. On the other side, impassive as was his custom and the habit of his race, his head thrown forward and the feathers of his head-dress trailing down over his shoulders, was Silver Fox, alert and vigilant, his eye following every movement of the Frenchmen.
"Bad cess to the blackguards," cried Mac, a note of unusual bitterness in his tones. "They kin hunt me and you, Jim, and young Steve here too if they like, but faith whin they come to huntin' the women and childer it makes me blood boil. For why can't they lave us alone? What have we done to the bastes to set thim agin the whole of us?"
"You've got land," answered Jim shortly. "That's what you've got. You've gone and put yer broad carcass in the way of this here King of France. Steve, reckon this placard air worth keepin'."
He stepped to the bank of the river, waded in a little way and recovered the plaque, the sun glancing from the bright tin having made its position clear to those standing on the shore.
"Best keep it, lad," he went on. "It'll mind yer of a time when yer was precious near to death, and of the pluck as a youngster kin show. Reckon you stood up to them 'ere skunks as well as any man could ha done."
There was a murmur of approval from the others, while Steve shook his head.
"I wasn't going to be frightened by a canoe full of Frenchmen," he said doggedly. "This place is ours, and if this king wants it let him come and take it. The best man will hold it in the end. But I suspect it is not his Majesty of France. Louis XV. can have no great use for our little holding. But Jules Lapon has. He owns the ground on the far side next to father's, and with ours thrown in he'd have the whole of the river banks for three miles either way."
"You've hit it, Steve. It air that skunk as brought this bit of tin along, and it air him as wants the place," cried Jim, staring out across the river at the fast-retreating canoes. "What is more, lad, he's goin' to have it for a time. Me and Mac and Silver Fox guessed as there was somethin' up, and ever since daylight we've had our eyes on the varmint. There was a lot too much movement amongst the Injuns, and we reckoned it didn't mean good to us. Them critters has nailed their bits of tin at three other places along this bank, and they air going to take the land whether we want it or not."
"Do you actually mean that they will drive us out of the place?" asked Steve.