On the Trail of Pontiac Part 23

"Show me your buffalo and bear skins," was all James Morris would answer.

With a grunt of disgust Brown Bear walked away and disappeared among the bushes.

"Do you think he really has the furs?" asked Henry. "I don't."

"No, Henry. He came to report what we were doing. He is a spy. We'll see some more of them soon."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'Where are your furs?' asked James Morris]

Mr. Morris was right; half an hour later another Indian, accompanied by Louis Glotte, came into view from over the hill.

"Open the gate! Want to trade!" cried the Indian.

"Vat for you close ze gate, Meester Morris?" asked Glotte smoothly. "No fighting now, no!" And he laughed shortly.

"No, I don't reckon there will be any fighting," answered the trader. "But if it comes, I am ready for it. The Indian can't come in, but you can, if you wish." And he threw a ladder over the gate, keeping hold of the top.

Not knowing what a trap he was walking into, Louis Glotte spoke to the Indian in his native tongue and then mounted the ladder. As soon as the Frenchman was inside of the stockade James Morris returned the ladder to its original position.

"Don't you come too near!" he shouted to the Indian, and waved him away.

"I'll keep an eye on him, never fear," said Sanderson, who was at one of the port-holes.

"What want you of me?" demanded Glotte, as he gazed around at the armed English and Indians in dismay.

"I want to talk to you," replied James Morris. "Come into the cabin with me."

More suspicious than ever, the Frenchman followed into the building slowly.

Dave came after and so did Jadwin.

"Now, Glotte, you can consider yourself a prisoner," said James Morris shortly. "Place your gun on that table, and your pistol also."

CHAPTER XXI

SAM BARRINGFORD BRINGS NEWS

Louis Glotte understood the true situation at last, and the cold sweat stood out on his forehead. James Morris had a pistol in his hand, and the Frenchman saw that all of the others were also armed.

"So I am your prisonair?" he said slowly. "For vat, tell me zat?"

"You know well enough," put in Dave.

As James Morris' pistol came up the Frenchman's gun was placed on the rough table and his pistol followed. Glotte might have showed fight, but he saw that such a course would be worse than useless. He had walked into a neat trap and with his eyes wide open.

"Louis Glotte," said James Morris sternly, "I want you to tell me the truth, do you hear? If you do not tell me the plain truth, you shall suffer."

"Vat ees it you vant?"

"Who organized the attack on my pack-train?"

"I know nothing of zat."

"Stop! You do know, and you must tell me."

The Frenchman grew pale and something like a shiver pa.s.sed over him. He saw that James Morris was in no mood for trifling.

"Who--who say zat Louis Glotte know 'bout dat?" he asked stammeringly.

"I say so. You were there, for one."

"No! no! I--I vas far away!"

"Tell me who organized the attack."

"I--I cannot!"

"You can."

"No! no! I--I--I--Stop! Do not shoot me! I vill tell! Eet vas Jean Bevoir."

"I thought as much. Was Jacques Valette with him?"

"_Oui!_ But say not I tell you, or za vill keel me!"

"And Hector Bergerac?"

The Frenchman shook his head. "Not Bergerac, no. He ees gone avay."

"Who were the others?"

After Considerable hesitation Louis Glotte named them over. Then James Morris questioned him concerning the Wanderers and learned that they had been headed by their chief, Flat Nose. The other red men he knew little about, but he said they were a dirty, irresponsible tribe, willing to do almost anything for the sake of getting provisions or rum.

"They think ze pack-train carry much rum," said Glotte. "Verra mad when za found out not so."

In the end he told practically all he knew, being a.s.sured that he would not be harmed if he made a full confession. Jean Bevoir and Flat Nose had led the attack, in which four of their party had been killed or wounded. What had been taken away was removed under the directions of Bevoir and taken to an Indian village "many miles away," as he expressed it. He said the red men were about a hundred and fifty strong, and had made Sam Barringford a prisoner. Of course he knew nothing of the visit of Dave, Jadwin, and Sanderson to the place, nor did James Morris enlighten him.

The trader then insisted upon knowing if an attack upon the trading-post was contemplated, and Glotte at last confessed that such was a fact. The man was a thorough coward at heart and willing to do almost anything in order to save his own life.

"We shall have to make you a prisoner for the present," said James Morris, and without ceremony Glotte's hands were bound behind him and he was tied to a strong post used for hitching purposes.

The Indian who had come up with the Frenchman had retreated to the forest, and for the time being not a human form was to be seen anywhere outside of the palisade. But the English did not relax their vigilance.

"Perhaps they'll wait until night to begin the attack," said Henry. "The redskins love to fight under cover of darkness--we know that too well."

"Or else the report that the gate is closed and the place guarded will dishearten them," returned his cousin.