On the Trail of Pontiac | Page 3

a surgical operation
had done wonders for him and now he was almost as strong as any of
the others.
James Morris was a natural born trapper and fur trader, and when his
wife died he left his son Dave in the care of his brother Joseph and
wandered to the west, where he established a trading-post on the
Kinotah, a small stream flowing into the Ohio River. This was at the
time that George Washington, the future President of our country, was
a young surveyor, and in the first volume of this series, entitled "With
Washington in the West," I related how Dave fell in with Washington
and became his assistant, and how, later on, Dave became a soldier to
march under Washington during the disastrous Braddock campaign
against Fort Duquesne.
General Braddock's failure to bring the French to submission cost
James Morris dearly. His trading-post was attacked and he barely
escaped with his life. Dave likewise became a prisoner of the enemy,
and it was only through the efforts of a friendly Indian named White
Buffalo, and an old frontier acquaintance named Sam Barringford, that
the pair escaped to a place of safety.
War between France and England had then become a certainty. France
was aided greatly by the Indians, and it was felt by the colonists that a
strong blow must be struck and without delay. Expeditions against the
French were organized, and in the second volume of the series, called
"Marching on Niagara," are given the particulars of another campaign

against Fort Duquesne (located where the city of Pittsburg, Penn., now
stands) and then of the long and hard campaign against Fort Niagara.
Dave and Henry were both in the contest, for they had joined the ranks
of the Royal Americans, as the Colonial troops were called.
With the fall of Fort Niagara the English came once again into
possession of all the territory lying between the Great Lakes and the
lower Mississippi. But Canada was not yet taken, and there followed
more campaigns, which have been described in the third volume of the
series, called "At the Fall of Montreal." In these campaigns both Dave
and Henry fought well, and with them was Sam Barringford, who had
promised the parents that he would keep an eye on the youths. Henry
had been taken prisoner and Barringford had been shot, but in the end
all had been re-united, and as soon as the old frontiersman was well
enough to do so, the three had left the army and gone back to the
homestead at Will's Creek.
It had been a great family re-union and neighbors from miles around
had come in to hear what the young soldiers and their sturdy old friend
might have to tell. Because of the ending of the terrible war, there was
general rejoicing everywhere.
"I never wish to see the like of it again," Mrs. Morris had said, not once,
but many times. "Think of those who have been slain, and who are
wounded!"
"You are right, Lucy," her husband had returned. "There is nothing
worse than war, unless it be a pestilence. I, too, want nothing but peace
hereafter."
"And I agree most heartily," had come from James Morris. "One cannot
till the soil nor hunt unless we are at peace with both the French and the
Indians."
"Be thankful that Jean Bevoir has been removed from your path," had
come from his brother.
"And from our path, too, Joseph," Mrs. Morris had put in quickly.

Jean Bevoir had been a rascally French trader who owned a
trading-post but a few miles from that established by James Morris on
the Kinotah. Bevoir had claimed the Morris post for his own, and had
aided the Indians in an attack which had all but ruined the buildings.
Later on the Frenchman had helped in the abduction of little Nell, but
the girl had been rescued by Dave and her brother Henry. Then Jean
Bevoir drifted to Montreal, and while trying to loot some houses there
during the siege, was shot down in a skirmish between the looters on
one side, and the French and the English soldiers on the other. The
Morrises firmly believed that Jean Bevoir was dead, but such was not a
fact. A wound thought to be fatal had taken a turn for the better, and the
fellow was now lying in a French farmhouse on the St. Lawrence,
where two or three of his old companions in crime were doing their
best to nurse him back to health and strength. Jean Bevoir had not
forgotten the Morrises, nor what they had done to drag him down, as he
expressed it, and, although the war was at an end, he was determined to
make Dave, Henry, and the others pay dearly