throat, and the marks of his fingers were still visible.

"What does this mean?" demanded Mr. Morris, after a pause, in which the
youth did his best to get back his breath.

In a few words Dave explained. While he was talking, Jacques Valette
managed to rise to his feet. If he had been angry before, he was doubly so
now. He felt for his pistol, but, luckily, the weapon was gone.

"Ha! you take my pistol," he cried. "Gif it back to me."

"I haven't your pistol," said Dave. "You didn't have one."

"I did. I want it back," growled Jacques Valette.

"You'll get no pistol here," put in James Morris. "You have no right to
come to my post and raise a disturbance, and attack my son."

"I want some rum. I pay," returned the Frenchman. "I haf English
money--plenty, too!"

With a leer, he put one hand into his outer garment and felt around in a
pocket. Then he felt in his other pockets.

"Ha! the money, it is gone!" he cried. "You take my money too! This is the
_coup de grace_ truly But, _a l'Anglaise_!"

"It is not after the English fashion," put in Dave, who understood the
French fairly well. "We are honest people here, and, as my father says, you
have no right to come here and raise a quarrel."