out the two letters Dave had captured. By these they learned that the
Frenchman was named Louis Glotte and that he belonged at Detroit, the
settlement taken from the French by the English after the fall of Montreal.
Both spoke of money to be made out of the English and were signed "Jean."

"That must mean Jean Bevoir!" cried Dave. "This Glotte must be another of
Bevoir's rascally companions."

"To be sure," put in Sanderson, "And Bevoir must mean the attack that was
made on the pack-train."

"I think he will rejoin Bevoir by to-morrow sure," said Tony Jadwin. "And
then we may learn what has become of Sam."

While one or another remained on guard during the night the others slept.
Dave, it must be admitted, was impatient to learn what had really become of
his old frontier friend, and it was some time before he could bring himself
to slumber. Near at hand was an owl hooting weirdly through the night.
Under ordinary circumstances they would have scared the bird away, but now
they did not dare, for fear of arousing Louis Glotte's suspicions.

The sun was just coming up when Sanderson called softly to the others.
"He's moving," said the hunter, and in a few minutes Jadwin took to the
trail as before, and the others came after with the horses.

The way was now more difficult than ever, and they had numerous small
streams to cross. Then they came to a river, and before Jadwin could catch
sight of the Frenchman again the fellow was in a canoe and hurrying to the
other side.