Are you men? Are you poverty-stricken? Are
you blind? A breed dog and a male giant for seven mink and a cross fox?
Non, I will buy them myself first, and kill them, and use their flesh for
dog-feed, and their hides for fools' caps! I will--"
"Twelve mink and a Number Two Cross," came a voice out of the crowd.
"Twelve mink and a Number One," shouted another.
"A little better--a little better!" wailed Paquette. "You are waking up,
but slowly--mon Dieu, so slowly! Twelve mink and--"
A voice rose in Cree:
"Nesi-tu-now-unisk!"
Paquette gave a triumphant yell.
"The Indian beats you! The Indian from Little Neck Lake--an Indian beats
the white man! He offers twenty beaver--prime skins! And beaver are
wanted in Paris now. They're wanted in London. Beaver and gold--they are
the same! But they are the price of one dog alone. Shall they both go at
that? Shall the Indian have them for twenty beaver--twenty beaver that
may be taken from a single house in a day--while it has taken these
malamutes two and a half years to grow? I say, you cheap kimootisks--"
And then an amazing thing happened. It was like a bomb falling in that
crowded throng of wondering and amazed forest people.
It was the closely hooded stranger who spoke.
"I will give a hundred dollars cash," he said.
A look of annoyance crossed Reese Beaudin's face.
He was close to the bronze-faced stranger, and edged nearer.
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