"Let the Indian have them," he said in a low voice. "It is Meewe. I knew
him years ago. He has carried me on his back. He taught me first to draw
pictures."
"But they are powerful dogs," objected the stranger. "My team needs
them."
The Cree had risen higher out of the crowd. One arm rose above his head.
He was an Indian who had seen fifty years of the forests, and his face
was the face of an Egyptian.
"Nesi-tu-now Nesoo-sap umisk!" he proclaimed.
Henri Paquette hopped excitedly, and faced the stranger.
"Twenty-two beaver," he challenged. "Twenty-two--"
"Let Meewe have them," replied the hooded stranger.
Three minutes later a single dog was pulled up on the log platform. He
was a magnificent beast, and a rumble of approval ran through the crowd.
The face of Joe Delesse was gray. He wet his lips. Reese Beaudin,
watching him, knew that the time had come. And Joe Delesse, seeing no way
of escape, whispered:
"It is her dog, m'sieu. It is Parka--and Dupont sells him today to show
her that he is master."
Already Paquette was advertising the virtues of Parka when Reese Beaudin,
in a single leap, mounted the log platform, and stood beside him.
"Wait!" he cried.
There fell a silence, and Reese said, loud enough for all to hear:
"M'sieu Paquette, I ask the privilege of examining this dog that I want
to buy."
At last he straightened, and all who faced him saw the smiling sneer on
his lips.
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