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No blanky hanky-panky this time that's their motter." The young man went alone. At Arunvale the station-master beckoned him into the office. "It's right, sir," he said keenly. "Chukkers and Ikey come down this morning. Two-thirty's the time accordin' to my information. I've got a trap waitin' for you outside. Ginger Harris'll drive you. He was a lad at Putnam's one time o' day.
We're going to hit out north-west to a silver fox country I know of, and when we're through with it Lorson Harris'll start in to drop silver fox prices to the level of grey timber wolf. It makes me feel good the thought of it." He sprang up with an energy that suggested the effort it required to tear himself away. And promptly the woman in Keeko asserted itself.
"They're silver fox. There's two more bales in the other boat. Guess Lorson Harris'll hand you a thousand dollars." "Silver fox?" The man's eyes lit with cupidity. For a moment his seriousness passed out of them. "Why, that's great! You haven't got beyond grey fox and beaver ever before. It was a new territory?" Keeko nodded. She was yearning to ask one question. One question only.
"I'd say Lorson Harris'll need to hand you something a heap better than five thousand dollars," Marcel observed with a laugh of genuine satisfaction and without turning from his contemplation of the fire. "Where'll you keep it so ?" Keeko looked up with a start. Her thoughts had been far removed from the profit of her trade.
"Lorson Harris'll need to pay more than sixteen dollars for those pelts. We'll need twenty. Say, gal, you've done well. You surely have." Keeko desired none of his praise. One thought only was in her mind. Up to that moment she had been playing the game she knew to be necessary. Now she reckoned she could safely abandon tactics in favour of her own desire. "How's mother?" she demanded.
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