aper be worth nothing at all. I am sure no
one at the posts would welcome the carrying on of business upon a cash
basis--I know I should not. The Canadian North is the cleanest land in
the world, in so far as robbery is concerned, thanks to the Mounted. But
with its vast wilderness for hiding places and its lack of quick
transportation and facility for spreading news, I am afraid it would not
long remain so, if it became known that every trading post possessed its
cash vault. As it is, the goods of the North, in a great measure,
protect themselves from theft by their very bulk. A man could hardly
expect to get out of this country, for instance, with even a very few
packs of stolen fur. The Mounted would have him before he could get
half way to the railroad."

"It seems funny," grinned Connie, "to find an outfit that doesn't like
to do business for cash!"

"Funny enough, till you know the reason--then, the most natural thing in
the world. And, there is yet one more reason--take the treaty money. The
Indians bring the treaty money to us and buy goods with it. We make the
profit on the goods--but if they had bought those same goods for fur--we
would have made the profit on the fur, also--and primarily, we are a fur
company--although every year we are becoming more and more of a trading
company and a land company. I am glad I shall not live to see the last
of the fur trade--I love the fur--it speaks a language I know."

A short time later the company broke up, Berl Hansen returned to his own
quarters, and Connie and 'Merican Joe were given the spare room in the
factor's house where for the first time since leaving Dawson they slept
under a roof.

CHAPTER VIII

BAIT--AND A BEAR

The business of outfitting for the balance of the winter occupied two
whole days and when it was finished down to the last item Connie viewed
the result with a frown. "It's going to take two trips to pack all that
stuff. And by the time we make two trips and build a cabin besides, we
won't have much time left for trapping."

"Where you headin' for?" queried McTavish.

"Somewhere over on the Coppermine," answered the boy. "I don't know just
where--and I guess it don't make much difference."

The big Scotchman laughed. "No, lad, it won't make no great difference.
What put it in your head to trap on the Coppermine?"

"Why, the truth is, it isn't so much the trapping I'm interested in. I
want to try my hand at prospecting over there."