e no bunglers, as you know," said the proud old
grandsire. "They can each kill at least twenty skins' worth of fur."

"Aye, aye!" rejoined the trader. "I shall e'en gi'e them twenty atween
them."

In the goodness of his heart he offered the boys some advice as to what
they should buy: "Ye'll be wantin' to buy traps, I'm jalousin', an'
sure ye'll turn oot to be graun' hunters, Nimrods o' the North that
men'll mak' sangs aboot i' the comin' years." He cautioned them to
choose wisely, because from henceforth they would be personally
responsible for everything they bought, and must pay, "skin for skin"
(the motto of the Hudson's Bay Company).

The boys listened with gloomy civility, and then purchased an
assortment of useless trifles such as ribbons, tobacco, buttons, candy,
rings, pomatum, perfume, and Jew's harps.

The Factor's patience was now nearly exhausted. He picked up his
account book, and strode to the door, and held it open as a hint to the
Indians to leave. But they pretended to take no notice of his action.

The granddaughters, who had been growing more and more anxious lest
they should be forgotten, now began to be voluble in complaint.
Oo-koo-hoo called the trader aside and explained the trouble. The
Factor realized that he was in a corner, and that if he now refused
further supplies he would offend the old chief and drive him to sell
his best furs to the opposition trader in revenge. He surrendered, and
the girls received ten skins between them.

At long last everyone was pleased except the unhappy Factor. Gathering
his purchases together, Oo-koo-hoo tied up the powder, shot, tea, and
sugar in the legs of the trousers; placed the purchases for his wife,
daughter, and granddaughters in the shawl, and the rest of the goods in
the blanket.

Then he made the discovery that he had neither flour nor grease. He
could not start without them. The Factor's blood was now almost at the
boiling pitch, but he dared not betray his feelings; for the Indian was
ready to take offence at the slightest word, so rich and independent
did he feel. Angering him now would simply mean adding to the harvest
of the opposition trader. He chewed his lower lip in the effort to
smother his disgust, and growled out with an angry grin:

"Hoots, mon, ye ha'e gotten ower muckle already. It's fair redeeklus.
I jist canna gi'e ye onythin' mair ava!"

"Ah, but, master, you have forgotten that I am a great hunter. And
that