depart.

"Ask them, Little Thunder."

Immediately as Little Thunder began to speak the contemptuous attitude
of the Stonies gave place to one of keen interest and desire. After some
further talk Little Thunder went to the pack-pony, returned bearing a
small keg and set it on the rock beside Raven's pile of furs. Hastily
the Stonies consulted together, White Cloud apparently reluctant, the
brother recklessly eager to close the deal. Finally with a gesture White
Cloud put an end to the conversation, stepped out hastily into the
dark and returned leading his pony into the light. Cutting asunder the
lashings with his knife, he released a bundle of furs and threw it down
at Raven's feet.

"Same ting. Good!" he said.

But Raven would not look at the bundle and proceeded to pack up the
spoils of his barter. Earnestly the Stonies appealed to Little Thunder,
but in vain. Angrily they remonstrated, but still without result. At
length Little Thunder pointed to the pony and without hesitation White
Cloud placed the bridle rein in his hands.

Cameron could contain himself no longer. Suddenly rising from his place
he strode to the side of the Indians and cried, "Don't do it! Don't be
such fools! This no good," he said, kicking the keg. "What would Mr.
Macdougall say? Come! I go with you. Take back these furs."

He stepped forward to seize the second pack. Swiftly Little Thunder
leaped before him, knife in hand, and crouched to spring. The Stonies
had no doubt as to his meaning. Their hearts were filled with black
rage against the unscrupulous trader, but their insane thirst for the
"fire-water" swept from their minds every other consideration but that
of determination to gratify this mad lust. Unconsciously they ranged
themselves beside Cameron, their hands going to their belts. Quietly
Raven spoke a few rapid words to Little Thunder, who, slowly putting
up his knife, made a brief but vigourous harangue to the Stonies, the
result of which was seen in the doubtful glances which they cast upon
Cameron from time to time.

"Come on!" cried Cameron again, laying his hand upon the nearest Indian.
"Let's go to your camp. Take your furs. He is a thief, a robber, a
bad man. All that," sweeping his hand towards Raven's goods, "no good.
This," kicking the keg, "bad. Kill you."

These words they could not entirely understand, but his gestures were
sufficiently eloquent and significant. There was an ugly gleam in
Raven's eyes and an ug