"Have you taken a good look at those beaver? They're about the size of a St. Bernard."
"All the better. Think how much just one pelt would bring."
"No dealer would believe that it was beaver. He'd think you were trying to pull a fast one on him. And there are only a few states that allow beaver to be trapped. To sell the pelts—even if you could—you'd have to take out licenses in each of those states."
"Those mastodon carry a lot of ivory," said Cooper. "And if we wanted to go north, we'd find mammoths that would carry even more...."
"And get socked into the jug for ivory smuggling?"
They sat, all three of them, staring at the fire, not finding anything to say.
The moaning complaint of a giant hunting cat came from somewhere up the river.
IV
Hudson lay in his sleeping bag, staring at the sky. It bothered him a lot. There was not one familiar constellation, not one star that he could name with any certainty. This juggling of the stars, he thought, emphasized more than anything else in this ancient land the vast gulf of years which lay between him and the Earth where he had been—or would be—born.