"We has some fur," Toby admitted, "but Dad sells the fur and he's away at his path. He'll not be comin' home till the middle o' April month."
"Too bad, but I'd like to have a look at it. Aaron says you have a silver fox. I'd like to see that."
"I'll get un," said Toby.
While Toby opened the fur chest, and brought forth the cotton bag in which he kept the silver fox pelt, Marks watched him closely. As Toby drew the pelt from the bag and handed it to Marks and the man shook it out and held it up for inspection, Charley detected a gleam in his eye of mingled admiration and greed, and it gave Charley a most uncomfortable feeling.
"I'll give you four hundred cash for it," said Marks without taking his eyes from the fur.
"No," Toby declined, "I'm not wantin' to sell un."
"That's a good offer," persisted Marks. "It's about what they'll give you at the post in trade. I'll pay cash."
"I'll not sell un. I'll keep un till Dad comes home, and let he sell un."
"Four hundred fifty," said Marks, and he drew forth a roll of bills and counted out the money. "There's the cash. Take it. I want this fur. It's a big price."
"I can't take un," Toby declined, unmoved. "I'm not doubtin' 'tis a fair price, but I'll not sell un. The fur's for Dad to sell when he comes home."