"I reckon there's a mistake about the name, and he's Cap'n Tom Thumb or Commodore Nutt." The Boy had picked up a little parki made carefully of some very soft dark fur and trimmed with white rabbit, the small hood bordered with white fox.
"That's a neat piece of work," said the Colonel.
Benham nodded. "One of the Shageluk squaws can do that sort of thing."
"What's the fur?"
"Musk-rat." And they talked of the weather—how the mercury last week had been solid in the trading-post thermometer, so it was "over forty degrees, anyhow."
"What's the market price of a coat like that?" Mac said suddenly.
"That isn't a 'market' coat. It's for a kid of Rainey's back in the States."
Still Mac eyed it enviously.
"What part of the world are you from, sir?" said the Colonel when they had drawn up to the supper table.
"San Francisco. Used to teach numskulls Latin and mathematics in the Las Palmas High School."