"No, me take him—" He hitched his body in the direction of Ikogimeut.
"Bless my soul! you've got enough there for a regiment. You goin' to sell him? Hey?"
Nicholas shook his head.
"Oh, come off the roof!" advised the Boy genially.
"You ain't carryin' it about for your health, I suppose?" said Potts.
"The people down at Ikogimeut don't need it like us. We're white duffers, and can't get fish through the ice. You sell some of it to us." But Nicholas shook his head and shuffled along on his snow-shoes, beckoning the dog-driver to follow.
"Or trade some fur—fur tay," suggested O'Flynn.
"Or for sugar," said Mac.
"Or for tobacco," tempted the Colonel.
And before that last word Nicholas's resolve went down. Up at the cabin he unlashed the load, and it quickly became manifest that Nicholas was a dandy at driving a bargain. He kept on saying shamelessly: