"You're lucky to be able to get it," said the Father, whether with suspicion or not no man could tell. "I had to send back for some by a trader and couldn't get enough."
"We didn't see any trader," said the Boy to divert the current.
"He may have gone by in the dusk; he was travelling hotfoot."
"Thought that steamship was chockful o' grub. What did you want o' fish?"
"Yes; they've got plenty of food, but—"
"They don't relish parting with it," suggested Potts.
"They haven't much to think about except what they eat; they wanted to try our fish, and were ready to exchange. I promised I would send a load back from Ikogimeut if they'd—" He seemed not to care to finish the sentence.
"So you didn't do much for the Pymeuts after all?"
"I did something," he said almost shortly. Then, with recovered serenity, he turned to the Boy: "I promised I'd bring back any news." "Yes."
"Well?"