He took the first chance of wispering to Rolf, “Can't you send him away? I'll be all right with you.” Rolf said nothing.
“Say,” he continued, “say, young feller, what's yer name?”
“Rolf Kittering.”
“Say, Rolf, you wait a week or ten days, and the ice 'll be out; then I'll be fit to travel. There ain't on'y a few carries between here an' Lyons Falls.”
After a long pause, due to Quonab's entry, he continued again: “Moose River's good canoeing; ye can get me out in five days; me folks is at Lyons Falls.” He did not say that his folks consisted of a wife and boy that he neglected, but whom he counted on to nurse him now.
Rolf was puzzled by the situation.
“Say! I'll give ye all them furs if ye git me out.” Rolf gave him a curious look—as much as to say, “Ye mean our furs.”
Again the conversation was ended by the entry of Quonab.
Rolf stepped out, taking the Indian with him. They had a long talk, then, as Rolf reentered, the sick man began:
“You stay by me, and git me out. I'll give ye my rifle”—then, after a short silence—“an' I'll throw in all the traps an' the canoe.”