“If you fellows would get down to business, instead of wasting all winter fussing about us, you might have something like that brought into the fort when spring comes, yourselves.”
“Well, you see,” returned Donald good-humoredly, “our idea is to have those brought in when spring comes. That's all we're fighting for.”
“Deuce of a chance you've got of getting those furs!” retorted the other, contemptuously. “We're sick of the H. B.'s starvation trading, and we've quit for good and all.”
“The Hudson Bay may give starvation trading, but I'd like to know where else you'll get as much.”
Donald was leading the man on, for here was very valuable information, and this babbler evidently did not know the worth of a tight mouth.
“As much!” the trapper snorted. “Why, these Frenchies'll give us half again as much for a 'beaver' as you chaps ever thought of giving. And there's no use you fellows trying to keep them out, either. This is free territory, you know, even if old Fitz' doesn't think so. I've told Seguis often enough that, if he'd wipe old Fitz' off the map, he'd do the brotherhood more good than any other hundred men.”
“I know, my good friend. But when do you suppose these Frenchies will ever connect with you? Maybe never and—”
The other burst into derisive laughter.
“Why, you poor fool!” he cried. “If it hadn't been for this blizzard to-day, we'd have been bargaining with 'em here to-night. Ten big trains of supplies are within thirty miles of us—and you ask me if they'll ever connect! That's good!” And he roared with laughter.
McTavish bridled, but kept his temper, for it was evident who was the fool. He continued pressing the subject for some little time further, but elicited no more really valuable information. Judging his man, he came to the conclusion that the fellow knew nothing more.