"'What is that stuff?' said the storekeeper.
"'That? It is our money. It is what a trader paid us for our furs.'
"'What was his name?'
"'That we do not know. We did not ask. We do not care who buys from us; all we care is that he buys. One man's money is as good as another's.'
"Then the storekeeper laughed in their faces. And he said: 'You have been fooled. You have been fooled as easily as little children. Do you know what this "money" is that you have given me?'
"'No,' they said.
"'It is not money at all,' he told them. 'It is nothing but labels from beer bottles. You cannot have those things you have piled up on the floor. I will take them back and keep them here until you bring me real money for them.'
"Then they said to him, 'But it is all we have. We cannot go back to our people with nothing.'
"He said: 'I cannot help that. It is no fault of mine.'
"They wanted to fight—but it would do no good to kill the agent or drive him away. There would be no one from whom to get things another year.