If that was the case, perhaps he could make something out of the boy's work after all.
CHAPTER XIV.
ELAM UNDER FIRE.
"Yes, that's bad business," the sutler continued. "They steal furs and pass them off as their own. I couldn't do that."
"But this is the fourth time they have robbed me," Elam went on. "You have handled skins that they took from me last winter. They'll try to sell them at this store, most likely. There aint no traders here, are they? I aint seen any of them hanging around."
"No; they have been scarce of late," answered the sutler, who would have been glad to know that none of the fraternity would ever show their faces in that country again. He wanted to do all the trading that was done at that post himself.
"Then they will be sure to sell them to you, if they sell them to anybody; but I don't want you to buy them," said Elam. "They belong to me, and I've worked hard for them."
The sutler leaned his elbows on the counter, placed his chin on his hands, and looked out at the door, whistling softly to himself. Elam waited for him to say something, but as he did not, the boy continued:
"I don't want you to buy them skins. You heard what I said to you, I reckon?"