"Oh, yes, I heard you," said the sutler, straightening up and jingling a bunch of keys in his pocket; "but I don't see how I can help you. When hunters come here with furs to sell, I never ask where they got them, for it is none of my business. Besides, I don't know these men who you say robbed you."
"I will be here to point them out to you," said Elam quickly. "I would know them anywhere."
"But I couldn't take your unsupported word against the word of two men," continued the sutler. "If they told me that the property belonged to them, I should have to believe them."
"But I will be here," said Elam indignantly.
"Well, you must get somebody to prove that the skins are yours."
Elam looked down at the counter, turning these words over in his mind, and when he had grasped their full import, it became clear to him that he had no one to depend on but himself. It became evident to him that the arm of the law was not extensive enough to reach from the States away out there to the fort, and, as the sutler would not lend him assistance, he must either take the matter into his own hands or stand idly by and see the proceeds of his work go into the pockets of rascals. That he resolved he would never do. The very thought enraged him.
"Look a-here, Mr.—Mr. Bluenose," said Elam—Elam did not know the sutler's name, and this cognomen was suggested to him by the most prominent feature on the man's face, which was a dark purple, telling of frequent visits to a private demijohn he kept in the back room—"you shan't never make a cent out of that plunder of mine, because it will not come into this fort!"
"Don't get excited," said the sutler.
"I aint. I'm only just a-telling of you."
"What are you going to do?"