“Plenty of hooch for me all Winter,” Reivers leered with drunken cunning.
“I said plenty,” retorted Moir. “What else?”
“Gold,” said Reivers, rubbing his hands. “Gold enough to buy me hooch for all next Summer.”
Moir smiled at the miserable request of the man he was dealing with. His eyes ran over the plump Tillie, over Neopa, the supple child-woman.
“Done,” he laughed. “And now, old son, break up thy camp while I load my sledge with hooch. Be ready to travel when I come back. I’ll bring plenty of liquor, but none to be drinked till we’re on the trail. Wilt travel fast and far to-night, I warn thee. But willst have a snug berth in my camp when we get there. Yes,” he laughed as he hurried out, “wilt not be able to tear thyself away.”
CHAPTER XXXV—THE TEST OF THE BOTTLE
Under Reivers’ sharp orders—given in a way that would have startled Moir had he heard—Tillie and Neopa hurriedly packed the dog-sledges with their belongings, harnessed the dogs and hooked them to the traces.
“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Neopa timidly, “do we go back to Nawa?”
“In good time,” said Reivers. “For the present, you have only to obey my wishes. Get on the first sledge.”
With bowed head the girl took the place directed, and Reivers turned to find Tillie smiling craftily at his elbow.