"I have plenty of grain," he said warily. "Let each woman grind for her own family."
Watusk shook his head. "Long tam ago we got stone bowls for grind wild rice in," he said. "So many years we buy flour all the bowls is broke and throw away now."
Ambrose could not deny to himself the gravity of the situation. He was reminded afresh that he was dealing with a savage by the subtle, threatening note that presently crept into Watusk's smooth voice.
"John Gaviller say to Gordon Strange for say to me: 'Ambrose Doane got all the grain. Let Ambrose Doane sell his grain to me, and I give you flour.'"
Ambrose, perceiving the drift, swore inwardly.
"Gordon Strange tell that in Kakisa language," Watusk went on slyly; "some hear it and tell the others. All know now. If my people get more hungry what can I do? Maybe my young men steal the grain and take it to Gaviller."
"If they lay hands on my property they'll be shot," said Ambrose, curtly.
Watusk spread out his hands deprecatingly. "Me, I tell them that," he said. "But they are so mad!"
"John Gaviller is trying to use you to work his own ends," said Ambrose.
Watusk shrugged indifferently. This was the real man, Ambrose thought.
"Maybe so. You got trouble with Gaviller. That is not my trouble.
All I want is flour."