"Thank God, that is over!" he murmured outside.
Crossing the square, they entered the store. It was the first time Ambrose had been inside that famous show-place of the north, but he had no eyes for it now. Gordon Strange welcomed them with smiling heartiness.
"Come in! Come in!" he cried, leading the way into the rear office.
"Sit down! Have a cigar!"
The scowling Ambrose stared as if he thought the man demented. He waved the cigar away and came directly to the point.
"I want to find out what you're willing to do about the Kakisa Indians."
"Sure!" cried Strange with apparently the best will in the world. "Sit down. What do you propose?"
"How much will you charge me to grind me five hundred bushels of grain for them?"
"I'm sorry," said Strange. "The old man won't hear of it."
"Will you let them starve?" cried Ambrose.
"What can I do?" said Strange distressfully. "I'm not the head."