Tole squatted on the beach. There is an established ritual of politeness in the North, and he was punctilious.
"You are well?" he asked gravely. Ambrose set about making his fire.
"I am well," he said.
"Your partner, he is well?"
"Peter Minot is well."
"You do good trade at Lake Miwasa?"
"Yes. Marten is plentiful."
"Good fur here, too. Not much marten; plenty link."
"Your father is well?" asked Ambrose in turn.
"My fat'er is well," said Tole. "My four brot'ers well, too."
"I am glad," said Ambrose.