"Ot'er white men not same lak your fat'er."
Bela's face fell. "Well, what must I do?" she asked.
"There is moch to be said. If you clever you mak' your white man marry you."
Musq'oosis shrugged. "I can't tell you in one word," he replied.
"I can't stay with these people," she said, frowning.
"All right," said Musq'oosis. "But stay in the country. This is your country. You know the way of this country. I tell you somesing else. You got some money here."
"Money?" she echoed, opening her eyes wide.
"When your fat'er die, he have credit wit' the company. Near six hundred dollars. Beaton, the old company trader, he talk wit' me for cause I your fat'er's friend. He say this money too little to go to law wit'. The law is too far from us. He say 'I not give it to Loseis, because her people get it. They only poor, shiftless people, just blow it in on foolishness.' He say, 'I goin' keep it for the child.' I say, 'All right.'
"Well, bam-by Beaton leave the company, go back home outside. He give me an order on the new trader. He say keep it till Bela grow up. I have it now. So I say to you, this money buy you a team, mak' you rich in this country. But outside it is nothing. I say to you, don't go outside. Marry a white man here."