"Oh, Musq'oosis has something put by for a rainy day!" said Beattie. "For years he carried a nice little balance on my books."
"What did he do with it, then?" asked Joe carelessly.
Beattie suspected nothing more in this than idle talk.
"Transferred it to the French outfit," he said with a shrug. "I suppose he wanted Mahooley to know he's a man of means. He can't have spent any of it. I'll probably get it back some day."
"How did he get it in the first place?" asked Joe casually. "Out of fur?"
"No," said Beattie; "he was in some kind of partnership with a man called Walter Forest, a white man. Forest died, and the amount was transferred to Musq'oosis. It's twenty years ago. I inherited the debt from my predecessor here."
Joe, seeing that the trader had nothing more of special interest to tell him, let the talk pass on to other matters. By and by he rose, saying:
"Guess I'll go down and talk to the old boy until dinner's ready."
"It is always profitable," said Beattie. "Come in again."
"I'll let you know about the plough," said Joe.