So this was Avic's motive for the murder of young O'Malley! Seymour had the native's word that he expected a trip "Outside." The only implication was practically an admission of guilt.
The sergeant knew that procedure had changed. Courts now were sent into the farthest North and trials held at or near the crime's locale. Conviction in Avic's case would more likely mean a hanging, with his fellows looking on, than a pleasure jaunt anywhere. But of this he did not speak. Even this practical admission from the native did not convince him that the Huskie alone was responsible for the killing. His own deductions from the situation in the hut were too well grounded and vivid.
"When we go?" Again came the query from the eager native, this repetition sharpened with impatience.
"Not soon," answered Seymour with a shrug; then suddenly turned the inquiry. "Where did you get those fox skins you show to the factor?"
"Avic trap foxes—black and silver," came the ready answer. "Avic fine hunter—ver' best."
"When did you take them from your traps?"
Seymour considered this question vital. He was convinced that the skins had been cured many months before. If the native lied about this, he would feel certain that his sense of mystery had not been misplaced; that there was more behind the murder than Avic's desire for a trip into the outside world.
The Eskimo did not answer at once. He seemed to be counting back. The sergeant gave him his time.
"Not count weeks and days," he said at last, "Avic trap 'em when the sun go away and the snow comes."
"You mean just after this winter began?" Seymour wished to guard against any misunderstanding.