“What could have been his object in giving such a thing as that to a child?”
“Oh, the Chilkat children use it as well as their elders; and I suppose he wanted to gain Nel-te’s good-will, seeing that he is the guardian of the fur-seal’s tooth. I shouldn’t be surprised if he hoped in some way to get it from the child before we reached the village.”
“Which suggests an idea,” said Phil, removing the trinket in question from Nel-te’s neck and handing it to Serge. “It is hard to say just who the tooth does belong to now, it has changed hands so frequently, but it will be safer for the next day or two with you than anywhere else. Besides, it is only fair that, as it came directly from the Chilkats to you, or, rather, to your father, you should have the satisfaction of restoring it to them.”
So Serge accepted from Phil the mysterious bit of ivory that he had given the latter more than a year before in distant New London, and hung it about his neck.
“Last night,” said Phil, after this transfer had taken place, “Mr. Coombs and I only needed a pipeful of tobacco and a knowledge of how we were to escape from here to make us perfectly happy. Now we have both.”
“The blamed pipe won’t draw,” growled Jalap Coombs.
“While I,” continued Phil, “am bothered. I know we must go with those fellows, but I don’t trust them, and shall feel uneasy so long as we are in their power.”
“Do you think,” asked Serge, “that these things go to prove that there isn’t any such thing in this world as perfect happiness?”
“No,” answered Phil; “only that it is extremely rare. How is it with you, old man? Does the approaching end of our journey promise you perfect happiness?”