“Hugot, you must go to Saint Louis.”
“Bien, mon Colonel!”
“You must start by the first boat.”
“Très-bien, mon Colonel!”
“You must procure for me the skin of a white buffalo.”
“That will not be difficult, monsieur.”
“More difficult than you imagine, I fear.”
“With money, monsieur?”
“Ay, even with money, Hugot. Look you! It is a skin I want—not a robe—but a perfect skin with the head, feet, and all complete, and fit for stuffing.”
“Ah! mon Colonel! that is different.”