“That you, François La Certe?” said McKay rather sternly, for he knew the man well. “What iss it you will be wantin’ now?”
François wanted many things—things almost too numerous to mention; but, first, he would pay his debts to Cloudbrow.
“Come, that’s something new,” said McKay with a cynical laugh. “You must have come by a fortune, or committed a robbery before ye would be so honest. How much are you goin’ to pay?”
“The sledge that you lent me, I have brought back,” said the half-breed with a deprecatory air.
“So, you call returning a loan paying your debts?” said Duncan.
La Certe did not quite say that, but he thought it bore some resemblance to a payment to account, and at all events was proof of his good intentions.
“And on the strength of that you’ll want plenty more credit, I hev no doubt.”
“No—not plenty,” said La Certe, with the earnest air of a man who is exposing his whole soul to inspection, and who means to act this time with the strictest sincerity, to say nothing of honesty. “It is only a little that I want. Not much. Just enough to keep body and soul from sayin’ good-bye.”
“But you have not paid a fraction of your old debt. How will you be expectin’ to meet the new one?”
Oh! La Certe could easily explain that. He was going off immediately to hunt and trap, and would soon return with a heavy load, for there were plenty of animals about. Then in the spring, which was near at hand, he meant to fish, or go to the plains with the hunters, and return laden with bags of pemmican, bales of dried meat, and buffalo-robes enough to pay off all his debts, and leave something over to enable him to spend the winter in luxurious idleness.