“Yes, if the price is right, though I'm not too keen,” replied Raven, throwing himself down beside the fire.
“What are you after? Furs?”
“Yes, furs mostly. Anything they have to offer.”
“What do you give in exchange?”
Raven threw him a sharp glance, but Cameron's face was turned toward the fire.
“Oh, various articles. Wearing apparel, tobacco, finery. Molasses too. They are very fond of molasses.”
“Molasses?” echoed Cameron, with a touch of scorn. “It was not molasses they had to-night. Why did you give them whiskey?” he asked boldly.
Raven started. His eyes narrowed to two piercing points.
“Why? That's my business, my friend. I keep a flask to treat my guests occasionally. Have you any objection?”
“It is against the law, I understand, and mighty bad for the Indians.”