"How many?" he demanded.
"Sixty."
Nicol blew a faint whistle of astonished delight.
"You said a thousand dollars," he exclaimed. "Lorson Harris'll need to pay more than sixteen dollars for those pelts. We'll need twenty. Say, gal, you've done well. You surely have."
Keeko desired none of his praise. One thought only was in her mind. Up to that moment she had been playing the game she knew to be necessary. Now she reckoned she could safely abandon tactics in favour of her own desire.
"How's—mother?" she demanded.
Nicol stood up. His movement was a little precipitate. Nevertheless a moment passed before he withdrew his gaze from the treasure he coveted. When he finally did so it was not to look in the girl's direction. He was gazing out at the forest backing the fort.
Keeko became impatient. She was alarmed, too.
"How is she?" she cried urgently.
Nicol shook his head. He turned to the waiting Indians.