CHAPTER X
DAYS OF PROMISE
The Kid stood up from her task. She was no longer in her working clothes, and the translation was something almost magical. Her tall, slim, yet beautifully rounded figure was clad in a simple shirtwaist of some cheap cotton material, which, with a plain, dark cloth, shortish skirt, completed the costume in which she loved to array herself at the close of her working day. She was smiling her delight, and her whole expression was radiant. Her pretty eyes were alight with all that satisfaction which Usak, in his simple mind, had dreamt he would witness in them. Her lips were parted for the eager talk which sprang so readily to them. And as the brooding eyes of the savage gazed upon her he felt that his reward was ample.
They were in the leanto storehouse built against the log shanty which was Usak’s own abode. It was all a part of the ramshackle homestead which housed them all, but it was set apart and without communication with the abode given up to the white folks of the queerly assorted household.
An oil lamp lit the place with its inadequate yellow light, and produced profound shadows amongst the general litter. It was set on an up-turned packing case which was part of the stock-in-trade for transport. The dry mud floor was littered with the result of the Indian’s summer trade, the extent and quality of which was far more generous than the girl had hoped would be the case. There were a number of pelts amongst which were several white and red fox. There were two or three freshwater seals, some beaver and fishers, and a makeweight of wild cat. But best of all were several ivory walrus tusks, and the prize of all prizes to the pelt hunter, which the girl was holding in her brown hands and stroking gently in her delight. It was a jet black fox. And she knew its value to be far more than the rest of the trade put together.
“It’s a wonderful, wonderful skin, Usak,” she said, her eyes feasting on the crudely dried fur, which, even in its rough state was still soft, and thick, and full of promise. “Whoever took it was a swell hunter,” she declared, scrutinising it with the eye of an expert. “Trapped. And not a scar to show how. My, but it’s worth a pile. How much?”
She raised her delighted eyes to the dark face of the big man standing by.
“Sho!” The Indian shrugged. “I not say him. Tousand dollar, maybe. Him much plenty good pelt. Oh, yes.”
“Thousand?” The girl’s tone was scornful. “More like fifteen hundred. We’ll get that in Placer, sure. An’ these ivories,” she went on. “Oh, it’s a good trade.” She laid the skin aside reluctantly and smiled again into the man’s face. “Guess if I know a thing we haven’t a worry for a year an’ more. Mum’ll sleep easy for a year certain, I guess. An’ Perse’s pants won’t always have her figgering.”
Then the woman in her became uppermost as she contemplated the further meaning of the Indian’s success.