"That's how we of the Skandinavia feel. That's the notion always in my mind. Say—"
"Yep?"
Bull's eyes were squarely gazing. Their clear depths looked straight into the dark eyes of the man at the desk. Their regard was intense. It was almost disconcerting.
"What's the proposition?" he went on. And his firm lips closed over the last word and contrived to transform the simple question into a definite challenge.
Peterman stirred uneasily. At that moment he beheld more clearly than ever the picture of this man with his great arms about the body of the woman he coveted, and feeling lent sharpness to his tone.
"What's the price you set on your enterprise up at Labrador?" he said.
Bull removed his cigar. He emitted a pensive stream of smoke. His eyes were again pre-occupied with the white ash, so firm and clean on its tip. Then quite suddenly he looked up.
"If you'll tell me the price you set on the whole of the Skandinavia, I'll talk."
"What d'you mean?"
The Swede had less command of his feelings than the other. He had never learnt the methods of the forest as Bull had learned them.