ore, each button constricting
his fat, with a bulge between. His trousers were made from a blanket
once white, with a wide black band around the calf of each leg, and he
wore fine doeskin moccasins, richly embroidered with silk.

His dirty fingers displayed a quantity of brass rings from the store,
set with gems of colored glass. His heavy, loose-featured face was
unremarkable, except for the extraordinarily bright, quick, shallow
eyes, suggesting at different moments the eyes of a child, an animal,
and a madman.

His skin showed a tinge of yellow as distinguished from the pure copper
of his companions, and Ambrose was reminded of the black man.

Watusk grandiloquently introduced his four companions. "My
councilors," he said: "Toma, minister of state; Lookoovar, minister of
war; Mahtsonza, minister of interior; Tatateecha, minister of medicine."

Thus their uncouth names as Ambrose got them. He avoided Simon's eye,
and bit his lip to keep from laughing. The four were all small men
with the fine characteristic faces of pure bred savages.

They understood not a word of what was said, but preserved an
unshakable gravity throughout. Ambrose, as they were named, christened
them anew, according to their several characteristics: Coyote, Moose,
Bear and Weasel.

The last was a little shriveled creature, hung with charms and amulets
in tobacco bags until he looked like a scarecrow. He had an eye even
wilder and shiftier than his master's.

"Conjure-man," murmured Simon in Ambrose's ear.

"Let Ambrose Doane speak," said Watusk. He used good English.

Ambrose had adopted from Peter Minot the maxim: "Make the other man
speak first, and get a line on him." He bowed politely. "Ambrose
Doane will not speak until Watusk has spoken," he said.

Watusk highly gratified, bowed again, and forthwith began. "I am glad
to see Ambrose Doane. He is good to my eyes lak the green leaves in
spring. He is come to Fort Enterprise and there is no more winter.

"The name of Peter Minot and the name of Ambrose Doane make good words
to my ear. They are the friends of the red men. They pay good price
for fur. They sell outside goods cheap. I want a box of cigars me,
same lak you send Simon Grampierre."

Ambrose recognizing Watusk's type was not put out by the sudden drop
from the sublime to the ridiculous. He now had a "line" on his man.
Swallowing his laughter, he answered in a similar strain.

"I am glad to see Watusk.