ecognized. It
was his last bid. He would go no higher. There would be no more
bartering. If twenty-five dollars had seemed big the doubling of the
amount meant little less than a fortune in the boy's eyes.

"Youse hasn't got fifty dollars," he said weakly. "Youse is bluffin'."

In truth he had every reason for thinking so from the Indian's
appearance. One does not expect to find so large a sum on a man
presenting so rough an appearance as this fellow, particularly in the
woods. Imagine Sparrer's surprise therefore when the Indian felt inside
his shirt and brought out a worn buckskin bag which apparently had been
suspended by a thong around his neck and from it drew forth a wad of
greasy bills. Squatting on his heels he unfolded these and began to
count them out before him on the snow. They were in small denominations
and as he slowly spread them out, counting aloud as he did so, the
effect was most impressive. He meant that it should be. He counted on
the influence that the sight of so much currency would have.

It was a cunning move. Had he shown the money in a pile, or had the
bills been in large denominations the effect would not have been nearly
so impressive. As it was the snow around him was literally carpeted with
bills. In spite of himself Sparrer gave vent to a little gasp. The
Indian heard. Stuffing the two bills which remained after he had counted
out fifty back in the little bag he rose to his feet and with a dramatic
sweep of one hand above the green carpet exclaimed:

"All white boy's for fox! White boy count--fifty dollar! White boy buy
much things. Have good time." He smiled meaningly. "Indian take fox and
leave much money. White boy hide um--so." He thrust a hand into his
shirt. "Nobody know. Indian go way--far." He swept a hand toward the
mountains. Then he pointed at the bills at his feet. "Much money. Very
much money. White boy count."

Sparrer looked down in a fascinated stare and unconsciously he did
count. He had but to say the word and all those bills would be his, his
to hide away in his bosom and gloat over in secret until he should reach
home. And then? A vision of the things they would buy passed before
him--things his boyish heart had coveted; things which his mother and
brothers and sisters needed; things which would for a time make life
brighter and better. And it would not be stealing. The fox was his. He
had shot it and he had a right to do what he pleased with it "It would
not be s