at bulk of her furs, that part which represented her own personal
fortune. But the fear passed. It could not be so. Her plans had been
laid and executed far too carefully.

So she coldly awaited the man's greeting.

It came. And its tone was unusually modulated. It was almost gentle. The
man's eyes were a reflection of his tone as he gazed down at her. The
effect was startling, and a light of wonder crept into Keeko's eyes as
she looked up into the bloated face with its beard and general air of
brutishness.

"You've cut it fine, Keeko," he said, with a swift, calculating glance
at the sky. "I was getting well-nigh scared. We'll be snowed under right
away." Then he drew a deep breath as of relief. "I'm glad you got to
home."

Keeko had her part to play and she never hesitated.

"I was held up, but--I've had a good catch," she said, without
enthusiasm. She pointed at the bale of pelts in her canoe. "They're
silver fox. There's two more bales in the other boat. Guess Lorson
Harris'll hand you a thousand dollars."

"Silver fox?" The man's eyes lit with cupidity. For a moment his
seriousness passed out of them. "Why, that's great! You haven't got
beyond grey fox and beaver ever before. It was a new territory?"

Keeko nodded. She was yearning to ask one question. One question only.
But she knew the value of her success with this creature whom she could
not yet openly defy.

"Yes. It was that held me up. I made farther down the river. Right to
its mouth. It's a great fox country. Next year----"

But Nicol was unable to restrain his impatience. He turned to Little One
Man.

"Haul 'em ashore an' open 'em out. We need to see the quality."

Little One Man looked at Keeko.

The girl nodded at once. Nicol saw the look and understood, and, for a
moment, his eyes flashed with that ungovernable temper which was part of
him. But the danger passed as swiftly as it came. Little One Man had
flung the bundle ashore as Keeko stepped from the boat, and, in another
moment, Nicol's sheath knife was ripping the thongs of rawhide which
held it.

Keeko stood looking on watching the man's hands as he ran his fingers
through the silken mass. He caressed the steely blue fur with the
appreciation of a real pelt hunter, and presently stood up with a look
in his eyes such as Keeko had never before beheld.

"How many?" he demanded.

"Sixty."

Nicol blew a faint whistle of astonished delight.

"You said a thousand dollars," he excla