the respective shipping points for furs and the
tariff on buffalo robes, Danvers and Latimer looked around the long
building lined with cotton sheeting not yet stained or grimed. Blankets,
beads, bright cloth, guns, bright ribbons, scalping-knives, shot, powder
and flints (the Indians had not seen many matches), stood out against
the light background. The bizarre effect was heightened by the garb of
the men. Suits of buckskin, gay sashes, blankets and buffalo robes
decked traders, scouts or Indians, as the case might be, while the
trooper costume--red tunics, tiny forage caps, and blue trousers with
yellow stripes--accentuated the riot of color. A few bales of furs, of
little value, were on the high counters. In the warehouse in the rear,
however, hanging from unhewn beams or piled in heaps, were buffalo robes
and skins of all the fur-bearing animals, awaiting shipment to Fort
Benton.

The babel of tongues grew louder. Burroughs' quick temper suffered from
McDevitt's repeated assertion that Americans were ruining the fur trade
by paying the Indians more than the Canadian traders.

"I'm losing money right along," McDevitt affirmed.

"Th' hell yeh are!" sneered Burroughs. "Yeh preach an' then rob; rob an'
preach. _I_ pay a fair price an' don't invite the Injuns to git religion
in the same breath that I offer 'em a drink o' smuggled whiskey."

"You! _You_--talking! You sell more whiskey than any other trader in the
Whoop Up Country, right here under the noses of the Police!"

"Prove it!" taunted Burroughs provokingly. "'F the Police ever suspect
me an' make a search, they'll not fin' me holdin' a prayer-meetin',
same's they did you not so very long ago. Le'me see--how much was yer
fine, anyway?" with a laugh.

"Is that so? Think yeh're smart, don' yeh?" snarled McDevitt, furious.
"Look here, Bob Burroughs, come out an' we'll settle this right here an'
now! No? Well, let me tell yeh this! Yeh'll be sorry yeh said that.
Bygones is bygones, an' I don't want that fine throwed up in my face
again!"

"Did yeh say just the exact amount of the fine?" repeated Burroughs,
disdaining to fight either in or out of his trading-post.

McDevitt's voice shook with vehemence as he strode from the crowded
room.

"I'll have something to throw up to you, Bob Burroughs, some o' these
days. I'm like a Injun, I furgive 'n furgit, but I'm campin' on yer
trail! Yeh won't be so smilin' then--le'me tell yeh!"

"An' the fine?" once more i