next village.

"Belly far," said a young hunter, placing ostentatiously in front his
brace of grouse.

"We're used to going belly far. Take all your game away, and go home."

A sorrowful silence fell upon the room. They sat for some time like
that, no one so much as moving, till a voice said, "We want tobacco,"
and a general murmur of assent arose. Peetka roused himself, pulled out
of his shirt a concave stone and a little woody-looking knot. The Boy
leaned forward to see what it was. A piece of dried fungus--the kind
you sometimes see on the birches up here. Peetka was hammering a
fragment of it into powder, with his heavy clasp-knife, on the concave
stone. He swept the particles into his pipe and applied to one of the
fish-selling women for a match, lit up, and lounged back against the
Leader, smiling disagreeably at the strangers. A little laugh at their
expense went round the room. Oh, it wasn't easy to get ahead of Peetka!
But even if he chose to pretend that he didn't want cheechalko tobacco,
it was very serious--it was desperate--to see all that Black Jack going
on to the next village. Several of the hitherto silent bucks
remonstrated with Peetka--even one of the women dared raise her voice.
She had not been able to go for fish: where was _her_ tobacco and tea?

Peetka burst into voluble defence of his position. Casting occasional
looks of disdain upon the strangers, he addressed most of his remarks
to the owner of Red and Spotty. Although the Colonel could not
understand a word, he saw the moment approaching when that person would
go back on his bargain. With uncommon pleasure he could have throttled
Peetka.

The Boy, to create a diversion, had begun talking to a young hunter in
the front row about "the Long Trail," and, seeing that several others
craned and listened, he spoke louder, more slowly, dropping out all
unnecessary or unusual words. Very soon he had gained an audience and
Peetka had lost one. As the stranger went on describing their
experiences the whole room listened with an attentiveness that would
have been flattering had it been less strongly dashed with unbelief.
From beyond Anvik they had come? Like that--with no dogs? What! From
below Koserefsky? Not really? Peetka grunted and shook his head. Did
they think the Ingaliks were children? Without dogs that journey was
impossible. Low whispers and gruff exclamations filled the room. White
men were great liars. They pretended that in their count