sed emotion, and then, with a curt "good
evening," turned to go.

"I wish, Peter, you would come down to the house and skin this beast for
me," said La Salle. "If you will do so carefully, and stretch it for
drying in good style, I'll give you a pair of boots."

Without a word the Indian seized the dead animal and strode ahead of
them, like one who seeks in bodily fatigue a refuge from anguish of
spirit.

"What will you give for such a skin, Davies?" asked La Salle.

"I will give you one hundred and fifty dollars for that one. It is the
largest, finest, and blackest that I ever saw."

"You have another gun like your own in your store at C.--have you not?"

"Yes, exactly like my own. I can only tell them apart by this curl in
the wood of the stock."

"What is she worth?"

"I will sell her to you for fifteen pounds."

"That would be fifty dollars. Well, Ben, I'll tell you what, we must
give Peter one half of the fox. I should never forgive myself if we
didn't. I know he has been sick all summer, and his disappointment must
be very hard to bear. Are you willing to give him half?"

"Do just as you please, Charley," said the warmhearted hunter. "I don't
claim any share, for we are all on our own hook, unless by special
agreement; but I shall be very glad if you are kind enough to share
with him, poor fellow!"

"Well, Ben, you are to take the fox at your own price, giving Peter an
order on your partner for the gun, and credit to the amount of
twenty-five dollars more. The other seventy-five we divide. You have
only to give me credit for my moiety, as I owe you nearly that amount."

"I'm satisfied if you are; so let us hurry up, and see Peter prepare the
skin, and send him home happy."

"The finest skin I ever saw," said Risk. "It's worth three hundred
dollars in St. Petersburg, if it's worth a cent."

"Who killed him?" said the elder Davies. "If you did, Ben, I'd like to
buy the skin."

"I bought it myself of La Salle for one hundred and fifty. He killed it,
and sold it to me. I guess I can sell to good advantage."

In the mean time Peter had drawn his _waghon_, or curved Indian knife,
from his belt, and, carefully commencing at the rear of the body,
skinned the animal without forming another aperture, removing the mask,
and ears attached, with great nicety. With equal dexterity he whittled a
piece of pine board to the proper shape, and, turning the skin inside
out, drew it tightly over the batten, fasteni