They
became curious, eager, garrulous, and demonstrative. With childish glee
they began examining more closely Raven's supply of goods, trying on the
rings, draping themselves in the gaudy calicoes and flannels. At length
Raven rolled up his articles of barter and set them upon one side.
"How much?" he said.
White Cloud selected the goat skin, laid upon it some half dozen beaver
and mink, and a couple of foxes, and rolling them up in a pile laid them
beside Raven's bundle.
The trader smiled and shook his head. "No good. No good." So saying he
took from his pack another flask and laid it upon his pile.
Instantly the Indian increased his pile by a bear skin, a grey wolf, and
a mountain goat. Then, without waiting for Raven's words, he reached for
the flask.
"No, not yet," said Raven quietly, laying his hand down upon the flask.
The Indian with gleaming eyes threw on the pile some additional skins.
"Good!" said Raven, surrendering the flask. Swiftly the Indian caught it
up and, seizing the cork in his teeth, bit it off close to the neck
of the flask. Snatching his knife from his pocket with almost frantic
energy, he proceeded to dig out the imbedded cork.
"Here," said Raven, taking the flask from him. "Let me have it." From
his pocket he took a knife containing a corkscrew and with this he drew
the cork and handed the flask back to the Indian.
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