In spite of himself Raven uttered a slight
exclamation. It was indeed a superb pelt. With savage hate in every line
of his face and in every movement of his body, the Indian flung the skin
upon the pile of furs and without a "By your leave" seized the can and
passed it to his brother.
At this point Raven, with a sudden display of reckless generosity,
placed his own flask upon the Indian's pile of goods.
"Ask them if they want molasses," said Raven to Little Thunder.
"No," grunted the Indian contemptuously, preparing to depart.
"Ask them, Little Thunder."
Immediately as Little Thunder began to speak the contemptuous attitude
of the Stonies gave place to one of keen interest and desire. After some
further talk Little Thunder went to the pack-pony, returned bearing a
small keg and set it on the rock beside Raven's pile of furs. Hastily
the Stonies consulted together, White Cloud apparently reluctant, the
brother recklessly eager to close the deal. Finally with a gesture White
Cloud put an end to the conversation, stepped out hastily into the
dark and returned leading his pony into the light. Cutting asunder the
lashings with his knife, he released a bundle of furs and threw it down
at Raven's feet.
"Same ting. Good!" he said.
But Raven would not look at the bundle and proceeded to pack up the
spoils of his barter.
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