With the release of the stranger’s dogs Toby had rather anticipated a renewal of hostilities between the packs.  To be prepared and armed for such an event he was standing by with his dog whip ready for action.

He had been observing Marks and the dog, and the ill feeling between the two had caused him to expect, sooner or later, some such accident as that which had occurred.  The gray dog was bolder than is usual with Eskimo dogs, and Toby had no doubt that it was constantly on the alert for an opening that might permit it to find its cruel master at a disadvantage, when it could attack and destroy him safely.

With these thoughts, Toby was an anxious witness of the inhuman treatment of the dogs by Marks, and when the big wolf dog sprang upon its victim, he intuitively and instantly brought the butt of his whip down upon the dog’s head using all the force of his young arm.  This unexpected attack from the rear caused the animal to retreat, but not until it had torn a rent in the man’s adikey, and drawn blood from his shoulder, barely missing the neck and throat, which had been its aim.

Marks was in a white rage when he regained his feet, and the dog would have had another merciless beating at his hands, had he been able to approach it, but it wisely kept at a distance, and would not permit itself to be approached.

“That dog’s holdin’ a grudge against you,” remarked Toby.  “He’ll be gettin’ you when you’re not mindin’ he sometime, and he’ll sure kill you if he does.  I’d shoot un if ’twere mine.”

“No,” snapped Marks decisively, “I won’t kill him.  He won’t kill me.  I’ll keep him and club him till he cringes and crawls at my feet.  I’ll be his master.  No dog can make me kill him because he’s bad.  I’ll take it out of him.”

“But that un has a grudge,” repeated Toby.

“Just bad!  Just bad!  Three-quarters wolf!  I’ll make him a dog and take the wolf out of him.”

The wound in Marks’s shoulder proved little more than a scratch.  Mrs. Twig bathed it with Dr. Healum’s Liniment, and Marks assured her it would be all right.  Then while Marks smoked, and the boys sat and talked with him, she repaired his torn adikey.

“I’m buying fur,” Marks presently suggested.  “Aaron Slade told me you have some.”

“We has some fur,” Toby admitted, “but Dad sells the fur and he’s away at his path.  He’ll not be comin’ home till the middle o’ April month.”

“Too bad, but I’d like to have a look at it.  Aaron says you have a silver fox.  I’d like to see that.”

“I’ll get un,” said Toby.

While Toby opened the fur chest, and brought forth the cotton bag in which he kept the silver fox pelt, Marks watched him closely.  As Toby drew the pelt from the bag and handed it to Marks and the man shook it out and held it up for inspection, Charley detected a gleam in his eye of mingled admiration and greed, and it gave Charley a most uncomfortable feeling.

“I’ll give you four hundred cash for it,” said Marks without taking his eyes from the fur.

“No,” Toby declined, “I’m not wantin’ to sell un.”

“That’s a good offer,” persisted Marks.  “It’s about what they’ll give you at the post in trade.  I’ll pay cash.”

“I’ll not sell un.  I’ll keep un till Dad comes home, and let he sell un.”

“Four hundred fifty,” said Marks, and he drew forth a roll of bills and counted out the money.  “There’s the cash.  Take it.  I want this fur.  It’s a big price.”

“I can’t take un,” Toby declined, unmoved.  “I’m not doubtin’ ’tis a fair price, but I’ll not sell un.  The fur’s for Dad to sell when he comes home.”

“You’re a stubborn young fool!” blurted the man in a burst of temper.

“I’m not doubtin’ that either,” grinned Toby.  “I’m a bit stubborn whatever about not sellin’ the fur.  ’Tis for Dad to sell.”

“All right.  We’ll call you stubborn and not a fool but foolish.  That’s what I mean to say.  You’re turning down the best offer you’ll ever get for that skin, and your father will say so, and he would want you to sell it if he were here.”

The man smiled in an effort to appear agreeable, though Charley thought there was something sinister and unpleasant in the curl of his lips.

“I’ll not sell un whatever without Dad’s tellin’ me to sell un.”

At his request Toby displayed to Marks his other pelts.

“I’ll pay you twenty-five dollars apiece for your marten skins, and take them as they run,” Marks offered.  “That’s cash I’m offering, not trade.”

“I can’t sell un,” Toby declined.  “We owes a debt at the Company shop, and we has to use un to pay the debt.  They gives us thirty dollars for un there.”

“But that’s trade,” said Marks.  “I offer cash, and twenty-five in cash is more than thirty-five in trade.”

“Not for us,” objected Toby.  “If we takes twenty-five dollars in cash we only buys twenty-five dollars’ worth with un.  If we trades un in we gets thirty dollars’ worth with un, whatever.”

“I can’t argue with you, I see,” and the man appeared to relinquish his effort to buy the fur.

Marks made no further reference to the pelts, indeed, until after Mrs. Twig and Violet had retired that evening to the inner room and to bed.  Then for nearly an hour he sat smoking and telling the boys stories of adventures up and down the coast, until Charley, yawning, suggested that he was sleepy, and saying good night retired to the bunk which he and Toby occupied.

While Toby was spreading a caribou skin upon the floor near the stove as a protection for Marks’s sleeping bag, Marks suggested: 

“Let me see that silver again.  I’d like another look at it.”

Toby obligingly brought it forth, and again Marks held it up for inspection.

“I’ll give you five hundred and fifty in trade for that, and you can come to my shop at White Bear Run and trade it out any time you like.”

“No, I’ll not sell un,” and there was no doubt that this was Toby’s final and decisive decision.

“All right!” and Marks returned the pelt to Toby.  “You have an otter there you didn’t show me.  How about that?”

Toby passed the otter pelt over to Marks, who examined it critically, and finally suggested: 

“I’ll give you fifty-five dollars in cash for it.”

That was a good price.  Toby was aware that the best price for otters at the Hudson’s Bay Company’s shop was fifty dollars in trade, and he could see no reason for refusing to sell it to Marks.

“You can have he,” he accepted.

“Glad I can buy something,” Marks grinned, counting out the money and handing it to Toby.

“Aye,” said Toby, accepting the bills and counting them, “and I’m glad I can sell that un to you, sir.”

“Dream pleasant dreams, and let them be about the silver fox,” Marks smiled his sinister smile.  “If you dream right, you’ll dream you took me up on my offer.”

“I’ll not be dreamin’ that, sir, whatever.  Good night, and I hopes you’ll rest well,” and closing the fur chest, Toby joined Charley, who was already asleep.

Marks made no further mention of the silver fox the following morning.  Directly breakfast was eaten he packed his sledge, harnessed his dogs, and drove away, and was soon lost in the distance.

It was after sundown that evening, when Toby and Charley had just fed the dogs, and were about to return to the cabin, when suddenly there appeared out of the silent forest a party of six Indians, each hauling a heavily laden flat sled, or toboggan.

Charley was the first to see them as they emerged in single file from the shadow of the trees into the clearing-tall, swarthy creatures, with straight, coarse black hair reaching to their shoulders, and held in place by red or blue bands of cloth tied around the forehead.  They wore hooded buckskin coats, decorated with painted designs.  Two of the Indians had the hoods of their coats drawn over their heads, showing them to be of caribou skin with the hairy side out, and with pieces of skin sewn on each side of the hood to represent ears, and which served to lend a savage aspect to the wearer.  Some of them wore buckskin leggings, while others wore leggings of bright red cloth reaching from their buckskin moccasins to the knees.

Straight down they came on their snowshoes to Charley and Toby.  Fierce and wild they looked to Charley, but Toby stepped out to meet them and to shake the hand of each, greeting them in their own tongue, while they laughed as they returned the greeting and appeared to be glad to see Toby.

Then they shook hands with Charley, and when he looked into their faces he decided that they were not so savage after all, but human enough, though he could not take his eyes from their strange dress.  It spoke of mystery and of the wild life the men lived in the trackless land from which they came.

They unpacked their toboggans, and directed by Toby stowed their belongings in the porch.  When everything was stowed, they stood the toboggans on end, leaning them against the house, and followed Toby into the living-room.

Mrs. Twig welcomed the Indians with the cordiality of the frontier, and made a pot of tea for them, which they drank with rare relish until the pot was drained.

Then spoke Amishku who was the leader, or chief, and Toby, who understood their language well, interpreted his words: 

“We have been far into the land hunting the caribou, the marten and the fox, and it has been long since we have visited the wigwams of the white man.  This is the first tea we have had in many moons.  It is good, and we are hungry for it.  You are our friends.”

“Tell un we’ll be havin’ supper after a bit,” said Mrs. Twig, “and then I’ll make more tea.”

Upon Toby repeating this, the Indians laughed and two of them went to the porch, where their belongings had been left, and presently returned with a quantity of jerked caribou meat, half a dozen caribou tongues smoked and cured after the Indian manner, and six beautifully tanned hides of buckskin, all of which they presented to Mrs. Twig.

“Give the poor men each a stick of your father’s tobacco,” directed Mrs. Twig, when the Indians had seated themselves upon the floor, with their backs against the wall, after supper.

Toby went to Skipper Zeb’s chest, and fetched a plug for each of them.  When they saw the tobacco their faces beamed, and every man drew a red stone pipe from his belt, and when they had filled their pipes and were sending up clouds of smoke they began to laugh and joke.

The conversation inevitably turned to the success of the winter’s hunt, and the fur they had caught, and Toby went proudly to his chest to produce and exhibit his precious silver fox pelt to the appreciative eyes of the Indians.

He gave an exclamation of horror, and standing up held in his hand the empty bag in which he had kept the pelt.  Then he wildly rummaged to the very bottom of the chest, and finally cried out: 

“’Tis gone!  The silver’s gone!”

Madly he looked through the chest again, throwing out every pelt and every article it contained, but the pelt was not there.