For answer, the woman drew off her outer garment of some strange wool
texture and trimmed with ermine. Then, as if it were an everyday
occurrence, she stepped out of her rich silk gown, and stood there in a
suit of deep purple pajamas.

She then stared about the place until her eyes reached the fur garments
which Johnny had recently examined. With a laugh and a spring, lithe as
a panther, she seized upon one of these, then discarding it with a
fling, delved deeper until she came upon some smaller garments, which
might better fit her slight form. Comparing for a moment one of squirrel
skin with one of fawn skin, she finally laid aside the latter. Then she
attacked the pile of fur trousers. At the bottom she came upon some
short bloomers, made also of fawn skin. With another little gurgle of
laughter, she stepped into these. Next she drew the spotted fawn skin
parka over her head, and stood there at last, the picture of a winsome
Eskimo maid.

This done, woman-like, she plumed herself for a time before a murky
mirror. Then, turning briskly, she slipped out of the garments and back
into her own.

"You wanchee cumshaw?" she asked, handing the furs to the Chinaman to be
wrapped.

The Chinaman grinned.

From somewhere on her person she extracted bills, American bills. Johnny
was not surprised at that, for in these uncertain times, American money
had come to be an undisputed medium of exchange. It was always worth as