but apparently paid no further attention to him after their formal
salutation. The building was well filled with all kinds of goods, and
resembled a large up-to-date store in some large country town such as
he had often seen. The sight of pipes and tobacco made him realise
that he had not smoked for days, and having his money with him, he soon
made his purchase. He stayed for a while at the store, smoking, and
watching the customers as they came and went. It was all of
considerable interest to him, and he beheld in this trading-place
another tangible evidence of Jim Weston's influence.

He spent the rest of the morning wandering about the village, and it
was noon by the time he returned to the house, which for the present he
called home. Here he found Sconda near the back door carefully
examining a large bearskin. He turned as the young man approached, and
without the least sign of surprise, motioned to the skin.

"See um?" he asked. "Beeg skin, eh?"

"It certainly is," was the reply. "A grizzly?"

"Ah, ha. You shoot um, eh?"

"Why, that's not the one I shot on Crooked Trail, is it?" Reynolds
asked in astonishment.

"Ah, ah. All sam' bear. Skin dry bimeby."

"What are you going to do with it? Will you let me have it?"

Sconda shook his head as he again felt the skin.