Owing to low water in the lake, laden boats could not come closer in. The first was the police boat, with supplies for the post and for the Indian agent. The second carried the Government surveyors, six strong, and forty hundredweight of implements and grub.
Presently the surveyors themselves arrived at the store, making a larger party of white men than had ever before gathered on Caribou Lake. The natives were in force also. Seeming to spring from nowhere, they gathered in quite a big crowd outside the store and peered through the windows at their betters.
Within, a great gossip was in progress. Especially was the story of Sammy, the White Slave, told and retold, amid uncontrollable laughter. At dinner-time they adjourned to the kitchen in a body to have a look at the hero or victim of the tale, according to the way you looked at it.
It was considered that Sam did not take the chaffing in very good part, but they had to confess that he fed them adequately.
As soon afterward as riding horses could be secured, the whole party, excepting the traders, rode off around Beaver Bay. The Government land was to be laid off on the other side, and Big Jack and his pals were looking for locations there. As Graves, the chief surveyor, was mounting his horse, Mahooley said to him casually:
"How about freighting your outfit around?"
"Oh, that's all arranged for," was the answer.
Mahooley shrugged, supposing that the company had secured the contract outside.
When the excitement of the departure died away, Mahooley for the first time perceived a squat little figure in a blanket capote sitting patiently on the platform in front of the store.
"Musq'oosis!" he exclaimed. "Blest if I didn't overlook you in the shuffle. How did you come?"
"Graves bring me in his boat," Musq'oosis answered.
"I come get trade for my rabbit-skin robe."
After due observance on both sides of the time-honoured rules of bargaining, the matter was concluded, and Musq'oosis made a feint of gathering up his bundles. As a matter of fact, the old man had not yet reached what he had come for.
"What's your hurry?" said Mahooley. "Sit and talk a while."
This was not pure friendliness on the trader's part. He had a particular reason for wishing to cultivate the old Indian.