The Last of the Plainsmen 



&quot; That s new to me,&quot; said Jones. &quot; Poor little 

 beggars ! &quot; 



Rea doubtfully shook his shaggy head. 



Next day Jones traded with the Yellow Knives. 

 He had a goodly supply of baubles, besides blankets, 

 gloves and boxes of canned goods, which he had 

 brought for such trading. He secured a dozen of 

 the large-boned, white and black Indian dogs 

 huskies, Rea called them two long sleds with har 

 ness and several pairs of snowshoes. This trade 

 made Jones rub his hands in satisfaction, for during 

 all the long journey north he had failed to barter for 

 such cardinal necessities to the success of his venture. 



&quot; Better have doled out the grub to them in 

 rations,&quot; grumbled Rea. 



Twenty-four hours sufficed to show Jones the wis 

 dom of the trapper s words, for in just that time the 

 crazed, ignorant savages had glutted the generous 

 store of food, which should have lasted them for 

 weeks. The next day they were begging at the cabin 

 door. Rea cursed and threatened them with his fists, 

 but they returned again and again. 



Days passed. All the time, in light and dark, the 

 Indians filled the air with dismal chant and doleful 

 incantations to the Great Spirit, and the turn ! turn ! 

 turn ! turn ! of tomtoms, a specific feature of their 

 wild prayer for food. 



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