“How much will you charge me to grind me five hundred bushels of grain for them?”

“I’m sorry,” said Strange.  “The old man won’t hear of it.”

“Will you let them starve?” cried Ambrose.

“What can I do?” said Strange distressfully.  “I’m not the head.”

“Grind it in spite of him,” said Ambrose.  “Humanity and prudence would both be on your side.  You’ll get their fur by it.”

“I think Mr. Gaviller expects to get the fur anyway,” said Strange with a seeming deprecatory air—­but the suspicion of a smirk wreathed his full lips.

“Then I am to understand that you refuse to grind my grain at any price,” said Ambrose.

“Orders are orders,” murmured Strange.

“Has Gaviller given you this order since he knew the people were hungry?”

“He has told me his mind many times.”

“That is not a direct answer.  Some one must take the full responsibility.  If I write a short note to Gaviller will you deliver it and bring me back an answer?”

Strange hesitated for the fraction of a second.  “Yes,” he said.

Ambrose wrote a succinct statement of the situation, and Strange departed.

“Gaviller will never do it,” said Simon.

“I don’t expect him to,” said Ambrose.  “But he’s got to commit himself.”

In due course Strange returned.  He offered Ambrose a note, still with his deprecating air.  It was in Colina’s writing.  Ambrose read: 

“John Gaviller begs to inform Mr. Ambrose Doane that the only proposal he is willing to discuss will be the sale to him of all the grain in Mr. Doane’s possession at one dollar and a half per bushel.  In such an event he will also be willing to purchase Mr. Doane’s entire outfit of goods at cost.  It will be useless for Mr. Doane to address him further in any other connection.

“Enterprise House, September 3.”

Ambrose stood reflecting with the note in his hand.  For a single moment his heart failed him.  His inexperience was appalled by the weight of the decision he had to make.

Oh, for Peter Minot’s strong, humorous sense at this crisis!  The thought of Peter nerved him.  Peter had taken it for granted that he would make good.  Ambrose remembered the sacrifices Peter had cheerfully made to finance this expedition.

To accept John Gaviller’s contemptuous offer would not only be to confess a humiliating failure, it would mean pocketing a loss that would cripple the young firm for the time being.

Peter would say:  “Lose it if you must, but lose it fighting.”  This thought was like an inspiration to Ambrose.  His jaw stiffened, and a measure of serenity returned to his eyes.  He passed the note to Simon.

“Read it,” he said coolly, “and save it.  It may be useful as evidence, later.”

A subtle change passed over Gordon Strange’s face.  For the moment he was pure Indian.  Quickly veiling his eyes, he asked with an innocent air:  “What does Mr. Gaviller say?”