Wentworth scowled.  “Worthless devil!  Kicked on my bringing my trunk.  Wanted me to transfer my stuff into duffle bags and carry a pack to ease up on his dogs; and then to top it off with, he wasn’t going to let me ride on the sled.  But I showed him who was boss.  I hired the outfit and believe me, I rode whenever I felt like it.  He may have you fellows up here bluffed, but not me.”

“Well, ‘tis none of my business.  I was only givin’ ye a friendly warnin’.  Come on now till I get my glasses on, an’ we’ll see what ye’ve got here.”

Presently he folded and returned the brief note.  “An’ now what can I do for ye?  Will ye be makin’ your headquarters here, or will ye have a camp of your own down on the river?”

“I think I’ll stay here if there’s room.  When I’m exploring the river I can take a light outfit along.”

“There’s plenty of room.  There’s an empty cabin beside the storehouse, an’ I’ll have a stove set up, an’ your things moved in.  Ye’ll take your meals with me.  There’s only a couple of Company Injuns, an’ my clerk.”  Murchison paused.  “Sven!” he called.  “Sven Larson!  Where are ye?  Come down out of that fur loft!  I’ve a job for ye.”

Slow, heavy footsteps sounded upon the floor above, and a moment later two feet appeared upon the ladder, and very deliberately the clerk negotiated the descent.

“Sven Larson, this is Mr. Wentworth.  He’s from the States, an’ he’s goin’ to live in the cabin.  Take Wawake an’ Joe Irish an’ set up a stove in there, an’ move the stuff in that lays outside.”

Hedin acknowledged the introduction with a solemn bob of the head, and as he stared straight into Wentworth’s face he blinked owlishly.

“This stove?” he asked, indicating the huge cannon stove in which the fire roared noisily.

“No!  No!  Ye numbskull!  One of them Yukon stoves.  An’ be quick about it.”

“What stuff?”

“The stuff that lays outside the door—­Wentworth’s stuff, of course!’

“In the cabin?”

“Yes, in the cabin!” cried the factor impatiently.  “Ye didn’t think ye was to put it in the stove, did ye?”

Hedin moved slowly away in search of the Company Indians, and Wentworth laughed.  “Hasn’t got quite all his buttons, has he?” he inquired.  “I should say the Company had treated you shabbily in the matter of a clerk.”

“Well, I don’t know,” replied Murchison.  “I could have had worse.  ‘Tis not to be gainsaid that he’s slow an’ heavy of wit in the matter of most things, but the lad knows fur.  More than forty years I’ve handled fur, an’ yet to-day the striplin’ knows more about fur, an’ the value of fur, than I ever will know.  An’ then there’s the close-mouthedness of him.  Ye tell him a thing, an’ caution him to say naught about it, an’ no bribe nor threat could drag a word of it from his lips.  So, ye see, for the job he’s got, I could scarce hope for better.”