far end of the building over half a dozen silver fox furs Morse had
the place to himself.

Yet the officer took the precaution to lower his voice. "I want an
auger and a wooden plug the same size. Get 'em to me without anybody
knowing it."

The manager of the C.N. Morse & Company Northern Stores presently
shoved across the counter to him a gunny-sack with a feed of oats.
"Want it charged to the Force, I reckon?"

"Yes."

"Say, constable, I wancha to look at these moccasins I'm orderin' for
the Inspector. Is this what he wants? Or isn't it?"

Tom led the way into his office. He handed the shoe to Beresford.
"What's doin'?" he asked swiftly, between sentences.

The soldier inspected the footwear. "About right, I'd say. Thought
you'd find what you were looking for. A fellow usually does when he
goes at it real earnest."

The eyes in the brown face were twinkling merrily.

"Findin' the goods is one thing. Gettin' 'em's quite another," Tom
suggested.

The voice of one of the trappers rose in protest. "By gar, it iss what
you call dirt cheap. I make you a present. V'la!"