Poor souls! there was little left to rob them of, save the fluttering remnants of their mortal breath.

But, poor as they were, they had their telephone,--a fact that struck us paradoxically in many a poor cabin as we went along.

Yes! had they a mind, they could call up the White House, that instant, or the Waldorf-Astoria.
We spoke of our old trapper, and the old lady smiled.
"Those are his socks I've been darning for him," she said.

So the cynical old bachelor was taken care of by the good angel, woman, after all! Trapping was about all there was to do now in the valley, she said.

A mink brought seven dollars, a musk-rat thirty cents.