You are welcome to look into that pack if you wish!" Wabi dropped the knife with which he was cutting the bread and went to the pack.

He touched it with the toe of his boot, lifted it in his hands, and glanced at Rod again.
"It isn't a joke ?" he asked.
"No." Rod turned his back upon the scene and began to take off his coat as coolly as though it were the commonest thing in the world for him to bring silver foxes into camp.

Only when Wabi gave a suppressed yell did he turn about, and then he found the Indian standing erect and holding out the silver to the astonished gaze of Mukoki.
"Is it a good one ?" he asked.
"A beauty!" gasped Wabi.
Mukoki had taken the animal and was examining it with the critical eyes of a connoisseur.
"Ver' fine!" he said.

"At Post heem worth fi' hundred dollars--at Montreal t'ree hundred more!" Wabi strode across the cabin and thrust out his hand.
"Shake, Rod!" As the two gripped hands he turned to Mukoki.
"Bear witness, Mukoki, that this young gentleman is no longer a tenderfoot.

He has shot a silver fox.