A Thousand a Plate

By A. M. Chisholm

Written in 1922 this story is by the Canadian author Arthur Chisholm. As the story opens two men, Bill Hutchins and Sam Dobbs, are asking the local storekeeper for credit for winter supplies. He is arguing that they had a bag of gold dust in the summer and should not need credit. The men argue that they are going to a rich hunting ground to trap 'fur' which they will give to the storekeeper as payment in the Spring.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Good Press
• Release date: Dec 8, 2020
• ISBN: 4064066412722

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A. M. Chisholm

A Thousand a Plate

Published by Good Press, 2022

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EAN 4064066412722

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AND why, said McNicol, the storekeeper at the Portage, eying Skookum Bill Hutchins and his partner, old Sam Dobbs, coldly, why should I give ye a winter's grubstake on credit? What have ye done with the bag of dust ye washed out of yon bar on the Kachika?"

Skookum Bill, standing on the floor scales, slid the weight along the beam until it balanced. Two hundred and seventeen I weigh, he said with satisfaction, for he was proud of his big, hard body and the tremendous strength which had earned him his sobriquet. What did we do with that dust, McNicol? Why, we blowed it. How long d'you expect one little poke to last two growed-up men? She wasn't no Bonanza nor Forty Mile, that bar. Come on, McNicol! You know us. We're good for it. We ain't out to do you.

Ye'll no doubt know the proverb concernin' good intentions and the Pit, said McNicol skeptically. I'll not grubstake ye to lie in idleness all winter, so that ye may strike me for a spring outfit on the same terrums.

You got an awful suspicious mind, McNicol, said Skookum Bill in injured tones. I s'pose, bein' Scotch, you can't help it. But you wrong us.

1 couldn't, snapped McNicol. I'm under no delusions whatever respectin' the pair of ye.

Which was so true that old Dobbs interposed diplomatically.

Bill didn't mean nothin', McNicol, said he. He'd orter told you what we're goin' to do. We don't aim to hole up for the winter. We want to git us an outfit and trap.

Ye might have said so at first, said the trader. And where will ye trap?

Dobbs hesitated and shook his head.

We'd tell you if we told any one, but we ain't givin' that away, he said with an air of honest regret. We know a district that's simply crawlin' with fur, and don't look like it's never been trapped. Only she's a long, hard trail; and as there ain't no comin' out in the winter we want a pretty fair outfit, and we want to start right away.

McNicol looked him in the eye, but Dobbs met his gaze squarely. He was a hard old bird was Dobbs, lean and cunning; and though the chickens of a sinful youth and prime were beginning to roost upon his bald head and stooping shoulders—to say nothing of certain internal pains perhaps attributable to their scratching claws—he was still able to keep the pace which was set by his partner, Bill Hutchins. And Skookum Bill, in a land of hard men, was noted for strength, activity, endurance, and especially cussedness. McNicol suddenly shifted his gaze to the face of the latter.

That's right, Bill corroborated. She's a long trip, like Sam says.

Pick out what ye want, said McNicol. But remember if there are no furs to show for it ye'll never get another dollar of credit from me.

And so, when Hutchins and Dobbs emerged from the store they were the possessors of sufficient general supplies to last until the next spring; which, considering that they were flat broke and had reputations that would ignite safety matches, was