Beside this cage there stood a tall, swarthy, shaggy-headed halfbreed who looked like a pirate.

The man was Grouse Piet, Durant's rival.
A contemptuous leer was on his thick-lipped face as he looked at Miki.
He turned, and to the group of dark-faced Indians and breeds about him he said something that roused a guttural laugh.
Durant's face flamed red.
"Laugh, you heathen," he challenged, "but don't forget that Henri Durant is here to take your bets!" Then he shook the two cross and ten red foxes in the face of Grouse Piet.
"Cover them, Grouse Piet," he cried.

"And I have ten times more where they came from!" With his muzzle lifted, Miki was sniffing the air.

It was filled with strange scents, heavy with the odours of men, of dogs, and of the five huge caribou roasting on their spits fifteen feet over the big fires that were built under them.

For ten hours those caribou would roast, turning slowly on spits as thick as a man's leg.