He left the precious pelt behind him.
Ambrose shrugged philosophically.

"You never can tell." Presently Alexander came back, his seamy brown face as blank as ever.
He vouchsafed no explanation.

Ambrose affected not to notice him.

He had long since found it to be the best way of getting what he wanted.
The breed squatted on the stones, prepared to wait for the judgment-day, it seemed.
After a while he said with the wary, defiant look of a child beggar who expects to be refused, perhaps cuffed: "Give me 'not'er piece of bread." Ambrose without a word broke his remaining bannock in two and gave him half.

Alexander bolted it with incredible rapidity and sat as before, waiting.
Ambrose, wearying of this, dropped the pelt on his knees, saying: "Take your black fox.