I cannot trade with you." It had the desired effect.

Alexander arose and put the skin inside the tent.

"It is yours," he said.

"Give me tobacco." Ambrose tossed him his pouch.
When the little man got his pipe going, squatting on his heels as before, he told his tale.

"Me spik Angleys no good," he said, fingering his Adam's apple, as if the defect was there.