Joe, seeing that the trader had nothing more of special interest to tell him, let the talk pass on to other matters. By and by he rose, saying:
"Guess I'll go down and talk to the old boy until dinner's ready."
"It is always profitable," said Beattie. "Come in again."
"I'll let you know about the plough," said Joe.
"Hello, Musq'oosis!" began Joe facetiously. "Fine weather for old bones, eh?"
"Ver' good," replied Musq'oosis blandly. The old man had no great liking for this burly youth with the comely, self-indulgent face, nor did he relish his style of address; however, being a philosopher and a gentleman, this did not appear in his face. "Sit down," he added hospitably.
Musq'oosis was making artificial flies against the opening of the trout season next month. With bits of feather, hair, and thread he was turning out wonderfully lifelike specimens--not according to the conventional varieties, but as a result of his own half-century's experience on neighbouring streams. A row of the completed product was stuck in a smooth stick, awaiting possible customers.
"Out of sight!" said Joe, examining them.
"I t'ink maybe sell some this year," observed Musq'oosis. "Plenty new men come."
"I'll take a couple. There's a good stream beside my place."
After this transaction Musq'oosis liked Joe a little better. He entered upon an amiable dissertation on fly-fishing, to which Joe gave half an ear, while he debated how to lead up to what he really wanted to know. In the end it came out bluntly.
"Say, Musq'oosis, what do you know about a fellow called Walter Forest?"
Musq'oosis looked at Joe, startled. "You know him?" he asked.
"Yes," said Joe. Recollecting that Beattie had told him the man had been dead twenty years, he hastily corrected himself. "That is, not exactly. Not personally."
"I thought I'd ask you, you're such an old-timer."
"Um!" said Musq'oosis again. There was nothing in this so far to arouse his suspicions. But on principle he disliked to answer questions. Whenever it was possible he answered a question by asking another.
"Oh, a fellow asked me to find out," answered Joe vaguely. He gained assurance as he proceeded. "Fellow I met in Prince George. When he heard I was coming up here he said: 'See if you can find out what's become of Walter Forest. Ain't heard from him in twenty year.'"