A third went by. He grew uneasy.
There was no cessation of the noise of carousing. He even fancied he
heard pistol shots. Then after a long time the noise by degrees wore
down; a long silence followed. The hut seemed deserted; nothing stirred;
another hour went by.
Then at length Strokher saw a figure emerge from the door of the hut and
come down to the shore. It was Hardenberg. Strokher saw him wave his arm
slowly, now to the left, now to the right, and he took down the wig-wag
as follows: "Stand--in--closer--we--have--the--skins."
III
During the course of the next few days Strokher heard the different
versions of the affair in the hut over and over again till he knew its
smallest details. He learned how the "Boomskys" fell upon Ryder's
champagne like wolves upon a wounded buck, how they drank it from
"enameled-ware" coffee-cups, from tin dippers, from the bottles
themselves; how at last they even dispensed with the tedium of removing
the corks and knocked off the heads against the table-ledge and drank
from the splintered bottoms; how they quarreled over the lees and dregs,
how ever and always fresh supplies were forthcoming, and how at last
Hardenberg, Ally Bazan and Slick Dick stood up from the table in the
midst of the seven inert bodies; how they ransacked the place for the
priceless furs; how they failed to locate them; how the conviction grew
that this was the wrong place after all, and how at length Hardenberg
discovered the trap-door that admitted to the cellar, where in the dim
light of the uplifted lanterns they saw, corded in tiny bales and
packages, the costliest furs known to commerce.
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