The merchants of the world were as greedy for
fur as for gold, and far more so than for precious stones.
It was a commodity so light that, even in those days, a hundred
weight of fur might range in value from one hundred to five
thousand dollars, so that a man with a pack of fine furs was a
capitalist. The profits of the business were good for trapper,
very large for the trader, who doubled his first gain by paying
in trade; but they were huge for the Albany middleman, and
colossal for the New Yorker who shipped to London.
With such allurements, it was small wonder that more country was
explored and opened for fur than for settlement or even for gold;
and there were more serious crimes and high-handed robberies over
the right to trade a few furs than over any other legitimate
business. These things were new to Rolf within the year, but he
was learn- ing the lesson, and Warren's remarks about fur stuck
in his memory with growing value. Every incident since the trip
began had given them new points.
The morning passed without sign of Bill; so, when in the
afternoon, some bare-legged boys came along, Rolf said to them:
"Do any of ye know where Peter Vandam's house is?"
"Yeh, that's it right there," and they pointed to a large log
house less than a hundred yards away.
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