Excerpt: ...and from that to the matter of one hundred pounds. On the way I explained that this part of the country is not really in the chinook belt, although occasionally one came down this far. So now I am commissioned to shoot for the Governor a young chinook. He thinks the skin would look a bit of all right on the library floor, don't you know?" "And of course you will shoot one?" "A request from one's immediate paternal ancestor, accompanied by a draft for a hundred pounds, is not to be lightly disregarded. We may have another fire some day, and the price of wagons may go still higher." "Let me think," said Jack, and for a few moments we remained silent to give his mind elbow-room. "I have it!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Has your Governor ever seen a badger?" "Not likely, except possibly at the Zoo." "We must take that chance. You must shoot a badger, Spoof, which we will formally christen a chinook, and send it to your Governor in time for Christmas." "I think it's just wicked to do that," said Jean, whose sympathies were always with the under dog. "No doubt Mr.