He looked at the map.
"There's not much to see," he said, "but lakes and rivers."
"You're right," exclaimed Philip, jumping suddenly from his chair
and beginning to walk back and forth across the cabin. "Lakes and
rivers--hundreds of them--thousands of them! Greggy, there are
more than three thousand lakes between here and civilization and
within forty miles of the new railroad. And nine out of ten of
those lakes are so full of fish that the bears along 'em smell
fishy. Whitefish, Gregson--whitefish and trout. There is a fresh-
water area represented on that map three times as large as the
whole of the five Great Lakes, and yet the Canadians and the
government have never wakened up to what it means. There's a fish
supply in this northland large enough to feed the world, and that
little rim of lakes that I've mapped out along the edge of the
coming railroad represents a money value of millions. That was the
idea that came to me in the middle of the night, and then I
thought--if I could get a corner on a few of these lakes, secure
fishing privileges before the road came--"
"You'd be a millionaire," said Gregson.
"Not only that," replied Philip, pausing for a moment in his
restless pacing.
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