And don’t ever let anyone tell you different… You only go around once in this life, and if you want to spend it sitting in an overstuffed chair with a glass of good whiskey in your hand, you better take all pelts you can… But really?  Define ”fortune…”  it’s sort of like Ralph Kramden from The Honeymooners… “Norton~ We’re gonna be millionaires…”  While there might be a spanking trade in otter skin coats, how many pelts does it take to make one? Like, 25 or 30?  How many otters could possibly be in a given area? 4 or 5?  So you “clean out a stream,” and you are only 1/5 of the way there, and you still need to gut, clean, mount, stretch, scrape, dry and stack and market said pelts…  So the real money must come from gullible city slickers that come for a taste of big game and will pay through the shorts for a trophy… still, it’s a shaky business model… and not sustainable as evidenced by the fact that this rapacious crew must continue to stretch its domain, even to the point of poaching on protected lands!

Frankie, now Mr. Sideburns Henchman has a name…  seems only too happy to be doing his boss’s bidding.  Family?  I suppose.  I mean, what on earth does HE get out of this deal?  I am sure he lies awake on his cot at night thinking of how he would run things if HE was boss… but no, the cards were not dealt in his favor, so now he must play the role that he has been given… While I am not a fan of organized labor, I really think that Henchmen of the world should unite!  Form a union! Demand stuff!  Your evil bosses are only as good as the people they keep around them…

Meanwhile in panel one, poor Mr. Mouse is about to become raptor scat… mmm, mmm, duddle-dut…