I followed down a narrow but well-beaten trail, and so at the end of a
half-mile came to the meadow and the post of Cloche.
The building itself was accurately of the Hudson Bay type--a steep,
sloping roof greater in front than behind, a deep recessed veranda,
squared logs sheathed with whitewashed boards. About it was a little
garden, which, besides the usual flowers and vegetables, contained such
exotics as a deer confined to a pen and a bear chained to a stake. As I
approached, the door opened and the Trader came out.
Now, often along the southern fringe your Hudson's Bay Trader will
prove to be a distinct disappointment. In fact, one of the historic old
posts is now kept by a pert little cockney Englishman, cringing or
impudent as the main chance seems to advise. When you have penetrated
further into the wilderness, however, where the hardships of winter and
summer travel, the loneliness of winter posts, the necessity of dealing
directly with savage men and savage nature, develops the quality of a
man or wrecks him early in the game, you will be certain of meeting
your type. But here, within fifty miles of the railroad!
The man who now stepped into view, however, preserved in his appearance
all the old traditions. He was, briefly, a short black-and-white man
built very square. Immense power lurked in the broad, heavy shoulders,
the massive chest, the thick arms, the sturdy, column-like legs. As for
his face, it was almost entirely concealed behind a curly square black
beard that grew above his cheek-bones nearly to his eyes.
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