Near the gate a running crowd met them, for the tale
had spread apace and wondering eyes looked on.
Down to the southern wall where lived the family of Francette they
went, and the factor laid Loup in the shade of the cabin.
"If he lives, little one, he shall be yours," said he, "for he is worth
a tender hand. We'll try its power."
And as he turned away he caught a glimpse of the tall stranger looking
at them from a distance.
Small it was and crowded, this little trading post of the great
Hudson's Bay Company in that year of 1796, and a goodly stream of
beaver found its way through it to the mighty outside world.
Squatted alone on the shores of the Assiniboine, shouldering back the
wilderness with the spirit of the conqueror, it faced the rising sun
with its square stockade, strong and well built, log by log, its great,
brass-studded gate in the eastern centre, its four bastions rising at
its corners.
Here was a little world of itself, a small community of voyageurs,
trappers, coureurs du bois, and a11 those that cast their lot in the
wild places.
Adventurers from the Old World often passed through it on their way to
the farther west, lured by the tales of dreamers who spoke of the
Northwest Passage and the world that opened beyond the setting sun;
renegades of the lakes and forest came for and found its ready
hospitality, and into it came at all seasons those Indians whose skill
and cunning accounted for so much of that great fur trade which made
for wealth in the distant cities beyond the eastern sea.
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