At the back of the big room was the small one where McElroy and Ridgar
had their living, furnished scantily with a bed and table, an open
fireplace and crane, some rude, hand-made chairs, and a shelf of books.
And to this post of De Seviere had come in the dusk of the previous
night a little company of people.
They were tired and travel-stained, with their belongings in packs on
the shoulders of the men, and the joy of the venturer in their eager
faces.
From far down in the country below the Rainy River they had come,
pushing to the west in that hope of gain and desire of travel which
opens the wilderness of every land. They had met the factor at the
great gate and entered in to rest and feast, as is the rule of every
fire. By morning had come the leaders of the party to McElroy, and
there had been talk that ended in an agreement, and the tired venturers
had dropped their burden of progress.
When they had rested, there were to be three new cabins squeezed
somehow into the already overcrowded stockade, and five more men and
six women would belong to Fort de Seviere.
As he walked toward the factory the young man was thinking of all this.
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