He was Jean de Gravois, the most
important man in the Fond du Lac country, for whose good-will the
company paid a small bonus. That he had made a record catch even the
children knew by the size of the packs on his sledge and by the
swagger in his walk.
Gravois was usually one of the last to appear at the annual gathering
of the wilderness fur-gatherers. He was a big man in reputation, as he
was small in stature. He was known as far west as the Peace River, and
eastward to Fort Churchill. He loved to make his appearance at the
post in a wild and picturesque rush when the rest of the forest rovers
were there to look on, and to envy or admire. He was one of the few of
his kind who had developed personal vanity along with unerring cunning
in the ways of the wild. Everybody liked Gravois, for he had a big
soul in him and was as fearless as a lynx; and he liked everybody,
including himself.
He explained his early arrival by announcing in a nonchalant manner
that after he had given his Malemutes a day's rest he was going on to
Fort Churchill, to bring back a wife. He hinted, with a punctuating
crack of his whip, that he would make a second visit, and a more
interesting one, at just about the time when the trappers were there
in force.
Jan Thoreau listened to him, hunching his shoulders a little at the
other's manifest air of importance.
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