The North was not dramatic, except perhaps when the ice broke up; the forces that molded the rugged land worked with a stern quietness.

It looked as if they also molded the character of the men who braved the rigors of the frozen waste.

The _Metis_ were not vivacious like the French _habitants_; they were marked by a certain grave melancholy and their paddling songs had a plaintive undertone.

Yet their vigor and stubbornness were obvious, and Agatha thought Thirlwell was like his packers, in a way.

He was not melancholy, and indeed, often laughed, but one got a hint of reserve and unobtrusive strength.