174 THE TRAPPER 



Gullfoot did not stand long at the door : a 

 moment was enough to idle there in zero weather 

 when warmth was within ; and enough time, too, 

 for him to read the weather and make deductions. 

 But even in those moments in the morning air 

 that racking lung cough of his broke out again 

 and shook the very foundation of his frame 

 as he closed the door behind him. Alas! it 

 was often so with him in those bleak winter 

 mornings, for this strong, athletic figure of a man, 

 whom you might think could not know sickness, 

 was touched with the Indian plague and had in 

 him the seeds of consumption, though no hectic 

 flush could ever mantle his copper-bronzed face 

 to betray in that its presence. 



Gullfoot's winter cabin was of logs, built with 

 care with the stunted scrub pine of the surround- 

 ing country. It was a small low building of sturdy 

 appearance ; the four corners were notched 

 together with the accurate skill of a practised 

 axeman ; the walls were straight, and grey as stone 

 with the clay*mud which filled the cracks between 

 the timbers ; the roof, which was thickly thatched 

 with marsh4iay, pitched steeply and threw 

 deep shadows at the eaves — a simple, primitive 

 dwelling, but true to its purpose to withstand the 

 rigour of Arctic winter and afford full shelter for 

 its inmates. 



Indoors there was warmth and comfort, and 

 pleasant scene of native homeliness. The low 

 room, to which Gullfoot returned from his survey 

 at the door, was dimly lit from a single small 

 window opening in the south wall, across which 

 was stretched a sheet of clear skin parchment 



