The sun was
just setting in a radiance of glory behind the dark spruce forest that
hid the great unknown, unexplored Labrador wilderness which stretched
away a thousand miles to the rocky shores of Hudson's Bay and the
bleak desolation of Ungava. With their back to the forest and the
setting sun, drawn up in martial line stood the eight or ten
whitewashed log buildings of the Hudson's Bay Company Post, just as
they had stood for a hundred years, and just as they stand to-day,
looking out upon the wide waters of Eskimo Bay, which now, reflecting
the glow of the setting sun, shone red and sparkling like a sea of
rubies.
On a clearing to the eastward of the post between the woods and water
was an irregular cluster of deerskin wigwams, around which loitered
dark-hued Indians puffing quietly at their pipes, while Indian women
bent over kettles steaming at open fires, cooking the evening meal,
and little Indian boys with bows shot harmless arrows at soaring gulls
overhead, and laughed joyously at their sport as each arrow fell short
of its mark. Big wolf dogs skulked here and there, looking for bits of
refuse, snapping and snarling ill-temperedly at each other.
A group of stalwart, swarthy-faced men, dressed in the garb of
northern hunters--light-coloured moleskin trousers tucked into the
tops of long-legged sealskin moccasins, short jackets and peakless
caps--stood before the post kitchen or lounged upon the rough board
walk which extended the full length of the reservation in front of the
servants' quarters and storehouses.
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