The landscape was wild, and although it had nothing of the savage grandeur Agatha expected, she thought it forbidding.  Its influence was insidious; one was not daunted by a glance, but realized by degrees its grimness and desolation.  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.  He did not display his qualities, as some of the professors and business men she knew had done, but she imagined they would be seen if there was need.

“In a sense, the North is disappointing,” she remarked.  “I expected to feel rather overwhelmed, but I’m not.”

“Wait,” said Thirlwell, smiling.  “After a few hundred miles of lonely trail you’ll know the country better.  I don’t want you to get to love it; but in the wilderness love often goes with fear.”

“Once I thought that impossible,” Agatha replied.  “Now I don’t know.  I’m beginning to recognize that I’m not as modern as I thought.  But have you ever been frankly afraid of the wilds?”

“Often.  When you meet the snow on the frozen trail, a hundred miles from shelter, mind and body shrink.  Perhaps it’s worse when all that stands for warmth and life is loaded on the hand-sledge you haul across the rotten ice.  Then it’s significant that the Metis are sometimes more afraid than white men.  They know the country better.”

“They haven’t the civilized man’s intellect.  Ignorance breeds superstition that makes men cowards.”

“That’s so, to some extent,” Thirlwell agreed.  “I suppose superstition is man’s fear of dangers he can’t understand and his wish to propitiate the unknown powers that rule such things.  You and I call these powers natural forces, for which we have our weights and measures; but I must own that the measures are often found defective when applied to mining.  I’ve met rock-borers who would sooner trust a mascot than a scientific rule.”

“We are a curious people,” Agatha remarked with a laugh.  “But you passed a smooth beach with good shade where the river runs out.  Why did you come on here?”

“The other’s the regular camping spot.  I remembered that you don’t like old provision cans.”

Agatha was pleased.  He had thought about her and remembered her dislikes.  While she wondered how she could tactfully thank him, he went on—­

“Besides, I wanted to make another mile or two.  A good day’s journey is important.”