His broad face, with its low forehead, its close-shut mastiff under jaw, its big, opaque eyes, pale and cruel as those of a jaguar, marked him a man of terrible brute force.
"Free-trader!" called the commandant "Better think twice before you join fortunes with the musk-ox hunter." "To hell with you an' your rantin', dog-eared redskins!" cried Rea.
"I've run agin a man of my own kind, a man of my own country, an' I'm goin' with him." With this he thrust aside some encroaching, gaping Indians so unconcernedly and ungently that they sprawled upon the grass.
Slowly the crowd mounted and once more lined the bank.
Jones realized that by some late-turning stroke of fortune, he had fallen in with one of the few free-traders of the province.

These free-traders, from the very nature of their calling, which was to defy the fur company, and to trap and trade on their own account--were a hardy and intrepid class of men.

Rea's worth to Jones exceeded that of a dozen ordinary men.

He knew the ways of the north, the language of the tribes, the habits of animals, the handling of dogs, the uses of food and fuel.

Moreover, it soon appeared that he was a carpenter and blacksmith.
"There's my kit," he said, dumping the contents of his bag.