A. M. Chisholm

“ So far as events went, each day was much like another. There was rain and shine, wind and calm, rapids and portages, and steady, monotonous work. Each day began by the wink of Louis' cooking fire, and the smell of wood smoke in the dawn, followed by his whoop for breakfast. ”

“ Young wild cat! He'd have used a gun on McGregor if I hadn't butted in."
Mr. Fothergill grunted. "Here," said he, "everything was going harmoniously, and you must punch one of our best men."
"Well, he can't quit," Dunleath pointed out, "unless he wants to take a long walk."
"That's not it. You act on impulse, and you destroy the spirit of good feeling and comradeship that should exist all around."
"Which was so strongly in evidence when McGregor was punching the kid," Dunleath retorted. "And now, Wally, if you have any more calling down to do try it on somebody else—McGregor, for instance. ”

“ I could see them in fancy, those men of twenty years before, their canoes deep with plunder, paddles driving steadily in an endeavor to shake off the pursuit which had fastened on them. No doubt every boy is a bandit at heart. ”