A. M. Chisholm

“ Joe demanded in biting tones. “Let me tell you this,” he cried. “Not a man goes out to-night. When I want McCane's camp burnt I'll tell you. Yes, and I'll set fire to it myself. That's the kind of fellow I am. I won't hide behind you boys. Now get back, every man of you!”
They hesitated and murmured. Those behind pushed forward. The young man was showing unsuspected qualities. Joe stepped up close.
“Do you men think I'll let you run this camp?” he demanded. “You're here to cut logs when I tell you and not to fight till I tell you. ”

“ His heavy “snag-proof” gum boot crashed into one man's face with all the power of his leg-muscles behind it. He sprang on the back of another and bore him to the ground, gripping one ear and tearing it half away from the head, for little Laviolette was a dirty fighter. Then he was kicked in the throat and stamped into the snow.
Clancy was getting the worst of it from Joe, and MacNutt was holding his own with Rough Shan. The first newcomers turned the scale. Laviolette almost evened it again. Then all were swamped by the rush of McCane's crew. ”

“ Get it through you now and get it clear that I'm Boss. Boss, do you understand? BOSS! What I say goes, day or night.” He drew a furrow in the snow with his moccasin. “The man who crosses that line gets his time. If you all cross you all get it. If half of you cross you all get it, and I'll shut down this camp. That's what Clancy and McCane are trying to make me do. If you want to help them and smash me—cross the line!”
“THERE'S THE LINE. CROSS IT TO-NIGHT OR TRY TO SCRAP WITH MCCANE'S CREW BEFORE I TELL YOU TO, AND I'LL SHUT DOWN” ”