Gilbert Parker,
The March of the White Guard
“ It is the threshold to the undiscovered country, to that untouched north whose fields of white are only furrowed by the giant forces of the elements; on whose frigid hearthstone no fire is ever lit; where the electric phantoms of a nightless land pass and repass, and are never still; where the magic needle points not towards the north but darkly downward; where the sun never stretches warm hands to him who dares confront the terrors of eternal snow. The White Guard slept. IV “No, Captain; leave me here and push on to Manitou Mountain. You ought to make it in two days. ”
