Remember how you growled at me, Peter ?" Peter wriggled an answer.
"That was the beginning," said Jolly Roger, "and this--looks like the end.

But--" He clenched his fists, and there was a sudden fierceness in the grotesque movement of his shadow on the rock.
"We're going to find her before that end comes," he added defiantly.
"We're going to find her, Pied-Bot, even if it takes us to the settlements--right up into the face of the law." He set out over the rocks, his boots making hollow sounds in the deadness of the world about them.

Again he followed where once had been the trail that led to Mooney's shack, over on the wobbly line of rail that rambled for eighty miles into the wilderness from Fort William.

The P.D.& W.it was named--Port Arthur, Duluth & Western; but it had never reached Duluth, and there were those who had nicknamed it Poverty, Destruction & Want.

Many times Jolly Roger had laughed at the queer stories Nada told him about it; how a wrecking outfit was always carried behind on the twice-a-week train, and how the crew picked berries in season, and had their trapping lines, and once chased a bear half way to Whitefish Lake while the train waited for hours.