"We have still a few of the good old-fashioned villains right here in this country, and that reminds me of a thing which happened to a man I know.
He was a quiet man, and quite harmless so long as nobody worried him, but generally held on with a tight grip to his own, and he once got his hands into something another man wanted.

That was how the fuss began." There was a little pause, during which Alton glanced bewilderedly at his comrade, and Deringham glanced round as he poured himself out a whisky and seltzer.
"It's not an uncommon beginning," said Forel.

"What was the end ?" "There isn't any," said Seaforth, "but I can tell you the middle.

One day the quiet man, who was living by himself way up in the bush, went out hunting, and as he had eaten very little for a week he was tolerably hungry.

Well, when he had been out all day be got a deer, and was packing it home at night when he struck a belt of thick timber.
The man was played out from want of food, the deer was heavy, but he dragged himself along thinking of his supper, until something twinkled beneath a fir.