Loggers at such a time would not take the trouble to throw their chips into the stream.

He lifted his line, caught an unusually large white chip on the hook and drew it to the land.

When he picked it up and looked at it he whistled.

Someone had cut upon its face with a sharp penknife these clear and distinct words: Yankees Beware This is our River Don't Fish in It These Fish are Ours.
JOHNNY REBS.
"Well, this is surely insolence," said Dick, and calling his comrades he showed them the chip.

Both were interested, but Warner had admiration for its sender.
"It shows a due consideration for us," he said.