She had given utterance to no complaint; even now, it was not her voice which welcomed my decision.

It was the Chevalier, seldom failing in ready speech, whose careless tongue rasped me with quick retort.
"Ah, so you have really come to your senses, Benteen," he cried eagerly.

"I thought it would not be much longer after you were able to get grip upon an oar.

Our red-headed friend has slow tongue of late, yet I warrant he has little love for such man-killing work; so a turn-about will be the vote of us all.

Saint Anne! 'tis the happiest word to ring in my ears since this cursed trip began." Nothing tests the innate quality of a man like the wilderness.