If he wasn't here he'd be logging, and taking his life in his hand every hour, with trees falling in the wrong direction, log jams occurring in the spring rise and the lumber jacks risking death in the effort to free the king-pin that holds the jam.

Oh, no, Eli has no fault to find with the way you've treated him; indeed, he's had a snap, and knows it.

But we must be doing something, if you feel too anxious to wait until morning." "It must now be ten o'clock, and that would mean many hours.

Can anything be done in the night?
How could we follow his trail without a hound?
What wouldn't I give to have a good dog just now, such as my old Bunker down home in Virginia.

You take charge, and order me around as you see fit.