The victorious Overlanders with the assistance of Henry chased the lumber outfit to the river, into which the jacks plunged and waded across with all speed.
"Don't you ever show your face in our camp again! Next time, if you do, it will be bullets, not clubs," Lieutenant Wingate shouted after the retreating attackers.
Henry was restrained from following the lumbermen across the river only by heroic measures.

The forest woman headed him off and clubbed him back towards the camp, her clothing torn, her hair down her back, her face red and angry.
"Splendid!" cried Grace Harlowe, running to meet her.

"You are wonderful." "I say, Joseph, if that's your name, may I address you as 'Old Dear' without imperilling my life ?" teased Hippy.
"Ye kin call me anything ye like.

After the talk of them varmints anything would sound as sweet as the harps of Heving in a thunder storm." "All right--Old Dear," answered Hippy solemnly.

"I was going to tell you that you are the apple of my eye, but, being a peach, you can't very well be an apple, so we will let it go at 'Old Dear.'" Joe glared through her spectacles.