Jackoway out of wood, an' here we are two days from the Arctic Ocean.

Jones, the damned heathen don't go back!" The trapper coolly cocked his rifle.

The savage, who plainly saw and understood the action, never flinched.

He turned his breast to Rea, and there was nothing in his demeanor to suggest his relation to a craven tribe.
"Good heavens, Rea, don't kill him!" exclaimed Jones, knocking up the leveled rifle.
"Why not, I'd like to know ?" demanded Rea, as if he were considering the fate of a threatening beast.

"I reckon it'd be a bad thing for us to let him go." "Let him go," said Jones.