Then he handled them as if they were sacks of corn, pitching them out into the snow.

In two minutes the cabin was clear.

He banged the door and slipped the bar in place.
"Buff, I'm goin' to get mad at these thievin' red, skins some day," he said gruffly.

The expanse of his chest heaved slightly, like the slow swell of a calm ocean, but there was no other indication of unusual exertion.
Jones laughed, and again gave thanks for the comradeship of this strange man.
Shortly afterward, he went out for wood, and as usual scanned the expanse of the lake.

The sun shone mistier and warmer, and frost feathers floated in the air.