Vance Corliss proceeded at a fair rate to adapt himself to the Northland life, and he found that many adjustments came easy. While his own tongue was alien to the brimstone of the Lord, he became quite used to strong language on the part of other men, even in the most genial² conversation. Carthey, a little Texan who went to work for him for a while, opened or closed every second sentence, on an average, with the mild expletive, "By damn!" It was also his invariable way of expressing surprise, disappointment, consternation³, or all the rest of the tribe of sudden emotions. By pitch and stress and intonation⁴, the protean⁵ oath was made to perform every function of ordinary speech. At first it was a constant source of irritation⁶ and disgust to Corliss, but erelong he grew not only to tolerate it, but to like it, and to wait for it eagerly. Once, Carthey's wheel-dog lost an ear in a hasty contention⁷ with a dog of the Hudson Bay, and when the young fellow bent⁸ over the animal and discovered the loss, the blended endearment⁹ and pathos¹⁰ of the "by damn" which fell from his lips was a relation to Corliss. All was not evil out of Nazareth, he concluded sagely¹¹, and, like Jacob Welse of old, revised his philosophy of life accordingly.