Charles Edward Hurst is one of the most interesting men in all the worlds that I have ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting. Don’t get me wrong. He’s a loyal friend and a trusted ally. But he was not the first young and spoiled spawn of a rich family I met in Northern Minnesota back in the day. I used to see a lot of his ilk come to the Lake Country on the border between America and Canada to sample our rare hills and forests. I may have acquired a dislike for them as I was growing up, and I recognized him as another fob the first time I saw him. I am both pleased and displeased to say that my first impression of him was wrong. Displeased because it showed that I was not as good at reading people as I thought. Pleased because I met a friend for life once I saw past his outer demeanor.