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Updated: June 4, 2025
Soon Lounsbury's favorite saddler, urged on by a quirt, was kicking up a path across the crusted drifts that Shadrach had so recently surmounted. As the storekeeper cantered swiftly forward, a new question presented itself to him: Was the "preacher" in league with Matthews, and so was carrying the section-boss out of the way? He decided negatively.
If they did get out they'd be lost and couldn't find their way. It seems to me the wisest thing for us to do is to go back and build a big fire so they can find their way in if they did get out." It was a worthy suggestion! The voice of cowardice that had been speaking in Lounsbury's craven soul had found expression in words at last.
Her first impression of the wilderness was that of a far-stretching desert, forgotten and desolate and unpeopled as the fiery stars. Likewise this was Lounsbury's view, as in the case of every tenderfoot who had preceded him, but Lounsbury would likely grow old and perish without discovering his mistake.
Better reconsider, Matthews." "Can't do it." Colonel Cummings left his library, where he had been talking, and sought Lounsbury's advice. The two held a short, whispered conversation in the entry. "Let me have a few words with him," said the storekeeper. Matthews' balking was not altogether a surprise. Nevertheless, it was a keen disappointment.
"That's Dallas," she agreed. He passaged in cavalry fashion until he was between her and the shack. Then he assumed a front that was cautiously humble. "Lounsbury's had the best of it," he complained. "He's known you right from the start. And this is the first chance I've ever had to know you." She stopped toeing. "But I don't know you," she returned. "Mr. Lounsbury's never told me "
This list is in many particulars erroneous, as I have learned from a letter of Professor Lounsbury's which I have had the privilege of reading, but this is a detail which need not delay us. The reason why Emerson has so much to say on this subject of borrowing, especially when treating of Plato and of Shakespeare, is obvious enough.
Wal, Ah never did." Lounsbury's face dyed to a deep scarlet. "No?" he said. "And why?" Again the section-boss gave a shrill, mocking laugh. "Too fat an' too mouthy," he answered. For an instant Lounsbury wavered. In that instant the deep scarlet faded, his eyes opened, his nostrils spread. "Pa! pa!" It was Marylyn, half-weeping. Lounsbury's cool voice cleared the air.
You brought us out here to bleed us. And you'll pay for it when I get back." Bill scarcely seemed to hear. He went on with his work, but when the simple meal was over and the packing half done, he made his answer. He drew a cloth sack from one of the packs, swung it on his shoulder, and stepped over to Lounsbury's side. "There's a couple of things I want to tell you," he began.
All through the journey so far this had been Lounsbury's one satisfaction that he was doing the sporting thing. He knew perfectly that many of his business associates, many of his city's great whom he would have been flattered to know, came up into these gloomy forests every year in pursuit of big game; and he had heard of enduring hardships in a "sporting" way.
Yet just beyond, perhaps a mile from the opposite bank, lay camp and rest, a comfortable cabin, warmth and food. She hoped they would hurry and make the crossing. But Bill halted at the water's edge, and she rode up beside him. He seemed to be studying the currents. The pack train caught up, and Lounsbury's horse nudged at the flank of her own animal. "Well?" Lounsbury questioned.
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