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Updated: June 28, 2025
From sheer exhaustion Lounsbury had stopped his complaints. The first grayness of twilight had come, like mist, over the distant hills; but the peaks were still bathed in the sunset's glow. She began to have a real and overwhelming longing for camp and rest. And in the midst of her dejection the dark man in front threw her a smile. "It goes hard at first," he told her gently.
Clarke's residence, 78-80. Lounsbury, Professor, Chaucer letter, 205. Love: in America, 143; the Arch Abolitionist, 306. Lowell, Charles: minister of the West Church, 11, 12, 52; on Kirkland, 27. Lowell, F.C., generosity, 276.
For the officer at once became the personification of the guard-room, chilly, poorly bedded, and worse provisioned, of all places the one to be dreaded in raw weather. To Matthews, the interruption was welcome. His right hand slowly lowered to join its mate. "I'm going to ask you to call your little differences with that gentleman off," continued Lounsbury. Matthews fairly blinked.
He pulled his hands free of his pockets. "One one," he said huskily. "Who?" And now everything was clear to her. She knew just what to say. She had no feelings of self; the duty was not hateful, nor embarrassing. "Who?" she repeated. "Don't you know, Mr. Lounsbury? Why, Marylyn." "Marylyn," he echoed as if in a puzzle; "Marylyn. You're joking!"
"Well, there's a queer, black bunch in 'em." "Yes. Is it a man?" "I think so." "Moved?" "Not yet." "Come on, then. Maybe he's aiming for the coulée mouth, so's to sneak up to the Lancasters' from behind." They charged away across the mile of ice. "If it's Matthews, why didn't he wing me as I went by," panted Lounsbury. "Look, look!" cried Fraser. "Now, he's moving!"
Lounsbury laid down his gun. When he straightened, he stepped to her side. "Me?" he said. "Well, I'm a match for him. You ain't. But what else?" She moved aside, averting her face. "There is something, Miss Dallas?" "Y-e-e-s." He saw she was disconcerted, and strove to put her at ease. "Do you know," he said, "you're so tall in that coat, you almost look like a 'heap big chief."
Describing the last years of this period Professor Lounsbury says: "His thoughts were principally directed to improving the little estate that had come into his possession. The one thing which he did not do was to write." On November 10, 1820, in New York, was published a novel in two volumes, bearing the title "Precaution." Its author was James Fenimore Cooper. He was thirty-one years old.
For fuller treatment, Green, ch. 5; Traill; Gardiner. Special Works. LITERATURE. General Works. Jusserand; Ten Brink; Mitchell; Minto's Characteristics of English Poets; Courthope's History of English Poetry. Chaucer, Life: by Lounsbury, in Studies in Chaucer, vol. I; by Ward, in English Men of Letters Series; Pollard's Chaucer Primer. Minor Writers.
"You told him to go in," she replied. "Now it's the sporting thing to follow him." The water splashed about her horse's knees. Lounsbury called again, commandingly, but she didn't seem to hear. She lifted her feet from the stirrups as Bill had done before her, and the angry waters surged higher. Already she knew the strength of the river.
But only the forest creatures, such little folk as watch with beady eyes from the coverts all the drama of the wilderness, beheld how they stood that test. For the first few seconds Lounsbury sat upon his horse and simply stared in mute horror. Then he half-climbed, half-fell from the saddle, and followed by Vosper, started running down the river bank.
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