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Updated: June 28, 2025
His early advent, which he explained away nonchalantly, was the cause of some good-natured teasing. "Say, Lounsbury," observed one officer, "I thought you were keeping a store." "Get out!" he retorted. "I'm down here to see that you fellows do something for the good money Uncle Sam pays you." "Why, don't you know?" said Major Appleton. "John's here to sell the sutler some sandy sugar."
"It brings a message: 'Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day." While David Bond and Dallas were taking Shadrach from the pung, a boot crunched the snow behind them. They turned. And there was Lounsbury, fairly bursting to tell his good news.
"Besides, Uncle Kenly won't go away for two or three days at least. He's been my guardian I'm his ward and I'm sure he'll make every effort to learn what happened to us." "I suppose you're right. You know whether or not you can trust Lounsbury. I only know that I can't trust Vosper." "They'll be waiting for us, don't fear for that," the girl went on.
And Dallas stayed with him, Marylyn's sleepy head pillowed in her lap. The elder girl felt strangely drawn to him. He returned the interest he inspired. Like Lounsbury, he marked the unusual character of this woman of the far frontier.
But he saw further than had the younger man: With her father and sister, she was all firmness and strength, as if she held herself to be the mainstay of the family; yet, now and then, unwittingly, she betrayed qualities that were distinctly opposite. Like Lounsbury, too, when he touched upon the subject of her life it was to inquire if she had spent any of its years in a town.
For all her outward optimism her heart grew heavy with despair. They crossed the river, coming out where the old moose trail had gone down the ford. Here they had seen the last of Kenly Lounsbury and Vosper, almost forgotten now. Virginia told Harold to stop an instant as she recalled those vents of months before. "So much has happened since then," she said, "If only they had left "
During all the past weeks, Marylyn had carefully harboured her fancies about Lounsbury. Certain of the calico-covered books on the mantel had no little part in this. Their stories of undying affection of bold men, lorn maidens, and the cruel villains who gloried in severing them helped her to fit her little circle into proper rôles. She loved, and must crush out her passion.
He was their guide, they were in his charge, and he followed his own law. "Try it, anyway," Lounsbury urged. Bill spoke to his horse. The animal still stood with lowered head. For one of the few times in his life Bill had to speak twice, not sharply, if anything more quietly than at first. The the brave Mulvaney headed into the stream.
"Can't help what you think about it this time," she said when her father asked her where she was going; "I've made up my mind that if you won't say the Fort, why then I'll have to drive to Clark's for Mr. Lounsbury. We don't know for sure what that pole meant. We must ask." "Aw, you ain't got a smitch o' pride," he taunted jealously. "Goin' t' Lounsbury. Wal! Wal!
Dallas gave Marylyn the reins and reached for the letter, noting that the real-estate man did not doff the floppy hat, or make any swinging bows. "A letter?" "Yep, from Lounsbury. I told him I was going to lope back down to the Bend but I didn't." He snickered. "Where's he gone?" she asked, slitting the envelope with a shaking hand. "Dunno," answered Braden.
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