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diff --git a/old/111-h/111-h.htm b/old/111-h/111-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index fe689a5..0000000 --- a/old/111-h/111-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11003 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Freckles, by Gene Stratton-Porter</title> - -<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; - margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; - text-align: right;} - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Freckles, by Gene Stratton-Porter</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Freckles</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Gene Stratton-Porter</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February, 1994 [eBook #111]<br /> -[Most recently updated: March 17, 2023]</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRECKLES ***</div> - - <h1> - FRECKLES - </h1> - <h2> - By Gene Stratton-Porter - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <h4> - To all good Irishmen in general<br /> and one CHARLES DARWIN PORTER<br /> in - particular - </h4> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h2> - Characters: - </h2> - <blockquote> - <p> - FRECKLES, a plucky waif who guards the Limberlost timber leases and<br /> - dreams of Angels.<br /><br /> THE SWAMP ANGEL, in whom Freckles' sweetest - dream materializes.<br /><br /> MCLEAN, a member of a Grand Rapids lumber - company, who befriends<br /> Freckles.<br /><br /> MRS. DUNCAN, who gives - mother-love and a home to Freckles.<br /><br /> DUNCAN, head teamster of - McLean's timber gang.<br /><br /> THE BIRD WOMAN, who is collecting camera - studies of birds for a book.<br /><br /> LORD AND LADY O'MORE, who come - from Ireland in quest of a lost relative.<br /><br /> THE MAN OF AFFAIRS, - brusque of manner, but big of heart.<br /><br /> WESSNER, a Dutch - timber-thief who wants rascality made easy.<br /><br /> BLACK JACK, a - villain to whom thought of repentance comes too late.<br /><br /> SEARS, - camp cook. - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> - CHAPTER III </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> - CHAPTER VI </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> - CHAPTER IX </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> - CHAPTER XII </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> - CHAPTER XV </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a><br /> <a - href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> - CHAPTER XVIII </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a><br /> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is Hired - </h3> - <p> - Freckles came down the corduroy that crosses the lower end of the - Limberlost. At a glance he might have been mistaken for a tramp, but he - was truly seeking work. He was intensely eager to belong somewhere and to - be attached to almost any enterprise that would furnish him food and - clothing. - </p> - <p> - Long before he came in sight of the camp of the Grand Rapids Lumber - Company, he could hear the cheery voices of the men, the neighing of the - horses, and could scent the tempting odors of cooking food. A feeling of - homeless friendlessness swept over him in a sickening wave. Without - stopping to think, he turned into the newly made road and followed it to - the camp, where the gang was making ready for supper and bed. - </p> - <p> - The scene was intensely attractive. The thickness of the swamp made a - dark, massive background below, while above towered gigantic trees. The - men were calling jovially back and forth as they unharnessed tired horses - that fell into attitudes of rest and crunched, in deep content, the grain - given them. Duncan, the brawny Scotch head-teamster, lovingly wiped the - flanks of his big bays with handfuls of pawpaw leaves, as he softly - whistled, “O wha will be my dearie, O!” and a cricket beneath the leaves - at his feet accompanied him. The green wood fire hissed and crackled - merrily. Wreathing tongues of flame wrapped around the big black kettles, - and when the cook lifted the lids to plunge in his testing-fork, gusts of - savory odors escaped. - </p> - <p> - Freckles approached him. - </p> - <p> - “I want to speak with the Boss,” he said. - </p> - <p> - The cook glanced at him and answered carelessly: “He can't use you.” - </p> - <p> - The color flooded Freckles' face, but he said simply: “If you will be - having the goodness to point him out, we will give him a chance to do his - own talking.” - </p> - <p> - With a shrug of astonishment, the cook led the way to a rough board table - where a broad, square-shouldered man was bending over some account-books. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. McLean, here's another man wanting to be taken on the gang, I - suppose,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” came the cheery answer. “I never needed a good man more than - I do just now.” - </p> - <p> - The manager turned a page and carefully began a new line. - </p> - <p> - “No use of your bothering with this fellow,” volunteered the cook. “He - hasn't but one hand.” - </p> - <p> - The flush on Freckles' face burned deeper. His lips thinned to a mere - line. He lifted his shoulders, took a step forward, and thrust out his - right arm, from which the sleeve dangled empty at the wrist. - </p> - <p> - “That will do, Sears,” came the voice of the Boss sharply. “I will - interview my man when I finish this report.” - </p> - <p> - He turned to his work, while the cook hurried to the fires. Freckles stood - one instant as he had braced himself to meet the eyes of the manager; then - his arm dropped and a wave of whiteness swept him. The Boss had not even - turned his head. He had used the possessive. When he said “my man,” the - hungry heart of Freckles went reaching toward him. - </p> - <p> - The boy drew a quivering breath. Then he whipped off his old hat and beat - the dust from it carefully. With his left hand he caught the right sleeve, - wiped his sweaty face, and tried to straighten his hair with his fingers. - He broke a spray of ironwort beside him and used the purple bloom to beat - the dust from his shoulders and limbs. The Boss, busy over his report, - was, nevertheless, vaguely alive to the toilet being made behind him, and - scored one for the man. - </p> - <p> - McLean was a Scotchman. It was his habit to work slowly and methodically. - The men of his camps never had known him to be in a hurry or to lose his - temper. Discipline was inflexible, but the Boss was always kind. His - habits were simple. He shared camp life with his gangs. The only visible - signs of wealth consisted of a big, shimmering diamond stone of ice and - fire that glittered and burned on one of his fingers, and the dainty, - beautiful thoroughbred mare he rode between camps and across the country - on business. - </p> - <p> - No man of McLean's gangs could honestly say that he ever had been - overdriven or underpaid. The Boss never had exacted any deference from his - men, yet so intense was his personality that no man of them ever had - attempted a familiarity. They all knew him to be a thorough gentleman, and - that in the great timber city several millions stood to his credit. - </p> - <p> - He was the only son of that McLean who had sent out the finest ships ever - built in Scotland. That his son should carry on this business after the - father's death had been his ambition. He had sent the boy through the - universities of Oxford and Edinburgh, and allowed him several years' - travel before he should attempt his first commission for the firm. - </p> - <p> - Then he was ordered to southern Canada and Michigan to purchase a - consignment of tall, straight timber for masts, and south to Indiana for - oak beams. The young man entered these mighty forests, parts of which lay - untouched since the dawn of the morning of time. The clear, cool, pungent - atmosphere was intoxicating. The intense silence, like that of a great - empty cathedral, fascinated him. He gradually learned that, to the shy - wood creatures that darted across his path or peeped inquiringly from - leafy ambush, he was brother. He found himself approaching, with a feeling - of reverence, those majestic trees that had stood through ages of sun, - wind, and snow. Soon it became difficult to fell them. When he had filled - his order and returned home, he was amazed to learn that in the swamps and - forests he had lost his heart and it was calling—forever calling - him. - </p> - <p> - When he inherited his father's property, he promptly disposed of it, and, - with his mother, founded a home in a splendid residence in the outskirts - of Grand Rapids. With three partners, he organized a lumber company. His - work was to purchase, fell, and ship the timber to the mills. Marshall - managed the milling process and passed the lumber to the factory. From the - lumber, Barthol made beautiful and useful furniture, which Uptegrove - scattered all over the world from a big wholesale house. Of the thousands - who saw their faces reflected on the polished surfaces of that furniture - and found comfort in its use, few there were to whom it suggested mighty - forests and trackless swamps, and the man, big of soul and body, who cut - his way through them, and with the eye of experience doomed the proud - trees that were now entering the homes of civilization for service. - </p> - <p> - When McLean turned from his finished report, he faced a young man, yet - under twenty, tall, spare, heavily framed, closely freckled, and - red-haired, with a homely Irish face, but in the steady gray eyes, - straightly meeting his searching ones of blue, there was unswerving candor - and the appearance of longing not to be ignored. He was dressed in the - roughest of farm clothing, and seemed tired to the point of falling. - </p> - <p> - “You are looking for work?” questioned McLean. - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” answered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I am very sorry,” said the Boss with genuine sympathy in his every tone, - “but there is only one man I want at present—a hardy, big fellow - with a stout heart and a strong body. I hoped that you would do, but I am - afraid you are too young and scarcely strong enough.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood, hat in hand, watching McLean. - </p> - <p> - “And what was it you thought I might be doing?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - The Boss could scarcely repress a start. Somewhere before accident and - poverty there had been an ancestor who used cultivated English, even with - an accent. The boy spoke in a mellow Irish voice, sweet and pure. It was - scarcely definite enough to be called brogue, yet there was a trick in the - turning of the sentence, the wrong sound of a letter here and there, that - was almost irresistible to McLean, and presaged a misuse of infinitives - and possessives with which he was very familiar and which touched him - nearly. He was of foreign birth, and despite years of alienation, in times - of strong feeling he committed inherited sins of accent and construction. - </p> - <p> - “It's no child's job,” answered McLean. “I am the field manager of a big - lumber company. We have just leased two thousand acres of the Limberlost. - Many of these trees are of great value. We can't leave our camp, six miles - south, for almost a year yet; so we have blazed a trail and strung barbed - wires securely around this lease. Before we return to our work, I must put - this property in the hands of a reliable, brave, strong man who will guard - it every hour of the day, and sleep with one eye open at night. I shall - require the entire length of the trail to be walked at least twice each - day, to make sure that our lines are up and that no one has been - trespassing.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles was leaning forward, absorbing every word with such intense - eagerness that he was beguiling the Boss into explanations he had never - intended making. - </p> - <p> - “But why wouldn't that be the finest job in the world for me?” he pleaded. - “I am never sick. I could walk the trail twice, three times every day, and - I'd be watching sharp all the while.” - </p> - <p> - “It's because you are scarcely more than a boy, and this will be a trying - job for a work-hardened man,” answered McLean. “You see, in the first - place, you would be afraid. In stretching our lines, we killed six - rattlesnakes almost as long as your body and as thick as your arm. It's - the price of your life to start through the marshgrass surrounding the - swamp unless you are covered with heavy leather above your knees. - </p> - <p> - “You should be able to swim in case high water undermines the temporary - bridge we have built where Sleepy Snake Creek enters the swamp. The fall - and winter changes of weather are abrupt and severe, while I would want - strict watch kept every day. You would always be alone, and I don't - guarantee what is in the Limberlost. It is lying here as it has lain since - the beginning of time, and it is alive with forms and voices. I don't - pretend to say what all of them come from; but from a few slinking shapes - I've seen, and hair-raising yells I've heard, I'd rather not confront - their owners myself; and I am neither weak nor fearful. - </p> - <p> - “Worst of all, any man who will enter the swamp to mark and steal timber - is desperate. One of my employees at the south camp, John Carter, - compelled me to discharge him for a number of serious reasons. He came - here, entered the swamp alone, and succeeded in locating and marking a - number of valuable trees that he was endeavoring to sell to a rival - company when we secured the lease. He has sworn to have these trees if he - has to die or to kill others to get them; and he is a man that the - strongest would not care to meet.” - </p> - <p> - “But if he came to steal trees, wouldn't he bring teams and men enough: - that all anyone could do would be to watch and be after you?” queried the - boy. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied McLean. - </p> - <p> - “Then why couldn't I be watching just as closely, and coming as fast, as - an older, stronger man?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Why, by George, you could!” exclaimed McLean. “I don't know as the size - of a man would be half so important as his grit and faithfulness, come to - think of it. Sit on that log there and we will talk it over. What is your - name?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles shook his head at the proffer of a seat, and folding his arms, - stood straight as the trees around him. He grew a shade whiter, but his - eyes never faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles!” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Good enough for everyday,” laughed McLean, “but I scarcely can put - 'Freckles' on the company's books. Tell me your name.” - </p> - <p> - “I haven't any name,” replied the boy. - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand,” said McLean. - </p> - <p> - “I was thinking from the voice and the face of you that you wouldn't,” - said Freckles slowly. “I've spent more time on it than I ever did on - anything else in all me life, and I don't understand. Does it seem to you - that anyone would take a newborn baby and row over it, until it was - bruised black, cut off its hand, and leave it out in a bitter night on the - steps of a charity home, to the care of strangers? That's what somebody - did to me.” - </p> - <p> - McLean stared aghast. He had no reply ready, and presently in a low voice - he suggested: “And after?” - </p> - <p> - “The Home people took me in, and I was there the full legal age and - several years over. For the most part we were a lot of little Irishmen - together. They could always find homes for the other children, but nobody - would ever be wanting me on account of me arm.” - </p> - <p> - “Were they kind to you?” McLean regretted the question the minute it was - asked. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” answered Freckles. The reply sounded so hopeless, even to - his own ears, that he hastened to qualify it by adding: “You see, it's - like this, sir. Kindnesses that people are paid to lay off in job lots and - that belong equally to several hundred others, ain't going to be soaking - into any one fellow so much.” - </p> - <p> - “Go on,” said McLean, nodding comprehendingly. - </p> - <p> - “There's nothing worth the taking of your time to tell,” replied Freckles. - “The Home was in Chicago, and I was there all me life until three months - ago. When I was too old for the training they gave to the little children, - they sent me to the closest ward school as long as the law would let them; - but I was never like any of the other children, and they all knew it. I'd - to go and come like a prisoner, and be working around the Home early and - late for me board and clothes. I always wanted to learn mighty bad, but I - was glad when that was over. - </p> - <p> - “Every few days, all me life, I'd to be called up, looked over, and - refused a home and love, on account of me hand and ugly face; but it was - all the home I'd ever known, and I didn't seem to belong to any place - else. - </p> - <p> - “Then a new superintendent was put in. He wasn't for being like any of the - others, and he swore he'd weed me out the first thing he did. He made a - plan to send me down the State to a man he said he knew who needed a boy. - He wasn't for remembering to tell that man that I was a hand short, and he - knocked me down the minute he found I was the boy who had been sent him. - Between noon and that evening, he and his son close my age had me in - pretty much the same shape in which I was found in the beginning, so I lay - awake that night and ran away. I'd like to have squared me account with - that boy before I left, but I didn't dare for fear of waking the old man, - and I knew I couldn't handle the two of them; but I'm hoping to meet him - alone some day before I die.” - </p> - <p> - McLean tugged at his mustache to hide the smile on his lips, but he liked - the boy all the better for this confession. - </p> - <p> - “I didn't even have to steal clothes to get rid of starting in me Home - ones,” Freckles continued, “for they had already taken all me clean, neat - things for the boy and put me into his rags, and that went almost as sore - as the beatings, for where I was we were always kept tidy and - sweet-smelling, anyway. I hustled clear into this State before I learned - that man couldn't have kept me if he'd wanted to. When I thought I was - good and away from him, I commenced hunting work, but it is with everybody - else just as it is with you, sir. Big, strong, whole men are the only ones - for being wanted.” - </p> - <p> - “I have been studying over this matter,” answered McLean. “I am not so - sure but that a man no older than you and similar in every way could do - this work very well, if he were not a coward, and had it in him to be - trustworthy and industrious.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles came forward a step. - </p> - <p> - “If you will give me a job where I can earn me food, clothes, and a place - to sleep,” he said, “if I can have a Boss to work for like other men, and - a place I feel I've a right to, I will do precisely what you tell me or - die trying.” - </p> - <p> - He spoke so convincingly that McLean believed, although in his heart he - knew that to employ a stranger would be wretched business for a man with - the interests he had involved. - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” the Boss found himself answering, “I will enter you on my pay - rolls. We'll have supper, and then I will provide you with clean clothing, - wading-boots, the wire-mending apparatus, and a revolver. The first thing - in the morning, I will take you the length of the trail myself and explain - fully what I want done. All I ask of you is to come to me at once at the - south camp and tell me as a man if you find this job too hard for you. It - will not surprise me. It is work that few men would perform faithfully. - What name shall I put down?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' gaze never left McLean's face, and the Boss saw the swift spasm - of pain that swept his lonely, sensitive features. - </p> - <p> - “I haven't any name,” he said stubbornly, “no more than one somebody - clapped on to me when they put me on the Home books, with not the thought - or care they'd name a house cat. I've seen how they enter those poor - little abandoned devils often enough to know. What they called me is no - more my name than it is yours. I don't know what mine is, and I never - will; but I am going to be your man and do your work, and I'll be glad to - answer to any name you choose to call me. Won't you please be giving me a - name, Mr. McLean?” - </p> - <p> - The Boss wheeled abruptly and began stacking his books. What he was - thinking was probably what any other gentleman would have thought in the - circumstances. With his eyes still downcast, and in a voice harsh with - huskiness, he spoke. - </p> - <p> - “I will tell you what we will do, my lad,” he said. “My father was my - ideal man, and I loved him better than any other I have ever known. He - went out five years ago, but that he would have been proud to leave you - his name I firmly believe. If I give to you the name of my nearest kin and - the man I loved best—will that do?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' rigid attitude relaxed suddenly. His head dropped, and big tears - splashed on the soiled calico shirt. McLean was not surprised at the - silence, for he found that talking came none too easily just then. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” he said. “I will write it on the roll—James Ross - McLean.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you mightily,” said Freckles. “That makes me feel almost as if I - belonged, already.” - </p> - <p> - “You do,” said McLean. “Until someone armed with every right comes to - claim you, you are mine. Now, come and take a bath, have some supper, and - go to bed.” - </p> - <p> - As Freckles followed into the lights and sounds of the camp, his heart and - soul were singing for joy. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Proves His Mettle and Finds Friends - </h3> - <p> - Next morning found Freckles in clean, whole clothing, fed, and rested. - Then McLean outfitted him and gave him careful instruction in the use of - his weapon. The Boss showed him around the timber-line, and engaged him a - place to board with the family of his head teamster, Duncan, whom he had - brought from Scotland with him, and who lived in a small clearing he was - working out between the swamp and the corduroy. When the gang was started - for the south camp, Freckles was left to guard a fortune in the - Limberlost. That he was under guard himself those first weeks he never - knew. - </p> - <p> - Each hour was torture to the boy. The restricted life of a great city - orphanage was the other extreme of the world compared with the Limberlost. - He was afraid for his life every minute. The heat was intense. The heavy - wading-boots rubbed his feet until they bled. He was sore and stiff from - his long tramp and outdoor exposure. The seven miles of trail was agony at - every step. He practiced at night, under the direction of Duncan, until he - grew sure in the use of his revolver. He cut a stout hickory cudgel, with - a knot on the end as big as his fist; this never left his hand. What he - thought in those first days he himself could not recall clearly afterward. - </p> - <p> - His heart stood still every time he saw the beautiful marsh-grass begin a - sinuous waving AGAINST the play of the wind, as McLean had told him it - would. He bolted half a mile with the first boom of the bittern, and his - hat lifted with every yelp of the sheitpoke. Once he saw a lean, shadowy - form following him, and fired his revolver. Then he was frightened worse - than ever for fear it might have been Duncan's collie. - </p> - <p> - The first afternoon that he found his wires down, and he was compelled to - plunge knee deep into the black swamp-muck to restring them, he became so - ill from fear and nervousness that he scarcely could control his shaking - hand to do the work. With every step, he felt that he would miss secure - footing and be swallowed in that clinging sea of blackness. In dumb agony - he plunged forward, clinging to the posts and trees until he had finished - restringing and testing the wire. He had consumed much time. Night closed - in. The Limberlost stirred gently, then shook herself, growled, and awoke - around him. - </p> - <p> - There seemed to be a great owl hooting from every hollow tree, and a - little one screeching from every knothole. The bellowing of big bullfrogs - was not sufficiently deafening to shut out the wailing of whip-poor-wills - that seemed to come from every bush. Nighthawks swept past him with their - shivering cry, and bats struck his face. A prowling wildcat missed its - catch and screamed with rage. A straying fox bayed incessantly for its - mate. - </p> - <p> - The hair on the back of Freckles' neck arose as bristles, and his knees - wavered beneath him. He could not see whether the dreaded snakes were on - the trail, or, in the pandemonium, hear the rattle for which McLean had - cautioned him to listen. He stood motionless in an agony of fear. His - breath whistled between his teeth. The perspiration ran down his face and - body in little streams. - </p> - <p> - Something big, black, and heavy came crashing through the swamp close to - him, and with a yell of utter panic Freckles ran—how far he did not - know; but at last he gained control over himself and retraced his steps. - His jaws set stiffly and the sweat dried on his body. When he reached the - place from which he had started to run, he turned and with measured steps - made his way down the line. After a time he realized that he was only - walking, so he faced that sea of horrors again. When he came toward the - corduroy, the cudgel fell to test the wire at each step. - </p> - <p> - Sounds that curdled his blood seemed to encompass him, and shapes of - terror to draw closer and closer. Fear had so gained the mastery that he - did not dare look behind him; and just when he felt that he would fall - dead before he ever reached the clearing, came Duncan's rolling call: - “Freckles! Freckles!” A shuddering sob burst in the boy's dry throat; but - he only told Duncan that finding the wire down had caused the delay. - </p> - <p> - The next morning he started on time. Day after day, with his heart - pounding, he ducked, dodged, ran when he could, and fought when he was - brought to bay. If he ever had an idea of giving up, no one knew it; for - he clung to his job without the shadow of wavering. All these things, in - so far as he guessed them, Duncan, who had been set to watch the first - weeks of Freckles' work, carried to the Boss at the south camp; but the - innermost, exquisite torture of the thing the big Scotchman never guessed, - and McLean, with his finer perceptions, came only a little closer. - </p> - <p> - After a few weeks, when Freckles learned that he was still living, that he - had a home, and the very first money he ever had possessed was safe in his - pockets, he began to grow proud. He yet side-stepped, dodged, and hurried - to avoid being late again, but he was gradually developing the - fearlessness that men ever acquire of dangers to which they are hourly - accustomed. - </p> - <p> - His heart seemed to be leaping when his first rattler disputed the trail - with him, but he mustered courage to attack it with his club. After its - head had been crushed, he mastered an Irishman's inborn repugnance for - snakes sufficiently to cut off its rattles to show Duncan. With this - victory, his greatest fear of them was gone. - </p> - <p> - Then he began to realize that with the abundance of food in the swamp, - flesh-hunters would not come on the trail and attack him, and he had his - revolver for defence if they did. He soon learned to laugh at the big, - floppy birds that made horrible noises. One day, watching behind a tree, - he saw a crane solemnly performing a few measures of a belated nuptial - song-and-dance with his mate. Realizing that it was intended in - tenderness, no matter how it appeared, the lonely, starved heart of the - boy sympathized with them. - </p> - <p> - Before the first month passed, he was fairly easy about his job; by the - next he rather liked it. Nature can be trusted to work her own miracle in - the heart of any man whose daily task keeps him alone among her sights, - sounds, and silences. - </p> - <p> - When day after day the only thing that relieved his utter loneliness was - the companionship of the birds and beasts of the swamp, it was the most - natural thing in the world that Freckles should turn to them for - friendship. He began by instinctively protecting the weak and helpless. He - was astonished at the quickness with which they became accustomed to him - and the disregard they showed for his movements, when they learned that he - was not a hunter, while the club he carried was used more frequently for - their benefit than his own. He scarcely could believe what he saw. - </p> - <p> - From the effort to protect the birds and animals, it was only a short step - to the possessive feeling, and with that sprang the impulse to caress and - provide. Through fall, when brooding was finished and the upland birds - sought the swamp in swarms to feast on its seeds and berries, Freckles was - content with watching them and speculating about them. Outside of half a - dozen of the very commonest they were strangers to him. The likeness of - their actions to humanity was an hourly surprise. - </p> - <p> - When black frost began stripping the Limberlost, cutting the ferns, - shearing the vines from the trees, mowing the succulent green things of - the swale, and setting the leaves swirling down, he watched the departing - troops of his friends with dismay. He began to realize that he would be - left alone. He made especial efforts toward friendliness with the hope - that he could induce some of them to stay. It was then that he conceived - the idea of carrying food to the birds; for he saw that they were leaving - for lack of it; but he could not stop them. Day after day, flocks gathered - and departed: by the time the first snow whitened his trail around the - Limberlost, there were left only the little black-and-white juncos, the - sapsuckers, yellow-hammers, a few patriarchs among the flaming cardinals, - the blue jays, the crows, and the quail. - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles began his wizard work. He cleared a space of swale, and - twice a day he spread a birds' banquet. By the middle of December the - strong winds of winter had beaten most of the seed from the grass and - bushes. The snow fell, covering the swamp, and food was very scarce and - difficult to find. The birds scarcely waited until Freckles' back was - turned to attack his provisions. In a few weeks they flew toward the - clearing to meet him. During the bitter weather of January they came - halfway to the cabin every morning, and fluttered around him as doves all - the way to the feeding-ground. Before February they were so accustomed to - him, and so hunger-driven, that they would perch on his head and - shoulders, and the saucy jays would try to pry into his pockets. - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles added to wheat and crumbs, every scrap of refuse food he - could find at the cabin. He carried to his pets the parings of apples, - turnips, potatoes, stray cabbage-leaves, and carrots, and tied to the - bushes meat-bones having scraps of fat and gristle. One morning, coming to - his feeding-ground unusually early, he found a gorgeous cardinal and a - rabbit side by side sociably nibbling a cabbage-leaf, and that instantly - gave to him the idea of cracking nuts, from the store he had gathered for - Duncan's children, for the squirrels, in the effort to add them to his - family. Soon he had them coming—red, gray, and black; then he became - filled with a vast impatience that he did not know their names or habits. - </p> - <p> - So the winter passed. Every week McLean rode to the Limberlost; never on - the same day or at the same hour. Always he found Freckles at his work, - faithful and brave, no matter how severe the weather. - </p> - <p> - The boy's earnings constituted his first money; and when the Boss - explained to him that he could leave them safe at a bank and carry away a - scrap of paper that represented the amount, he went straight on every - payday and made his deposit, keeping out barely what was necessary for his - board and clothing. What he wanted to do with his money he did not know, - but it gave to him a sense of freedom and power to feel that it was there—it - was his and he could have it when he chose. In imitation of McLean, he - bought a small pocket account-book, in which he carefully set down every - dollar he earned and every penny he spent. As his expenses were small and - the Boss paid him generously, it was astonishing how his little hoard - grew. - </p> - <p> - That winter held the first hours of real happiness in Freckles' life. He - was free. He was doing a man's work faithfully, through every rigor of - rain, snow, and blizzard. He was gathering a wonderful strength of body, - paying his way, and saving money. Every man of the gang and of that - locality knew that he was under the protection of McLean, who was a power, - this had the effect of smoothing Freckles' path in many directions. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Duncan showed him that individual kindness for which his hungry heart - was longing. She had a hot drink ready for him when he came from a - freezing day on the trail. She knit him a heavy mitten for his left hand, - and devised a way to sew and pad the right sleeve that protected the - maimed arm in bitter weather. She patched his clothing—frequently - torn by the wire—and saved kitchen scraps for his birds, not because - she either knew or cared anything about them, but because she herself was - close enough to the swamp to be touched by its utter loneliness. When - Duncan laughed at her for this, she retorted: “My God, mannie, if Freckles - hadna the birds and the beasts he would be always alone. It was never - meant for a human being to be so solitary. He'd get touched in the head if - he hadna them to think for and to talk to.” - </p> - <p> - “How much answer do ye think he gets to his talkin', lass?” laughed - Duncan. - </p> - <p> - “He gets the answer that keeps the eye bright, the heart happy, and the - feet walking faithful the rough path he's set them in,” answered Mrs. - Duncan earnestly. - </p> - <p> - Duncan walked away appearing very thoughtful. The next morning he gave an - ear from the corn he was shelling for his chickens to Freckles, and told - him to carry it to his wild chickens in the Limberlost. Freckles laughed - delightedly. - </p> - <p> - “Me chickens!” he said. “Why didn't I ever think of that before? Of course - they are! They are just little, brightly colored cocks and hens! But - 'wild' is no good. What would you say to me 'wild chickens' being a good - deal tamer than yours here in your yard?” - </p> - <p> - “Hoot, lad!” cried Duncan. - </p> - <p> - “Make yours light on your head and eat out of your hands and pockets,” - challenged Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Go and tell your fairy tales to the wee people! They're juist brash on - believin' things,” said Duncan. “Ye canna invent any story too big to stop - them from callin' for a bigger.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare you to come see!” retorted Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Take ye!” said Duncan. “If ye make juist ane bird licht on your heid or - eat frae your hand, ye are free to help yoursel' to my corn-crib and wheat - bin the rest of the winter.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles sprang in air and howled in glee. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Duncan! You're too, aisy” he cried. “When will you come?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll come next Sabbath,” said Duncan. “And I'll believe the birds of the - Limberlost are tame as barnyard fowl when I see it, and no sooner!” - </p> - <p> - After that Freckles always spoke of the birds as his chickens, and the - Duncans followed his example. The very next Sabbath, Duncan, with his wife - and children, followed Freckles to the swamp. They saw a sight so - wonderful it will keep them talking all the remainder of their lives, and - make them unfailing friends of all the birds. - </p> - <p> - Freckles' chickens were awaiting him at the edge of the clearing. They cut - the frosty air around his head into curves and circles of crimson, blue, - and black. They chased each other from Freckles, and swept so closely - themselves that they brushed him with their outspread wings. - </p> - <p> - At their feeding-ground Freckles set down his old pail of scraps and swept - the snow from a small level space with a broom improvised of twigs. As - soon as his back was turned, the birds clustered over the food, snatching - scraps to carry to the nearest bushes. Several of the boldest, a big crow - and a couple of jays, settled on the rim and feasted at leisure, while a - cardinal, that hesitated to venture, fumed and scolded from a twig - overhead. - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles scattered his store. At once the ground resembled the spread - mantle of Montezuma, except that this mass of gaily colored feathers was - on the backs of living birds. While they feasted, Duncan gripped his - wife's arm and stared in astonishment; for from the bushes and dry grass, - with gentle cheeping and queer, throaty chatter, as if to encourage each - other, came flocks of quail. Before anyone saw it arrive, a big gray - rabbit sat in the midst of the feast, contentedly gnawing a cabbage-leaf. - </p> - <p> - “Weel, I be drawed on!” came Mrs. Duncan's tense whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Shu-shu,” cautioned Duncan. - </p> - <p> - Lastly Freckles removed his cap. He began filling it with handfuls of - wheat from his pockets. In a swarm the grain-eaters arose around him as a - flock of tame pigeons. They perched on his arms and the cap, and in the - stress of hunger, forgetting all caution, a brilliant cock cardinal and an - equally gaudy jay fought for a perching-place on his head. - </p> - <p> - “Weel, I'm beat,” muttered Duncan, forgetting the silence imposed on his - wife. “I'll hae to give in. 'Seein' is believin'. A man wad hae to see - that to believe it. We mauna let the Boss miss that sight, for it's a - chance will no likely come twice in a life. Everything is snowed under and - thae craturs near starved, but trustin' Freckles that complete they are - tamer than our chickens. Look hard, bairns!” he whispered. “Ye winna see - the like o' yon again, while God lets ye live. Notice their color against - the ice and snow, and the pretty skippin' ways of them! And spunky! Weel, - I'm heat fair!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles emptied his cap, turned his pockets and scattered his last grain. - Then he waved his watching friends good-bye and started down the - timber-line. - </p> - <p> - A week later, Duncan and Freckles arose from breakfast to face the - bitterest morning of the winter. When Freckles, warmly capped and gloved, - stepped to the corner of the kitchen for his scrap-pail, he found a big - pan of steaming boiled wheat on the top of it. He wheeled to Mrs. Duncan - with a shining face. - </p> - <p> - “Were you fixing this warm food for me chickens or yours?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “It's for yours, Freckles,” she said. “I was afeared this cold weather - they wadna lay good without a warm bite now and then.” - </p> - <p> - Duncan laughed as he stepped to the other room for his pipe; but Freckles - faced Mrs. Duncan with a trace of every pang of starved mother-hunger he - ever had suffered written large on his homely, splotched, narrow features. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, how I wish you were my mother!” he cried. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Duncan attempted an echo of her husband's laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Lord love the lad!” she exclaimed. “Why, Freckles, are ye no bright - enough to learn without being taught by a woman that I am your mither? If - a great man like yoursel' dinna ken that, learn it now and ne'er forget - it. Ance a woman is the wife of any man, she becomes wife to all men for - having had the wifely experience she kens! Ance a man-child has beaten his - way to life under the heart of a woman, she is mither to all men, for the - hearts of mithers are everywhere the same. Bless ye, laddie, I am your - mither!” - </p> - <p> - She tucked the coarse scarf she had knit for him closer over his chest and - pulled his cap lower over his ears, but Freckles, whipping it off and - holding it under his arm, caught her rough, reddened hand and pressed it - to his lips in a long kiss. Then he hurried away to hide the happy, - embarrassing tears that were coming straight from his swelling heart. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Duncan, sobbing unrestrainedly, swept into the adjoining room and - threw herself into Duncan's arms. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the puir lad!” she wailed. “Oh, the puir mither-hungry lad! He breaks - my heart!” - </p> - <p> - Duncan's arms closed convulsively around his wife. With a big, brown hand - he lovingly stroked her rough, sorrel hair. - </p> - <p> - “Sarah, you're a guid woman!” he said. “You're a michty guid woman! Ye hae - a way o' speakin' out at times that's like the inspired prophets of the - Lord. If that had been put to me, now, I'd 'a' felt all I kent how to and - been keen enough to say the richt thing; but dang it, I'd 'a' stuttered - and stammered and got naething out that would ha' done onybody a mite o' - good. But ye, Sarah! Did ye see his face, woman? Ye sent him off lookin' - leke a white light of holiness had passed ower and settled on him. Ye sent - the lad away too happy for mortal words, Sarah. And ye made me that proud - o' ye! I wouldna trade ye an' my share o' the Limberlost with ony king ye - could mention.” - </p> - <p> - He relaxed his clasp, and setting a heavy hand on each shoulder, he looked - straight into her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Ye're prime, Sarah! Juist prime!” he said. - </p> - <p> - Sarah Duncan stood alone in the middle of her two-roomed log cabin and - lifted a bony, clawlike pair of hands, reddened by frequent immersion in - hot water, cracked and chafed by exposure to cold, black-lined by constant - battle with swamp-loam, calloused with burns, and stared at them - wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “Pretty-lookin' things ye are!” she whispered. “But ye hae juist been - kissed. And by such a man! Fine as God ever made at His verra best. Duncan - wouldna trade wi' a king! Na! Nor I wadna trade with a queen wi' a palace, - an' velvet gowns, an' diamonds big as hazelnuts, an' a hundred visitors a - day into the bargain. Ye've been that honored I'm blest if I can bear to - souse ye in dish-water. Still, that kiss winna come off! Naething can take - it from me, for it's mine till I dee. Lord, if I amna proud! Kisses on - these old claws! Weel, I be drawed on!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein a Feather Falls and a Soul Is Born - </h3> - <p> - So Freckles fared through the bitter winter. He was very happy. He had - hungered for freedom, love, and appreciation so long! He had been - unspeakably lonely at the Home; and the utter loneliness of a great desert - or forest is not so difficult to endure as the loneliness of being - constantly surrounded by crowds of people who do not care in the least - whether one is living or dead. - </p> - <p> - All through the winter Freckles' entire energy was given to keeping up his - lines and his “chickens” from freezing or starving. When the first breath - of spring touched the Limberlost, and the snow receded before it; when the - catkins began to bloom; when there came a hint of green to the trees, - bushes, and swale; when the rushes lifted their heads, and the pulse of - the newly resurrected season beat strongly in the heart of nature, - something new stirred in the breast of the boy. - </p> - <p> - Nature always levies her tribute. Now she laid a powerful hand on the soul - of Freckles, to which the boy's whole being responded, though he had not - the least idea what was troubling him. Duncan accepted his wife's theory - that it was a touch of spring fever, but Freckles knew better. He never - had been so well. Clean, hot, and steady the blood pulsed in his veins. He - was always hungry, and his most difficult work tired him not at all. For - long months, without a single intermission, he had tramped those seven - miles of trail twice each day, through every conceivable state of weather. - With the heavy club he gave his wires a sure test, and between sections, - first in play, afterward to keep his circulation going, he had acquired - the skill of an expert drum major. In his work there was exercise for - every muscle of his body each hour of the day, at night a bath, wholesome - food, and sound sleep in a room that never knew fire. He had gained flesh - and color, and developed a greater strength and endurance than anyone ever - could have guessed. - </p> - <p> - Nor did the Limberlost contain last year's terrors. He had been with her - in her hour of desolation, when stripped bare and deserted, she had stood - shivering, as if herself afraid. He had made excursions into the interior - until he was familiar with every path and road that ever had been cut. He - had sounded the depths of her deepest pools, and had learned why the trees - grew so magnificently. He had found that places of swamp and swale were - few compared with miles of solid timber-land, concealed by summer's - luxuriant undergrowth. - </p> - <p> - The sounds that at first had struck cold fear into his soul he now knew - had left on wing and silent foot at the approach of winter. As flock after - flock of the birds returned and he recognized the old echoes reawakening, - he found to his surprise that he had been lonely for them and was hailing - their return with great joy. All his fears were forgotten. Instead, he was - possessed of an overpowering desire to know what they were, to learn where - they had been, and whether they would make friends with him as the winter - birds had done; and if they did, would they be as fickle? For, with the - running sap, creeping worm, and winging bug, most of Freckles' “chickens” - had deserted him, entered the swamp, and feasted to such a state of - plethora on its store that they cared little for his supply, so that in - the strenuous days of mating and nest-building the boy was deserted. - </p> - <p> - He chafed at the birds' ingratitude, but he found speedy consolation in - watching and befriending the newcomers. He surely would have been proud - and highly pleased if he had known that many of the former inhabitants of - the interior swamp now grouped their nests beside the timber-line solely - for the sake of his protection and company. - </p> - <p> - The yearly resurrection of the Limberlost is a mighty revival. Freckles - stood back and watched with awe and envy the gradual reclothing and - repopulation of the swamp. Keen-eyed and alert through danger and - loneliness, he noted every stage of development, from the first piping - frog and unsheathing bud, to full leafage and the return of the last - migrant. - </p> - <p> - The knowledge of his complete loneliness and utter insignificance was - hourly thrust upon him. He brooded and fretted until he was in a fever; - yet he never guessed the cause. He was filled with a vast impatience, a - longing that he scarcely could endure. - </p> - <p> - It was June by the zodiac, June by the Limberlost, and by every delight of - a newly resurrected season it should have been June in the hearts of all - men. Yet Freckles scowled darkly as he came down the trail, and the - running TAP, TAP that tested the sagging wire and telegraphed word of his - coming to his furred and feathered friends of the swamp, this morning - carried the story of his discontent a mile ahead of him. - </p> - <p> - Freckles' special pet, a dainty, yellow-coated, black-sleeved, cock - goldfinch, had remained on the wire for several days past the bravest of - all; and Freckles, absorbed with the cunning and beauty of the tiny - fellow, never guessed that he was being duped. For the goldfinch was - skipping, flirting, and swinging for the express purpose of so holding his - attention that he would not look up and see a small cradle of thistledown - and wool perilously near his head. In the beginning of brooding, the - spunky little homesteader had clung heroically to the wire when he was - almost paralyzed with fright. When day after day passed and brought only - softly whistled repetitions of his call, a handful of crumbs on the top of - a locust line-post, and gently worded coaxings, he grew in confidence. Of - late he had sung and swung during the passing of Freckles, who, not - dreaming of the nest and the solemn-eyed little hen so close above, - thought himself unusually gifted in his power to attract the birds. This - morning the goldfinch scarcely could believe his ears, and clung to the - wire until an unusually vicious rap sent him spinning a foot in air, and - his “PTSEET” came with a squall of utter panic. - </p> - <p> - The wires were ringing with a story the birds could not translate, and - Freckles was quite as ignorant of the trouble as they. - </p> - <p> - A peculiar movement beneath a small walnut tree caught his attention. He - stopped to investigate. There was an unusually large Luna cocoon, and the - moth was bursting the upper end in its struggles to reach light and air. - Freckles stood and stared. - </p> - <p> - “There's something in there trying to get out,” he muttered. “Wonder if I - could help it? Guess I best not be trying. If I hadn't happened along, - there wouldn't have been anyone to do anything, and maybe I'd only be - hurting it. It's—it's——Oh, skaggany! It's just being - born!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles gasped with surprise. The moth cleared the opening, and with many - wabblings and contortions climbed up the tree. He stared speechless with - amazement as the moth crept around a limb and clung to the under side. - There was a big pursy body, almost as large as his thumb, and of the very - snowiest white that Freckles ever had seen. There was a band of delicate - lavender across its forehead, and its feet were of the same colour; there - were antlers, like tiny, straw-colored ferns, on its head, and from its - shoulders hung the crumpled wet wings. As Freckles gazed, tense with - astonishment, he saw that these were expanding, drooping, taking on color, - and small, oval markings were beginning to show. - </p> - <p> - The minutes passed. Freckles' steady gaze never wavered. Without realizing - it, he was trembling with eagerness and anxiety. As he saw what was taking - place, “It's going to fly,” he breathed in hushed wonder. The morning sun - fell on the moth and dried its velvet down, while the warm air made it - fluffy. The rapidly growing wings began to show the most delicate green, - with lavender fore-ribs, transparent, eye-shaped markings, edged with - lines of red, tan, and black, and long, crisp trailers. - </p> - <p> - Freckles was whispering to himself for fear of disturbing the moth. It - began a systematic exercise of raising and lowering its exquisite wings to - dry them and to establish circulation. The boy realized that soon it would - be able to spread them and sail away. His long-coming soul sent up its - first shivering cry. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know what it is! Oh, I wish I knew! How I wish I knew! It must be - something grand! It can't be a butterfly! It's away too big. Oh, I wish - there was someone to tell me what it is!” - </p> - <p> - He climbed on the locust post, and balancing himself with the wire, held a - finger in the line of the moth's advance up the twig. It unhesitatingly - climbed on, so he stepped to the path, holding it to the light and - examining it closely. Then he held it in the shade and turned it, gloating - over its markings and beautiful coloring. When he held the moth to the - limb, it climbed on, still waving those magnificent wings. - </p> - <p> - “My, but I'd like to be staying with you!” he said. “But if I was to stand - here all day you couldn't grow any prettier than you are right now, and I - wouldn't grow smart enough to tell what you are. I suppose there's someone - who knows. Of course there is! Mr. McLean said there were people who knew - every leaf, bird, and flower in the Limberlost. Oh Lord! How I wish You'd - be telling me just this one thing!” - </p> - <p> - The goldfinch had ventured back to the wire, for there was his mate, only - a few inches above the man-creature's head; and indeed, he simply must not - be allowed to look up, so the brave little fellow rocked on the wire and - piped, as he had done every day for a week: “SEE ME? SEE ME?” - </p> - <p> - “See you! Of course I see you,” growled Freckles. “I see you day after - day, and what good is it doing me? I might see you every morning for a - year, and then not be able to be telling anyone about it. 'Seen a bird - with black silk wings—little, and yellow as any canary.' That's as - far as I'd get. What you doing here, anyway? Have you a mate? What's your - name? 'See you?' I reckon I see you; but I might as well be blind, for any - good it's doing me!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles impatiently struck the wire. With a screech of fear, the - goldfinch fled precipitately. His mate arose from the nest with a whirr—Freckles - looked up and saw it. - </p> - <p> - “O—ho!” he cried. “So THAT'S what you are doing here! You have a - wife. And so close my head I have been mighty near wearing a bird on my - bonnet, and never knew it!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles laughed at his own jest, while in better humor he climbed to - examine the neat, tiny cradle and its contents. The hen darted at him in a - frenzy. “Now, where do you come in?” he demanded, when he saw that she was - not similar to the goldfinch. - </p> - <p> - “You be clearing out of here! This is none of your fry. This is the nest - of me little, yellow friend of the wire, and you shan't be touching it. - Don't blame you for wanting to see, though. My, but it's a fine nest and - beauties of eggs. Will you be keeping away, or will I fire this stick at - you?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles dropped to the trail. The hen darted to the nest and settled on - it with a tender, coddling movement. He of the yellow coat flew to the - edge to make sure that everything was right. It would have been plain to - the veriest novice that they were partners in that cradle. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll be switched!” muttered Freckles. “If that ain't both their - nest! And he's yellow and she's green, or she's yellow and he's green. Of - course, I don't know, and I haven't any way to find out, but it's plain as - the nose on your face that they are both ready to be fighting for that - nest, so, of course, they belong. Doesn't that beat you? Say, that's - what's been sticking me all of this week on that grass nest in the thorn - tree down the line. One day a blue bird is setting, so I think it is hers. - The next day a brown bird is on, and I chase it off because the nest is - blue's. Next day the brown bird is on again, and I let her be, because I - think it must be hers. Next day, be golly, blue's on, and off I send her - because it's brown's; and now, I bet my hat, it's both their nest and I've - only been bothering them and making a big fool of mesilf. Pretty specimen - I am, pretending to be a friend to the birds, and so blamed ignorant I - don't know which ones go in pairs, and blue and brown are a pair, of - course, if yellow and green are—and there's the red birds! I never - thought of them! He's red and she's gray—and now I want to be - knowing, are they all different? Why no! Of course, they ain't! There's - the jays all blue, and the crows all black.” - </p> - <p> - The tide of Freckles' discontent welled until he almost choked with anger - and chagrin. He plodded down the trail, scowling blackly and viciously - spanging the wire. At the finches' nest he left the line and peered into - the thorn tree. There was no bird brooding. He pressed closer to take a - peep at the snowy, spotless little eggs he had found so beautiful, when at - the slight noise up raised four tiny baby heads with wide-open mouths, - uttering hunger cries. Freckles stepped back. The brown bird alighted on - the edge and closed one cavity with a wiggling green worm, while not two - minutes later the blue filled another with a white. That settled it. The - blue and brown were mates. Once again Freckles repeated his “How I wish I - knew!” - </p> - <p> - Around the bridge spanning Sleepy Snake Creek the swale spread widely, the - timber was scattering, and willows, rushes, marsh-grass, and splendid wild - flowers grew abundantly. Here lazy, big, black water snakes, for which the - creek was named, sunned on the bushes, wild ducks and grebe chattered, - cranes and herons fished, and muskrats plowed the bank in queer, rolling - furrows. It was always a place full of interest, so Freckles loved to - linger on the bridge, watching the marsh and water people. He also - transacted affairs of importance with the wild flowers and sweet - marsh-grass. He enjoyed splashing through the shallow pools on either side - of the bridge. - </p> - <p> - Then, too, where the creek entered the swamp was a place of unusual - beauty. The water spread in darksome, mossy, green pools. Water-plants and - lilies grew luxuriantly, throwing up large, rank, green leaves. Nowhere - else in the Limberlost could be found frog-music to equal that of the - mouth of the creek. The drumming and piping rolled in never-ending - orchestral effect, while the full chorus rang to its accompaniment - throughout the season. - </p> - <p> - Freckles slowly followed the path leading from the bridge to the line. It - was the one spot at which he might relax his vigilance. The boldest timber - thief the swamp ever had known would not have attempted to enter it by the - mouth of the creek, on account of the water and because there was no - protection from surrounding trees. He was bending the rank grass with his - cudgel, and thinking of the shade the denser swamp afforded, when he - suddenly dodged sidewise; the cudgel whistled sharply through the air and - Freckles sprang back. - </p> - <p> - From the clear sky above him, first level with his face, then skimming, - dipping, tilting, whirling until it struck, quill down, in the path in - front of him, came a glossy, iridescent, big black feather. As it touched - the ground, Freckles snatched it up with almost a continuous movement - facing the sky. There was not a tree of any size in a large open space. - There was no wind to carry it. From the clear sky it had fallen, and - Freckles, gazing eagerly into the arch of June blue with a few lazy clouds - floating high in the sea of ether, had neither mind nor knowledge to dream - of a bird hanging as if frozen there. He turned the big quill - questioningly, and again his awed eyes swept the sky. - </p> - <p> - “A feather dropped from Heaven!” he breathed reverently. “Are the holy - angels moulting? But no; if they were, it would be white. Maybe all the - angels are not for being white. What if the angels of God are white and - those of the devil are black? But a black one has no business up there. - Maybe some poor black angel is so tired of being punished it's for - slipping to the gates, beating its wings trying to make the Master hear!” - </p> - <p> - Again and again Freckles searched the sky, but there was no answering - gleam of golden gates, no form of sailing bird; then he went slowly on his - way, turning the feather and wondering about it. It was a wing quill, - eighteen inches in length, with a heavy spine, gray at the base, shading - to jet black at the tip, and it caught the play of the sun's rays in - slanting gleams of green and bronze. Again Freckles' “old man of the sea” - sat sullen and heavy on his shoulders and weighted him down until his step - lagged and his heart ached. - </p> - <p> - “Where did it come from? What is it? Oh, how I wish I knew!” he kept - repeating as he turned and studied the feather, with almost unseeing eyes, - so intently was he thinking. - </p> - <p> - Before him spread a large, green pool, filled with rotting logs and - leaves, bordered with delicate ferns and grasses among which lifted the - creamy spikes of the arrow-head, the blue of water-hyacinth, and the - delicate yellow of the jewel-flower. As Freckles leaned, handling the - feather and staring at it, then into the depths of the pool, he once more - gave voice to his old query: “I wonder what it is!” - </p> - <p> - Straight across from him, couched in the mosses of a soggy old log, a big - green bullfrog, with palpitant throat and batting eyes, lifted his head - and bellowed in answer. “FIN' DOUT! FIN' DOUT!” - </p> - <p> - “Wha—what's that?” stammered Freckles, almost too much bewildered to - speak. “I—I know you are only a bullfrog, but, be jabbers, that - sounded mightily like speech. Wouldn't you please to be saying it over?” - </p> - <p> - The bullfrog cuddled contentedly in the ooze. Then suddenly he lifted his - voice, and, as an imperative drumbeat, rolled it again: “FIN' DOUT! FIN' - DOUT! FIN DOUT!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles had the answer. Something seemed to snap in his brain. There was - a wavering flame before his eyes. Then his mind cleared. His head lifted - in a new poise, his shoulders squared, while his spine straightened. The - agony was over. His soul floated free. Freckles came into his birthright. - </p> - <p> - “Before God, I will!” He uttered the oath so impressively that the - recording angel never winced as he posted it in the prayer column. - </p> - <p> - Freckles set his hat over the top of one of the locust posts used between - trees to hold up the wire while he fastened the feather securely in the - band. Then he started down the line, talking to himself as men who have - worked long alone always fall into the habit of doing. - </p> - <p> - “What a fool I have been!” he muttered. “Of course that's what I have to - do! There wouldn't likely anybody be doing it for me. Of course I can! - What am I a man for? If I was a four-footed thing of the swamp, maybe I - couldn't; but a man can do anything if he's the grit to work hard enough - and stick at it, Mr. McLean is always saying, and here's the way I am to - do it. He said, too, that there were people that knew everything in the - swamp. Of course they have written books! The thing for me to be doing is - to quit moping and be buying some. Never bought a book in me life, or - anything else of much account, for that matter. Oh, ain't I glad I didn't - waste me money! I'll surely be having enough to get a few. Let me see.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles sat on a log, took his pencil and account-book, and figured on a - back page. He had walked the timber-line ten months. His pay was thirty - dollars a month, and his board cost him eight. That left twenty-two - dollars a month, and his clothing had cost him very little. At the least - he had two hundred dollars in the bank. He drew a deep breath and smiled - at the sky with satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “I'll be having a book about all the birds, trees, flowers, butterflies, - and——Yes, by gummy! I'll be having one about the frogs—if - it takes every cent I have,” he promised himself. - </p> - <p> - He put away the account-book, that was his most cherished possession, - caught up his stick, and started down the line. The even tap, tap, and the - cheery, gladsome whistle carried far ahead of him the message that - Freckles was himself again. - </p> - <p> - He fell into a rapid pace, for he had lost time that morning; when he - rounded the last curve he was almost running. There was a chance that the - Boss might be there for his weekly report. - </p> - <p> - Then, wavering, flickering, darting here and there over the sweet - marsh-grass, came a large black shadow, sweeping so closely before him - that for the second time that morning Freckles dodged and sprang back. He - had seen some owls and hawks of the swamp that he thought might be classed - as large birds, but never anything like this, for six feet it spread its - big, shining wings. Its strong feet could be seen drawn among its - feathers. The sun glinted on its sharp, hooked beak. Its eyes glowed, - caught the light, and seemed able to pierce the ground at his feet. It - cared no more for Freckles than if he had not been there; for it perched - on a low tree, while a second later it awkwardly hopped to the trunk of a - lightning-riven elm, turned its back, and began searching the blue. - </p> - <p> - Freckles looked just in time to see a second shadow sweep the grass; and - another bird, a trifle smaller and not quite so brilliant in the light, - slowly sailed down to perch beside the first. Evidently they were mates, - for with a queer, rolling hop the first-comer shivered his bronze wings, - sidled to the new arrival, and gave her a silly little peck on her wing. - Then he coquettishly drew away and ogled her. He lifted his head, waddled - from her a few steps, awkwardly ambled back, and gave her such a simple - sort of kiss on her beak that Freckles burst into a laugh, but clapped his - hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. - </p> - <p> - The lover ducked and side-stepped a few feet. He spread his wings and - slowly and softly waved them precisely as if he were fanning his charmer, - which was indeed the result he accomplished. Then a wave of uncontrollable - tenderness moved him so he hobbled to his bombardment once more. He faced - her squarely this time, and turned his head from side to side with queer - little jerks and indiscriminate peckings at her wings and head, and - smirkings that really should have been irresistible. She yawned and - shuffled away indifferently. Freckles reached up, pulled the quill from - his hat, and looking from it to the birds, nodded in settled conviction. - </p> - <p> - “So you're me black angels, ye spalpeens! No wonder you didn't get in! But - I'll back you to come closer it than any other birds ever did. You fly - higher than I can see. Have you picked the Limberlost for a good thing and - come to try it? Well, you can be me chickens if you want to, but I'm blest - if you ain't cool for new ones. Why don't you take this stick for a gun - and go skinning a mile?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles broke into an unrestrained laugh, for the bird-lover was keen - about his courting, while evidently his mate was diffident. When he - approached too boisterously, she relieved him of a goodly tuft of feathers - and sent him backward in a series of squirmy little jumps that gave the - boy an idea of what had happened up-sky to send the falling feather across - his pathway. - </p> - <p> - “Score one for the lady! I'll be umpiring this,” volunteered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - With a ravishing swagger, half-lifted wings, and deep, guttural hissing, - the lover approached again. He suddenly lifted his body, but she coolly - rocked forward on the limb, glided gracefully beneath him, and slowly - sailed into the Limberlost. He recovered himself and gazed after her in - astonishment. - </p> - <p> - Freckles hurried down the trail, shaking with laughter. When he neared the - path to the clearing and saw the Boss sitting motionless on the mare that - was the pride of his heart, the boy broke into a run. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mr. McLean!” he cried. “I hope I haven't kept you waiting very long! - And the sun is getting hot! I have been so slow this morning! I could have - gone faster, only there were that many things to keep me, and I didn't - know you would be here. I'll hurry after this. I've never had to be giving - excuses before. The line wasn't down, and there wasn't a sign of trouble; - it was other things that were making me late.” - </p> - <p> - McLean, smiling on the boy, immediately noticed the difference in him. - This flushed, panting, talkative lad was not the same creature who had - sought him in despair and bitterness. He watched in wonder as Freckles - mopped the perspiration from his forehead and began to laugh. Then, - forgetting all his customary reserve with the Boss, the pent-up boyishness - in the lad broke forth. With an eloquence of which he never dreamed he - told his story. He talked with such enthusiasm that McLean never took his - eyes from his face or shifted in the saddle until he described the strange - bird-lover, and then the Boss suddenly bent over the pommel and laughed - with the boy. - </p> - <p> - Freckles decorated his story with keen appreciation and rare touches of - Irish wit and drollery that made it most interesting as well as very - funny. It was a first attempt at descriptive narration. With an inborn - gift for striking the vital point, a naturalist's dawning enthusiasm for - the wonders of the Limberlost, and the welling joy of his newly found - happiness, he made McLean see the struggles of the moth and its freshly - painted wings, the dainty, brilliant bird-mates of different colors, the - feather sliding through the clear air, the palpitant throat and batting - eyes of the frog; while his version of the big bird's courtship won for - the Boss the best laugh he had enjoyed for years. - </p> - <p> - “They're in the middle of a swamp now” said Freckles. “Do you suppose - there is any chance of them staying with me chickens? If they do, they'll - be about the queerest I have; but I tell you, sir, I am finding some plum - good ones. There's a new kind over at the mouth of the creek that uses its - wings like feet and walks on all fours. It travels like a thrashing - machine. There's another, tall as me waist, with a bill a foot long, a - neck near two, not the thickness of me wrist and an elegant color. He's - some blue and gray, touched up with black, white, and brown. The voice of - him is such that if he'd be going up and standing beside a tree and crying - at it a few times he could be sawing it square off. I don't know but it - would be a good idea to try him on the gang, sir.” - </p> - <p> - McLean laughed. “Those must be blue herons, Freckles,” he said. “And it - doesn't seem possible, but your description of the big black birds sounds - like genuine black vultures. They are common enough in the South. I've - seen them numerous around the lumber camps of Georgia, but I never before - heard of any this far north. They must be strays. You have described - perfectly our nearest equivalent to a branch of these birds called in - Europe Pharaoh's Chickens, but if they are coming to the Limberlost they - will have to drop Pharaoh and become Freckles' Chickens, like the - remainder of the birds; won't they? Or are they too odd and ugly to - interest you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, not at all, at all!” cried Freckles, bursting into pure brogue in his - haste. “I don't know as I'd be calling them exactly pretty, and they do - move like a rocking-horse loping, but they are so big and fearless. They - have a fine color for black birds, and their feet and beaks seem so - strong. You never saw anything so keen as their eyes! And fly? Why, just - think, sir, they must be flying miles straight up, for they were out of - sight completely when the feather fell. I don't suppose I've a chicken in - the swamp that can go as close heaven as those big, black fellows, and - then——” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' voice dragged and he hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “Then what?” interestedly urged McLean. - </p> - <p> - “He was loving her so,” answered Freckles in a hushed voice. “I know it - looked awful funny, and I laughed and told on him, but if I'd taken time - to think I don't believe I'd have done it. You see, I've seen such a - little bit of loving in me life. You easily can be understanding that at - the Home it was every day the old story of neglect and desertion. Always - people that didn't even care enough for their children to keep them, so - you see, sir, I had to like him for trying so hard to make her know how he - loved her. Of course, they're only birds, but if they are caring for each - other like that, why, it's just the same as people, ain't it?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted his brave, steady eyes to the Boss. - </p> - <p> - “If anybody loved me like that, Mr. McLean, I wouldn't be spending any - time on how they looked or moved. All I'd be thinking of would be how they - felt toward me. If they will stay, I'll be caring as much for them as any - chickens I have. If I did laugh at them I thought he was just fine!” - </p> - <p> - The face of McLean was a study; but the honest eyes of the boy were so - compelling that he found himself answering: “You are right, Freckles. He's - a gentleman, isn't he? And the only real chicken you have. Of course he'll - remain! The Limberlost will be paradise for his family. And now, Freckles, - what has been the trouble all spring? You have done your work as - faithfully as anyone could ask, but I can't help seeing that there is - something wrong. Are you tired of your job?” - </p> - <p> - “I love it,” answered Freckles. “It will almost break me heart when the - gang comes and begins tearing up the swamp and scaring away me chickens.” - </p> - <p> - “Then what is the trouble?” insisted McLean. - </p> - <p> - “I think, sir, it's been books,” answered Freckles. “You see, I didn't - realize it meself until the bullfrog told me this morning. I hadn't ever - even heard about a place like this. Anyway, I wasn't understanding how it - would be, if I had. Being among these beautiful things every day, I got so - anxious like to be knowing and naming them, that it got to eating into me - and went and made me near sick, when I was well as I could be. Of course, - I learned to read, write, and figure some at school, but there was nothing - there, or in any of the city that I ever got to see, that would make a - fellow even be dreaming of such interesting things as there are here. I've - seen the parks—but good Lord, they ain't even beginning to be in it - with the Limberlost! It's all new and strange to me. I don't know a thing - about any of it. The bullfrog told me to 'find out,' plain as day, and - books are the only way; ain't they?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” said McLean, astonished at himself for his heartfelt relief. - He had not guessed until that minute what it would have meant to him to - have Freckles give up. “You know enough to study out what you want - yourself, if you have the books; don't you?” - </p> - <p> - “I am pretty sure I do,” said Freckles. “I learned all I'd the chance at - in the Home, and me schooling was good as far as it went. Wouldn't let you - go past fourteen, you know. I always did me sums perfect, and loved me - history books. I had them almost by heart. I never could get me grammar to - suit them. They said it was just born in me to go wrong talking, and if it - hadn't been I suppose I would have picked it up from the other children; - but I'd the best voice of any of them in the Home or at school. I could - knock them all out singing. I was always leader in the Home, and once one - of the superintendents gave me carfare and let me go into the city and - sing in a boys' choir. The master said I'd the swatest voice of them all - until it got rough like, and then he made me quit for awhile, but he said - it would be coming back by now, and I'm railly thinking it is, sir, for - I've tried on the line a bit of late and it seems to go smooth again and - lots stronger. That and me chickens have been all the company I've been - having, and it will be all I'll want if I can have some books and learn - the real names of things, where they come from, and why they do such - interesting things. It's been fretting me more than I knew to be shut up - here among all these wonders and not knowing a thing. I wanted to ask you - what some books would cost me, and if you'd be having the goodness to get - me the right ones. I think I have enough money.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles offered his account-book and the Boss studied it gravely. - </p> - <p> - “You needn't touch your account, Freckles,” he said. “Ten dollars from - this month's pay will provide you everything you need to start on. I will - write a friend in Grand Rapids today to select you the very best and send - them at once.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' eyes were shining. - </p> - <p> - “Never owned a book in me life!” he said. “Even me schoolbooks were never - mine. Lord! How I used to wish I could have just one of them for me very - own! Won't it be fun to see me sawbird and me little yellow fellow looking - at me from the pages of a book, and their real names and all about them - printed alongside? How long will it be taking, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Ten days should do it nicely,” said McLean. Then, seeing Freckles' - lengthening face, he added: “I'll have Duncan bring you a ten-bushel - store-box the next time he goes to town. He can haul it to the west - entrance and set it up wherever you want it. You can put in your spare - time filling it with the specimens you find until the books come, and then - you can study out what you have. I suspect you could collect specimens - that I could send to naturalists in the city and sell for you; things like - that winged creature, this morning. I don't know much in that line, but it - must have been a moth, and it might have been rare. I've seen them by the - thousand in museums, and in all nature I don't remember rarer coloring - than their wings. I'll order you a butterfly-net and box and show you how - scientists pin specimens. Possibly you can make a fine collection of these - swamp beauties. It will be all right for you to take a pair of different - moths and butterflies, but I don't want to hear of your killing any birds. - They are protected by heavy fines.” - </p> - <p> - McLean rode away leaving Freckles staring aghast. Then he saw the point - and smiled. Standing on the trail, he twirled the feather and thought over - the morning. - </p> - <p> - “Well, if life ain't getting to be worth living!” he said wonderingly. - “Biggest streak of luck I ever had! 'Bout time something was coming my - way, but I wouldn't ever thought anybody could strike such magnificent - prospects through only a falling feather.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New - Experiences - </h3> - <p> - On Duncan's return from his next trip to town there was a big store-box - loaded on the back of his wagon. He drove to the west entrance of the - swamp, set the box on a stump that Freckles had selected in a beautiful, - sheltered place, and made it secure on its foundations with a tree at its - back. - </p> - <p> - “It seems most a pity to nail into that tree,” said Duncan. “I haena the - time to examine into the grain of it, but it looks as if it might be a - rare ane. Anyhow, the nailin' winna hurt it deep, and havin' the case by - it will make it safer if it is a guid ane.” - </p> - <p> - “Isn't it an oak?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Ay,” said Duncan. “It looks like it might be ane of thae fine-grained - white anes that mak' such grand furniture.” - </p> - <p> - When the body of the case was secure, Duncan made a door from the lid and - fastened it with hinges. He drove a staple, screwed on a latch, and gave - Freckles a small padlock—so that he might fasten in his treasures - safely. He made a shelf at the top for his books, and last of all covered - the case with oil-cloth. - </p> - <p> - It was the first time in Freckles' life that anyone ever had done that - much for his pleasure, and it warmed his heart with pure joy. If the - interior of the box already had been covered with the rarest treasures of - the Limberlost he could have been no happier. - </p> - <p> - When the big teamster stood back to look at his work he laughingly quoted, - “'Neat, but no' gaudy,' as McLean says. All we're, needing now is a coat - of paint to make a cupboard that would turn Sarah green with envy. Ye'll - find that safe an' dry, lad, an' that's all that's needed.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Duncan,” said Freckles, “I don't know why you are being so mighty - good to me; but if you have any jobs at the cabin that I could do for you - or Mrs. Duncan, hours off the line, it would make me mighty happy.” - </p> - <p> - Duncan laughed. “Ye needna feel ye are obliged to me, lad. Ye mauna think - I could take a half-day off in the best hauling season and go to town for - boxes to rig up, and spend of my little for fixtures.” - </p> - <p> - “I knew Mr. McLean sent you,” said Freckles, his eyes wide and bright with - happiness. “It's so good of him. How I wish I could do something that - would please him as much!” - </p> - <p> - “Why, Freckles,” said Duncan, as he knelt and began collecting his tools, - “I canna see that it will hurt ye to be told that ye are doing every day a - thing that pleases the Boss as much as anything ye could do. Ye're being - uncommon faithful, lad, and honest as old Father Time. McLean is trusting - ye as he would his own flesh and blood.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Duncan!” cried the happy boy. “Are you sure?” - </p> - <p> - “Why I know,” answered Duncan. “I wadna venture to say so else. In those - first days he cautioned me na to tell ye, but now he wadna care. D'ye ken, - Freckles, that some of the single trees ye are guarding are worth a - thousand dollars?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles caught his breath and stood speechless. - </p> - <p> - “Ye see,” said Duncan, “that's why they maun be watched so closely. They - tak', say, for instance, a burl maple—bird's eye they call it in the - factory, because it's full o' wee knots and twists that look like the eye - of a bird. They saw it out in sheets no muckle thicker than writin' paper. - Then they make up the funiture out of cheaper wood and cover it with the - maple—veneer, they call it. When it's all done and polished ye never - saw onythin' grander. Gang into a retail shop the next time ye are in town - and see some. By sawin' it thin that way they get finish for thousands of - dollars' worth of furniture from a single tree. If ye dinna watch - faithful, and Black Jack gets out a few he has marked, it means the loss - of more money than ye ever dreamed of, lad. The other night, down at camp, - some son of Balaam was suggestin' that ye might be sellin' the Boss out to - Jack and lettin' him tak' the trees secretly, and nobody wad ever ken till - the gang gets here.” - </p> - <p> - A wave of scarlet flooded Freckles' face and he blazed hotly at the - insult. - </p> - <p> - “And the Boss,” continued Duncan, coolly ignoring Freckles' anger, “he - lays back just as cool as cowcumbers an' says: 'I'll give a thousand - dollars to ony man that will show me a fresh stump when we reach the - Limberlost,' says he. Some of the men just snapped him op that they'd find - some. So you see bow the Boss is trustin' ye, lad.” - </p> - <p> - “I am gladder than I can ever expriss,” said Freckles. “And now will I be - walking double time to keep some of them from cutting a tree to get all - that money!” - </p> - <p> - “Mither o' Moses!” howled Duncan. “Ye can trust the Scotch to bungle - things a'thegither. McLean was only meanin' to show ye all confidence and - honor. He's gone and set a high price for some dirty whelp to ruin ye. I - was just tryin' to show ye how he felt toward ye, and I've gone an' give - ye that worry to bear. Damn the Scotch! They're so slow an' so dumb!” - </p> - <p> - “Exciptin' prisint company?” sweetly inquired Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “No!” growled Duncan. “Headin' the list! He'd nae business to set a price - on ye, lad, for that's about the amount of it, an' I'd nae right to tell - ye. We've both done ye ill, an' both meanin' the verra best. Juist what - I'm always sayin' to Sarah.” - </p> - <p> - “I am mighty proud of what you have been telling me, Duncan,” said - Freckles. “I need the warning, sure. For with the books coming I might be - timpted to neglect me work when double watching is needed. Thank you more - than I can say for putting me on to it. What you've told me may be the - saving of me. I won't stop for dinner now. I'll be getting along the east - line, and when I come around about three, maybe Mother Duncan will let me - have a glass of milk and a bite of something.” - </p> - <p> - “Ye see now!” cried Duncan in disgust. “Ye'll start on that seven-mile - tramp with na bite to stay your stomach. What was it I told ye?” - </p> - <p> - “You told me that the Scotch had the hardest heads and the softest hearts - of any people that's living,” answered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - Duncan grunted in gratified disapproval. - </p> - <p> - Freckles picked up his club and started down the line, whistling cheerily, - for he had an unusually long repertoire upon which to draw. - </p> - <p> - Duncan went straight to the lower camp, and calling McLean aside, repeated - the conversation verbatim, ending: “And nae matter what happens now or - ever, dinna ye dare let onythin' make ye believe that Freckles hasna - guarded faithful as ony man could.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't think anything could shake my faith in the lad,” answered McLean. - </p> - <p> - Freckles was whistling merrily. He kept one eye religiously on the line. - The other he divided between the path, his friends of the wire, and a - search of the sky for his latest arrivals. Every day since their coming he - had seen them, either hanging as small, black clouds above the swamp or - bobbing over logs and trees with their queer, tilting walk. Whenever he - could spare time, he entered the swamp and tried to make friends with - them, for they were the tamest of all his unnumbered subjects. They - ducked, dodged, and ambled around him, over logs and bushes, and not even - a near approach would drive them to flight. - </p> - <p> - For two weeks he had found them circling over the Limberlost regularly, - but one morning the female was missing and only the big black chicken hung - sentinel above the swamp. His mate did not reappear in the following days, - and Freckles grew very anxious. He spoke of it to Mrs. Duncan, and she - quieted his fears by raising a delightful hope in their stead. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Freckles, if it's the hen-bird ye are missing, it's ten to one she's - safe,” she said. “She's laid, and is setting, ye silly! Watch him and mark - whaur he lichts. Then follow and find the nest. Some Sabbath we'll all - gang see it.” - </p> - <p> - Accepting this theory, Freckles began searching for the nest. Because - these “chickens” were large, as the hawks, he looked among the treetops - until he almost sprained the back of his neck. He had half the crow and - hawk nests in the swamp located. He searched for this nest instead of - collecting subjects for his case. He found the pair the middle of one - forenoon on the elm where he had watched their love-making. The big black - chicken was feeding his mate; so it was proved that they were a pair, they - were both alive, and undoubtedly she was brooding. After that Freckles' - nest-hunting continued with renewed zeal, but as he had no idea where to - look and Duncan could offer no helpful suggestion, the nest was no nearer - to being found. - </p> - <p> - Coming from a long day on the trail, Freckles saw Duncan's children - awaiting him much closer the swale than they usually ventured, and from - their wild gestures he knew that something had happened. He began to run, - but the cry that reached him was: “The books have come!” - </p> - <p> - How they hurried! Freckles lifted the youngest to his shoulder, the second - took his club and dinner pail, and when they reached Mrs. Duncan they - found her at work on a big box. She had loosened the lid, and then she - laughingly sat on it. - </p> - <p> - “Ye canna have a peep in here until ye have washed and eaten supper,” she - said. “It's all ready on the table. Ance ye begin on this, ye'll no be - willin' to tak' your nose o' it till bedtime, and I willna get my work - done the nicht. We've eaten long ago.” - </p> - <p> - It was difficult work, but Freckles smiled bravely. He made himself neat, - swallowed a few bites, then came so eagerly that Mrs. Duncan yielded, - although she said she very well knew all the time that his supper would be - spoiled. - </p> - <p> - Lifting the lid, they removed the packing and found in that box books on - birds, trees, flowers, moths, and butterflies. There was also one - containing Freckles' bullfrog, true to life. Besides these were a - butterfly-net, a naturalist's tin specimen-box, a bottle of cyanide, a box - of cotton, a paper of long, steel specimen-pins, and a letter telling what - all these things were and how to use them. - </p> - <p> - At the discovery of each new treasure, Freckles shouted: “Will you be - looking at this, now?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Duncan cried: “Weel, I be drawed on!” - </p> - <p> - The eldest boy turned a somersault for every extra, while the baby, trying - to follow his example, bunched over in a sidewise sprawl and cut his foot - on the axe with which his mother had prized up the box-lid. That sobered - them, they carried the books indoors. Mrs. Duncan had a top shelf in her - closet cleared for them, far above the reach of meddling little fingers. - </p> - <p> - When Freckles started for the trail next morning, the shining new - specimen-box flashed on his back. The black “chicken,” a mere speck in the - blue, caught the gleam of it. The folded net hung beside the boy's - hatchet, and the bird book was in the box. He walked the line and tested - each section scrupulously, watching every foot of the trail, for he was - determined not to slight his work; but if ever a boy “made haste slowly” - in a hurry, it was Freckles that morning. When at last he reached the - space he had cleared and planted around his case, his heart swelled with - the pride of possessing even so much that he could call his own, while his - quick eyes feasted on the beauty of it. - </p> - <p> - He had made a large room with the door of the case set even with one side - of it. On three sides, fine big bushes of wild rose climbed to the lower - branches of the trees. Part of his walls were mallow, part alder, thorn, - willow, and dogwood. Below there filled in a solid mass of pale pink - sheep-laurel, and yellow St. John's wort, while the amber threads of the - dodder interlaced everywhere. At one side the swamp came close, here - cattails grew in profusion. In front of them he had planted a row of - water-hyacinths without disturbing in the least the state of their azure - bloom, and where the ground arose higher for his floor, a row of foxfire, - that soon would be open. - </p> - <p> - To the left he had discovered a queer natural arrangement of the trees, - that grew to giant size and were set in a gradually narrowing space so - that a long, open vista stretched away until lost in the dim recesses of - the swamp. A little trimming of underbush, rolling of dead logs, levelling - of floor and carpeting with moss, made it easy to understand why Freckles - had named this the “cathedral”; yet he never had been taught that “the - groves were God's first temples.” - </p> - <p> - On either side of the trees that constituted the first arch of this dim - vista of the swamp he planted ferns that grew waist-high thus early in the - season, and so skilfully the work had been done that not a frond drooped - because of the change. Opposite, he cleared a space and made a flower bed. - He filled one end with every delicate, lacy vine and fern he could - transplant successfully. The body of the bed was a riot of color. Here he - set growing dainty blue-eyed-Marys and blue-eyed grass side by side. He - planted harebells; violets, blue, white, and yellow; wild geranium, - cardinal-flower, columbine, pink snake's mouth, buttercups, painted - trilliums, and orchis. Here were blood-root, moccasin-flower, hepatica, - pitcher-plant, Jack-in-the-pulpit, and every other flower of the - Limberlost that was in bloom or bore a bud presaging a flower. Every day - saw the addition of new specimens. The place would have driven a botanist - wild with envy. - </p> - <p> - On the line side he left the bushes thick for concealment, entering by a - narrow path he and Duncan had cleared in setting up the case. He called - this the front door, though he used every precaution to hide it. He built - rustic seats between several of the trees, leveled the floor, and thickly - carpeted it with rank, heavy, woolly-dog moss. Around the case he planted - wild clematis, bittersweet, and wild-grapevines, and trained them over it - until it was almost covered. Every day he planted new flowers, cut back - rough bushes, and coaxed out graceful ones. His pride in his room was very - great, but he had no idea how surprisingly beautiful it would appear to - anyone who had not witnessed its growth and construction. - </p> - <p> - This morning Freckles walked straight to his case, unlocked it, and set - his apparatus and dinner inside. He planted a new specimen he had found - close the trail, and, bringing his old scrap-bucket from the corner in - which it was hidden, from a near-by pool he dipped water to pour over his - carpet and flowers. - </p> - <p> - Then he took out the bird book, settled comfortably on a bench, and with a - deep sigh of satisfaction turned to the section headed. “V.” Past “veery” - and “vireo” he went, down the line until his finger, trembling with - eagerness, stopped at “vulture.” - </p> - <p> - “'Great black California vulture,'” he read. - </p> - <p> - “Humph! This side the Rockies will do for us.” - </p> - <p> - “'Common turkey-buzzard.'” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we ain't hunting common turkeys. McLean said chickens, and what he - says goes.” - </p> - <p> - “'Black vulture of the South.'” - </p> - <p> - “Here we are arrived at once.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' finger followed the line, and he read scraps aloud. - </p> - <p> - “'Common in the South. Sometimes called Jim Crow. Nearest equivalent to - C-a-t-h-a-r-t-e-s A-t-r-a-t-a.'” - </p> - <p> - “How the divil am I ever to learn them corkin' big words by mesel'?” - </p> - <p> - “'—the Pharaoh's Chickens of European species. Sometimes stray north - as far as Virginia and Kentucky——'” - </p> - <p> - “And sometimes farther,” interpolated Freckles, “'cos I got them right - here in Indiana so like these pictures I can just see me big chicken - bobbing up to get his ears boxed. Hey?” - </p> - <p> - “'Light-blue eggs'——” - </p> - <p> - “Golly! I got to be seeing them!” - </p> - <p> - “'—big as a common turkey's, but shaped like a hen's, heavily - splotched with chocolate——'” - </p> - <p> - “Caramels, I suppose. And——” - </p> - <p> - “'—in hollow logs or stumps.'” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, hagginy! Wasn't I barking up the wrong tree, though? Ought to been - looking close the ground all this time. Now it's all to do over, and I - suspect the sooner I start the sooner I'll be likely to find them.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles put away his book, dampened the smudge-fire, without which the - mosquitoes made the swamp almost unbearable, took his cudgel and lunch, - and went to the line. He sat on a log, ate at dinner-time and drank his - last drop of water. The heat of June was growing intense. Even on the west - of the swamp, where one had full benefit of the breeze from the upland, it - was beginning to be unpleasant in the middle of the day. - </p> - <p> - He brushed the crumbs from his knees and sat resting awhile and watching - the sky to see if his big chicken were hanging up there. But he came to - the earth abruptly, for there were steps coming down the trail that were - neither McLean's nor Duncan's—and there never had been others. - Freckles' heart leaped hotly. He ran a quick hand over his belt to feel if - his revolver and hatchet were there, caught up his cudgel and laid it - across his knees—then sat quietly, waiting. Was it Black Jack, or - someone even worse? Forced to do something to brace his nerves, he - puckered his stiffening lips and began whistling a tune he had led in his - clear tenor every year of his life at the Home Christmas exercises. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Who comes this way, so blithe and gay, - Upon a merry Christmas day?” - </pre> - <p> - His quick Irish wit roused to the ridiculousness of it until he broke into - a laugh that steadied him amazingly. - </p> - <p> - Through the bushes he caught a glimpse of the oncoming figure. His heart - flooded with joy, for it was a man from the gang. Wessner had been his - bunk-mate the night he came down the corduroy. He knew him as well as any - of McLean's men. This was no timber-thief. No doubt the Boss had sent him - with a message. Freckles sprang up and called cheerily, a warm welcome on - his face. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it's good telling if you're glad to see me,” said Wessner, with - something very like a breath of relief. “We been hearing down at the camp - you were so mighty touchy you didn't allow a man within a rod of the - line.” - </p> - <p> - “No more do I,” answered Freckles, “if he's a stranger, but you're from - McLean, ain't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, damn McLean!” said Wessner. - </p> - <p> - Freckles gripped the cudgel until his knuckles slowly turned purple. - </p> - <p> - “And are you railly saying so?” he inquired with elaborate politeness. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am,” said Wessner. “So would every man of the gang if they wasn't - too big cowards to say anything, unless maybe that other slobbering old - Scotchman, Duncan. Grinding the lives out of us! Working us like dogs, and - paying us starvation wages, while he rolls up his millions and lives like - a prince!” - </p> - <p> - Green lights began to play through the gray of Freckles' eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Wessner,” he said impressively, “you'd make a fine pattern for the father - of liars! Every man on that gang is strong and hilthy, paid all he earns, - and treated with the courtesy of a gentleman! As for the Boss living like - a prince, he shares fare with you every day of your lives!” - </p> - <p> - Wessner was not a born diplomat, but he saw he was on the wrong tack, so - he tried another. - </p> - <p> - “How would you like to make a good big pile of money, without even lifting - your hand?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Humph!” said Freckles. “Have you been up to Chicago and cornered wheat, - and are you offering me a friendly tip on the invistment of me fortune?” - </p> - <p> - Wessner came close. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, old fellow,” he said, “if you let me give you a pointer, I can - put you on to making a cool five hundred without stepping out of your - tracks.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles drew back. - </p> - <p> - “You needn't be afraid of speaking up,” he said. “There isn't a soul in - the Limberlost save the birds and the beasts, unless some of your sort's - come along and's crowding the privileges of the legal tinints.” - </p> - <p> - “None of my friends along,” said Wessner. “Nobody knew I came but Black, I—I - mean a friend of mine. If you want to hear sense and act with reason, he - can see you later, but it ain't necessary. We can make all the plans - needed. The trick's so dead small and easy.” - </p> - <p> - “Must be if you have the engineering of it,” said Freckles. But he heard, - with a sigh of relief, that they were alone. - </p> - <p> - Wessner was impervious. “You just bet it is! Why, only think, Freckles, - slavin' away at a measly little thirty dollars a month, and here is a - chance to clear five hundred in a day! You surely won't be the fool to - miss it!” - </p> - <p> - “And how was you proposing for me to stale it?” inquired Freckles. “Or am - I just to find it laying in me path beside the line?” - </p> - <p> - “That's it, Freckles,” blustered the Dutchman, “you're just to find it. - You needn't do a thing. You needn't know a thing. You name a morning when - you will walk up the west side of the swamp and then turn round and walk - back down the same side again and the money is yours. Couldn't anything be - easier than that, could it?” - </p> - <p> - “Depinds entirely on the man,” said Freckles. The lilt of a lark hanging - above the swale beside them was not sweeter than the sweetness of his - voice. “To some it would seem to come aisy as breathing; and to some, - wringin' the last drop of their heart's blood couldn't force thim! I'm not - the man that goes into a scheme like that with the blindfold over me eyes, - for, you see, it manes to break trust with the Boss; and I've served him - faithful as I knew. You'll have to be making the thing very clear to me - understanding.” - </p> - <p> - “It's so dead easy,” repeated Wessner, “it makes me tired of the - simpleness of it. You see there's a few trees in the swamp that's real - gold mines. There's three especial. Two are back in, but one's square on - the line. Why, your pottering old Scotch fool of a Boss nailed the wire to - it with his own hands! He never noticed where the bark had been peeled, or - saw what it was. If you will stay on this side of the trail just one day - we can have it cut, loaded, and ready to drive out at night. Next morning - you can find it, report, and be the busiest man in the search for us. We - know where to fix it all safe and easy. Then McLean has a bet up with a - couple of the gang that there can't be a raw stump found in the - Limberlost. There's plenty of witnesses to swear to it, and I know three - that will. There's a cool thousand, and this tree is worth all of that, - raw. Say, it's a gold mine, I tell you, and just five hundred of it is - yours. There's no danger on earth to you, for you've got McLean that - bamboozled you could sell out the whole swamp and he'd never mistrust you. - What do you say?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' soul was satisfied. “Is that all?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “No, it ain't,” said Wessner. “If you really want to brace up and be a man - and go into the thing for keeps, you can make five times that in a week. - My friend knows a dozen others we could get out in a few days, and all - you'd have to do would be to keep out of sight. Then you could take your - money and skip some night, and begin life like a gentleman somewhere else. - What do you think about it?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles purred like a kitten. - </p> - <p> - “'Twould be a rare joke on the Boss,” he said, “to be stalin' from him the - very thing he's trusted me to guard, and be getting me wages all winter - throwed in free. And you're making the pay awful high. Me to be getting - five hundred for such a simple little thing as that. You're trating me - most royal indade! It's away beyond all I'd be expecting. Sivinteen cints - would be a big price for that job. It must be looked into thorough. Just - you wait here until I do a minute's turn in the swamp, and then I'll be - eschorting you out of the clearing and giving you the answer.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted the overhanging bushes and hurried to the case. He unslung - the specimen-box and laid it inside with his hatchet and revolver. He - slipped the key in his pocket and went back to Wessner. - </p> - <p> - “Now for the answer,” he said. “Stand up!” - </p> - <p> - There was iron in his voice, and he was commanding as an outraged general. - “Anything, you want to be taking off?” he questioned. - </p> - <p> - Wessner looked the astonishment he felt. “Why, no, Freckles,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Have the goodness to be calling me Mister McLean,” snapped Freckles. “I'm - after resarvin' me pet name for the use of me friends! You may stand with - your back to the light or be taking any advantage you want.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, what do you mean?” spluttered Wessner. - </p> - <p> - “I'm manin',” said Freckles tersely, “to lick a quarter-section of hell - out of you, and may the Holy Vargin stay me before I leave you here - carrion, for your carcass would turn the stummicks of me chickens!” - </p> - <p> - At the camp that morning, Wessner's conduct had been so palpable an excuse - to force a discharge that Duncan moved near McLean and whispered, “Think - of the boy, sir?” - </p> - <p> - McLean was so troubled that, an hour later, he mounted Nellie and followed - Wessner to his home in Wildcat Hollow, only to find that he had left there - shortly before, heading for the Limberlost. McLean rode at top speed. When - Mrs. Duncan told him that a man answering Wessner's description had gone - down the west side of the swamp close noon, he left the mare in her charge - and followed on foot. When he heard voices he entered the swamp and - silently crept close just in time to hear Wessner whine: “But I can't - fight you, Freckles. I hain't done nothing to you. I'm away bigger than - you, and you've only one hand.” - </p> - <p> - The Boss slid off his coat and crouched among the bushes, ready to spring; - but as Freckles' voice reached him he held himself, with a strong effort, - to learn what mettle was in the boy. - </p> - <p> - “Don't you be wasting of me good time in the numbering of me hands,” cried - Freckles. “The stringth of me cause will make up for the weakness of me - mimbers, and the size of a cowardly thief doesn't count. You'll think all - the wildcats of the Limberlost are turned loose on you whin I come against - you, and as for me cause——I slept with you, Wessner, the night - I came down the corduroy like a dirty, friendless tramp, and the Boss was - for taking me up, washing, clothing, and feeding me, and giving me a home - full of love and tinderness, and a master to look to, and good, - well-earned money in the bank. He's trusting me his heartful, and here - comes you, you spotted toad of the big road, and insults me, as is an - honest Irish gintleman, by hinting that you concaive I'd be willing to - shut me eyes and hold fast while you rob him of the thing I was set and - paid to guard, and then act the sneak and liar to him, and ruin and - eternally blacken the soul of me. You damned rascal,” raved Freckles, “be - fighting before I forget the laws of a gintlemin's game and split your - dirty head with me stick!” - </p> - <p> - Wessner backed away, mumbling, “But I don't want to hurt you, Freckles!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don't you!” raged the boy, now fairly frothing. “Well, you ain't - resembling me none, for I'm itching like death to git me fingers in the - face of you.” - </p> - <p> - He danced up, and as Wessner lunged in self-defense, ducked under his arm - as a bantam and punched him in the pit of the stomach so that he doubled - with a groan. Before Wessner could straighten himself, Freckles was on - him, fighting like the wildest fury that ever left the beautiful island. - The Dutchman dealt thundering blows that sometimes landed and sent - Freckles reeling, and sometimes missed, while he went plunging into the - swale with the impetus of them. Freckles could not strike with half - Wessner's force, but he could land three blows to the Dutchman's one. It - was here that the boy's days of alert watching on the line, the perpetual - swinging of the heavy cudgel, and the endurance of all weather stood him - in good stead; for he was tough, and agile. He skipped, ducked, and - dodged. For the first five minutes he endured fearful punishment. Then - Wessner's breath commenced to whistle between his teeth, when Freckles - only had begun fighting. He sprang back with shrill laughter. - </p> - <p> - “Begolly! and will your honor be whistling the hornpipe for me to be - dancing of?” he cried. - </p> - <p> - SPANG! went his fist into Wessner's face, and he was past him into the - swale. - </p> - <p> - “And would you be pleased to tune up a little livelier?” he gasped, and - clipped his ear as he sprang back. Wessner lunged at him in blind fury. - Freckles, seeing an opening, forgot the laws of a gentleman's game and - drove the toe of his heavy wading-boot in Wessner's middle until he - doubled and fell heavily. In a flash Freckles was on him. For a time - McLean could not see what was happening. “Go! Go to him now!” he commanded - himself, but so intense was his desire to see the boy win alone that he - did not stir. - </p> - <p> - At last Freckles sprang up and backed away. “Time!” he yelled as a fury. - “Be getting up, Mr. Wessner, and don't be afraid of hurting me. I'll let - you throw in an extra hand and lick you to me complate satisfaction all - the same. Did you hear me call the limit? Will you get up and be facing - me?” - </p> - <p> - As Wessner struggled to his feet, he resembled a battlefield, for his - clothing was in ribbons and his face and hands streaming blood. - </p> - <p> - “I—I guess I got enough,” he mumbled. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you do?” roared Freckles. “Well this ain't your say. You come on to - me ground, lying about me Boss and intimatin' I'd stale from his very - pockets. Now will you be standing up and taking your medicine like a man, - or getting it poured down the throat of you like a baby? I ain't got - enough! This is only just the beginning with me. Be looking out there!” - </p> - <p> - He sprang against Wessner and sent him rolling. He attacked the - unresisting figure and fought him until he lay limp and quiet and Freckles - had no strength left to lift an arm. Then he arose and stepped back, - gasping for breath. With his first lungful of air he shouted: “Time!” But - the figure of Wessner lay motionless. - </p> - <p> - Freckles watched him with regardful eye and saw at last that he was - completely exhausted. He bent over him, and catching him by the back of - the neck, jerked him to his knees. Wessner lifted the face of a whipped - cur, and fearing further punishment, burst into shivering sobs, while the - tears washed tiny rivulets through the blood and muck. Freckles stepped - back, glaring at Wessner, but suddenly the scowl of anger and the ugly - disfiguring red faded from the boy's face. He dabbed at a cut on his - temple from which issued a tiny crimson stream, and jauntily shook back - his hair. His face took on the innocent look of a cherub, and his voice - rivaled that of a brooding dove, but into his eyes crept a look of - diabolical mischief. - </p> - <p> - He glanced vaguely around him until he saw his club, seized and twirled it - as a drum major, stuck it upright in the muck, and marched on tiptoe to - Wessner, mechanically, as a puppet worked by a string. Bending over, - Freckles reached an arm around Wessner's waist and helped him to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Careful, now” he cautioned, “be careful, Freddy; there's danger of you - hurting me.” - </p> - <p> - Drawing a handkerchief from a back pocket, Freckles tenderly wiped - Wessner's eyes and nose. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Freddy, me child,” he admonished Wessner, “it's time little boys - were going home. I've me work to do, and can't be entertaining you any - more today. Come back tomorrow, if you ain't through yet, and we'll repate - the perfarmance. Don't be staring at me so wild like! I would eat you, but - I can't afford it. Me earnings, being honest, come slow, and I've no money - to be squanderin' on the pailful of Dyspeptic's Delight it would be to - taking to work you out of my innards!” - </p> - <p> - Again an awful wrenching seized McLean. Freckles stepped back as Wessner, - tottering and reeling, as a thoroughly drunken man, came toward the path, - appearing indeed as if wildcats had attacked him. - </p> - <p> - The cudgel spun high in air, and catching it with an expertness acquired - by long practice on the line, the boy twirled it a second, shook back his - thick hair bonnily, and stepping into the trail, followed Wessner. Because - Freckles was Irish, it was impossible to do it silently, so presently his - clear tenor rang out, though there were bad catches where he was hard - pressed for breath: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “It was the Dutch. It was the Dutch. - Do you think it was the Irish hollered help? - Not much! - It was the Dutch. It was the Dutch——” - </pre> - <p> - Wessner turned and mumbled: “What you following me for? What are you going - to do with me?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles called the Limberlost to witness: “How's that for the ingratitude - of a beast? And me troubling mesilf to show him off me territory with the - honors of war!” - </p> - <p> - Then he changed his tone completely and added: “Belike it's this, Freddy. - You see, the Boss might come riding down this trail any minute, and the - little mare's so wheedlesome that if she'd come on to you in your prisint - state all of a sudden, she'd stop that short she'd send Mr. McLean out - over the ears of her. No disparagement intinded to the sinse of the mare!” - he added hastily. - </p> - <p> - Wessner belched a fearful oath, while Freckles laughed merrily. - </p> - <p> - “That's a sample of the thanks a generous act's always for getting,” he - continued. “Here's me neglictin' me work to eschort you out proper, and - you saying such awful words Freddy,” he demanded sternly, “do you want me - to soap out your mouth? You don't seem to be realizing it, but if you was - to buck into Mr. McLean in your prisint state, without me there to explain - matters the chance is he'd cut the liver out of you; and I shouldn't think - you'd be wanting such a fine gintleman as him to see that it's white!” - </p> - <p> - Wessner grew ghastly under his grime and broke into a staggering run. - </p> - <p> - “And now will you be looking at the manners of him?” questioned Freckles - plaintively. “Going without even a 'thank you,' right in the face of all - the pains I've taken to make it interesting for him!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles twirled the club and stood as a soldier at attention until - Wessner left the clearing, but it was the last scene of that performance. - When the boy turned, there was deathly illness on his face, while his legs - wavered beneath his weight. He staggered to the case, and opening it he - took out a piece of cloth. He dipped it into the water, and sitting on a - bench, he wiped the blood and grime from his face, while his breath sucked - between his clenched teeth. He was shivering with pain and excitement in - spite of himself. He unbuttoned the band of his right sleeve, and turning - it back, exposed the blue-lined, calloused whiteness of his maimed arm, - now vividly streaked with contusions, while in a series of circular dots - the blood oozed slowly. Here Wessner had succeeded in setting his teeth. - When Freckles saw what it was he forgave himself the kick in the pit of - Wessner's stomach, and cursed fervently and deep. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, Freckles,” said McLean's voice. - </p> - <p> - Freckles snatched down his sleeve and arose to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “You'll surely be belavin' I thought meself - alone.” - </p> - <p> - McLean pushed him carefully to the seat, and bending over him, opened a - pocket-case that he carried as regularly as his revolver and watch, for - cuts and bruises were of daily occurrence among the gang. - </p> - <p> - Taking the hurt arm, he turned back the sleeve and bathed and bound the - wounds. He examined Freckles' head and body and convinced himself that - there was no permanent injury, although the cruelty of the punishment the - boy had borne set the Boss shuddering. Then he closed the case, shoved it - into his pocket, and sat beside Freckles. All the indescribable beauty of - the place was strong around him, but he saw only the bruised face of the - suffering boy, who had hedged for the information he wanted as a diplomat, - argued as a judge, fought as a sheik, and triumphed as a devil. - </p> - <p> - When the pain lessened and breath relieved Freckles' pounding heart, he - watched the Boss covertly. How had McLean gotten there and how long had he - been there? Freckles did not dare ask. At last he arose, and going to the - case, took out his revolver and the wire-mending apparatus and locked the - door. Then he turned to McLean. - </p> - <p> - “Have you any orders, sir?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said McLean, “I have, and you are to follow them to the letter. - Turn over that apparatus to me and go straight home. Soak yourself in the - hottest bath your skin will bear and go to bed at once. Now hurry.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. McLean,” said Freckles, “it's sorry I am to be telling you, but the - afternoon's walking of the line ain't done. You see, I was just for - getting to me feet to start, and I was on time, when up came a gintleman, - and we got into a little heated argument. It's either settled, or it's - just begun, but between us, I'm that late I haven't started for the - afternoon yet. I must be going at once, for there's a tree I must find - before the day's over.” - </p> - <p> - “You plucky little idiot,” growled McLean. “You can't walk the line! I - doubt if you can reach Duncan's. Don't you know when you are done up? You - go to bed; I'll finish your work.” - </p> - <p> - “Niver!” protested Freckles. “I was just a little done up for the prisint, - a minute ago. I'm all right now. Riding-boots are far too low. The day's - hot and the walk a good seven miles, sir. Niver!” - </p> - <p> - As he reached for the outfit he pitched forward and his eyes closed. - McLean stretched him on the moss and applied restoratives. When Freckles - returned to consciousness, McLean ran to the cabin to tell Mrs. Duncan to - have a hot bath ready, and to bring Nellie. That worthy woman promptly - filled the wash-boiler, starting a roaring fire under it. She pushed the - horse-trough from its base and rolled it to the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - By the time McLean came again, leading Nelie and holding Freckles on her - back, Mrs. Duncan was ready for business. She and the Boss laid Freckles - in the trough and poured on hot water until he squirmed. They soaked and - massaged him. Then they drew off the hot water and closed his pores with - cold. Lastly they stretched him on the floor and chafed, rubbed, and - kneaded him until he cried out for mercy. As they rolled him into bed, his - eyes dropped shut, but a little later they flared open. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. McLean,” he cried, “the tree! Oh, do be looking after the tree!” - </p> - <p> - McLean bent over him. “Which tree, Freckles?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know exact sir; but it's on the east line, and the wire is - fastened to it. He bragged that you nailed it yourself, sir. You'll know - it by the bark having been laid open to the grain somewhere low down. Five - hundred dollars he offered me—to be—selling you out—sir!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' head rolled over and his eyes dropped shut. McLean towered above - the lad. His bright hair waved on the pillow. His face was swollen, and - purple with bruises. His left arm, with the hand battered almost out of - shape, stretched beside him, and the right, with no hand at all, lay - across a chest that was a mass of purple welts. McLean's mind traveled to - the night, almost a year before, when he had engaged Freckles, a stranger. - </p> - <p> - The Boss bent, covering the hurt arm with one hand and laying the other - with a caress on the boy's forehead. Freckles stirred at his touch, and - whispered as softly as the swallows under the eaves: “If you're coming - this way—tomorrow—be pleased to step over—and we'll - repate—the chorus softly!” - </p> - <p> - “Bless the gritty devil,” muttered McLean. - </p> - <p> - Then he went out and told Mrs. Duncan to keep close watch on Freckles, - also to send Duncan to him at the swamp the minute he came home. Following - the trail to the line and back to the scent of the fight, the Boss entered - Freckles' study quietly, as if his spirit, keeping there, might be roused, - and gazed around with astonished eyes. - </p> - <p> - How had the boy conceived it? What a picture he had wrought in living - colors! He had the heart of a painter. He had the soul of a poet. The Boss - stepped carefully over the velvet carpet to touch the walls of crisp - verdure with gentle fingers. He stood long beside the flower bed, and - gazed at the banked wall of bright bloom as if he doubted its reality. - </p> - <p> - Where had Freckles ever found, and how had he transplanted such ferns? As - McLean turned from them he stopped suddenly. - </p> - <p> - He had reached the door of the cathedral. That which Freckles had - attempted would have been patent to anyone. What had been in the heart of - the shy, silent boy when he had found that long, dim stretch of forest, - decorated its entrance, cleared and smoothed its aisle, and carpeted its - altar? What veriest work of God was in these mighty living pillars and the - arched dome of green! How similar to stained cathedral windows were the - long openings between the trees, filled with rifts of blue, rays of gold, - and the shifting emerald of leaves! Where could be found mosaics to match - this aisle paved with living color and glowing light? Was Freckles a - devout Christian, and did he worship here? Or was he an untaught heathen, - and down this vista of entrancing loveliness did Pan come piping, and - dryads, nymphs, and fairies dance for him? - </p> - <p> - Who can fathom the heart of a boy? McLean had been thinking of Freckles as - a creature of unswerving honesty, courage, and faithfulness. Here was - evidence of a heart aching for beauty, art, companionship, worship. It was - writ large all over the floor, walls, and furnishing of that little - Limberlost clearing. - </p> - <p> - When Duncan came, McLean told him the story of the fight, and they laughed - until they cried. Then they started around the line in search of the tree. - </p> - <p> - Said Duncan: “Now the boy is in for sore trouble!” - </p> - <p> - “I hope not,” answered McLean. “You never in all your life saw a cur - whipped so completely. He won't come back for the repetition of the - chorus. We surely can find the tree. If we can't, Freckles can. I will - bring enough of the gang to take it out at once. That will insure peace - for a time, at least, and I am hoping that in a month more the whole gang - may be moved here. It soon will be fall, and then, if he will go, I intend - to send Freckles to my mother to be educated. With his quickness of mind - and body and a few years' good help he can do anything. Why, Duncan, I'd - give a hundred-dollar bill if you could have been here and seen for - yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and I'd 'a' done murder,” muttered the big teamster. “I hope, sir, - ye will make good your plans for Freckles, though I'd as soon see ony born - child o' my ain taken from our home. We love the lad, me and Sarah.” - </p> - <p> - Locating the tree was easy, because it was so well identified. When the - rumble of the big lumber wagons passing the cabin on the way to the swamp - wakened Freckles next morning, he sprang up and was soon following them. - He was so sore and stiff that every movement was torture at first, but he - grew easier, and shortly did not suffer so much. McLean scolded him for - coming, yet in his heart triumphed over every new evidence of fineness in - the boy. - </p> - <p> - The tree was a giant maple, and so precious that they almost dug it out by - the roots. When it was down, cut in lengths, and loaded, there was yet an - empty wagon. As they were gathering up their tools to go, Duncan said: - “There's a big hollow tree somewhere mighty close here that I've been - wanting for a watering-trough for my stock; the one I have is so small. - The Portland company cut this for elm butts last year, and it's six feet - diameter and hollow for forty feet. It was a buster! While the men are - here and there is an empty wagon, why mightn't I load it on and tak' it up - to the barn as we pass?” - </p> - <p> - McLean said he was very willing, ordered the driver to break line and load - the log, detailing men to assist. He told Freckles to ride on a section of - the maple with him, but now the boy asked to enter the swamp with Duncan. - </p> - <p> - “I don't see why you want to go,” said McLean. “I have no business to let - you out today at all.” - </p> - <p> - “It's me chickens,” whispered Freckles in distress. “You see, I was just - after finding yesterday, from me new book, how they do be nesting in - hollow trees, and there ain't any too many in the swamp. There's just a - chance that they might be in that one.” - </p> - <p> - “Go ahead,” said McLean. “That's a different story. If they happen to be - there, why tell Duncan he must give up the tree until they have finished - with it.” - </p> - <p> - Then he climbed on a wagon and was driven away. Freckles hurried into the - swamp. He was a little behind, yet he could see the men. Before he - overtook them, they had turned from the west road and had entered the - swamp toward the east. - </p> - <p> - They stopped at the trunk of a monstrous prostrate log. It had been cut - three feet from the ground, over three-fourths of the way through, and had - fallen toward the east, the body of the log still resting on the stump. - The underbrush was almost impenetrable, but Duncan plunged in and with a - crowbar began tapping along the trunk to decide how far it was hollow, so - that they would know where to cut. As they waited his decision, there came - from the mouth of it—on wings—a large black bird that swept - over their heads. - </p> - <p> - Freckles danced wildly. “It's me chickens! Oh, it's me chickens!” he - shouted. “Oh, Duncan, come quick! You've found the nest of me precious - chickens!” - </p> - <p> - Duncan hurried to the mouth of the log, but Freckles was before him. He - crashed through poison-vines and underbrush regardless of any danger, and - climbed on the stump. When Duncan came he was shouting like a wild man. - </p> - <p> - “It's hatched!” he yelled. “Oh, me big chicken has hatched out me little - chicken, and there's another egg. I can see it plain, and oh, the funny - little white baby! Oh, Duncan, can you see me little white chicken?” - </p> - <p> - Duncan could easily see it; so could everyone else. Freckles crept into - the log and tenderly carried the hissing, blinking little bird to the - light in a leaf-lined hat. The men found it sufficiently wonderful to - satisfy even Freckles, who had forgotten he was ever sore or stiff, and - coddled over it with every blarneying term of endearment he knew. - </p> - <p> - Duncan gathered his tools. “Deal's off, boys!” he said cheerfully. “This - log mauna be touched until Freckles' chaukies have finished with it. We - might as weel gang. Better put it back, Freckles. It's just out, and it - may chill. Ye will probably hae twa the morn.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles crept into the log and carefully deposited the baby beside the - egg. When he came back, he said: “I made a big mistake not to be bringing - the egg out with the baby, but I was fearing to touch it. It's shaped like - a hen's egg, and it's big as a turkey's, and the beautifulest blue—just - splattered with big brown splotches, like me book said, precise. Bet you - never saw such a sight as it made on the yellow of the rotten wood beside - that funny leathery-faced little white baby.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell you what, Freckles,” said one of the teamsters. “Have you ever heard - of this Bird Woman who goes all over the country with a camera and makes - pictures? She made some on my brother Jim's place last summer, and Jim's - so wild about them he quits plowing and goes after her about every nest he - finds. He helps her all he can to take them, and then she gives him a - picture. Jim's so proud of what he has he keeps them in the Bible. He - shows them to everybody that comes, and brags about how he helped. If - you're smart, you'll send for her and she'll come and make a picture just - like life. If you help her, she will give you one. It would be uncommon - pretty to keep, after your birds are gone. I dunno what they are. I never - see their like before. They must be something rare. Any you fellows ever - see a bird like that hereabouts?” - </p> - <p> - No one ever had. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said the teamster, “failing to get this log lets me off till noon, - and I'm going to town. I go right past her place. I've a big notion to - stop and tell her. If she drives straight back in the swamp on the west - road, and turns east at this big sycamore, she can't miss finding the - tree, even if Freckles ain't here to show her. Jim says her work is a - credit to the State she lives in, and any man is a measly creature who - isn't willing to help her all he can. My old daddy used to say that all - there was to religion was doing to the other fellow what you'd want him to - do to you, and if I was making a living taking bird pictures, seems to me - I'd be mighty glad for a chance to take one like that. So I'll just stop - and tell her, and by gummy! maybe she will give me a picture of the little - white sucker for my trouble.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles touched his arm. - </p> - <p> - “Will she be rough with it?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Government land! No!” said the teamster. “She's dead down on anybody that - shoots a bird or tears up a nest. Why, she's half killing herself in all - kinds of places and weather to teach people to love and protect the birds. - She's that plum careful of them that Jim's wife says she has Jim a - standin' like a big fool holding an ombrelly over them when they are young - and tender until she gets a focus, whatever that is. Jim says there ain't - a bird on his place that don't actually seem to like having her around - after she has wheedled them a few days, and the pictures she takes nobody - would ever believe who didn't stand by and see.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you he sure to tell her to come?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - Duncan slept at home that night. He heard Freckles slipping out early the - next morning, but he was too sleepy to wonder why, until he came to do his - morning chores. When he found that none of his stock was at all thirsty, - and saw the water-trough brimming, he knew that the boy was trying to make - up to him for the loss of the big trough that he had been so anxious to - have. - </p> - <p> - “Bless his fool little hot heart!” said Duncan. “And him so sore it is - tearing him to move for anything. Nae wonder he has us all loving him!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles was moving briskly, and his heart was so happy that he forgot all - about the bruises. He hurried around the trail, and on his way down the - east side he went to see the chickens. The mother bird was on the nest. He - was afraid the other egg might be hatching, so he did not venture to - disturb her. He made the round and reached his study early. He ate his - lunch, but did not need to start on the second trip until the middle of - the afternoon. He would have long hours to work on his flower bed, improve - his study, and learn about his chickens. Lovingly he set his room in order - and watered the flowers and carpet. He had chosen for his resting-place - the coolest spot on the west side, where there was almost always a breeze; - but today the heat was so intense that it penetrated even there. - </p> - <p> - “I'm mighty glad there's nothing calling me inside!” he said. “There's no - bit of air stirring, and it will just be steaming. Oh, but it's luck - Duncan found the nest before it got so unbearing hot! I might have missed - it altogether. Wouldn't it have been a shame to lose that sight? The - cunning little divil! When he gets to toddling down that log to meet me, - won't he be a circus? Wonder if he'll be as graceful a performer afoot as - his father and mother?” - </p> - <p> - The heat became more insistent. Noon came; Freckles ate his dinner and - settled for an hour or two on a bench with a book. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein an Angel Materializes and a Man Worships - </h3> - <p> - Perhaps there was a breath of sound—Freckles never afterward could - remember—but for some reason he lifted his head as the bushes parted - and the face of an angel looked between. Saints, nymphs, and fairies had - floated down his cathedral aisle for him many times, with forms and voices - of exquisite beauty. - </p> - <p> - Parting the wild roses at the entrance was beauty of which Freckles never - had dreamed. Was it real or would it vanish as the other dreams? He - dropped his book, and rising to his feet, went a step closer, gazing - intently. This was real flesh and blood. It was in every way kin to the - Limberlost, for no bird of its branches swung with easier grace than this - dainty young thing rocked on the bit of morass on which she stood. A - sapling beside her was not straighter or rounder than her slender form. - Her soft, waving hair clung around her face from the heat, and curled over - her shoulders. It was all of one piece with the gold of the sun that - filtered between the branches. Her eyes were the deepest blue of the iris, - her lips the reddest red of the foxfire, while her cheeks were exactly of - the same satin as the wild rose petals caressing them. She was smiling at - Freckles in perfect confidence, and she cried: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I'm so delighted that I've found you!” - </p> - <p> - The wildly leaping heart of Freckles burst from his body and fell in the - black swamp-muck at her feet with such a thud that he did not understand - how she could avoid hearing. He really felt that if she looked down she - would see. - </p> - <p> - Incredulous, he quavered: “An'—an' was you looking for me?” - </p> - <p> - “I hoped I might find you,” said the Angel. “You see, I didn't do as I was - told, and I'm lost. The Bird Woman said I should wait in the carriage - until she came back. She's been gone hours. It's a perfect Turkish bath in - there, and I'm all lumpy with mosquito bites. Just when I thought that I - couldn't bear it another minute, along came the biggest Papilio Ajax you - ever saw. I knew how pleased she'd be, so I ran after it. It flew so slow - and so low that I thought a dozen times I had it. Then all at once it went - from sight above the trees, and I couldn't find my way back to save me. I - think I've walked more than an hour. I have been mired to my knees. A - thorn raked my arm until it is bleeding, and I'm so tired and warm.” - </p> - <p> - She parted the bushes farther. Freckles saw that her blue cotton frock - clung to her, limp with perspiration. It was torn across the breast. One - sleeve hung open from shoulder to elbow. A thorn had torn her arm until it - was covered with blood, and the gnats and mosquitoes were clustering - around it. Her feet were in lace hose and low shoes. Freckles gasped. In - the Limberlost in low shoes! He caught an armful of moss from his carpet - and buried it in the ooze in front of her for a footing. - </p> - <p> - “Come out here so I can see where you are stepping. Quick, for the life of - you!” he ordered. - </p> - <p> - She smiled on him indulgently. - </p> - <p> - “Why?” she inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Did anybody let you come here and not be telling you of the snakes?” - urged Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “We met Mr. McLean on the corduroy, and he did say something about snakes, - I believe. The Bird Woman put on leather leggings, and a nice, parboiled - time she must be having! Worst dose I ever endured, and I'd nothing to do - but swelter.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you be coming out of there?” groaned Freckles. - </p> - <p> - She laughed as if it were a fine joke. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe if I'd be telling you I killed a rattler curled upon that same - place you're standing, as long as me body and the thickness of me arm, - you'd be moving where I can see your footing,” he urged insistently. - </p> - <p> - “What a perfectly delightful little brogue you speak,” she said. “My - father is Irish, and half should be enough to entitle me to that much. - 'Maybe—if I'd—be telling you,'” she imitated, rounding and - accenting each word carefully. - </p> - <p> - Freckles was beginning to feel a wildness in his head. He had derided - Wessner at that same hour yesterday. Now his own eyes were filling with - tears. - </p> - <p> - “If you were understanding the danger!” he continued desperately. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I don't think there is much!” - </p> - <p> - She tilted on the morass. - </p> - <p> - “If you killed one snake here, it's probably all there is near; and - anyway, the Bird Woman says a rattlesnake is a gentleman and always gives - warning before he strikes. I don't hear any rattling. Do you?” - </p> - <p> - “Would you be knowing it if you did?” asked Freckles, almost impatiently. - </p> - <p> - How the laugh of the young thing rippled! - </p> - <p> - “'Would I be knowing it?'” she mocked. “You should see the swamps of - Michigan where they dump rattlers from the marl-dredgers three and four at - a time!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood astounded. She did know. She was not in the least afraid. - She was depending on a rattlesnake to live up to his share of the contract - and rattle in time for her to move. The one characteristic an Irishman - admires in a woman, above all others, is courage. Freckles worshiped anew. - He changed his tactics. - </p> - <p> - “I'd be pleased to be receiving you at me front door,” he said, “but as - you have arrived at the back, will you come in and be seated?” - </p> - <p> - He waved toward a bench. The Angel came instantly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, how lovely and cool!” she cried. - </p> - <p> - As she moved across his room, Freckles had difficult work to keep from - falling on his knees; for they were very weak, while he was hard driven by - an impulse to worship. - </p> - <p> - “Did you arrange this?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” said Freckles simply. - </p> - <p> - “Someone must come with a big canvas and copy each side of it,” she said. - “I never saw anything so beautiful! How I wish I might remain here with - you! I will, some day, if you will let me; but now, if you can spare the - time, will you help me find the carriage? If the Bird Woman comes back and - I am gone, she will be almost distracted.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you come on the west road?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I think so,” she said. “The man who told the Bird Woman said that was the - only place the wires were down. We drove away in, and it was dreadful—over - stumps and logs, and we mired to the hubs. I suppose you know, though. I - should have stayed in the carriage, but I was so tired. I never dreamed of - getting lost. I suspect I will be scolded finely. I go with the Bird Woman - half the time during the summer vacations. My father says I learn a lot - more than I do at school, and get it straight. I never came within a smell - of being lost before. I thought, at first, it was going to be horrid; but - since I've found you, maybe it will be good fun after all.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles was amazed to hear himself excusing: “It was so hot in there. You - couldn't be expected to bear it for hours and not be moving. I can take - you around the trail almost to where you were. Then you can sit in the - carriage, and I will go find the Bird Woman.” - </p> - <p> - “You'll be killed if you do! When she stays this long, it means that she - has a focus on something. You see, when she has a focus, and lies in the - weeds and water for hours, and the sun bakes her, and things crawl over - her, and then someone comes along and scares her bird away just as she has - it coaxed up—why, she kills them. If I melt, you won't go after her. - She's probably blistered and half eaten up; but she never will quit until - she is satisfied.” - </p> - <p> - “Then it will be safer to be taking care of you,” suggested Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Now you're talking sense!” said the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “May I try to help your arm?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Have you any idea how it hurts?” she parried. - </p> - <p> - “A little,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Mr. McLean said We'd probably find his son here” - </p> - <p> - “His son!” cried Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “That's what he said. And that you would do anything you could for us; and - that we could trust you with our lives. But I would have trusted you - anyway, if I hadn't known a thing about you. Say, your father is rampaging - proud of you, isn't he?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” answered the dazed Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Well, call on me if you want reliable information. He's so proud of you - he is all swelled up like the toad in AEsop's Fables. If you have ever had - an arm hurt like this, and can do anything, why, for pity sake, do it!” - </p> - <p> - She turned back her sleeve, holding toward Freckles an arm of palest - cameo, shaped so exquisitely that no sculptor could have chiseled it. - </p> - <p> - Freckles unlocked his case, and taking out some cotton cloth, he tore it - in strips. Then he brought a bucket of the cleanest water he could find. - She yielded herself to his touch as a baby, and he bathed away the blood - and bandaged the ugly, ragged wound. He finished his surgery by lapping - the torn sleeve over the cloth and binding it down with a piece of twine, - with the Angel's help about the knots. - </p> - <p> - Freckles worked with trembling fingers and a face tense with earnestness. - </p> - <p> - “Is it feeling any better?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it's well now!” cried the Angel. “It doesn't hurt at all, any more.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm mighty glad,” said Freckles. “But you had best go and be having your - doctor fix it right; the minute you get home.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, bother! A little scratch like that!” jeered the Angel. “My blood is - perfectly pure. It will heal in three days.” - </p> - <p> - “It's cut cruel deep. It might be making a scar,” faltered Freckles, his - eyes on the ground. “'Twould—'twould be an awful pity. A doctor - might know something to prevent it.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I never thought of that!” exclaimed the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “I noticed you didn't,” said Freckles softly. “I don't know much about it, - but it seems as if most girls would.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel thought intently, while Freckles still knelt beside her. - Suddenly she gave herself an impatient little shake, lifted her glorious - eyes full to his, and the smile that swept her sweet, young face was the - loveliest thing that Freckles ever had seen. - </p> - <p> - “Don't let's bother about it,” she proposed, with the faintest hint of a - confiding gesture toward him. “It won't make a scar. Why, it couldn't, - when you have dressed it so nicely.” - </p> - <p> - The velvety touch of her warm arm was tingling in Freckles' fingertips. - Dainty lace and fine white ribbon peeped through her torn dress. There - were beautiful rings on her fingers. Every article she wore was of the - finest material and in excellent taste. There was the trembling Limberlost - guard in his coarse clothing, with his cotton rags and his old pail of - swamp water. Freckles was sufficiently accustomed to contrasts to notice - them, and sufficiently fine to be hurt by them always. - </p> - <p> - He lifted his eyes with a shadowy pain in them to hers, and found them of - serene, unconscious purity. What she had said was straight from a kind, - untainted, young heart. She meant every word of it. Freckles' soul - sickened. He scarcely knew whether he could muster strength to stand. - </p> - <p> - “We must go and hunt for the carriage,” said the Angel, rising. - </p> - <p> - In instant alarm for her, Freckles sprang up, grasped the cudgel, and led - the way, sharply watching every step. He went as close the log as he felt - that he dared, and with a little searching found the carriage. He cleared - a path for the Angel, and with a sigh of relief saw her enter it safely. - The heat was intense. She pushed the damp hair from her temples. - </p> - <p> - “This is a shame!” said Freckles. “You'll never be coming here again.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes I shall!” said the Angel. “The Bird Woman says that these birds - remain over a month in the nest and she would like to make a picture every - few days for seven or eight weeks, perhaps.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles barely escaped crying aloud for joy. - </p> - <p> - “Then don't you ever be torturing yourself and your horse to be coming in - here again,” he said. “I'll show you a way to drive almost to the nest on - the east trail, and then you can come around to my room and stay while the - Bird Woman works. It's nearly always cool there, and there's comfortable - seats, and water.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! did you have drinking-water there?” she cried. “I was never so - thirsty or so hungry in my life, but I thought I wouldn't mention it.” - </p> - <p> - “And I had not the wit to be seeing!” wailed Freckles. “I can be getting - you a good drink in no time.” - </p> - <p> - He turned to the trail. - </p> - <p> - “Please wait a minute,” called the Angel. “What's your name? I want to - think about you while you are gone.” Freckles lifted his face with the - brown rift across it and smiled quizzically. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles?” she guessed, with a peal of laughter. “And mine is——” - </p> - <p> - “I'm knowing yours,” interrupted Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I don't believe you do. What is it?” asked the girl. - </p> - <p> - “You won't be getting angry?” - </p> - <p> - “Not until I've had the water, at least.” - </p> - <p> - It was Freckles' turn to laugh. He whipped off his big, floppy straw hat, - stood uncovered before her, and said, in the sweetest of all the sweet - tones of his voice: “There's nothing you could be but the Swamp Angel.” - </p> - <p> - The girl laughed happily. - </p> - <p> - Once out of her sight, Freckles ran every step of the way to the cabin. - Mrs. Duncan gave him a small bucket of water, cool from the well. He - carried it in the crook of his right arm, and a basket filled with bread - and butter, cold meat, apple pie, and pickles, in his left hand. - </p> - <p> - “Pickles are kind o' cooling,” said Mrs. Duncan. - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles ran again. - </p> - <p> - The Angel was on her knees, reaching for the bucket, as he came up. - </p> - <p> - “Be drinking slow,” he cautioned her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” she cried, with a long breath of satisfaction. “It's so good! You - are more than kind to bring it!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood blinking in the dazzling glory of her smile until he - scarcely could see to lift the basket. - </p> - <p> - “Mercy!” she exclaimed. “I think I had better be naming you the 'Angel.' - My Guardian Angel.” - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” said Freckles. “I look the character every day—but today most - emphatic!” - </p> - <p> - “Angels don't go by looks,” laughed the girl. “Your father told us you had - been scrapping. But he told us why. I'd gladly wear all your cuts and - bruises if I could do anything that would make my father look as peacocky - as yours did. He strutted about proper. I never saw anyone look prouder.” - </p> - <p> - “Did he say he was proud of me?” marveled Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “He didn't need to,” answered the Angel. “He was radiating pride from - every pore. Now, have you brought me your dinner?” - </p> - <p> - “I had my dinner two hours ago,” answered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Honest Injun?” bantered the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “Honest! I brought that on purpose for you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, if you knew how hungry I am, you would know how thankful I am, to - the dot,” said the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “Then you be eating,” cried the happy Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The Angel sat on a big camera, spread the lunch on the carriage seat, and - divided it in halves. The daintiest parts she could select she carefully - put back into the basket. The remainder she ate. Again Freckles found her - of the swamp, for though she was almost ravenous, she managed her food as - gracefully as his little yellow fellow, and her every movement was easy - and charming. As he watched her with famished eyes, Freckles told her of - his birds, flowers, and books, and never realized what he was doing. - </p> - <p> - He led the horse to a deep pool that he knew of, and the tortured creature - drank greedily, and lovingly rubbed him with its nose as he wiped down its - welted body with grass. Suddenly the Angel cried: “There comes the Bird - Woman!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles had intended leaving before she came, but now he was glad indeed - to be there, for a warmer, more worn, and worse bitten creature he never - had seen. She was staggering under a load of cameras and paraphernalia. - Freckles ran to her aid. He took all he could carry of her load, stowed it - in the back of the carriage, and helped her in. The Angel gave her water, - knelt and unfastened the leggings, bathed her face, and offered the lunch. - </p> - <p> - Freckles brought the horse. He was not sure about the harness, but the - Angel knew, and soon they left the swamp. Then he showed them how to reach - the chicken tree from the outside, indicated a cooler place for the horse, - and told them how, the next time they came, the Angel could find his room - while she waited. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman finished her lunch, and lay back, almost too tired to - speak. - </p> - <p> - “Were you for getting Little Chicken's picture?” Freckles asked. - </p> - <p> - “Finely!” she answered. “He posed splendidly. But I couldn't do anything - with his mother. She will require coaxing.” - </p> - <p> - “The Lord be praised!” muttered Freckles under his breath. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman began to feel better. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you call the baby vulture 'Little Chicken'?” she asked, leaning - toward Freckles in an interested manner. - </p> - <p> - “'Twas Duncan began it,” said Freckles. “You see, through the fierce cold - of winter the birds of the swamp were almost starving. It is mighty lonely - here, and they were all the company I was having. I got to carrying scraps - and grain down to them. Duncan was that ginerous he was giving me of his - wheat and corn from his chickens' feed, and he called the birds me swamp - chickens. Then when these big black fellows came, Mr. McLean said they - were our nearest kind to some in the old world that they called 'Pharaoh's - Chickens,' and he called mine 'Freckles' Chickens.'” - </p> - <p> - “Good enough!” cried the Bird Woman, her splotched purple face lighting - with interest. “You must shoot something for them occasionally, and I'll - bring more food when I come. If you will help me keep them until I get my - series, I'll give you a copy of each study I make, mounted in a book.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles drew a deep breath. - </p> - <p> - “I'll be doing me very best,” he promised, and from the deeps he meant it. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if that other egg is going to hatch?” mused the Bird Woman. “I - am afraid not. It should have pipped today. Isn't it a beauty! I never - before saw either an egg or the young. They are rare this far north.” - </p> - <p> - “So Mr. McLean said,” answered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - Before they drove away, the Bird Woman thanked him for his kindness to the - Angel and to her. She gave him her hand at parting, and Freckles joyfully - realized that this was going to be another person for him to love. He - could not remember, after they had driven away, that they even had noticed - his missing hand, and for the first time in his life he had forgotten it. - </p> - <p> - When the Bird Woman and the Angel were on the home road, she told of the - little corner of paradise into which she had strayed and of her new name. - The Bird Woman looked at the girl and guessed its appropriateness. - </p> - <p> - “Did you know Mr. McLean had a son?” asked the Angel. “Isn't the little - accent he has, and the way he twists a sentence, too dear? And isn't it - too old-fashioned and funny to hear him call his father 'mister'?” - </p> - <p> - “It sounds too good to be true,” said the Bird Woman, answering the last - question first. “I am so tired of these present-day young men who - patronizingly call their fathers 'Dad,' 'Governor,' 'Old Man' and 'Old - Chap,' that the boy's attitude of respect and deference appealed to me as - being fine as silk. There must be something rare about that young man.” - </p> - <p> - She did not find it necessary to tell the Angel that for several years she - had known the man who so proudly proclaimed himself Freckles' father to be - a bachelor and a Scotchman. The Bird Woman had a fine way of attending - strictly to her own business. - </p> - <p> - Freckles turned to the trail, but he stopped at every wild brier to study - the pink satin of the petals. She was not of his world, and better than - any other he knew it; but she might be his Angel, and he was dreaming of - naught but blind, silent worship. He finished the happiest day of his - life, and that night he returned to the swamp as if drawn by invisible - force. That Wessner would try for his revenge, he knew. That he would be - abetted by Black Jack was almost certain, but fear had fled the happy - heart of Freckles. He had kept his trust. He had won the respect of the - Boss. No one ever could wipe from his heart the flood of holy adoration - that had welled with the coming of his Angel. He would do his best, and - trust for strength to meet the dark day of reckoning that he knew would - come sooner or later. He swung round the trail, briskly tapping the wire, - and singing in a voice that scarcely could have been surpassed for - sweetness. - </p> - <p> - At the edge of the clearing he came into the bright moonlight and there - sat McLean on his mare. Freckles hurried to him. - </p> - <p> - “Is there trouble?” he inquired anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “That's what I wanted to ask you,” said the Boss. “I stopped at the cabin - to see you a minute, before I turned in, and they said you had come down - here. You must not do it, Freckles. The swamp is none too healthful at any - time, and at night it is rank poison.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood combing his fingers through Nellie's mane, while the dainty - creature was twisting her head for his caresses. He pushed back his hat - and looked into McLean's face. “It's come to the 'sleep with one eye - open,' sir. I'm not looking for anything to be happening for a week or - two, but it's bound to come, and soon. If I'm to keep me trust as I've - promised you and meself, I've to live here mostly until the gang comes. - You must be knowing that, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm afraid it's true, Freckles,” said McLean. “And I've decided to double - the guard until we come. It will be only a few weeks, now; and I'm so - anxious for you that you must not be left alone further. If anything - should happen to you, Freckles, it would spoil one of the very dearest - plans of my life.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles heard with dismay the proposition to place a second guard. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! no, no, Mr. McLean,” he cried. “Not for the world! I wouldn't be - having a stranger around, scaring me birds and tramping up me study, and - disturbing all me ways, for any money! I am all the guard you need! I will - be faithful! I will turn over the lease with no tree missing—on me - life, I will! Oh, don't be sending another man to set them saying I turned - coward and asked for help. It will just kill the honor of me heart if you - do it. The only thing I want is another gun. If it railly comes to - trouble, six cartridges ain't many, and you know I am slow-like about - reloading.” McLean reached into his hip pocket and handed a shining big - revolver to Freckles, who slipped it beside the one already in his belt. - </p> - <p> - Then the Boss sat brooding. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” he said at last, “we never know the timber of a man's soul - until something cuts into him deeply and brings the grain out strong. - You've the making of a mighty fine piece of furniture, my boy, and you - shall have your own way these few weeks yet. Then, if you will go, I - intend to take you to the city and educate you, and you are to be my son, - my lad—my own son!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles twisted his finger in Nellie's mane to steady himself. - </p> - <p> - “But why should you be doing that, sir?” he faltered. - </p> - <p> - McLean slid his arm around the boy's shoulder and gathered him close. - </p> - <p> - “Because I love you, Freckles,” he said simply. - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted a white face. “My God, sir!” he whispered. “Oh, my God!” - </p> - <p> - McLean tightened his clasp a second longer, then he rode down the trail. - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted his hat and faced the sky. The harvest moon looked down, - sheeting the swamp in silver glory. The Limberlost sang her night song. - The swale softly rustled in the wind. Winged things of night brushed his - face; and still Freckles gazed upward, trying to fathom these things that - had come to him. There was no help from the sky. It seemed far away, cold, - and blue. The earth, where flowers blossomed, angels walked, and love - could be found, was better. But to One, above, he must make acknowledgment - for these miracles. His lips moved and he began talking softly. - </p> - <p> - “Thank You for each separate good thing that has come to me,” he said, - “and above all for the falling of the feather. For if it didn't really - fall from an angel, its falling brought an Angel, and if it's in the great - heart of you to exercise yourself any further about me, oh, do please to - be taking good care of her!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight - </h3> - <p> - The following morning Freckles, inexpressibly happy, circled the - Limberlost. He kept snatches of song ringing, as well as the wires. His - heart was so full that tears of joy glistened in his eyes. He rigorously - strove to divide his thought evenly between McLean and the Angel. He - realized to the fullest the debt he already owed the Boss and the - magnitude of last night's declaration and promises. He was hourly planning - to deliver his trust and then enter with equal zeal on whatever task his - beloved Boss saw fit to set him next. He wanted to be ready to meet every - device that Wessner and Black Jack could think of to outwit him. He - recognized their double leverage, for if they succeeded in felling even - one tree McLean became liable for his wager. - </p> - <p> - Freckles' brow wrinkled in his effort to think deeply and strongly, but - from every swaying wild rose the Angel beckoned to him. When he crossed - Sleepy Snake Creek and the goldfinch, waiting as ever, challenged: “SEE - ME?” Freckles saw the dainty swaying grace of the Angel instead. What is a - man to do with an Angel who dismembers herself and scatters over a whole - swamp, thrusting a vivid reminder upon him at every turn? - </p> - <p> - Freckles counted the days. This first one he could do little but test his - wires, sing broken snatches, and dream; but before the week would bring - her again he could do many things. He would carry all his books to the - swamp to show to her. He would complete his flower bed, arrange every - detail he had planned for his room, and make of it a bower fairies might - envy. He must devise a way to keep water cool. He would ask Mrs. Duncan - for a double lunch and an especially nice one the day of her next coming, - so that if the Bird Woman happened to be late, the Angel might not suffer - from thirst and hunger. He would tell her to bring heavy leather leggings, - so that he might take her on a trip around the trail. She should make - friends with all of his chickens and see their nests. - </p> - <p> - On the line he talked of her incessantly. - </p> - <p> - “You needn't be thinking,” he said to the goldfinch, “that because I'm - coming down this line alone day after day, it's always to be so. Some of - these times you'll be swinging on this wire, and you'll see me coming, and - you'll swing, skip, and flirt yourself around, and chip up right spunky: - 'SEE ME?' I'll be saying 'See you? Oh, Lord! See her!' You'll look, and - there she'll stand. The sunshine won't look gold any more, or the roses - pink, or the sky blue, because she'll be the pinkest, bluest, goldest - thing of all. You'll be yelling yourself hoarse with the jealousy of her. - The sawbird will stretch his neck out of joint, and she'll turn the heads - of all the flowers. Wherever she goes, I can go back afterward and see the - things she's seen, walk the path she's walked, hear the grasses whispering - over all she's said; and if there's a place too swampy for her bits of - feet; Holy Mother! Maybe—maybe she'd be putting the beautiful arms - of her around me neck and letting me carry her over!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles shivered as with a chill. He sent the cudgel whirling skyward, - dexterously caught it, and set it spinning. - </p> - <p> - “You damned presumptuous fool!” he cried. “The thing for you to be - thinking of would be to stretch in the muck for the feet of her to be - walking over, and then you could hold yourself holy to be even of that - service to her. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe she'll be wanting the cup me blue-and-brown chickens raised their - babies in. Perhaps she'd like to stop at the pool and see me bullfrog that - had the goodness to take on human speech to show me the way out of me - trouble. If there's any feathers falling that day, why, it's from the - wings of me chickens—it's sure to be, for the only Angel outside the - gates will be walking this timberline, and every step of the way I'll be - holding me breath and praying that she don't unfold wings and sail away - before the hungry eyes of me.” - </p> - <p> - So Freckles dreamed his dreams, made his plans, and watched his line. He - counted not only the days, but the hours of each day. As he told them off, - every one bringing her closer, he grew happier in the prospect of her - coming. He managed daily to leave some offering at the big elm log for his - black chickens. He slipped under the line at every passing, and went to - make sure that nothing was molesting them. Though it was a long trip, he - paid them several extra visits a day for fear a snake, hawk, or fox might - have found the baby. For now his chickens not only represented all his - former interest in them, but they furnished the inducement that was - bringing his Angel. - </p> - <p> - Possibly he could find other subjects that the Bird Woman wanted. The - teamster had said that his brother went after her every time he found a - nest. He never had counted the nests that he knew of, and it might be that - among all the birds of the swamp some would be rare to her. - </p> - <p> - The feathered folk of the Limberlost were practically undisturbed save by - their natural enemies. It was very probable that among his chickens others - as odd as the big black ones could be found. If she wanted pictures of - half-grown birds, he could pick up fifty in one morning's trip around the - line, for he had fed, handled, and made friends with them ever since their - eyes opened. - </p> - <p> - He had gathered bugs and worms all spring as he noticed them on the grass - and bushes, and dropped them into the first little open mouth he had - found. The babies gladly had accepted this queer tri-parent addition to - their natural providers. - </p> - <p> - When the week had passed, Freckles had his room crisp and glowing with - fresh living things that represented every color of the swamp. He carried - bark and filled all the muckiest places of the trail. - </p> - <p> - It was middle July. The heat of the past few days had dried the water - around and through the Limberlost, so that it was possible to cross it on - foot in almost any direction—if one had an idea of direction and did - not become completely lost in its rank tangle of vegetation and bushes. - The brighter-hued flowers were opening. The trumpet-creepers were - flaunting their gorgeous horns of red and gold sweetness from the tops of - lordly oak and elm, and below entire pools were pink-sheeted in mallow - bloom. - </p> - <p> - The heat was doing one other thing that was bound to make Freckles, as a - good Irishman, shiver. As the swale dried, its inhabitants were seeking - the cooler depths of the swamp. They liked neither the heat nor leaving - the field mice, moles, and young rabbits of their chosen location. He saw - them crossing the trail every day as the heat grew intense. The rattlers - were sadly forgetting their manners, for they struck on no provocation - whatever, and did not even remember to rattle afterward. Daily Freckles - was compelled to drive big black snakes and blue racers from the nests of - his chickens. Often the terrified squalls of the parent birds would reach - him far down the line and he would run to rescue the babies. - </p> - <p> - He saw the Angel when the carriage turned from the corduroy into the - clearing. They stopped at the west entrance to the swamp, waiting for him - to precede them down the trail, as he had told them it was safest for the - horse that he should do. They followed the east line to a point opposite - the big chickens' tree, and Freckles carried in the cameras and showed the - Bird Woman a path he had cleared to the log. He explained to her the - effect the heat was having on the snakes, and creeping back to Little - Chicken, brought him to the light. As she worked at setting up her camera, - he told her of the birds of the line, while she stared at him, wide-eyed - and incredulous. - </p> - <p> - They arranged that Freckles should drive the carriage into the east - entrance in the shade and then take the horse toward the north to a better - place he knew. Then he was to entertain the Angel at his study or on the - line until the Bird Woman finished her work and came to them. - </p> - <p> - “This will take only a little time,” she said. “I know where to set the - camera now, and Little Chicken is big enough to be good and too small to - run away or to act very ugly, so I will be coming soon to see about those - nests. I have ten plates along, and I surely won't use more than two on - him; so perhaps I can get some nests or young birds this morning.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles almost flew, for his dream had come true so soon. He was walking - the timber-line and the Angel was following him. He asked to be excused - for going first, because he wanted to be sure the trail was safe for her. - She laughed at his fears, telling him that it was the polite thing for him - to do, anyway. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” said Freckles, “so you was after knowing that? Well, I didn't s'pose - you did, and I was afraid you'd think me wanting in respect to be - preceding you!” - </p> - <p> - The astonished Angel looked at him, caught the irrepressible gleam of - Irish fun in his eyes, so they stood and laughed together. - </p> - <p> - Freckles did not realize how he was talking that morning. He showed her - many of the beautiful nests and eggs of the line. She could identify a - number of them, but of some she was ignorant, so they made notes of the - number and color of the eggs, material, and construction of nest, color, - size, and shape of the birds, and went to find them in the book. - </p> - <p> - At his room, when Freckles had lifted the overhanging bushes and stepped - back for her to enter, his heart was all out of time and place. The study - was vastly more beautiful than a week previous. The Angel drew a deep - breath and stood gazing first at one side, then at another, then far down - the cathedral aisle. “It's just fairyland!” she cried ecstatically. Then - she turned and stared at Freckles as she had at his handiwork. - </p> - <p> - “What are you planning to be?” she asked wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “Whatever Mr. McLean wants me to,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - “What do you do most?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Watch me lines.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't mean work!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, in me spare time I keep me room and study in me books.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you work on the room or the books most?” - </p> - <p> - “On the room only what it takes to keep it up, and the rest of the time on - me books.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel studied him closely. “Well, maybe you are going to be a great - scholar,” she said, “but you don't look it. Your face isn't right for - that, but it's got something big in it—something really great. I - must find out what it is and then you must work on it. Your father is - expecting you to do something. One can tell by the way he talks. You - should begin right away. You've wasted too much time already.” - </p> - <p> - Poor Freckles hung his head. He never had wasted an hour in his life. - There never had been one that was his to waste. - </p> - <p> - The Angel, studying him intently, read the thought in his face. “Oh, I - don't mean that!” she cried, with the frank dismay of sixteen. “Of course, - you're not lazy! No one ever would think that from your appearance. It's - this I mean: there is something fine, strong, and full of power in your - face. There is something you are to do in this world, and no matter how - you work at all these other things, or how successfully you do them, it is - all wasted until you find the ONE THING that you can do best. If you - hadn't a thing in the world to keep you, and could go anywhere you please - and do anything you want, what would you do?” persisted the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “I'd go to Chicago and sing in the First Episcopal choir,” answered - Freckles promptly. - </p> - <p> - The Angel dropped on a seat—the hat she had removed and held in her - fingers rolled to her feet. “There!” she exclaimed vehemently. “You can - see what I'm going to be. Nothing! Absolutely nothing! You can sing? Of - course you can sing! It is written all over you.” - </p> - <p> - “Anyone with half wit could have seen he could sing, without having to be - told,” she thought. “It's in the slenderness of his fingers and his quick - nervous touch. It is in the brightness of his hair, the fire of his eyes, - the breadth of his chest, the muscles of his throat and neck; and above - all, it's in every tone of his voice, for even as he speak it's the - sweetest sound I ever heard from the throat of a mortal.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you do something for me?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “I'll do anything in the world you want me to,” said Freckles largely, - “and if I can't do what you want, I'll go to work at once and I'll try - 'til I can.” - </p> - <p> - “Good! That's business!” said the Angel. “You go over there and stand - before that hedge and sing something. Just anything you think of first.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles faced the Angel from his banked wall of brown, blue, and crimson, - with its background of solid green, and lifting his face to the sky, he - sang the first thing that came into his mind. It was a children's song - that he had led for the little folks at the Home many times, recalled to - his mind by the Angel's exclamation: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “To fairyland we go, - With a song of joy, heigh-o. - In dreams we'll stand upon that shore - And all the realm behold; - We'll see the sights so grand - That belong to fairyland, - Its mysteries we will explore, - Its beauties will unfold. - - “Oh, tra, la, la, oh, ha, ha, ha! - We're happy now as we can be, - Our welcome song we will prolong, - And greet you with our melody. - O fairyland, sweet fairyland, - We love to sing——” - </pre> - <p> - No song could have given the intense sweetness and rollicking quality of - Freckles' voice better scope. He forgot everything but pride in his work. - He was singing the chorus, and the Angel was shivering in ecstasy, when - clip! clip! came the sharply beating feet of a swiftly ridden horse down - the trail from the north. They both sprang toward the entrance. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles! Freckles!” called the voice of the Bird Woman. - </p> - <p> - They were at the trail on the instant. - </p> - <p> - “Both those revolvers loaded?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Is there a way you can cut across the swamp and reach the chicken tree in - a few minutes, and with little noise?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Then go flying,” said the Bird Woman. “Give the Angel a lift behind me, - and we will ride the horse back where you left him and wait for you. I - finished Little Chicken in no time and put him back. His mother came so - close, I felt sure she would enter the log. The light was fine, so I set - and focused the camera and covered it with branches, attached the long - hose, and went away over a hundred feet and hid in some bushes to wait. A - short, stout man and a tall, dark one passed me so closely I almost could - have reached out and touched them. They carried a big saw on their - shoulders. They said they could work until near noon, and then they must - lay off until you passed and then try to load and get out at night. They - went on—not entirely from sight—and began cutting a tree. Mr. - McLean told me the other day what would probably happen here, and if they - fell that tree he loses his wager on you. Keep to the east and north and - hustle. We'll meet you at the carriage. I always am armed. Give Angel one - of your revolvers, and you keep the other. We will separate and creep - toward them from different sides and give them a fusillade that will send - them flying. You hurry, now!” - </p> - <p> - She lifted the reins and started briskly down the trail. The Angel, - hatless and with sparkling eyes, was clinging around her waist. - </p> - <p> - Freckles wheeled and ran. He worked his way with much care, dodging limbs - and bushes with noiseless tread, and cutting as closely where he thought - the men were as he felt that he dared if he were to remain unseen. As he - ran he tried to think. It was Wessner, burning for his revenge, aided by - the bully of the locality, that he was going to meet. He was accustomed to - that thought but not to the complication of having two women on his hands - who undoubtedly would have to be taken care of in spite of the Bird - Woman's offer to help him. His heart was jarring as it never had before - with running. He must follow the Bird Woman's plan and meet them at the - carriage, but if they really did intend to try to help him, he must not - allow it. Allow the Angel to try to handle a revolver in his defence? - Never! Not for all the trees in the Limberlost! She might shoot herself. - She might forget to watch sharply and run across a snake that was not - particularly well behaved that morning. Freckles permitted himself a grim - smile as he went speeding on. - </p> - <p> - When he reached the carriage, the Bird Woman and the Angel had the horse - hitched, the outfit packed, and were calmly waiting. The Bird Woman held a - revolver in her hand. She wore dark clothing. They had pinned a big - focusing cloth over the front of the Angel's light dress. - </p> - <p> - “Give Angel one of your revolvers, quick!” said the Bird Woman. “We will - creep up until we are in fair range. The underbrush is so thick and they - are so busy that they will never notice us, if we don't make a noise. You - fire first, then I will pop in from my direction, and then you, Angel, and - shoot quite high, or else very low. We mustn't really hit them. We'll go - close enough to the cowards to make it interesting, and keep it up until - we have them going.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles protested. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman reached over, and, taking the smaller revolver from his - belt, handed it to the Angel. “Keep your nerve steady, dear; watch where - you step, and shoot high,” she said. “Go straight at them from where you - are. Wait until you hear Freckles' first shot, then follow me as closely - as you can, to let them know that we outnumber them. If you want to save - McLean's wager on you, now you go!” she commanded Freckles, who, with an - agonized glance at the Angel, ran toward the east. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman chose the middle distance, and for a last time cautioned - the Angel as she moved away to lie down and shoot high. - </p> - <p> - Through the underbrush the Bird Woman crept even more closely than she had - intended, found a clear range, and waited for Freckles' shot. There was - one long minute of sickening suspense. The men straightened for breath. - Work was difficult with a handsaw in the heat of the swamp. As they - rested, the big dark fellow took a bottle from his pocket and began oiling - the saw. - </p> - <p> - “We got to keep mighty quiet,” he said, “and wait to fell it until that - damned guard has gone to his dinner.” - </p> - <p> - Again they bent to their work. Freckles' revolver spat fire. Lead spanged - on steel. The saw-handle flew from Wessner's hand and he reeled from the - jar of the shock. Black Jack straightened, uttering a fearful oath. The - hat sailed from his head from the far northeast. The Angel had not waited - for the Bird Woman, and her shot scarcely could have been called high. At - almost the same instant the third shot whistled from the east. Black Jack - sprang into the air with a yell of complete panic, for it ripped a heel - from his boot. Freckles emptied his second chamber, and the earth - spattered over Wessner. Shots poured in rapidly. Without even reaching for - a weapon, both men ran toward the east road in great leaping bounds, while - leaden slugs sung and hissed around them in deadly earnest. - </p> - <p> - Freckles was trimming his corners as closely as he dared, but if the Angel - did not really intend to hit, she was taking risks in a scandalous manner. - </p> - <p> - When the men reached the trail, Freckles yelled at the top of his voice: - “Head them off on the south, boys! Fire from the south!” - </p> - <p> - As he had hoped, Jack and Wessner instantly plunged into the swale. A - spattering of lead followed them. They crossed the swale, running low, - with not even one backward glance, and entered the woods beyond the - corduroy. - </p> - <p> - Then the little party gathered at the tree. - </p> - <p> - “I'd better fix this saw so they can't be using it if they come back,” - said Freckles, taking out his hatchet and making saw-teeth fly. - </p> - <p> - “Now we must leave here without being seen,” said the Bird Woman to the - Angel. “It won't do for me to make enemies of these men, for I am likely - to meet them while at work any day.” - </p> - <p> - “You can do it by driving straight north on this road,” said Freckles. “I - will go ahead and cut the wires for you. The swale is almost dry. You will - only be sinking a little. In a few rods you will strike a cornfield. I - will take down the fence and let you into that. Follow the furrows and - drive straight across it until you come to the other side. Be following - the fence south until you come to a road through the woods east of it. - Then take that road and follow east until you reach the pike. You will - come out on your way back to town, and two miles north of anywhere they - are likely to be. Don't for your lives ever let it out that you did this,” - he earnestly cautioned, “for it's black enemies you would be making.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles clipped the wires and they drove through. The Angel leaned from - the carriage and held out his revolver. Freckles looked at her in - surprise. Her eyes were black, while her face was a deeper rose than - usual. He felt that his own was white. - </p> - <p> - “Did I shoot high enough?” she asked sweetly. “I really forgot about lying - down.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles winced. Did the child know how close she had gone? Surely she - could not! Or was it possible that she had the nerve and skill to fire - like that purposely? - </p> - <p> - “I will send the first reliable man I meet for McLean,” said the Bird - Woman, gathering up the lines. “If I don't meet one when we reach town, we - will send a messenger. If it wasn't for having the gang see me, I would go - myself; but I will promise you that you will have help in a little over - two hours. You keep well hidden. They must think some of the gang is with - you now. There isn't a chance that they will be back, but don't run any - risks. Remain under cover. If they should come, it probably would be for - their saw.” She laughed as at a fine joke. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail - </h3> - <p> - Round-eyed, Freckles watched the Bird Woman and the Angel drive away. - After they were from sight and he was safely hidden among the branches of - a small tree, he remembered that he neither had thanked them nor said - good-bye. Considering what they had been through, they never would come - again. His heart sank until he had palpitation in his wading-boots. - </p> - <p> - Stretching the length of the limb, he thought deeply, though he was not - thinking of Black Jack or Wessner. Would the Bird Woman and the Angel come - again? No other woman whom he ever had known would. But did they resemble - any other women he ever had known? He thought of the Bird Woman's - unruffled face and the Angel's revolver practice, and presently he was not - so sure that they would not return. - </p> - <p> - What were the people in the big world like? His knowledge was so very - limited. There had been people at the Home, who exchanged a stilted, - perfunctory kindness for their salaries. The visitors who called on - receiving days he had divided into three classes: the psalm-singing kind, - who came with a tear in the eye and hypocrisy in every feature of their - faces; the kind who dressed in silks and jewels, and handed to those poor - little mother-hungry souls worn toys that their children no longer cared - for, in exactly the same spirit in which they pitched biscuits to the - monkeys at the zoo, and for the same reason—to see how they would - take them and be amused by what they would do; and the third class, whom - he considered real people. They made him feel they cared that he was - there, and that they would have been glad to see him elsewhere. - </p> - <p> - Now here was another class, that had all they needed of the world's best - and were engaged in doing work that counted. They had things worth while - to be proud of; and they had met him as a son and brother. With them he - could, for the only time in his life, forget the lost hand that every day - tortured him with a new pang. What kind of people were they and where did - they belong among the classes he knew? He failed to decide, because he - never had known others similar to them; but how he loved them! - </p> - <p> - In the world where he was going soon, were the majority like them, or were - they of the hypocrite and bun-throwing classes? - </p> - <p> - He had forgotten the excitement of the morning and the passing of time - when distant voices aroused him, and he gently lifted his head. Nearer and - nearer they came, and as the heavy wagons rumbled down the east trail he - could hear them plainly. The gang were shouting themselves hoarse for the - Limberlost guard. Freckles did not feel that he deserved it. He would have - given much to be able to go to the men and explain, but to McLean only - could he tell his story. - </p> - <p> - At the sight of Freckles the men threw up their hats and cheered. McLean - shook hands with him warmly, but big Duncan gathered him into his arms and - hugged him as a bear and choked over a few words of praise. The gang drove - in and finished felling the tree. McLean was angry beyond measure at this - attempt on his property, for in their haste to fell the tree the thieves - had cut too high and wasted a foot and a half of valuable timber. - </p> - <p> - When the last wagon rolled away, McLean sat on the stump and Freckles told - the story he was aching to tell. The Boss scarcely could believe his - senses. Also, he was much disappointed. - </p> - <p> - “I have been almost praying all the way over, Freckles,” he said, “that - you would have some evidence by which we could arrest those fellows and - get them out of our way, but this will never do. We can't mix up those - women in it. They have helped you save me the tree and my wager as well. - Going across the country as she does, the Bird Woman never could be - expected to testify against them.” - </p> - <p> - “No, indeed; nor the Angel, either, sir,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “The Angel?” queried the astonished McLean. - </p> - <p> - The Boss listened in silence while Freckles told of the coming and - christening of the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “I know her father well,” said McLean at last, “and I have often seen her. - You are right; she is a beautiful young girl, and she appears to be - utterly free from the least particle of false pride or foolishness. I do - not understand why her father risks such a jewel in this place.” - </p> - <p> - “He's daring it because she is a jewel, sir,” said Freckles, eagerly. - “Why, she's trusting a rattlesnake to rattle before it strikes her, and of - course, she thinks she can trust mankind as well. The man isn't made who - wouldn't lay down the life of him for her. She doesn't need any care. Her - face and the pretty ways of her are all the protection she would need in a - band of howling savages.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you say she handled one of the revolvers?” asked McLean. - </p> - <p> - “She scared all the breath out of me body,” admitted Freckles. “Seems that - her father has taught her to shoot. The Bird Woman told her distinctly to - lie low and blaze away high, just to help scare them. The spunky little - thing followed them right out into the west road, spitting lead like hail, - and clipping all around the heads and heels of them; and I'm damned, sir, - if I believe she'd cared a rap if she'd hit. I never saw much shooting, - but if that wasn't the nearest to miss I ever want to see! Scared the life - near out of me body with the fear that she'd drop one of them. As long as - I'd no one to help me but a couple of women that didn't dare be mixed up - in it, all I could do was to let them get away.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, will they come back?” asked McLean. - </p> - <p> - “Of course!” said Freckles. “They're not going to be taking that. You - could stake your life on it, they'll be coming back. At least, Black Jack - will. Wessner may not have the pluck, unless he is half drunk. Then he'd - be a terror. And the next time—” Freckles hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “What?” - </p> - <p> - “It will be a question of who shoots first and straightest.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the only thing for me to do is to double the guard and bring the - gang here the first minute possible. As soon as I feel that we have the - rarest of the stuff out below, we will come. The fact is, in many cases, - until it is felled it's difficult to tell what a tree will prove to be. It - won't do to leave you here longer alone. Jack has been shooting twenty - years to your one, and it stands to reason that you are no match for him. - Who of the gang would you like best to have with you?” - </p> - <p> - “No one, sir,” said Freckles emphatically. “Next time is where I run. I - won't try to fight them alone. I'll just be getting wind of them, and then - make tracks for you. I'll need to come like lightning, and Duncan has no - extra horse, so I'm thinking you'd best get me one—or perhaps a - wheel would be better. I used to do extra work for the Home doctor, and he - would let me take his bicycle to ride around the place. And at times the - head nurse would loan me his for an hour. A wheel would cost less and be - faster than a horse, and would take less care. I believe, if you are going - to town soon, you had best pick up any kind of an old one at some - second-hand store, for if I'm ever called to use it in a hurry there won't - be the handlebars left after crossing the corduroy.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said McLean; “and if you didn't have a first-class wheel, you never - could cross the corduroy on it at all.” - </p> - <p> - As they walked to the cabin, McLean insisted on another guard, but - Freckles was stubbornly set on fighting his battle alone. He made one - mental condition. If the Bird Woman was going to give up the Little - Chicken series, he would yield to the second guard, solely for the sake of - her work and the presence of the Angel in the Limberlost. He did not - propose to have a second man unless it were absolutely necessary, for he - had been alone so long that he loved the solitude, his chickens, and - flowers. The thought of having a stranger to all his ways come and meddle - with his arrangements, frighten his pets, pull his flowers, and interrupt - him when he wanted to study, so annoyed him that he was blinded to his - real need for help. - </p> - <p> - With McLean it was a case of letting his sober, better judgment be - overridden by the boy he was growing so to love that he could not endure - to oppose him, and to have Freckles keep his trust and win alone meant - more than any money the Boss might lose. - </p> - <p> - The following morning McLean brought the wheel, and Freckles took it to - the trail to test it. It was new, chainless, with as little as possible to - catch in hurried riding, and in every way the best of its kind. Freckles - went skimming around the trail on it on a preliminary trip before he - locked it in his case and started his minute examination of his line on - foot. He glanced around his room as he left it, and then stood staring. - </p> - <p> - On the moss before his prettiest seat lay the Angel's hat. In the - excitement of yesterday all of them had forgotten it. He went and picked - it up, oh! so carefully, gazing at it with hungry eyes, but touching it - only to carry it to his case, where he hung it on the shining handlebar of - the new wheel and locked it among his treasures. Then he went to the - trail, with a new expression on his face and a strange throbbing in his - heart. He was not in the least afraid of anything that morning. He felt he - was the veriest Daniel, but all his lions seemed weak and harmless. - </p> - <p> - What Black Jack's next move would be he could not imagine, but that there - would be a move of some kind was certain. The big bully was not a man to - give up his purpose, or to have the hat swept from his head with a bullet - and bear it meekly. Moreover, Wessner would cling to his revenge with a - Dutchman's singleness of mind. - </p> - <p> - Freckles tried to think connectedly, but there were too many places on the - trail where the Angel's footprints were vet visible. She had stepped in - one mucky spot and left a sharp impression. The afternoon sun had baked it - hard, and the horses' hoofs had not obliterated any part of it, as they - had in so many places. Freckles stood fascinated, gazing at it. He - measured it lovingly with his eye. He would not have ventured a caress on - her hat any more than on her person, but this was different. Surely a - footprint on a trail might belong to anyone who found and wanted it. He - stooped under the wires and entered the swamp. With a little searching, he - found a big piece of thick bark loose on a log and carefully peeling it, - carried it out and covered the print so that the first rain would not - obliterate it. - </p> - <p> - When he reached his room, he tenderly laid the hat upon his bookshelf, and - to wear off his awkwardness, mounted his wheel and went spinning on trail - again. It was like flying, for the path was worn smooth with his feet and - baked hard with the sun almost all the way. When he came to the bark, he - veered far to one side and smiled at it in passing. Suddenly he was off - the wheel, kneeling beside it. He removed his hat, carefully lifted the - bark, and gazed lovingly at the imprint. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder what she was going to say of me voice,” he whispered. “She never - got it said, but from the face of her, I believe she was liking it fairly - well. Perhaps she was going to say that singing was the big thing I was to - be doing. That's what they all thought at the Home. Well, if it is, I'll - just shut me eyes, think of me little room, the face of her watching, and - the heart of her beating, and I'll raise them. Damn them, if singing will - do it, I'll raise them from the benches!” - </p> - <p> - With this dire threat, Freckles knelt, as at a wayside spring, and - deliberately laid his lips on the footprint. Then he arose, appearing as - if he had been drinking at the fountain of gladness. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter - </h3> - <p> - “Weel, I be drawed on!” exclaimed Mrs. Duncan. - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood before her, holding the Angel's hat. - </p> - <p> - “I've been thinking this long time that ye or Duncan would see that - sunbonnets werena braw enough for a woman of my standing, and ye're a guid - laddie to bring me this beautiful hat.” - </p> - <p> - She turned it around, examining the weave of the straw and the foliage - trimmings, passing her rough fingers over the satin ties delightedly. As - she held it up, admiring it, Freckles' astonished eyes saw a new side of - Sarah Duncan. She was jesting, but under the jest the fact loomed strong - that, though poor, overworked, and with none but God-given refinement, - there was something in her soul crying after that bit of feminine finery, - and it made his heart ache for her. He resolved that when he reached the - city he would send her a hat, if it took fifty dollars to do it. - </p> - <p> - She lingeringly handed it back to him. - </p> - <p> - “It's unco guid of ye to think of me,” she said lightly, “but I maun - question your taste a wee. D'ye no think ye had best return this and get a - woman with half her hair gray a little plainer headdress? Seems like - that's far ower gay for me. I'm no' saying that it's no' exactly what I'd - like to hae, but I mauna mak mysel' ridiculous. Ye'd best give this to - somebody young and pretty, say about sixteen. Where did ye come by it, - Freckles? If there's anything been dropping lately, ye hae forgotten to - mention it.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you see anything heavenly about that hat?” queried Freckles, holding - it up. - </p> - <p> - The morning breeze waved the ribbons gracefully, binding one around - Freckles' sleeve and the other across his chest, where they caught and - clung as if magnetized. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Sarah Duncan. “It's verra plain and simple, but it juist makes - ye feel that it's all of the finest stuff. It's exactly what I'd call a - heavenly hat.” - </p> - <p> - “Sure,” said Freckles, “for it's belonging to an Angel!” - </p> - <p> - Then he told her about the hat and asked her what he should do with it. - </p> - <p> - “Take it to her, of course!” said Sarah Duncan. “Like it's the only ane - she has and she may need it badly.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles smiled. He had a clear idea about the hat being the only one the - Angel had. However, there was a thing he felt he should do and wanted to - do, but he was not sure. - </p> - <p> - “You think I might be taking it home?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Of course ye must,” said Mrs. Duncan. “And without another hour's delay. - It's been here two days noo, and she may want it, and be too busy or - afraid to come.” - </p> - <p> - “But how can I take it?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Gang spinning on your wheel. Ye can do it easy in an hour.” - </p> - <p> - “But in that hour, what if——?” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense!” interrupted Sarah Duncan. “Ye've watched that timber-line - until ye're grown fast to it, lad. Give me your boots and club and I'll - gae walk the south end and watch doon the east and west sides until ye - come back.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Duncan! You never would be doing it,” cried Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Why not?” inquired she. - </p> - <p> - “But you know you're mortal afraid of snakes and a lot of other things in - the swamp.” - </p> - <p> - “I am afraid of snakes,” said Mrs. Duncan, “but likely they've gone into - the swamp this hot weather. I'll juist stay on the trail and watch, and ye - might hurry the least bit. The day's so bright it feels like storm. I can - put the bairns on the woodpile to play until I get back. Ye gang awa and - take the blessed little angel her beautiful hat.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you sure it will be all right?” urged Freckles. “Do you think if Mr. - McLean came he would care?” - </p> - <p> - “Na,” said Mrs. Duncan; “I dinna. If ye and me agree that a thing ought to - be done, and I watch in your place, why, it's bound to be all right with - McLean. Let me pin the hat in a paper, and ye jump on your wheel and gang - flying. Ought ye put on your Sabbath-day clothes?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles shook his head. He knew what he should do, but there was no use - in taking time to try to explain it to Mrs. Duncan while he was so - hurried. He exchanged his wading-boots for shoes, gave her his club, and - went spinning toward town. He knew very well where the Angel lived. He had - seen her home many times, and he passed it again without even raising his - eyes from the street, steering straight for her father's place of - business. - </p> - <p> - Carrying the hat, Freckles passed a long line of clerks, and at the door - of the private office asked to see the proprietor. When he had waited a - moment, a tall, spare, keen-eyed man faced him, and in brisk, nervous - tones asked: “How can I serve you, sir?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles handed him the package and answered, “By delivering to your - daughter this hat, which she was after leaving at me place the other day, - when she went away in a hurry. And by saying to her and the Bird Woman - that I'm more thankful than I'll be having words to express for the brave - things they was doing for me. I'm McLean's Limberlost guard, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Why don't you take it yourself?” questioned the Man of Affairs. - </p> - <p> - Freckles' clear gray eyes met those of the Angel's father squarely, and he - asked: “If you were in my place, would you take it to her yourself?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I would not,” said that gentleman quickly. - </p> - <p> - “Then why ask why I did not?” came Freckles' lamb-like query. - </p> - <p> - “Bless me!” said the Angel's father. He stared at the package, then at the - lifted chin of the boy, and then at the package again, and muttered, - “Excuse me!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles bowed. - </p> - <p> - “It would be favoring me greatly if you would deliver the hat and the - message. Good morning, sir,” and he turned away. - </p> - <p> - “One minute,” said the Angel's father. “Suppose I give you permission to - return this hat in person and make your own acknowledgments.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood one moment thinking intently, and then he lifted those eyes - of unswerving truth and asked: “Why should you, sir? You are kind, indade, - to mention it, and it's thanking you I am for your good intintions, but my - wanting to go or your being willing to have me ain't proving that your - daughter would be wanting me or care to bother with me.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's father looked keenly into the face of this extraordinary young - man, for he found it to his liking. - </p> - <p> - “There's one other thing I meant to say,” said Freckles. “Every day I see - something, and at times a lot of things, that I think the Bird Woman would - be wanting pictures of badly, if she knew. You might be speaking of it to - her, and if she'd want me to, I can send her word when I find things she - wouldn't likely get elsewhere.” - </p> - <p> - “If that's the case,” said the Angel's father, “and you feel under - obligations for her assistance the other day, you can discharge them in - that way. She is spending all her time in the fields and woods searching - for subjects. If you run across things, perhaps rarer than she may find, - about your work, it would save her the time she spends searching for - subjects, and she could work in security under your protection. By all - means let her know if you find subjects you think she could use, and we - will do anything we can for you, if you will give her what help you can - and see that she is as safe as possible.” - </p> - <p> - “It's hungry for human beings I am,” said Freckles, “and it's like Heaven - to me to have them come. Of course, I'll be telling or sending her word - every time me work can spare me. Anything I can do it would make me - uncommon happy, but”—again truth had to be told, because it was - Freckles who was speaking—“when it comes to protecting them, I'd - risk me life, to be sure, but even that mightn't do any good in some - cases. There are many dangers to be reckoned with in the swamp, sir, that - call for every person to look sharp. If there wasn't really thieving to - guard against, why, McLean wouldn't need be paying out good money for a - guard. I'd love them to be coming, and I'll do all I can, but you must be - told that there's danger of them running into timber thieves again any - day, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel's father, “and I suppose there's danger of the earth - opening up and swallowing the town any day, but I'm damned if I quit - business for fear it will, and the Bird Woman won't, either. Everyone - knows her and her work, and there is no danger in the world of anyone in - any way molesting her, even if he were stealing a few of McLean's - gold-plated trees. She's as safe in the Limberlost as she is at home, so - far as timber thieves are concerned. All I am ever uneasy about are the - snakes, poison-vines, and insects; and those are risks she must run - anywhere. You need not hesitate a minute about that. I shall be glad to - tell them what you wish. Thank you very much, and good day, sir.” - </p> - <p> - There was no way in which Freckles could know it, but by following his - best instincts and being what he conceived a gentleman should be, he - surprised the Man of Affairs into thinking of him and seeing his face over - his books many times that morning; whereas, if he had gone to the Angel as - he had longed to do, her father never would have given him a second - thought. - </p> - <p> - On the street he drew a deep breath. How had he acquitted himself? He only - knew that he had lived up to his best impulse, and that is all anyone can - do. He glanced over his wheel to see that it was all right, and just as he - stepped to the curb to mount he heard a voice that thrilled him through - and through: “Freckles! Oh Freckles!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel separated from a group of laughing, sweet-faced girls and came - hurrying to him. She was in snowy white—a quaint little frock, with - a marvel of soft lace around her throat and wrists. Through the sheer - sleeves of it her beautiful, rounded arms showed distinctly, and it was - cut just to the base of her perfect neck. On her head was a pure white - creation of fancy braid, with folds on folds of tulle, soft and silken as - cobwebs, lining the brim; while a mass of white roses clustered against - the gold of her hair, crept around the crown, and fell in a riot to her - shoulders at the back. There were gleams of gold with settings of blue on - her fingers, and altogether she was the daintiest, sweetest sight he ever - had seen. Freckles, standing on the curb, forgot himself in his cotton - shirt, corduroys, and his belt to which his wire-cutter and pliers were - hanging, and gazed as a man gazes when first he sees the woman he adores - with all her charms enhanced by appropriate and beautiful clothing. - </p> - <p> - “Oh Freckles,” she cried as she came to him. “I was wondering about you - the other day. Do you know I never saw you in town before. You watch that - old line so closely! Why did you come? Is there any trouble? Are you just - starting to the Limberlost?” - </p> - <p> - “I came to bring your hat,” said Freckles. “You forgot it in the rush the - other day. I have left it with your father, and a message trying to - ixpriss the gratitude of me for how you and the Bird Woman were for - helping me out.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel nodded gravely, then Freckles saw that he had done the proper - thing in going to her father. His heart bounded until it jarred his body, - for she was saying that she scarcely could wait for the time to come for - the next picture of the Little Chicken series. “I want to hear the - remainder of that song, and I hadn't even begun seeing your room yet,” she - complained. “As for singing, if you can sing like that every day, I never - can get enough of it. I wonder if I couldn't bring my banjo and some of - the songs I like best. I'll play and you sing, and we'll put the birds out - of commission.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood on the curb with drooped eyes, for he felt that if he - lifted them the tumult of tender adoration in them would show and frighten - her. - </p> - <p> - “I was afraid your ixperience the other day would scare you so that you'd - never be coming again,” he found himself saying. - </p> - <p> - The Angel laughed gaily. - </p> - <p> - “Did I seem scared?” she questioned. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Freckles, “you did not.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I just enjoyed that,” she cried. “Those hateful, stealing old things! - I had a big notion to pink one of them, but I thought maybe someway it - would be best for you that I shouldn't. They needed it. That didn't scare - me; and as for the Bird Woman, she's accustomed to finding snakes, tramps, - cross dogs, sheep, cattle, and goodness knows what! You can't frighten her - when she's after a picture. Did they come back?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Freckles. “The gang got there a little after noon and took out - the tree, but I must tell you, and you must tell the Bird Woman, that - there's no doubt but they will be coming back, and they will have to make - it before long now, for it's soon the gang will be there to work on the - swamp.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, what a shame!” cried the Angel. “They'll clear out roads, cut down - the beautiful trees, and tear up everything. They'll drive away the birds - and spoil the cathedral. When they have done their worst, then all these - mills close here will follow in and take out the cheap timber. Then the - landowners will dig a few ditches, build some fires, and in two summers - more the Limberlost will be in corn and potatoes.” - </p> - <p> - They looked at each other, and groaned despairingly in unison. - </p> - <p> - “You like it, too,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel, “I love it. Your room is a little piece right out - of the heart of fairyland, and the cathedral is God's work, not yours. You - only found it and opened the door after He had it completed. The birds, - flowers, and vines are all so lovely. The Bird Woman says it is really a - fact that the mallows, foxfire, iris, and lilies are larger and of richer - coloring there than in the remainder of the country. She says it's because - of the rich loam and muck. I hate seeing the swamp torn up, and to you it - will be like losing your best friend; won't it?” - </p> - <p> - “Something like,” said Freckles. “Still, I've the Limberlost in me heart - so that all of it will be real to me while I live, no matter what they do - to it. I'm glad past telling if you will be coming a few more times, at - least until the gang arrives. Past that time I don't allow mesilf to be - thinking.” - </p> - <p> - “Come, have a cool drink before you start back,” said the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn't possibly,” said Freckles. “I left Mrs. Duncan on the trail, - and she's terribly afraid of a lot of things. If she even sees a big - snake, I don't know what she'll do.” - </p> - <p> - “It won't take but a minute, and you can ride fast enough to make up for - it. Please. I want to think of something fine for you, to make up a little - for what you did for me that first day.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles looked in sheer wonderment into the beautiful face of the Angel. - Did she truly mean it? Would she walk down that street with him, crippled, - homely, in mean clothing, with the tools of his occupation on him, and - share with him the treat she was offering? He could not believe it, even - of the Angel. Still, in justice to the candor of her pure, sweet face, he - would not think that she would make the offer and not mean it. She really - did mean just what she said, but when it came to carrying out her offer - and he saw the stares of her friends, the sneers of her enemies—if - such as she could have enemies—and heard the whispered jeers of the - curious, then she would see her mistake and be sorry. It would be only a - manly thing for him to think this out, and save her from the results of - her own blessed bigness of heart. - </p> - <p> - “I railly must be off,” said Freckles earnestly, “but I'm thanking you - more than you'll ever know for your kindness. I'll just be drinking bowls - of icy things all me way home in the thoughts of it.” - </p> - <p> - Down came the Angel's foot. Her eyes flashed indignantly. “There's no - sense in that,” she said. “How do you think you would have felt when you - knew I was warm and thirsty and you went and brought me a drink and I - wouldn't take it because—because goodness knows why! You can ride - faster to make up for the time. I've just thought out what I want to fix - for you.” - </p> - <p> - She stepped to his side and deliberately slipped her hand under his arm—that - right arm that ended in an empty sleeve. - </p> - <p> - “You are coming,” she said firmly. “I won't have it.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles could not have told how he felt, neither could anyone else. His - blood rioted and his head swam, but he kept his wits. He bent over her. - </p> - <p> - “Please don't, Angel,” he said softly. “You don't understand.” - </p> - <p> - How Freckles came to understand was a problem. - </p> - <p> - “It's this,” he persisted. “If your father met me on the street, in my - station and dress, with you on me arm, he'd have every right to be caning - me before the people, and not a finger would I lift to stay him.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's eyes snapped. “If you think my father cares about my doing - anything that is right and kind, and that makes me happy to do—why, - then you completely failed in reading my father, and I'll ask him and just - show you.” - </p> - <p> - She dropped Freckles' arm and turned toward the entrance to the building. - “Why, look there!” she exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - Her father stood in a big window fronting the street, a bundle of papers - in his hand, interestedly watching the little scene, with eyes that - comprehended quite as thoroughly as if he had heard every word. The Angel - caught his glance and made a despairing little gesture toward Freckles. - The Man of Affairs answered her with a look of infinite tenderness. He - nodded his head and waved the papers in the direction she had indicated, - and the veriest dolt could have read the words his lips formed: “Take him - along!” - </p> - <p> - A sudden trembling seized Freckles. At sight of the Angel's father he had - stepped back as far from her as he could, leaned the wheel against him, - and snatched off his hat. - </p> - <p> - The Angel turned on him with triumphing eyes. - </p> - <p> - She was highly strung and not accustomed to being thwarted. “Did You see - that?” she demanded. “Now are you satisfied? Will you come, or must I call - a policeman to bring you?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles went. There was nothing else to do. Guiding his wheel, he walked - down the street beside her. On every hand she was kept busy giving and - receiving the cheeriest greetings. She walked into the parlors exactly as - if she owned them. A clerk came hurrying to meet her. - </p> - <p> - “There's a table vacant beside a window where it is cool. I'll save it for - you,” and he started back. - </p> - <p> - “Please not,” said the Angel. “I've taken this man unawares, when he's in - a rush. I'm afraid if we sit down we'll take too much time and afterward - he will blame me.” - </p> - <p> - She walked to the fountain, and a long row of people stared with all the - varying degrees of insolence and curiosity that Freckles had felt they - would. He glanced at the Angel. NOW would she see? - </p> - <p> - “On my soul!” he muttered under his breath. “They don't aven touch her!” - </p> - <p> - She laid down her sunshade and gloves. She walked to the end of the - counter and turned the full battery of her eyes on the attendant. - </p> - <p> - “Please,” she said. - </p> - <p> - The white-aproned individual stepped back and gave delighted assent. The - Angel stepped beside him, and selecting a tall, flaring glass, of almost - paper thinness, she stooped and rolled it in a tray of cracked ice. - </p> - <p> - “I want to mix a drink for my friend,” she said. “He has a long, hot ride - before him, and I don't want him started off with one of those old - palate-teasing sweetnesses that you mix just on purpose to drive a man - back in ten minutes.” There was an appreciative laugh from the line at the - counter. - </p> - <p> - “I want a clear, cool, sparkling drink that has a tang of acid in it. - Where's the cherry phosphate? That, not at all sweet, would be good; don't - you think?” - </p> - <p> - The attendant did think. He pointed out the different taps, and the Angel - compounded the drink, while Freckles, standing so erect he almost leaned - backward, gazed at her and paid no attention to anyone else. When she had - the glass brimming, she tilted a little of its contents into a second - glass and tasted it. - </p> - <p> - “That's entirely too sweet for a thirsty man,” she said. - </p> - <p> - She poured out half the mixture, and refilling the glass, tasted it a - second time. She submitted that result to the attendant. “Isn't that about - the thing?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - He replied enthusiastically. “I'd get my wages raised ten a month if I - could learn that trick.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel carried the brimming, frosty glass to Freckles. He removed his - hat, and lifting the icy liquid even with her eyes and looking straight - into them, he said in the mellowest of all the mellow tones of his voice: - “I'll be drinking it to the Swamp Angel.” - </p> - <p> - As he had said to her that first day, she now cautioned him: “Be drinking - slowly.” - </p> - <p> - When the screen-door swung behind them, one of the men at the counter - asked of the attendant: “Now, what did that mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly what you saw,” replied he, rather curtly. “We're accustomed to it - here. Hardly a day passes, this hot weather, but she's picking up some - poor, god-forsaken mortal and bringing him in. Then she comes behind the - counter herself and fixes up a drink to suit the occasion. She's all sorts - of fancies about what's what for all kinds of times and conditions, and - you bet she can just hit the spot! Ain't a clerk here can put up a drink - to touch her. She's a sort of knack at it. Every once in a while, when the - Boss sees her, he calls out to her to mix him a drink.” - </p> - <p> - “And does she?” asked the man with an interested grin. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I guess! But first she goes back and sees how long it is since he's - had a drink. What he drank last. How warm he is. When he ate last. Then - she comes here and mixes a glass of fizz with a little touch of acid, and - a bit of cherry, lemon, grape, pineapple, or something sour and cooling, - and it hits the spot just as no spot was ever hit before. I honestly - believe that the INTEREST she takes in it is half the trick, for I watch - her closely and I can't come within gunshot of her concoctions. She has a - running bill here. Her father settles once a month. She gives nine-tenths - of it away. Hardly ever touches it herself, but when she does she makes me - mix it. She's just old persimmons. Even the scrub-boy of this - establishment would fight for her. It lasts the year round, for in winter - it's some poor, frozen cuss that she's warming up on hot coffee or - chocolate.” - </p> - <p> - “Mighty queer specimen she had this time,” volunteered another. “Irish, - hand off, straight as a ramrod, and something worth while in his face. - Notice that hat peel off, and the eyes of him? There's a case of 'fight - for her!' Wonder who he is?” - </p> - <p> - “I think,” said a third, “that he's McLean's Limberlost guard, and I - suspect she's gone to the swamp with the Bird Woman for pictures and knows - him that way. I've heard that he is a master hand with the birds, and that - would just suit the Bird Woman to a T.” - </p> - <p> - On the street the Angel walked beside Freckles to the first crossing and - there she stopped. “Now, will you promise to ride fast enough to make up - for the five minutes that took?” she asked. “I am a little uneasy about - Mrs. Duncan.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles turned his wheel into the street. It seemed to him he had poured - that delicious icy liquid into every vein in his body instead of his - stomach. It even went to his brain. - </p> - <p> - “Did you insist on fixing that drink because you knew how intoxicating - 'twould be?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - There was subtlety in the compliment and it delighted the Angel. She - laughed gleefully. - </p> - <p> - “Next time, maybe you won't take so much coaxing,” she teased. - </p> - <p> - “I wouldn't this, if I had known your father and been understanding you - better. Do you really think the Bird Woman will be coming again?” - </p> - <p> - The Angel jeered. “Wild horses couldn't drag her away,” she cried. “She - will have hard work to wait the week out. I shouldn't be in the least - surprised to see her start any hour.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles could not endure the suspense; it had to come. - </p> - <p> - “And you?” he questioned, but he dared not lift his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Wild horses me, too,” she laughed, “couldn't keep me away either! I - dearly love to come, and the next time I am going to bring my banjo, and - I'll play, and you sing for me some of the songs I like best; won't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” said Freckles, because it was all he was capable of saying just - then. - </p> - <p> - “It's beginning to act stormy,” she said. “If you hurry you will just - about make it. Now, good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes to the - Rescue - </h3> - <p> - Freckles was halfway to the Limberlost when he dismounted. He could ride - no farther, because he could not see the road. He sat under a tree, and, - leaning against it, sobs shook, twisted, and rent him. If they would - remind him of his position, speak condescendingly, or notice his hand, he - could endure it, but this—it surely would kill him! His hot, pulsing - Irish blood was stirred deeply. What did they mean? Why did they do it? - Were they like that to everyone? Was it pity? - </p> - <p> - It could not be, for he knew that the Bird Woman and the Angel's father - must know that he was not really McLean's son, and it did not matter to - them in the least. In spite of accident and poverty, they evidently - expected him to do something worth while in the world. That must be his - remedy. He must work on his education. He must get away. He must find and - do the great thing of which the Angel talked. For the first time, his - thoughts turned anxiously toward the city and the beginning of his - studies. McLean and the Duncans spoke of him as “the boy,” but he was a - man. He must face life bravely and act a man's part. The Angel was a mere - child. He must not allow her to torture him past endurance with her frank - comradeship that meant to him high heaven, earth's richness, and all that - lay between, and NOTHING to her. - </p> - <p> - There was an ominous growl of thunder, and amazed at himself, Freckles - snatched up his wheel and raced toward the swamp. He was worried to find - his boots lying at the cabin door; the children playing on the woodpile - told him that “mither” said they were so heavy she couldn't walk in them, - and she had come back and taken them off. Thoroughly frightened, he - stopped only long enough to slip them on, and then sped with all his - strength for the Limberlost. To the west, the long, black, hard-beaten - trail lay clear; but far up the east side, straight across the path, he - could see what was certainly a limp, brown figure. Freckles spun with all - his might. - </p> - <p> - Face down, Sarah Duncan lay across the trail. When Freckles turned her - over, his blood chilled at the look of horror settled on her face. There - was a low humming and something spatted against him. Glancing around, - Freckles shivered in terror, for there was a swarm of wild bees settled on - a scrub-thorn only a few yards away. The air was filled with excited, - unsettled bees making ready to lead farther in search of a suitable - location. Then he thought he understood, and with a prayer of thankfulness - in his heart that she had escaped, even so narrowly, he caught her up and - hurried down the trail until they were well out of danger. He laid her in - the shade, and carrying water from the swamp in the crown of his hat, he - bathed her face and hands; but she lay in unbroken stillness, without a - sign of life. - </p> - <p> - She had found Freckles' boots so large and heavy that she had gone back - and taken them off, although she was mortally afraid to approach the swamp - without them. The thought of it made her nervous, and the fact that she - never had been there alone added to her fears. She had not followed the - trail many rods when her trouble began. She was not Freckles, so not a - bird of the line was going to be fooled into thinking she was. - </p> - <p> - They began jumping from their nests and darting from unexpected places - around her head and feet, with quick whirs, that kept her starting and - dodging. Before Freckles was halfway to the town, poor Mrs. Duncan was - hysterical, and the Limberlost had neither sung nor performed for her. - </p> - <p> - But there was trouble brewing. It was quiet and intensely hot, with that - stifling stillness that precedes a summer storm, and feathers and fur were - tense and nervous. The birds were singing only a few broken snatches, and - flying around, seeking places of shelter. One moment everything seemed - devoid of life, the next there was an unexpected whir, buzz, and sharp - cry. Inside, a pandemonium of growling, spatting, snarling, and grunting - broke loose. - </p> - <p> - The swale bent flat before heavy gusts of wind, and the big black chicken - swept lower and lower above the swamp. Patches of clouds gathered, - shutting out the sun and making it very dark, and the next moment were - swept away. The sun poured with fierce, burning brightness, and everything - was quiet. It was at the first growl of thunder that Freckles really had - noticed the weather, and putting his own troubles aside resolutely, raced - for the swamp. - </p> - <p> - Sarah Duncan paused on the line. “Weel, I wouldna stay in this place for a - million a month,” she said aloud, and the sound of her voice brought no - comfort, for it was so little like she had thought it that she glanced - hastily around to see if it had really been she that spoke. She - tremblingly wiped the perspiration from her face with the skirt of her - sunbonnet. - </p> - <p> - “Awfu' hot,” she panted huskily. “B'lieve there's going to be a big storm. - I do hope Freckles will hurry.” - </p> - <p> - Her chin was quivering as a terrified child's. She lifted her bonnet to - replace it and brushed against a bush beside her. WHIRR, almost into her - face, went a nighthawk stretched along a limb for its daytime nap. Mrs. - Duncan cried out and sprang down the trail, alighting on a frog that was - hopping across. The horrible croak it gave as she crushed it sickened her. - She screamed wildly and jumped to one side. That carried her into the - swale, where the grasses reached almost to her waist, and her horror of - snakes returning, she made a flying leap for an old log lying beside the - line. She alighted squarely, but it was so damp and rotten that she sank - straight through it to her knees. She caught at the wire as she went down, - and missing, raked her wrist across a barb until she tore a bleeding gash. - Her fingers closed convulsively around the second strand. She was too - frightened to scream now. Her tongue stiffened. She clung frantically to - the sagging wire, and finally managed to grasp it with the other hand. - Then she could reach the top wire, and so she drew herself up and found - solid footing. She picked up the club that she had dropped in order to - extricate herself. Leaning heavily on it, she managed to return to the - trail, but she was trembling so that she scarcely could walk. Going a few - steps farther, she came to the stump of the first tree that had been taken - out. - </p> - <p> - She sat bolt upright and very still, trying to collect her thoughts and - reason away her terror. A squirrel above her dropped a nut, and as it came - rattling down, bouncing from branch to branch, every nerve in her tugged - wildly. When the disgusted squirrel barked loudly, she sprang to the - trail. - </p> - <p> - The wind arose higher, the changes from light to darkness were more - abrupt, while the thunder came closer and louder at every peal. In swarms - the blackbirds arose from the swale and came flocking to the interior, - with a clamoring cry: “T'CHECK, T'CHECK.” Grackles marshaled to the tribal - call: “TRALL-A-HEE, TRALL-A-HEE.” Red-winged blackbirds swept low, calling - to belated mates: “FOL-LOW-ME, FOL-LOW-ME.” Big, jetty crows gathered - close to her, crying, as if warning her to flee before it was - everlastingly too late. A heron, fishing the near-by pool for Freckles' - “find-out” frog, fell into trouble with a muskrat and uttered a rasping - note that sent Mrs. Duncan a rod down the line without realizing that she - had moved. She was too shaken to run far. She stopped and looked around - her fearfully. - </p> - <p> - Several bees struck her and were angrily buzzing before she noticed them. - Then the humming swelled on all sides. A convulsive sob shook her, and she - ran into the bushes, now into the swale, anywhere to avoid the swarming - bees, ducking, dodging, fighting for her very life. Presently the humming - seemed to become a little fainter. She found the trail again, and ran with - all her might from a few of her angry pursuers. - </p> - <p> - As she ran, straining every muscle, she suddenly became aware that, - crossing the trail before her, was a big, round, black body, with brown - markings on its back, like painted geometrical patterns. She tried to - stop, but the louder buzzing behind warned her she dared not. Gathering - her skirts higher, with hair flying around her face and her eyes almost - bursting from their sockets, she ran straight toward it. The sound of her - feet and the humming of the bees alarmed the rattler, so it stopped across - the trail, lifting its head above the grasses of the swale and rattling - inquiringly—rattled until the bees were outdone. - </p> - <p> - Straight toward it went the panic-stricken woman, running wildly and - uncontrollably. She took one leap, clearing its body on the path, then - flew ahead with winged feet. The snake, coiled to strike, missed Mrs. - Duncan and landed among the bees instead. They settled over and around it, - and realizing that it had found trouble, it sank among the grasses and - went threshing toward its den in the deep willow-fringed low ground. The - swale appeared as if a reaper were cutting a wide swath. The mass of - enraged bees darted angrily around, searching for it, and striking the - scrub-thorn, began a temporary settling there to discover whether it were - a suitable place. Completely exhausted, Mrs. Duncan staggered on a few - steps farther, fell facing the path, where Freckles found her, and lay - quietly. - </p> - <p> - Freckles worked over her until she drew a long, quivering breath and - opened her eyes. - </p> - <p> - When she saw him bending above her, she closed them tightly, and gripping - him, struggled to her feet. He helped her, and with his arm around and - half carrying her, they made their way to the clearing. She clung to him - with all her remaining strength, but open her eyes she would not until her - children came clustering around her. Then, brawny, big Scotswoman though - she was, she quietly keeled over again. The children added their wailing - to Freckles' panic. - </p> - <p> - This time he was so close the cabin that he could carry her into the house - and lay her on the bed. He sent the oldest boy scudding down the corduroy - for the nearest neighbor, and between them they undressed Mrs. Duncan and - discovered that she was not bitten. They bathed and bound the bleeding - wrist and coaxed her back to consciousness. She lay sobbing and - shuddering. The first intelligent word she said was: “Freckles, look at - that jar on the kitchen table and see if my yeast is no running ower.” - </p> - <p> - Several days passed before she could give Duncan and Freckles any detailed - account of what had happened to her, even then she could not do it without - crying as the least of her babies. Freckles was almost heartbroken, and - nursed her as well as any woman could have done; while big Duncan, with a - heart full for them both, worked early and late to chink every crack of - the cabin and examine every spot that possibly could harbor a snake. The - effects of her morning on the trail kept her shivering half the time. She - could not rest until she sent for McLean and begged him to save Freckles - from further risk, in that place of horrors. The Boss went to the swamp - with his mind fully determined to do so. - </p> - <p> - Freckles stood and laughed at him. “Why, Mr. McLean, don't you let a - woman's nervous system set you worrying about me,” he said. “I'm not - denying how she felt, because I've been through it meself, but that's all - over and gone. It's the height of me glory to fight it out with the old - swamp, and all that's in it, or will be coming to it, and then to turn it - over to you as I promised you and meself I'd do, sir. You couldn't break - the heart of me entire quicker than to be taking it from me now, when I'm - just on the home-stretch. It won't be over three or four weeks yet, and - when I've gone it almost a year, why, what's that to me, sir? You mustn't - let a woman get mixed up with business, for I've always heard about how - it's bringing trouble.” - </p> - <p> - McLean smiled. “What about that last tree?” he said. - </p> - <p> - Freckles blushed and grinned appreciatively. - </p> - <p> - “Angels and Bird Women don't count in the common run, sir,” he affirmed - shamelessly. - </p> - <p> - McLean sat in the saddle and laughed. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards Him - </h3> - <p> - The Bird Woman and the Angel did not seem to count in the common run, for - they arrived on time for the third of the series and found McLean on the - line talking to Freckles. The Boss was filled with enthusiasm over a marsh - article of the Bird Woman's that he just had read. He begged to be allowed - to accompany her into the swamp and watch the method by which she secured - an illustration in such a location. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman explained to him that it was an easy matter with the - subject she then had in hand; and as Little Chicken was too small to be - frightened by him, and big enough to be growing troublesome, she was glad - for his company. They went to the chicken log together, leaving to the - happy Freckles the care of the Angel, who had brought her banjo and a roll - of songs that she wanted to hear him sing. The Bird Woman told them that - they might practice in Freckles' room until she finished with Little - Chicken, and then she and McLean would come to the concert. - </p> - <p> - It was almost three hours before they finished and came down the west - trail for their rest and lunch. McLean walked ahead, keeping sharp watch - on the trail and clearing it of fallen limbs from overhanging trees. He - sent a big piece of bark flying into the swale, and then stopped short and - stared at the trail. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman bent forward. Together they studied that imprint of the - Angel's foot. At last their eyes met, the Bird Woman's filled with - astonishment, and McLean's humid with pity. Neither said a word, but they - knew. McLean entered the swale and hunted up the bark. He replaced it, and - the Bird Woman carefully stepped over. As they reached the bushes at the - entrance, the voice of the Angel stopped them, for it was commanding and - filled with much impatience. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles James Ross McLean!” she was saying. “You fill me with dark-blue - despair! You're singing as if your voice were glass and might break at any - minute. Why don't you sing as you did a week ago? Answer me that, please.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles smiled confusedly at the Angel, who sat on one of his fancy - seats, playing his accompaniment on her banjo. - </p> - <p> - “You are a fraud,” she said. “Here you went last week and led me to think - that there was the making of a great singer in you, and now you are - singing—do you know how badly you are singing?” - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” said Freckles meekly. “I'm thinking I'm too happy to be singing - well today. The music don't come right only when I'm lonesome and sad. The - world's for being all sunshine at prisint, for among you and Mr. McLean - and the Bird Woman I'm after being THAT happy that I can't keep me - thoughts on me notes. It's more than sorry I am to be disappointing you. - Play it over, and I'll be beginning again, and this time I'll hold hard.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said the Angel disgustedly, “it seems to me that if I had all the - things to be proud of that you have, I'd lift up my head and sing!” - </p> - <p> - “And what is it I've to be proud of, ma'am?” politely inquired Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Why, a whole worldful of things,” cried the Angel explosively. “For one - thing, you can be good and proud over the way you've kept the timber - thieves out of this lease, and the trust your father has in you. You can - be proud that you've never even once disappointed him or failed in what he - believed you could do. You can be proud over the way everyone speaks of - you with trust and honor, and about how brave of heart and strong of body - you are I heard a big man say a few days ago that the Limberlost was full - of disagreeable things—positive dangers, unhealthful as it could be, - and that since the memory of the first settlers it has been a rendezvous - for runaways, thieves, and murderers. This swamp is named for a man that - was lost here and wandered around 'til he starved. That man I was talking - with said he wouldn't take your job for a thousand dollars a month—in - fact, he said he wouldn't have it for any money, and you've never missed a - day or lost a tree. Proud! Why, I should think you would just parade - around about proper over that! - </p> - <p> - “And you can always be proud that you are born an Irishman. My father is - Irish, and if you want to see him get up and strut give him a teeny - opening to enlarge on his race. He says that if the Irish had decent - territory they'd lead the world. He says they've always been handicapped - by lack of space and of fertile soil. He says if Ireland had been as big - and fertile as Indiana, why, England wouldn't ever have had the upper - hand. She'd only be an appendage. Fancy England an appendage! He says - Ireland has the finest orators and the keenest statesmen in Europe today, - and when England wants to fight, with whom does she fill her trenches? - Irishmen, of course! Ireland has the greenest grass and trees, the finest - stones and lakes, and they've jaunting-cars. I don't know just exactly - what they are, but Ireland has all there are, anyway. They've a lot of - great actors, and a few singers, and there never was a sweeter poet than - one of theirs. You should hear my father recite 'Dear Harp of My Country.' - He does it this way.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel arose, made an elaborate old-time bow, and holding up the banjo, - recited in clipping feet and meter, with rhythmic swing and a touch of - brogue that was simply irresistible: - </p> - <p> - “Dear harp of my country” [The Angel ardently clasped the banjo], - </p> - <p> - “In darkness I found thee” [She held it to the light], - </p> - <p> - “The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long” [She muted the strings - with her rosy palm]; - </p> - <p> - “Then proudly, my own Irish harp, I unbound thee” [She threw up her head - and swept a ringing harmony]; - </p> - <p> - “And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song” [She crashed into - the notes of the accompaniment she had been playing for Freckles]. - </p> - <p> - “That's what you want to be thinking of!” she cried. “Not darkness, and - lonesomeness, and sadness, but 'light, freedom, and song.' I can't begin - to think offhand of all the big, splendid things an Irishman has to be - proud of; but whatever they are, they are all yours, and you are a part of - them. I just despise that 'saddest-when-I-sing' business. You can sing! - Now you go over there and do it! Ireland has had her statesmen, warriors, - actors, and poets; now you be her voice! You stand right out there before - the cathedral door, and I'm going to come down the aisle playing that - accompaniment, and when I stop in front of you—you sing!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's face wore an unusual flush. Her eyes were flashing and she was - palpitating with earnestness. - </p> - <p> - She parted the bushes and disappeared. Freckles, straight and tense, stood - waiting. Presently, before he saw she was there, she was coming down the - aisle toward him, playing compellingly, and rifts of light were touching - her with golden glory. Freckles stood as if transfixed. - </p> - <p> - The cathedral was majestically beautiful, from arched dome of frescoed - gold, green, and blue in never-ending shades and harmonies, to the mosaic - aisle she trod, richly inlaid in choicest colors, and gigantic pillars - that were God's handiwork fashioned and perfected through ages of sunshine - and rain. But the fair young face and divinely molded form of the Angel - were His most perfect work of all. Never had she appeared so surpassingly - beautiful. She was smiling encouragingly now, and as she came toward him, - she struck the chords full and strong. - </p> - <p> - The heart of poor Freckles almost burst with dull pain and his great love - for her. In his desire to fulfill her expectations he forgot everything - else, and when she reached his initial chord he was ready. He literally - burst forth: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Three little leaves of Irish green, - United on one stem, - Love, truth, and valor do they mean, - They form a magic gem.” - </pre> - <p> - The Angel's eyes widened curiously and her lips parted. A deep color swept - into her cheeks. She had intended to arouse him. She had more than - succeeded. She was too young to know that in the effort to rouse a man, - women frequently kindle fires that they neither can quench nor control. - Freckles was looking over her head now and singing that song, as it never - had been sung before, for her alone; and instead of her helping him, as - she had intended, he was carrying her with him on the waves of his voice, - away, away into another world. When he struck into the chorus, wide-eyed - and panting, she was swaying toward him and playing with all her might. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Oh, do you love? Oh, say you love - You love the shamrock green!” - </pre> - <p> - At the last note, Freckles' voice ceased and he looked at the Angel. He - had given his best and his all. He fell on his knees and folded his arms - across his breast. The Angel, as if magnetized, walked straight down the - aisle to him, and running her fingers into the crisp masses of his red - hair, tilted his head back and laid her lips on his forehead. - </p> - <p> - Then she stepped back and faced him. “Good boy!” she said, in a voice that - wavered from the throbbing of her shaken heart. “Dear boy! I knew you - could do it! I knew it was in you! Freckles, when you go into the world, - if you can face a big audience and sing like that, just once, you will be - immortal, and anything you want will be yours.” - </p> - <p> - “Anything!” gasped Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Anything,” said the Angel. - </p> - <p> - Freckles arose, muttered something, and catching up his old bucket, - plunged into the swamp blindly on a pretence of bringing water. The Angel - walked slowly across the study, sat on the rustic bench, and, through - narrowed lids, intently studied the tip of her shoe. - </p> - <p> - On the trail the Bird Woman wheeled to McLean with a dumbfounded look. - </p> - <p> - “God!” muttered he. - </p> - <p> - At last the Bird Woman spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think the Angel knew she did that?” she asked softly. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said McLean; “I do not. But the poor boy knew it. Heaven help him!” - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman stared across the gently waving swale. “I don't see how I - am going to blame her,” she said at last. “It's so exactly what I would - have done myself.” - </p> - <p> - “Say the remainder,” demanded McLean hoarsely. “Do him justice.” - </p> - <p> - “He was born a gentleman,” conceded the Bird Woman. “He took no advantage. - He never even offered to touch her. Whatever that kiss meant to him, he - recognized that it was the loving impulse of a child under stress of - strong emotion. He was fine and manly as any man ever could have been.” - </p> - <p> - McLean lifted his hat. “Thank you,” he said simply, and parted the bushes - for her to enter Freckles' room. - </p> - <p> - It was her first visit. Before she left she sent for her cameras and made - studies of each side of it and of the cathedral. She was entranced with - the delicate beauty of the place, while her eyes kept following Freckles - as if she could not believe that it could be his conception and work. - </p> - <p> - That was a happy day. The Bird Woman had brought a lunch, and they spread - it, with Freckles' dinner, on the study floor and sat, resting and - enjoying themselves. But the Angel put her banjo into its case, silently - gathered her music, and no one mentioned the concert. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman left McLean and the Angel to clear away the lunch, and with - Freckles examined the walls of his room and told him all she knew about - his shrubs and flowers. She analyzed a cardinal-flower and showed him what - he had wanted to know all summer—why the bees buzzed ineffectually - around it while the humming-birds found in it an ever-ready feast. Some of - his specimens were so rare that she was unfamiliar with them, and with the - flower book between them they knelt, studying the different varieties. She - wandered the length of the cathedral aisle with him, and it was at her - suggestion that he lighted his altar with a row of flaming foxfire. - </p> - <p> - As Freckles came to the cabin from his long day at the swamp he saw Mrs. - Chicken sweeping to the south and wondered where she was going. He stepped - into the bright, cosy little kitchen, and as he reached down the - wash-basin he asked Mrs. Duncan a question. - </p> - <p> - “Mother Duncan, do kisses wash off?” - </p> - <p> - So warm a wave swept her heart that a half-flush mantled her face. She - straightened her shoulders and glanced at her hands tenderly. - </p> - <p> - “Lord, na! Freckles,” she cried. “At least, the anes ye get from people ye - love dinna. They dinna stay on the outside. They strike in until they find - the center of your heart and make their stopping-place there, and naething - can take them from ye—I doubt if even death——Na, lad, ye - can be reet sure kisses dinna wash off!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles set the basin down and muttered as he plunged his hot, tired face - into the water, “I needn't be afraid to be washing, then, for that one - struck in.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman - </h3> - <p> - “I wish,” said Freckles at breakfast one morning, “that I had some way to - be sending a message to the Bird Woman. I've something at the swamp that - I'm believing never happened before, and surely she'll be wanting it.” - </p> - <p> - “What now, Freckles?” asked Mrs. Duncan. - </p> - <p> - “Why, the oddest thing you ever heard of,” said Freckles; “the whole - insect tribe gone on a spree. I'm supposing it's my doings, but it all - happened by accident, like. You see, on the swale side of the line, right - against me trail, there's one of these scrub wild crabtrees. Where the - grass grows thick around it, is the finest place you ever conceived of for - snakes. Having women about has set me trying to clean out those fellows a - bit, and yesterday I noticed that tree in passing. It struck me that it - would be a good idea to be taking it out. First I thought I'd take me - hatchet and cut it down, for it ain't thicker than me upper arm. Then I - remembered how it was blooming in the spring and filling all the air with - sweetness. The coloring of the blossoms is beautiful, and I hated to be - killing it. I just cut the grass short all around it. Then I started at - the ground, trimmed up the trunk near the height of me shoulder, and left - the top spreading. That made it look so truly ornamental that, idle like, - I chips off the rough places neat, and this morning, on me soul, it's a - sight! You see, cutting off the limbs and trimming up the trunk sets the - sap running. In this hot sun it ferments in a few hours. There isn't much - room for more things to crowd on that tree than there are, and to get - drunker isn't noways possible.” - </p> - <p> - “Weel, I be drawed on!” exclaimed Mrs. Duncan. “What kind of things do ye - mean, Freckles?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, just an army of black ants. Some of them are sucking away like old - topers. Some of them are setting up on their tails and hind legs, fiddling - with their fore-feet and wiping their eyes. Some are rolling around on the - ground, contented. There are quantities of big blue-bottle flies over the - bark and hanging on the grasses around, too drunk to steer a course - flying; so they just buzz away like flying, and all the time sitting - still. The snake-feeders are too full to feed anything—even more sap - to themselves. There's a lot of hard-backed bugs—beetles, I guess—colored - like the brown, blue, and black of a peacock's tail. They hang on until - the legs of them are so wake they can't stick a minute longer, and then - they break away and fall to the ground. They just lay there on their - backs, fably clawing air. When it wears off a bit, up they get, and go - crawling back for more, and they so full they bump into each other and - roll over. Sometimes they can't climb the tree until they wait to sober up - a little. There's a lot of big black-and-gold bumblebees, done for entire, - stumbling over the bark and rolling on the ground. They just lay there on - their backs, rocking from side to side, singing to themselves like fat, - happy babies. The wild bees keep up a steady buzzing with the beating of - their wings. - </p> - <p> - “The butterflies are the worst old topers of them all. They're just a - circus! You never saw the like of the beauties! They come every color you - could be naming, and every shape you could be thinking up. They drink and - drink until, if I'm driving them away, they stagger as they fly and turn - somersaults in the air. If I lave them alone, they cling to the grasses, - shivering happy like; and I'm blest, Mother Duncan, if the best of them - could be unlocking the front door with a lead pencil, even.” - </p> - <p> - “I never heard of anything sae surprising,” said Mrs. Duncan. - </p> - <p> - “It's a rare sight to watch them, and no one ever made a picture of a - thing like that before, I'm for thinking,” said Freckles earnestly. - </p> - <p> - “Na,” said Mrs. Duncan. “Ye can be pretty sure there didna. The Bird Woman - must have word in some way, if ye walk the line and I walk to town and - tell her. If ye think ye can wait until after supper, I am most sure ye - can gang yoursel', for Duncan is coming home and he'd be glad to watch for - ye. If he does na come, and na ane passes that I can send word with today, - I really will gang early in the morning and tell her mysel'.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles took his lunch and went to the swamp. He walked and watched - eagerly. He could find no trace of anything, yet he felt a tense - nervousness, as if trouble might be brooding. He examined every section of - the wire, and kept watchful eyes on the grasses of the swale, in an effort - to discover if anyone had passed through them; but he could discover no - trace of anything to justify his fears. - </p> - <p> - He tilted his hat brim to shade his face and looked for his chickens. They - were hanging almost beyond sight in the sky. - </p> - <p> - “Gee!” he said. “If I only had your sharp eyes and convenient location - now, I wouldn't need be troubling so.” - </p> - <p> - He reached his room and cautiously scanned the entrance before he stepped - in. Then he pushed the bushes apart with his right arm and entered, his - left hand on the butt of his favorite revolver. Instantly he knew that - someone had been there. He stepped to the center of the room, closely - scanning each wall and the floor. He could find no trace of a clue to - confirm his belief, yet so intimate was he with the spirit of the place - that he knew. - </p> - <p> - How he knew he could not have told, yet he did know that someone had - entered his room, sat on his benches, and walked over his floor. He was - surest around the case. Nothing was disturbed, yet it seemed to Freckles - that he could see where prying fingers had tried the lock. He stepped - behind the case, carefully examining the ground all around it, and close - beside the tree to which it was nailed he found a deep, fresh footprint in - the spongy soil—a long, narrow print, that was never made by the - foot of Wessner. His heart tugged in his breast as he mentally measured - the print, but he did not linger, for now the feeling arose that he was - being watched. It seemed to him that he could feel the eyes of some - intruder at his back. He knew he was examining things too closely: if - anyone were watching, he did not want him to know that he felt it. - </p> - <p> - He took the most open way, and carried water for his flowers and moss as - usual; but he put himself into no position in which he was fully exposed, - and his hand was close his revolver constantly. Growing restive at last - under the strain, he plunged boldly into the swamp and searched minutely - all around his room, but he could not discover the least thing to give him - further cause for alarm. He unlocked his case, took out his wheel, and for - the remainder of the day he rode and watched as he never had before. - Several times he locked the wheel and crossed the swamp on foot, - zigzagging to cover all the space possible. Every rod he traveled he used - the caution that sprang from knowledge of danger and the direction from - which it probably would come. Several times he thought of sending for - McLean, but for his life he could not make up his mind to do it with - nothing more tangible than one footprint to justify him. - </p> - <p> - He waited until he was sure Duncan would be at home, if he were coming for - the night, before he went to supper. The first thing he saw as he crossed - the swale was the big bays in the yard. - </p> - <p> - There had been no one passing that day, and Duncan readily agreed to watch - until Freckles rode to town. He told Duncan of the footprint, and urged - him to guard closely. Duncan said he might rest easy, and filling his pipe - and taking a good revolver, the big man went to the Limberlost. - </p> - <p> - Freckles made himself clean and neat, and raced to town, but it was night - and the stars were shining before he reached the home of the Bird Woman. - From afar he could see that the house was ablaze with lights. The lawn and - veranda were strung with fancy lanterns and alive with people. He thought - his errand important, so to turn back never occurred to Freckles. This was - all the time or opportunity he would have. He must see the Bird Woman, and - see her at once. He leaned his wheel inside the fence and walked up the - broad front entrance. As he neared the steps, he saw that the place was - swarming with young people, and the Angel, with an excuse to a group that - surrounded her, came hurrying to him. - </p> - <p> - “Oh Freckles!” she cried delightedly. “So you could come? We were so - afraid you could not! I'm as glad as I can be!” - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand,” said Freckles. “Were you expecting me?” - </p> - <p> - “Why of course!” exclaimed the Angel. “Haven't you come to my party? - Didn't you get my invitation? I sent you one.” - </p> - <p> - “By mail?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel. “I had to help with the preparations, and I - couldn't find time to drive out; but I wrote you a letter, and told you - that the Bird Woman was giving a party for me, and we wanted you to come, - surely. I told them at the office to put it with Mr. Duncan's mail.” - </p> - <p> - “Then that's likely where it is at present,” said Freckles. “Duncan comes - to town only once a week, and at times not that. He's home tonight for the - first in a week. He's watching an hour for me until I come to the Bird - Woman with a bit of work I thought she'd be caring to hear about bad. Is - she where I can see her?” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's face clouded. - </p> - <p> - “What a disappointment!” she cried. “I did so want all my friends to know - you. Can't you stay anyway?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles glanced from his wading-boots to the patent leathers of some of - the Angel's friends, and smiled whimsically, but there was no danger of - his ever misjudging her again. - </p> - <p> - “You know I cannot, Angel,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I am afraid I do,” she said ruefully. “It's too bad! But there is a thing - I want for you more than to come to my party, and that is to hang on and - win with your work. I think of you every day, and I just pray that those - thieves are not getting ahead of you. Oh, Freckles, do watch closely!” - </p> - <p> - She was so lovely a picture as she stood before him, ardent in his cause, - that Freckles could not take his eyes from her to notice what her friends - were thinking. If she did not mind, why should he? Anyway, if they really - were the Angel's friends, probably they were better accustomed to her ways - than he. - </p> - <p> - Her face and bared neck and arms were like the wild rose bloom. Her soft - frock of white tulle lifted and stirred around her with the gentle evening - air. The beautiful golden hair, that crept around her temples and ears as - if it loved to cling there, was caught back and bound with broad blue - satin ribbon. There was a sash of blue at her waist, and knots of it - catching up her draperies. - </p> - <p> - “Must I go after the Bird Woman?” she pleaded. - </p> - <p> - “Indade, you must,” answered Freckles firmly. - </p> - <p> - The Angel went away, but returned to say that the Bird Woman was telling a - story to those inside and she could not come for a short time. - </p> - <p> - “You won't come in?” she pleaded. - </p> - <p> - “I must not,” said Freckles. “I am not dressed to be among your friends, - and I might be forgetting meself and stay too long.” - </p> - <p> - “Then,” said the Angel, “we mustn't go through the house, because it would - disturb the story; but I want you to come the outside way to the - conservatory and have some of my birthday lunch and some cake to take to - Mrs. Duncan and the babies. Won't that be fun?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles thought that it would be more than fun, and followed delightedly. - </p> - <p> - The Angel gave him a big glass, brimming with some icy, sparkling liquid - that struck his palate as it never had been touched before, because a - combination of frosty fruit juices had not been a frequent beverage with - him. The night was warm, and the Angel most beautiful and kind. A triple - delirium of spirit, mind, and body seized upon him and developed a - boldness all unnatural. He slightly parted the heavy curtains that - separated the conservatory from the company and looked between. He almost - stopped breathing. He had read of things like that, but he never had seen - them. - </p> - <p> - The open space seemed to stretch through half a dozen rooms, all ablaze - with lights, perfumed with flowers, and filled with elegantly dressed - people. There were glimpses of polished floors, sparkling glass, and fine - furnishings. From somewhere, the voice of his beloved Bird Woman arose and - fell. - </p> - <p> - The Angel crowded beside him and was watching also. - </p> - <p> - “Doesn't it look pretty?” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Do you suppose Heaven is any finer than that?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The Angel began to laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want to be laughing harder than that?” queried Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “A laugh is always good,” said the Angel. “A little more avoirdupois won't - hurt me. Go ahead.” - </p> - <p> - “Well then,” said Freckles, “it's only that I feel all over as if I - belonged there. I could wear fine clothes, and move over those floors, and - hold me own against the best of them.” - </p> - <p> - “But where does my laugh come in?” demanded the Angel, as if she had been - defrauded. - </p> - <p> - “And you ask me where the laugh comes in, looking me in the face after - that,” marveled Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “I wouldn't be so foolish as to laugh at such a manifest truth as that,” - said the Angel. “Anyone who knows you even half as well as I do, knows - that you are never guilty of a discourtesy, and you move with twice the - grace of any man here. Why shouldn't you feel as if you belonged where - people are graceful and courteous?” - </p> - <p> - “On me soul!” said Freckles, “you are kind to be thinking it. You are - doubly kind to be saying it.” - </p> - <p> - The curtains parted and a woman came toward them. Her silks and laces - trailed across the polished floors. The lights gleamed on her neck and - arms, and flashed from rare jewels. She was smiling brightly; and until - she spoke, Freckles had not realized fully that it was his loved Bird - Woman. - </p> - <p> - Noticing his bewilderment, she cried: “Why, Freckles! Don't you know me in - my war clothes?” - </p> - <p> - “I do in the uniform in which you fight the Limberlost,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman laughed. Then he told her why he had come, but she scarcely - could believe him. She could not say exactly when she would go, but she - would make it as soon as possible, for she was most anxious for the study. - </p> - <p> - While they talked, the Angel was busy packing a box of sandwiches, cake, - fruit, and flowers. She gave him a last frosty glass, thanked him - repeatedly for bringing news of new material; then Freckles went into the - night. He rode toward the Limberlost with his eyes on the stars. Presently - he removed his hat, hung it to his belt, and ruffled his hair to the sweep - of the night wind. He filled the air all the way with snatches of - oratorios, gospel hymns, and dialect and coon songs, in a startlingly - varied programme. The one thing Freckles knew that he could do was to - sing. The Duncans heard him coming a mile up the corduroy and could not - believe their senses. Freckles unfastened the box from his belt, and gave - Mrs. Duncan and the children all the eatables it contained, except one big - piece of cake that he carried to the sweet-loving Duncan. He put the - flowers back in the box and set it among his books. He did not say - anything, but they understood it was not to be touched. - </p> - <p> - “Thae's Freckles' flow'rs,” said a tiny Scotsman, “but,” he added - cheerfully, “it's oor sweeties!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' face slowly flushed as he took Duncan's cake and started toward - the swamp. While Duncan ate, Freckles told him something about the - evening, as well as he could find words to express himself, and the big - man was so amazed he kept forgetting the treat in his hands. - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles mounted his wheel and began a spin that terminated only when - the biggest Plymouth Rock in Duncan's coop saluted a new day, and long - lines of light reddened the east. As he rode he sang, while he sang he - worshiped, but the god he tried to glorify was a dim and faraway mystery. - The Angel was warm flesh and blood. - </p> - <p> - Every time he passed the little bark-covered imprint on the trail he - dismounted, removed his hat, solemnly knelt and laid his lips on the - impression. Because he kept no account himself, only the laughing-faced - old man of the moon knew how often it happened; and as from the beginning, - to the follies of earth that gentleman has ever been kind. - </p> - <p> - With the near approach of dawn Freckles tuned his last note. Wearied - almost to falling, he turned from the trail into the path leading to the - cabin for a few hours' rest. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack - </h3> - <p> - As Freckles left the trail, from the swale close the south entrance, four - large muscular men arose and swiftly and carefully entered the swamp by - the wagon road. Two of them carried a big saw, the third, coils of rope - and wire, and all of them were heavily armed. They left one man on guard - at the entrance. The other three made their way through the darkness as - best they could, and were soon at Freckles' room. He had left the swamp on - his wheel from the west trail. They counted on his returning on the wheel - and circling the east line before he came there. - </p> - <p> - A little below the west entrance to Freckles' room, Black Jack stepped - into the swale, and binding a wire tightly around a scrub oak, carried it - below the waving grasses, stretched it taut across the trail, and fastened - it to a tree in the swamp. Then he obliterated all signs of his work, and - arranged the grass over the wire until it was so completely covered that - only minute examination would reveal it. They entered Freckles' room with - coarse oaths and jests. In a few moments, his specimen case with its - precious contents was rolled into the swamp, while the saw was eating into - one of the finest trees of the Limberlost. - </p> - <p> - The first report from the man on watch was that Duncan had driven to the - South camp; the second, that Freckles was coming. The man watching was - sent to see on which side the boy turned into the path; as they had - expected, he took the east. He was a little tired and his head was rather - stupid, for he had not been able to sleep as he had hoped, but he was very - happy. Although he watched until his eyes ached, he could see no sign of - anyone having entered the swamp. - </p> - <p> - He called a cheery greeting to all his chickens. At Sleepy Snake Creek he - almost fell from his wheel with surprise: the saw-bird was surrounded by - four lanky youngsters clamoring for breakfast. The father was strutting - with all the importance of a drum major. - </p> - <p> - “No use to expect the Bird Woman today,” said Freckles; “but now wouldn't - she be jumping for a chance at that?” - </p> - <p> - As soon as Freckles was far down the east line, the watch was posted below - the room on the west to report his coming. It was only a few moments - before the signal came. Then the saw stopped, and the rope was brought out - and uncoiled close to a sapling. Wessner and Black Jack crowded to the - very edge of the swamp a little above the wire, and crouched, waiting. - </p> - <p> - They heard Freckles before they saw him. He came gliding down the line - swiftly, and as he rode he was singing softly: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - “Oh, do you love, - Oh, say you love——” - </pre> - <p> - He got no farther. The sharply driven wheel struck the tense wire and - bounded back. Freckles shot over the handlebar and coasted down the trail - on his chest. As he struck, Black Jack and Wessner were upon him. Wessner - caught off an old felt hat and clapped it over Freckles' mouth, while - Black Jack twisted the boy's arms behind him and they rushed him into his - room. Almost before he realized that anything had happened, he was trussed - to a tree and securely gagged. - </p> - <p> - Then three of the men resumed work on the tree. The other followed the - path Freckles had worn to Little Chicken's tree, and presently he reported - that the wires were down and two teams with the loading apparatus coming - to take out the timber. All the time the saw was slowly eating, eating - into the big tree. - </p> - <p> - Wessner went to the trail and removed the wire. He picked up Freckles' - wheel, that did not seem to be injured, and leaned it against the bushes - so that if anyone did pass on the trail he would not see it doubled in the - swamp-grass. - </p> - <p> - Then he came and stood in front of Freckles and laughed in devilish hate. - To his own amazement, Freckles found himself looking fear in the face, and - marveled that he was not afraid. Four to one! The tree halfway eaten - through, the wagons coming up the inside road—he, bound and gagged! - The men with Black Jack and Wessner had belonged to McLean's gang when - last he had heard of them, but who those coming with the wagons might be - he could not guess. - </p> - <p> - If they secured that tree, McLean lost its value, lost his wager, and lost - his faith in him. The words of the Angel hammered in his ears. “Oh, - Freckles, do watch closely!” - </p> - <p> - The saw worked steadily. - </p> - <p> - When the tree was down and loaded, what would they do? Pull out, and leave - him there to report them? It was not to be hoped for. The place always had - been lawless. It could mean but one thing. - </p> - <p> - A mist swept before his eyes, while his head swam. Was it only last night - that he had worshiped the Angel in a delirium of happiness? And now, what? - Wessner, released from a turn at the saw, walked to the flower bed, and - tearing up a handful of rare ferns by the roots, started toward Freckles. - His intention was obvious. Black Jack stopped him, with an oath. - </p> - <p> - “You see here, Dutchy,” he bawled, “mebby you think you'll wash his face - with that, but you won't. A contract's a contract. We agreed to take out - these trees and leave him for you to dispose of whatever way you please, - provided you shut him up eternally on this deal. But I'll not see a tied - man tormented by a fellow that he can lick up the ground with, loose, and - that's flat. It raises my gorge to think what he'll get when we're gone, - but you needn't think you're free to begin before. Don't you lay a hand on - him while I'm here! What do you say, boys?” - </p> - <p> - “I say yes,” growled one of McLean's latest deserters. “What's more, we're - a pack of fools to risk the dirty work of silencing him. You had him face - down and you on his back; why the hell didn't you cover his head and roll - him into the bushes until we were gone? When I went into this, I didn't - understand that he was to see all of us and that there was murder on the - ticket. I'm not up to it. I don't mind lifting trees we came for, but I'm - cursed if I want blood on my hands.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you ain't going to get it,” bellowed Jack. “You fellows only - contracted to help me get out my marked trees. He belong to Wessner, and - it ain't in our deal what happens to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and if Wessner finishes him safely, we are practically in for murder - as well as stealing the trees; and if he don't, all hell's to pay. I think - you've made a damnable bungle of this thing; that's what I think!” - </p> - <p> - “Then keep your thoughts to yourself,” cried Jack. “We're doing this, and - it's all planned safe and sure. As for killing that buck—come to - think of it, killing is what he needs. He's away too good for this world - of woe, anyhow. I tell you, it's all safe enough. His dropping out won't - be the only secret the old Limberlost has never told. It's too dead easy - to make it look like he helped take the timber and then cut. Why, he's - played right into our hands. He was here at the swamp all last night, and - back again in an hour or so. When we get our plan worked out, even old - fool Duncan won't lift a finger to look for his carcass. We couldn't have - him going in better shape.” - </p> - <p> - “You just bet,” said Wessner. “I owe him all he'll get, and be damned to - you, but I'll pay!” he snarled at Freckles. - </p> - <p> - So it was killing, then. They were not only after this one tree, but many, - and with his body it was their plan to kill his honor. To brand him a - thief, with them, before the Angel, the Bird Woman, the dear Boss, and the - Duncans—Freckles, in sick despair, sagged against the ropes. - </p> - <p> - Then he gathered his forces and thought swiftly. There was no hope of - McLean's coming. They had chosen a day when they knew he had a big - contract at the South camp. The Boss could not come before tomorrow by any - possibility, and there would be no tomorrow for the boy. Duncan was on his - way to the South camp, and the Bird Woman had said she would come as soon - as she could. After the fatigue of the party, it was useless to expect her - and the Angel today, and God save them from coming! The Angel's father had - said they would be as safe in the Limberlost as at home. What would he - think of this? - </p> - <p> - The sweat broke on Freckles' forehead. He tugged at the ropes whenever he - felt that he dared, but they were passed around the tree and his body - several times, and knotted on his chest. He was helpless. There was no - hope, no help. And after they had conspired to make him appear a runaway - thief to his loved ones, what was it that Wessner would do to him? - </p> - <p> - Whatever it was, Freckles lifted his head and resolved that he would bear - in mind what he had once heard the Bird Woman say. He would go out - bonnily. Never would he let them see, if he grew afraid. After all, what - did it matter what they did to his body if by some scheme of the devil - they could encompass his disgrace? - </p> - <p> - Then hope suddenly rose high in Freckles' breast. They could not do that! - The Angel would not believe. Neither would McLean. He would keep up his - courage. Kill him they could; dishonor him they could not. - </p> - <p> - Yet, summon all the fortitude he might, that saw eating into the tree - rasped his nerves worse and worse. With whirling brain he gazed into the - Limberlost, searching for something, he knew not what, and in blank horror - found his eyes focusing on the Angel. She was quite a distance away, but - he could see her white lips and angry expression. - </p> - <p> - Last week he had taken her and the Bird Woman across the swamp over the - path he followed in going from his room to the chicken tree. He had told - them the night before, that the butterfly tree was on the line close to - this path. In figuring on their not coming that day, he failed to reckon - with the enthusiasm of the Bird Woman. They must be there for the study, - and the Angel had risked crossing the swamp in search of him. Or was there - something in his room they needed? The blood surged in his ears as the - roar of the Limberlost in the wrath of a storm. - </p> - <p> - He looked again, and it had been a dream. She was not there. Had she been? - For his life, Freckles could not tell whether he really had seen the - Angel, or whether his strained senses had played him the most cruel trick - of all. Or was it not the kindest? Now he could go with the vision of her - lovely face fresh with him. - </p> - <p> - “Thank You for that, oh God!” whispered Freckles. “'Twas more than kind of - You and I don't s'pose I ought to be wanting anything else; but if You - can, oh, I wish I could know before this ends, if 'twas me mother”—Freckles - could not even whisper the words, for he hesitated a second and ended—“IF - 'TWAS ME MOTHER DID IT!” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles! Freckles! Oh, Freckles!” the voice of the Angel came calling. - Freckles swayed forward and wrenched at the rope until it cut deeply into - his body. - </p> - <p> - “Hell!” cried Black Jack. “Who is that? Do you know?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles nodded. - </p> - <p> - Jack whipped out a revolver and snatched the gag from Freckles' mouth. - </p> - <p> - “Say quick, or it's up with you right now, and whoever that is with you!” - </p> - <p> - “It's the girl the Bird Woman takes with her,” whispered Freckles through - dry, swollen lips. - </p> - <p> - “They ain't due here for five days yet,” said Wessner. “We got on to that - last week.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Freckles, “but I found a tree covered with butterflies and - things along the east line yesterday that I thought the Bird Woman would - want extra, and I went to town to tell her last night. She said she'd come - soon, but she didn't say when. They must be here. I take care of the girl - while the Bird Woman works. Untie me quick until she is gone. I'll try to - send her back, and then you can go on with your dirty work.” - </p> - <p> - “He ain't lying,” volunteered Wessner. “I saw that tree covered with - butterflies and him watching around it when we were spying on him - yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “No, he leaves lying to your sort,” snapped Black Jack, as he undid the - rope and pitched it across the room. “Remember that you're covered every - move you make, my buck,” he cautioned. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles! Freckles!” came the Angel's impatient voice, closer and closer. - </p> - <p> - “I must be answering,” said Freckles, and Jack nodded. “Right here!” he - called, and to the men: “You go on with your work, and remember one thing - yourselves. The work of the Bird Woman is known all over the world. This - girl's father is a rich man, and she is all he has. If you offer hurt of - any kind to either of them, this world has no place far enough away or - dark enough for you to be hiding in. Hell will be easy to what any man - will get if he touches either of them!” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, where are you?” demanded the Angel. - </p> - <p> - Soulsick with fear for her, Freckles went toward her and parted the bushes - that she might enter. She came through without apparently giving him a - glance, and the first words she said were: “Why have the gang come so - soon? I didn't know you expected them for three weeks yet. Or is this some - especial tree that Mr. McLean needs to fill an order right now?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles hesitated. Would a man dare lie to save himself? No. But to save - the Angel—surely that was different. He opened his lips, but the - Angel was capable of saving herself. She walked among them, exactly as if - she had been reared in a lumber camp, and never waited for an answer. - </p> - <p> - “Why, your specimen case!” she cried. “Look! Haven't you noticed that it's - tipped over? Set it straight, quickly!” - </p> - <p> - A couple of the men stepped out and carefully righted the case. - </p> - <p> - “There! That's better,” she said. “Freckles, I'm surprised at your being - so careless. It would be a shame to break those lovely butterflies for one - old tree! Is that a valuable tree? Why didn't you tell us last night you - were going to take out a tree this morning? Oh, say, did you put your case - there to protect that tree from that stealing old Black Jack and his gang? - I bet you did! Well, if that wasn't bright! What kind of a tree is it?” - </p> - <p> - “It's a white oak,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Like those they make dining-tables and sideboards from?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “My! How interesting!” she cried. “I don't know a thing about timber, but - my father wants me to learn just everything I can. I am going to ask him - to let me come here and watch you until I know enough to boss a gang - myself. Do you like to cut trees, gentlemen?” she asked with angelic - sweetness of the men. - </p> - <p> - Some of them appeared foolish and some grim, but one managed to say they - did. - </p> - <p> - Then the Angel's eyes turned full on Black Jack, and she gave the most - natural little start of astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “Oh! I almost thought that you were a ghost!” she cried. “But I see now - that you are really and truly. Were you ever in Colorado?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Jack. - </p> - <p> - “I see you aren't the same man,” said the Angel. “You know, we were in - Colorado last year, and there was a cowboy who was the handsomest man - anywhere around. He'd come riding into town every night, and all we girls - just adored him! Oh, but he was a beauty! I thought at first glance you - were really he, but I see now he wasn't nearly so tall nor so broad as - you, and only half as handsome.” - </p> - <p> - The men began to laugh while Jack flushed crimson. The Angel joined in the - laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'll leave it to you! Isn't he handsome?” she challenged. “As for - that cowboy's face, it couldn't be compared with yours. The only trouble - with you is that your clothes are spoiling you. It's the dress those - cowboys wear that makes half their attraction. If you were properly - clothed, you could break the heart of the prettiest girl in the country.” - </p> - <p> - With one accord the other men looked at Black Jack, and for the first time - realized that he was a superb specimen of manhood, for he stood six feet - tall, was broad, well-rounded, and had dark, even skin, big black eyes, - and full red lips. - </p> - <p> - “I'll tell you what!” exclaimed the Angel. “I'd just love to see you on - horseback. Nothing sets a handsome man off so splendidly. Do you ride?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Jack, and his eyes were burning on the Angel as if he would - fathom the depths of her soul. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said the Angel winsomely, “I know what I just wish you'd do. I - wish you would let your hair grow a little longer. Then wear a blue - flannel shirt a little open at the throat, a red tie, and a broad-brimmed - felt hat, and ride past my house of evenings. I'm always at home then, and - almost always on the veranda, and, oh! but I would like to see you! Will - you do that for me?” It is impossible to describe the art with which the - Angel asked the question. She was looking straight into Jack's face, - coarse and hardened with sin and careless living, which was now taking on - a wholly different expression. The evil lines of it were softening and - fading under her clear gaze. A dull red flamed into his bronze cheeks, - while his eyes were growing brightly tender. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said, and the glance he gave the men was of such a nature that - no one saw fit even to change countenance. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, goody!” she cried, tilting on her toes. “I'll ask all the girls to - come see, but they needn't stick in! We can get along without them, can't - we?” - </p> - <p> - Jack leaned toward her. He was the charmed fluttering bird, while the - Angel was the snake. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I rather guess!” he cried. - </p> - <p> - The Angel drew a deep breath and surveyed him rapturously. - </p> - <p> - “My, but you're tall!” she commented. “Do you suppose I ever will grow to - reach your shoulders?” - </p> - <p> - She stood on tiptoe and measured the distance with her eyes. Then she - developed timid confusion, while her glance sought the ground. - </p> - <p> - “I wish I could do something,” she half whispered. - </p> - <p> - Jack seemed to increase an inch in height. - </p> - <p> - “What?” he asked hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - “Lariat Bill used always to have a bunch of red flowers in his shirt - pocket. The red lit up his dark eyes and olive cheeks and made him - splendid. May I put some red flowers on you?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stared as he wheezed for breath. He wished the earth would open - and swallow him. Was he dead or alive? Since his Angel had seen Black Jack - she never had glanced his way. Was she completely bewitched? Would she - throw herself at the man's feet before them all? Couldn't she give him - even one thought? Hadn't she seen that he was gagged and bound? Did she - truly think that these were McLean's men? Why, she could not! It was only - a few days ago that she had been close enough to this man and angry enough - with him to peel the hat from his head with a shot! Suddenly a thing she - had said jestingly to him one day came back with startling force: “You - must take Angels on trust.” Of course you must! She was his Angel. She - must have seen! His life, and what was far more, her own, was in her - hands. There was nothing he could do but trust her. Surely she was working - out some plan. - </p> - <p> - The Angel knelt beside his flower bed and recklessly tore up by the roots - a big bunch of foxfire. - </p> - <p> - “These stems are so tough and sticky,” she said. “I can't break them. Loan - me your knife,” she ordered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - As she reached for the knife, her back was for one second toward the men. - She looked into his eyes and deliberately winked. - </p> - <p> - She severed the stems, tossed the knife to Freckles, and walking to Jack, - laid the flowers over his heart. - </p> - <p> - Freckles broke into a sweat of agony. He had said she would be safe in a - herd of howling savages. Would she? If Black Jack even made a motion - toward touching her, Freckles knew that from somewhere he would muster the - strength to kill him. He mentally measured the distance to where his club - lay and set his muscles for a spring. But no—by the splendor of God! - The big fellow was baring his head with a hand that was unsteady. The - Angel pulled one of the long silver pins from her hat and fastened her - flowers securely. - </p> - <p> - Freckles was quaking. What was to come next? What was she planning, and - oh! did she understand the danger of her presence among those men; the - real necessity for action? - </p> - <p> - As the Angel stepped from Jack, she turned her head to one side and peered - at him, quite as Freckles had seen the little yellow fellow do on the line - a hundred times, and said: “Well, that does the trick! Isn't that fine? - See how it sets him off, boys? Don't you forget the tie is to be red, and - the first ride soon. I can't wait very long. Now I must go. The Bird Woman - will be ready to start, and she will come here hunting me next, for she is - busy today. What did I come here for anyway?” - </p> - <p> - She glanced inquiringly around, and several of the men laughed. Oh, the - delight of it! She had forgotten her errand for him! Jack had a second - increase in height. The Angel glanced helplessly as if seeking a clue. - Then her eyes fell, as if by accident, on Freckles, and she cried, “Oh, I - know now! It was those magazines the Bird Woman promised you. I came to - tell you that we put them under the box where we hide things, at the - entrance to the swamp as we came in. I knew I would need my hands crossing - the swamp, so I hid them there. You'll find them at the same old place.” - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles spoke. - </p> - <p> - “It's mighty risky for you to be crossing the swamp alone,” he said. “I'm - surprised that the Bird Woman would be letting you try it. I know it's a - little farther, but it's begging you I am to be going back by the trail. - That's bad enough, but it's far safer than the swamp.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel laughed merrily. - </p> - <p> - “Oh stop your nonsense!” she cried. “I'm not afraid! Not in the least! The - Bird Woman didn't want me to try following a path that I'd been over only - once, but I was sure I could do it, and I'm rather proud of the - performance. Now, don't go babying! You know I'm not afraid!” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Freckles gently, “I know you're not; but that has nothing to do - with the fact that your friends are afraid for you. On the trail you can - see your way a bit ahead, and you've all the world a better chance if you - meet a snake.” - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles had an inspiration. He turned to Jack imploringly. - </p> - <p> - “You tell her!” he pleaded. “Tell her to go by the trail. She will for - you.” - </p> - <p> - The implication of this statement was so gratifying to Black Jack that he - seemed again to expand and take on increase before their very eyes. - </p> - <p> - “You bet!” exclaimed Jack. And to the Angel: “You better take Freckles' - word for it, miss. He knows the old swamp better than any of us, except - me, and if he says 'go by the trail,' you'd best do it.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel hesitated. She wanted to recross the swamp and try to reach the - horse. She knew Freckles would brave any danger to save her crossing the - swamp alone, but she really was not afraid, while the trail added over a - mile to the walk. She knew the path. She intended to run for dear life the - instant she felt herself from their sight, and tucked in the folds of her - blouse was a fine little 32-caliber revolver that her father had presented - her for her share in what he was pleased to call her military exploit. One - last glance at Freckles showed her the agony in his eyes, and immediately - she imagined he had some other reason. She would follow the trail. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” she said, giving Jack a thrilling glance. “If you say so, - I'll return by the trail to please you. Good-bye, everybody.” - </p> - <p> - She lifted the bushes and started toward the entrance. - </p> - <p> - “You damned fool! Stop her!” growled Wessner. “Keep her till we're loaded, - anyhow. You're playing hell! Can't you see that when this thing is found - out, there she'll be to ruin all of us. If you let her go, every man of us - has got to cut, and some of us will be caught sure.” - </p> - <p> - Jack sprang forward. Freckles' heart muffled in his throat. The Angel - seemed to divine Jack's coming. She was humming a little song. She - deliberately stopped and began pulling the heads of the curious grasses - that grew all around her. When she straightened, she took a step backward - and called: “Ho! Freckles, the Bird Woman wants that natural history - pamphlet returned. It belongs to a set she is going to have bound. That's - one of the reasons we put it under the box. You be sure to get them as you - go home tonight, for fear it rains or becomes damp with the heavy dews.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said Freckles, but it was in a voice that he never had heard - before. - </p> - <p> - Then the Angel turned and sent a parting glance at Jack. She was - overpoweringly human and bewitchingly lovely. - </p> - <p> - “You won't forget that ride and the red tie,” she half asserted, half - questioned. - </p> - <p> - Jack succumbed. Freckles was his captive, but he was the Angel's, soul and - body. His face wore the holiest look it ever had known as he softly - re-echoed Freckles' “All right.” With her head held well up, the Angel - walked slowly away, and Jack turned to the men. - </p> - <p> - “Drop your damned staring and saw wood,” he shouted. “Don't you know - anything at all about how to treat a lady?” It might have been a question - which of the cronies that crouched over green wood fires in the cabins of - Wildcat Hollow, eternally sucking a corncob pipe and stirring the endless - kettles of stewing coon and opossum, had taught him to do even as well as - he had by the Angel. - </p> - <p> - The men muttered and threatened among themselves, but they began working - desperately. Someone suggested that a man be sent to follow the Angel and - to watch her and the Bird Woman leave the swamp. Freckles' heart sank - within him, but Jack was in a delirium and past all caution. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he sneered. “Mebby all of you had better give over on the saw and - run after the girl. I guess not! Seems to me I got the favors. I didn't - see no bouquets on the rest of you! If anybody follows her, I do, and I'm - needed here among such a pack of idiots. There's no danger in that baby - face. She wouldn't give me away! You double and work like forty, while me - and Wessner will take the axes and begin to cut in on the other side.” - </p> - <p> - “What about the noise?” asked Wessner. - </p> - <p> - “No difference about the noise,” answered Jack. “She took us to be from - McLean's gang, slick as grease. Make the chips fly!” - </p> - <p> - So all of them attacked the big tree. - </p> - <p> - Freckles sat on one of his benches and waited. In their haste to fell the - tree and load it, so that the teamsters could start, and leave them free - to attack another, they had forgotten to rebind him. - </p> - <p> - The Angel was on the trail and safely started. The cold perspiration made - Freckles' temples clammy and ran in little streams down his chest. It - would take her more time to follow the trail, but her safety was Freckles' - sole thought in urging her to go that way. He tried to figure on how long - it would require to walk to the carriage. He wondered if the Bird Woman - had unhitched. He followed the Angel every step of the way. He figured on - when she would cross the path of the clearing, pass the deep pool where - his “find-out” frog lived, cross Sleepy Snake Creek, and reach the - carriage. - </p> - <p> - He wondered what she would say to the Bird Woman, and how long it would - take them to pack and start. He knew now that they would understand, and - the Angel would try to get the Boss there in time to save his wager. She - could never do it, for the saw was over half through, and Jack and Wessner - cutting into the opposite side of the tree. It appeared as if they could - fell at least that tree, before McLean could come, and if they did he lost - his wager. - </p> - <p> - When it was down, would they rebind him and leave him for Wessner to wreak - his insane vengeance on, or would they take him along to the next tree and - dispose of him when they had stolen all the timber they could? Jack had - said that he should not be touched until he left. Surely he would not run - all that risk for one tree, when he had many others of far greater value - marked. Freckles felt that he had some hope to cling to now, but he found - himself praying that the Angel would hurry. - </p> - <p> - Once Jack came to Freckles and asked if he had any water. Freckles arose - and showed him where he kept his drinking-water. Jack drank in great - gulps, and as he passed back the bucket, he said: “When a man's got a - chance of catching a fine girl like that, he ought not be mixed up in any - dirty business. I wish to God I was out of this!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles answered heartily: “I wish I was, too!” - </p> - <p> - Jack stared at him a minute and then broke into a roar of rough laughter. - </p> - <p> - “Blest if I blame you,” he said. “But you had your chance! We offered you - a fair thing and you gave Wessner his answer. I ain't envying you when he - gives you his.” - </p> - <p> - “You're six to one,” answered Freckles. “It will be easy enough for you to - be killing the body of me, but, curse you all, you can't blacken me soul!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'd give anything you could name if I had your honesty,” said Jack. - </p> - <p> - When the mighty tree fell, the Limberlost shivered and screamed with the - echo. Freckles groaned in despair, but the gang took heart. That was so - much accomplished. They knew where to dispose of it safely, with no - questions asked. Before the day was over, they could remove three others, - all suitable for veneer and worth far more than this. Then they would - leave Freckles to Wessner and scatter for safety, with more money than - they had ever hoped for in their possession. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls - upon Her - </h3> - <p> - On the line, the Angel gave one backward glance at Black Jack, to see that - he had returned to his work. Then she gathered her skirts above her knees - and leaped forward on the run. In the first three yards she passed - Freckles' wheel. Instantly she imagined that was why he had insisted on - her coming by the trail. She seized it and sprang on. The saddle was too - high, but she was an expert rider and could catch the pedals as they came - up. She stopped at Duncan's cabin long enough to remedy this, telling Mrs. - Duncan while working what was happening, and for her to follow the east - trail until she found the Bird Woman, and told her that she had gone after - McLean and for her to leave the swamp as quickly as possible. - </p> - <p> - Even with her fear for Freckles to spur her, Sarah Duncan blanched and - began shivering at the idea of facing the Limberlost. The Angel looked her - in the eyes. - </p> - <p> - “No matter how afraid you are, you have to go,” she said. “If you don't - the Bird Woman will go to Freckles' room, hunting me, and they will have - trouble with her. If she isn't told to leave at once, they may follow me, - and, finding I'm gone, do some terrible thing to Freckles. I can't go—that's - flat—for if they caught me, then there'd be no one to go for help. - You don't suppose they are going to take out the trees they're after and - then leave Freckles to run and tell? They are going to murder the boy; - that's what they are going to do. You run, and run for life! For Freckles' - life! You can ride back with the Bird Woman.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel saw Mrs. Duncan started; then began her race. - </p> - <p> - Those awful miles of corduroy! Would they never end? She did not dare use - the wheel too roughly, for if it broke she never could arrive on time - afoot. Where her way was impassable for the wheel, she jumped off, and - pushing it beside her or carrying it, she ran as fast as she could. The - day was fearfully warm. The sun poured with the fierce baking heat of - August. The bushes claimed her hat, and she did not stop for it. - </p> - <p> - Where it was at all possible, the Angel mounted and pounded over the - corduroy again. She was panting for breath and almost worn out when she - reached the level pike. She had no idea how long she had been—and - only two miles covered. She leaned over the bars, almost standing on the - pedals, racing with all the strength in her body. The blood surged in her - ears while her head swam, but she kept a straight course, and rode and - rode. It seemed to her that she was standing still, while the trees and - houses were racing past her. - </p> - <p> - Once a farmer's big dog rushed angrily into the road and she swerved until - she almost fell, but she regained her balance, and setting her muscles, - pedaled as fast as she could. At last she lifted her head. Surely it could - not be over a mile more. She had covered two of corduroy and at least - three of gravel, and it was only six in all. - </p> - <p> - She was reeling in the saddle, but she gripped the bars with new energy, - and raced desperately. The sun beat on her bare head and hands. Just when - she was choking with dust, and almost prostrate with heat and exhaustion—crash, - she ran into a broken bottle. Snap! went the tire; the wheel swerved and - pitched over. The Angel rolled into the thick yellow dust of the road and - lay quietly. - </p> - <p> - From afar, Duncan began to notice a strange, dust-covered object in the - road, as he headed toward town with the first load of the day's felling. - </p> - <p> - He chirruped to the bays and hurried them all he could. As he neared the - Angel, he saw it was a woman and a broken wheel. He was beside her in an - instant. He carried her to a shaded fence-corner, stretched her on the - grass, and wiped the dust from the lovely face all dirt-streaked, crimson, - and bearing a startling whiteness around the mouth and nose. - </p> - <p> - Wheels were common enough. Many of the farmers' daughters owned and rode - them, but he knew these same farmers' daughters; this face was a - stranger's. He glanced at the Angel's tumbled clothing, the silkiness of - her hair, with its pale satin ribbon, and noticed that she had lost her - hat. Her lips tightened in an ominous quiver. He left her and picked up - the wheel: as he had surmised, he knew it. This, then, was Freckles' Swamp - Angel. There was trouble in the Limberlost, and she had broken down racing - to McLean. Duncan turned the bays into a fence-corner, tied one of them, - unharnessed the other, fastened up the trace chains, and hurried to the - nearest farmhouse to send help to the Angel. He found a woman, who took a - bottle of camphor, a jug of water, and some towels, and started on the - run. - </p> - <p> - Then Duncan put the bay to speed and raced to camp. - </p> - <p> - The Angel, left alone, lay still for a second, then she shivered and - opened her eyes. She saw that she was on the grass and the broken wheel - beside her. Instantly she realized that someone had carried her there and - gone after help. She sat up and looked around. She noticed the load of - logs and the one horse. Someone was riding after help for her! - </p> - <p> - “Oh, poor Freckles!” she wailed. “They may be killing him by now. Oh, how - much time have I wasted?” - </p> - <p> - She hurried to the other bay, her fingers flying as she set him free. - Snatching up a big blacksnake whip that lay on the ground, she caught the - hames, stretched along the horse's neck, and, for the first time, the - fine, big fellow felt on his back the quality of the lash that Duncan was - accustomed to crack over him. He was frightened, and ran at top speed. - </p> - <p> - The Angel passed a wildly waving, screaming woman on the road, and a - little later a man riding as if he, too, were in great haste. The man - called to her, but she only lay lower and used the whip. Soon the feet of - the man's horse sounded farther and farther away. - </p> - <p> - At the South camp they were loading a second wagon, when the Angel - appeared riding one of Duncan's bays, lathered and dripping, and cried: - “Everybody go to Freckles! There are thieves stealing trees, and they had - him bound. They're going to kill him!” - </p> - <p> - She wheeled the horse toward the Limberlost. The alarm sounded through - camp. The gang were not unprepared. McLean sprang to Nellie's back and - raced after the Angel. As they passed Duncan, he wheeled and followed. - Soon the pike was an irregular procession of barebacked riders, wildly - driving flying horses toward the swamp. - </p> - <p> - The Boss rode neck-and-neck with the Angel. He repeatedly commanded her to - stop and fall out of line, until he remembered that he would need her to - lead him to Freckles. Then he gave up and rode beside her, for she was - sending the bay at as sharp a pace as the other horses could keep and hold - out. He could see that she was not hearing him. He glanced back and saw - that Duncan was close. There was something terrifying in the appearance of - the big man, and the manner in which he sat his beast and rode. It would - be a sad day for the man on whom Duncan's wrath broke. There were four - others close behind him, and the pike filling with the remainder of the - gang; so McLean took heart and raced beside the Angel. Over and over he - asked her where the trouble was, but she only gripped the hames, leaned - along the bay's neck, and slashed away with the blacksnake. The steaming - horse, with crimson nostrils and heaving sides, stretched out and ran for - home with all the speed there was in him. - </p> - <p> - When they passed the cabin, the Bird Woman's carriage was there and Mrs. - Duncan in the door wringing her hands, but the Bird Woman was nowhere to - be seen. The Angel sent the bay along the path and turned into the west - trail, while the men bunched and followed her. When she reached the - entrance to Freckles' room, there were four men with her, and two more - very close behind. She slid from the horse, and snatching the little - revolver from her pocket, darted toward the bushes. McLean caught them - back, and with drawn weapon, pressed beside her. There they stopped in - astonishment. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman blocked the entrance. Over a small limb lay her revolver. - It was trained at short range on Black Jack and Wessner, who stood with - their hands above their heads. - </p> - <p> - Freckles, with the blood trickling down his face, from an ugly cut in his - temple, was gagged and bound to the tree again; the remainder of the men - were gone. Black Jack was raving as a maniac, and when they looked closer - it was only the left arm that he raised. His right, with the hand - shattered, hung helpless at his side, while his revolver lay at Freckles' - feet. Wessner's weapon was in his belt, and beside him Freckles' club. - </p> - <p> - Freckles' face was white, with colorless lips, but in his eyes was the - strength of undying courage. McLean pushed past the Bird Woman crying. - “Hold steady on them only one minute more!” - </p> - <p> - He snatched the revolver from Wessner's belt, and stooped for Jack's. - </p> - <p> - At that instant the Angel rushed past. She tore the gag from Freckles, and - seizing the rope knotted on his chest, she tugged at it desperately. Under - her fingers it gave way, and she hurled it to McLean. The men were - crowding in, and Duncan seized Wessner. As the Angel saw Freckles stand - out, free, she reached her arms to him and pitched forward. A fearful oath - burst from the lips of Black Jack. To have saved his life, Freckles could - not have avoided the glance of triumph he gave Jack, when folding the - Angel in his arms and stretching her on the mosses. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman cried out sharply for water as she ran to them. Someone - sprang to bring that, and another to break open the case for brandy. As - McLean arose from binding Wessner, there was a cry that Jack was escaping. - </p> - <p> - He was already far in the swamp, running for its densest part in leaping - bounds. Every man who could be spared plunged after him. - </p> - <p> - Other members of the gang arriving, were sent to follow the tracks of the - wagons. The teamsters had driven from the west entrance, and crossing the - swale, had taken the same route the Bird Woman and the Angel had before - them. There had been ample time for the drivers to reach the road; after - that they could take any one of four directions. Traffic was heavy, and - lumber wagons were passing almost constantly, so the men turned back and - joined the more exciting hunt for a man. The remainder of the gang joined - them, also farmers of the region and travelers attracted by the - disturbance. - </p> - <p> - Watchers were set along the trail at short intervals. They patrolled the - line and roads through the swamp that night, with lighted torches, and the - next day McLean headed as thorough a search as he felt could be made of - one side, while Duncan covered the other; but Black Jack could not be - found. Spies were set around his home, in Wildcat Hollow, to ascertain if - he reached there or aid was being sent in any direction to him; but it was - soon clear that his relatives were ignorant of his hiding-place, and were - searching for him. - </p> - <p> - Great is the elasticity of youth. A hot bath and a sound night's sleep - renewed Freckles' strength, and it needed but little more to work the same - result with the Angel. Freckles was on the trail early the next morning. - Besides a crowd of people anxious to witness Jack's capture, he found four - stalwart guards, one at each turn. In his heart he was compelled to admit - that he was glad to have them there. Close noon, McLean placed his men in - charge of Duncan, and taking Freckles, drove to town to see how the Angel - fared. McLean visited a greenhouse and bought an armload of its finest - products; but Freckles would have none of them. He would carry his message - in a glowing mass of the Limberlost's first goldenrod. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman received them, and in answer to their eager inquiries, said - that the Angel was in no way seriously injured, only so bruised and shaken - that their doctor had ordered her to lie quietly for the day. Though she - was sore and stiff, they were having work to keep her in bed. Her callers - sent up their flowers with their grateful regards, and the Angel promptly - returned word that she wanted to see them. - </p> - <p> - She reached both hands to McLean. “What if one old tree is gone? You don't - care, sir? You feel that Freckles has kept his trust as nobody ever did - before, don't you? You won't forget all those long first days of fright - that you told us of, the fearful cold of winter, the rain, heat, and - lonesomeness, and the brave days, and lately, nights, too, and let him - feel that his trust is broken? Oh, Mr. McLean,” she begged, “say something - to him! Do something to make him feel that it isn't for nothing he has - watched and suffered it out with that old Limberlost. Make him see how - great and fine it is, and how far, far better he has done than you or any - of us expected! What's one old tree, anyway?” she cried passionately. - </p> - <p> - “I was thinking before you came. Those other men were rank big cowards. - They were scared for their lives. If they were the drivers, I wager you - gloves against gloves they never took those logs out to the pike. My - coming upset them. Before you feel bad any more, you go look and see if - they didn't lose courage the minute they left Wessner and Black Jack, dump - that timber and run. I don't believe they ever had the grit to drive out - with it in daylight. Go see if they didn't figure on leaving the way we - did the other morning, and you'll find the logs before you reach the road. - They never risked taking them into the open, when they got away and had - time to think. Of course they didn't! - </p> - <p> - “And, then, another thing. You haven't lost your wager! It never will be - claimed, because you made it with a stout, dark, red-faced man who drives - a bay and a gray. He was right back of you, Mr. McLean, when I came - yesterday. He went deathly white and shook on his feet when he saw those - men probably would be caught. Some one of them was something to him, and - you can just spot him for one of the men at the bottom of your troubles, - and urging those younger fellows to steal from you. I suppose he'd - promised to divide. You settle with him, and that business will stop.” - </p> - <p> - She turned to Freckles. “And you be the happiest man alive, because you - have kept your trust. Go look where I tell you and you'll find the logs. I - can see just about where they are. When they go up that steep little hill, - into the next woods after the cornfield, why, they could unloose the - chains and the logs would roll from the wagons themselves. Now, you go - look; and Mr. McLean, you do feel that Freckles has been brave and - faithful? You won't love him any the less even if you don't find the - logs.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's nerve gave way and she began to cry. Freckles could not endure - it. He almost ran from the room, with the tears in his eyes; but McLean - took the Angel from the Bird Woman's arms, and kissed her brave little - face, stroked her hair, and petted her into quietness before he left. - </p> - <p> - As they drove to the swamp, McLean so earnestly seconded all that the - Angel had said that he soon had the boy feeling much better. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, your Angel has a spice of the devil in her, but she's superb! - You needn't spend any time questioning or bewailing anything she does. - Just worship blindly, my boy. By heaven! she's sense, courage, and beauty - for half a dozen girls,” said McLean. - </p> - <p> - “It's altogether right you are, sir,” affirmed Freckles heartily. - Presently he added, “There's no question but the series is over now.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't think it!” answered McLean. “The Bird Woman is working for success, - and success along any line is not won by being scared out. She will be - back on the usual day, and ten to one, the Angel will be with her. They - are made of pretty stern stuff, and they don't scare worth a cent. Before - I left, I told the Bird Woman it would be safe; and it will. You may do - your usual walking, but those four guards are there to remain. They are - under your orders absolutely. They are prohibited from firing on any bird - or molesting anything that you want to protect, but there they remain, and - this time it is useless for you to say one word. I have listened to your - pride too long. You are too precious to me, and that voice of yours is too - precious to the world to run any more risks.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry to have anything spoil the series,” said Freckles, “and I'd - love them to be coming, the Angel especial, but it can't be. You'll have - to tell them so. You see, Jack would have been ready to stake his life she - meant what she said and did to him. When the teams pulled out, Wessner - seized me; then he and Jack went to quarreling over whether they should - finish me then or take me to the next tree they were for felling. Between - them they were pulling me around and hurting me bad. Wessner wanted to get - at me right then, and Jack said he shouldn't be touching me till the last - tree was out and all the rest of them gone. I'm belaying Jack really hated - to see me done for in the beginning; and I think, too, he was afraid if - Wessner finished me then he'd lose his nerve and cut, and they couldn't be - managing the felling without him; anyway, they were hauling me round like - I was already past all feeling, and they tied me up again. To keep me - courage up, I twits Wessner about having to tie me and needing another man - to help handle me. I told him what I'd do to him if I was free, and he - grabs up me own club and lays open me head with it. When the blood came - streaming, it set Jack raving, and he cursed and damned Wessner for a - coward and a softy. Then Wessner turned on Jack and gives it to him for - letting the Angel make a fool of him. Tells him she was just playing with - him, and beyond all manner of doubt she'd gone after you, and there was - nothing to do on account of his foolishness but finish me, get out, and - let the rest of the timber go, for likely you was on the way right then. - That drove Jack plum crazy. - </p> - <p> - “I don't think he was for having a doubt of the Angel before, but then he - just raved. He grabbed out his gun and turned on Wessner. Spang! It went - out of his fist, and the order comes: 'Hands up!' Wessner reached for - kingdom come like he was expecting to grab hold and pull himself up. Jack - puts up what he has left. Then he leans over to me and tells me what he'll - do to me if he ever gets out of there alive. Then, just like a snake - hissing, he spits out what he'll do to her for playing him. He did get - away, and with his strength, that wound in his hand won't be bothering him - long. He'll do to me just what he said, and when he hears it really was - she that went after you, why, he'll keep his oath about her. - </p> - <p> - “He's lived in the swamp all his life, sir, and everybody says it's always - been the home of cutthroats, outlaws, and runaways. He knows its most - secret places as none of the others. He's alive. He's in there now, sir. - Some way he'll keep alive. If you'd seen his face, all scarlet with - passion, twisted with pain, and black with hate, and heard him swearing - that oath, you'd know it was a sure thing. I ain't done with him yet, and - I've brought this awful thing on her.” - </p> - <p> - “And I haven't begun with him yet,” said McLean, setting his teeth. “I've - been away too slow and too easy, believing there'd be no greater harm than - the loss of a tree. I've sent for a couple of first-class detectives. We - will put them on his track, and rout him out and rid the country of him. I - don't propose for him to stop either our work or our pleasure. As for his - being in the swamp now, I don't believe it. He'd find a way out last - night, in spite of us. Don't you worry! I am at the helm now, and I'll see - to that gentleman in my own way.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish to my soul you had seen and heard him!” said Freckles, - unconvinced. - </p> - <p> - They entered the swamp, taking the route followed by the Bird Woman and - the Angel. They really did find the logs, almost where the Angel had - predicted they would be. McLean went to the South camp and had an - interview with Crowen that completely convinced him that the Angel was - correct there also. But he had no proof, so all he could do was to - discharge the man, although his guilt was so apparent that he offered to - withdraw the wager. - </p> - <p> - Then McLean sent for a pack of bloodhounds and put them on the trail of - Black Jack. They clung to it, on and on, into the depths of the swamp, - leading their followers through what had been considered impassable and - impenetrable ways, and finally, around near the west entrance and into the - swale. Here the dogs bellowed, raved, and fell over each other in their - excitement. They raced back and forth from swamp to swale, but follow the - scent farther they would not, even though cruelly driven. At last their - owner attributed their actions to snakes, and as they were very valuable - dogs, abandoned the effort to urge them on. So that all they really - established was the fact that Black Jack had eluded their vigilance and - crossed the trail some time in the night. He had escaped to the swale; - from there he probably crossed the corduroy, and reaching the lower end of - the swamp, had found friends. It was a great relief to feel that he was - not in the swamp, and it raised the spirits of every man on the line, - though many of them expressed regrets that he who was undoubtedly most to - blame should escape, while Wessner, who in the beginning was only his - tool, should be left to punishment. - </p> - <p> - But for Freckles, with Jack's fearful oath ringing in his ears, there was - neither rest nor peace. He was almost ill when the day for the next study - of the series arrived and he saw the Bird Woman and the Angel coming down - the corduroy. The guards of the east line he left at their customary - places, but those of the west he brought over and placed, one near Little - Chicken's tree, and the other at the carriage. He was firm about the - Angel's remaining in the carriage, that he did not offer to have - unhitched. He went with the Bird Woman to secure the picture, which was - the easiest matter it had been at any time yet, for the simple reason that - the placing of the guards and the unusual movement around the swamp had - made Mr. and Mrs. Chicken timid, and they had not carried Little Chicken - the customary amount of food. Freckles, in the anxiety of the past few - days, had neglected him, and he had been so hungry, much of the time, that - when the Bird Woman held up a sweet-bread, although he had started toward - the recesses of the log at her coming, he stopped; with slightly opened - beak, he waited anxiously for the treat, and gave a study of great value, - showing every point of his head, also his wing and tail development. - </p> - <p> - When the Bird Woman proposed to look for other subjects close about the - line, Freckles went so far as to tell her that Jack had made fearful - threats against the Angel. He implored her to take the Angel home and keep - her under unceasing guard until Jack was located. He wanted to tell her - all about it, but he knew how dear the Angel was to her, and he dreaded to - burden her with his fears when they might prove groundless. He allowed her - to go, but afterward blamed himself severely for having done so. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Nurses a Heartache and Black Jack Drops Out - </h3> - <p> - “McLean,” said Mrs. Duncan, as the Boss paused to greet her in passing the - cabin, “do you know that Freckles hasna been in bed the past five nights - and all he's eaten in that many days ye could pack into a pint cup?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, what does the boy mean?” demanded McLean. “There's no necessity for - him being on guard, with the watch I've set on the line. I had no idea he - was staying down there.” - </p> - <p> - “He's no there,” said Mrs. Duncan. “He goes somewhere else. He leaves on - his wheel juist after we're abed and rides in close cock-crow or a little - earlier, and he's looking like death and nothing short of it.” - </p> - <p> - “But where does he go?” asked McLean in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “I'm no given to bearing tales out of school,” said Sarah Duncan, “but in - this case I'd tell ye if I could. What the trouble is I dinna ken. If it - is no' stopped, he's in for dreadful sickness, and I thought ye could find - out and help him. He's in sair trouble; that's all I know.” - </p> - <p> - McLean sat brooding as he stroked Nellie's neck. - </p> - <p> - At last he said: “I suspect I understand. At any rate, I think I can find - out. Thank you for telling me.” - </p> - <p> - “Ye'll no need telling, once ye clap your eyes on him,” prophesied Mrs. - Duncan. “His face is all a glist'ny yellow, and he's peaked as a starving - caged bird.” - </p> - <p> - McLean rode to the Limberlost, and stopping in the shade, sat waiting for - Freckles, whose hour for passing the foot of the lease had come. - </p> - <p> - Along the north line came Freckles, fairly staggering. When he turned east - and reached Sleepy Snake Creek, sliding through the swale as the long - black snake for which it was named, he sat on the bridge and closed his - burning eyes, but they would not remain shut. As if pulled by wires, the - heavy lids flew open, while the outraged nerves and muscles of his body - danced, twitched, and tingled. - </p> - <p> - He bent forward and idly watched the limpid little stream flowing beneath - his feet. Stretching into the swale, it came creeping between an - impenetrable wall of magnificent wild flowers, vines, and ferns. Milkweed, - goldenrod, ironwort, fringed gentians, cardinal-flowers, and turtle-head - stood on the very edge of the creek, and every flower of them had a double - in the water. Wild clematis crowned with snow the heads of trees scattered - here and there on the bank. - </p> - <p> - From afar the creek appeared to be murky, dirty water. Really it was clear - and sparkling. The tinge of blackness was gained from its bed of muck - showing through the transparent current. He could see small and - wonderfully marked fish. What became of them when the creek spread into - the swamp? For one thing, they would make mighty fine eating for the - family of that self-satisfied old blue heron. - </p> - <p> - Freckles sat so quietly that soon the brim of his hat was covered with - snake-feeders, rasping their crisp wings and singing while they rested. - Some of them settled on the club, and one on his shoulder. He was so - motionless; feathers, fur, and gauze were so accustomed to him, that all - through the swale they continued their daily life and forgot he was there. - </p> - <p> - The heron family were wading the mouth of the creek. Freckles idly - wondered whether the nerve-racking rasps they occasionally emitted - indicated domestic felicity or a raging quarrel. He could not decide. A - sheitpoke, with flaring crest, went stalking across a bare space close to - the creek's mouth. A stately brown bittern waded into the clear-flowing - water, lifting his feet high at every step, and setting them down - carefully, as if he dreaded wetting them, and with slightly parted beak, - stood eagerly watching around him for worms. Behind him were some mighty - trees of the swamp above, and below the bank glowed a solid wall of - goldenrod. - </p> - <p> - No wonder the ancients had chosen yellow as the color to represent - victory, for the fierce, conquering hue of the sun was in it. They had - done well, too, in selecting purple as the emblem of royalty. It was a - dignified, compelling color, while in its warm tone there was a hint of - blood. - </p> - <p> - It was the Limberlost's hour to proclaim her sovereignty and triumph. - Everywhere she flaunted her yellow banner and trailed the purple of her - mantle, that was paler in the thistle-heads, took on strength in the first - opening asters, and glowed and burned in the ironwort. - </p> - <p> - He gazed into her damp, mossy recesses where high-piled riven trees - decayed under coats of living green, where dainty vines swayed and - clambered, and here and there a yellow leaf, fluttering down, presaged the - coming of winter. His love of the swamp laid hold of him and shook him - with its force. - </p> - <p> - Compellingly beautiful was the Limberlost, but cruel withal; for inside - bleached the uncoffined bones of her victims, while she had missed - cradling him, oh! so narrowly. - </p> - <p> - He shifted restlessly; the movement sent the snake-feeders skimming. The - hum of life swelled and roared in his strained ears. Small turtles, that - had climbed on a log to sun, splashed clumsily into the water. Somewhere - in the timber of the bridge a bloodthirsty little frog cried sharply. - “KEEL'IM! KEEL'IM!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles muttered: “It's worse than that Black Jack swore to do to me, - little fellow.” - </p> - <p> - A muskrat waddled down the bank and swam for the swamp, its pointed nose - riffling the water into a shining trail in its wake. - </p> - <p> - Then, below the turtle-log, a dripping silver-gray head, with shining - eyes, was cautiously lifted, and Freckles' hand slid to his revolver. - Higher and higher came the head, a long, heavy, furcoated body arose, now - half, now three-fourths from the water. Freckles looked at his shaking - hand and doubted, but he gathered his forces, the shot rang, and the otter - lay quiet. He hurried down and tried to lift it. He scarcely could muster - strength to carry it to the bridge. The consciousness that he really could - go no farther with it made Freckles realize the fact that he was close the - limit of human endurance. He could bear it little, if any, longer. Every - hour the dear face of the Angel wavered before him, and behind it the - awful distorted image of Black Jack, as he had sworn to the punishment he - would mete out to her. He must either see McLean, or else make a trip to - town and find her father. Which should he do? He was almost a stranger, so - the Angel's father might not be impressed with what he said as he would if - McLean went to him. Then he remembered that McLean had said he would come - that morning. Freckles never had forgotten before. He hurried on the east - trail as fast as his tottering legs would carry him. - </p> - <p> - He stopped when he came to the first guard, and telling him of his luck, - asked him to get the otter and carry it to the cabin, as he was anxious to - meet McLean. - </p> - <p> - Freckles passed the second guard without seeing him, and hurried to the - Boss. He took off his hat, wiped his forehead, and stood silent under the - eyes of McLean. - </p> - <p> - The Boss was dumbfounded. Mrs. Duncan had led him to expect that he would - find a change in Freckles, but this was almost deathly. The fact was - apparent that the boy scarcely knew what he was doing. His eyes had a - glazed, far-sighted appearance, that wrung the heart of the man who loved - him. Without a thought of preliminaries, McLean leaned in the saddle and - drew Freckles to him. - </p> - <p> - “My poor lad!” he said. “My poor, dear lad! tell me, and we will try to - right it!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles had twisted his fingers in Nellie's mane. At the kind words his - face dropped on McLean's thigh and he shook with a nervous chill. McLean - gathered him closer and waited. - </p> - <p> - When the guard came with the otter, McLean without a word motioned him to - lay it down and leave them. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” said McLean at last, “will you tell me, or must I set to work - in the dark and try to find the trouble?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I want to tell you! I must tell you, sir,” shuddered Freckles. “I - cannot be bearing it the day out alone. I was coming to you when I - remimbered you would be here.” - </p> - <p> - He lifted his face and gazed across the swale, with his jaws set firmly a - minute, as if gathering his forces. Then he spoke. - </p> - <p> - “It's the Angel, sir,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Instinctively McLean's grip on him tightened, and Freckles looked into the - Boss's face in wonder. - </p> - <p> - “I tried, the other day,” said Freckles, “and I couldn't seem to make you - see. It's only that there hasn't been an hour, waking or sleeping, since - the day she parted the bushes and looked into me room, that the face of - her hasn't been before me in all the tinderness, beauty, and mischief of - it. She talked to me friendly like. She trusted me entirely to take right - care of her. She helped me with things about me books. She traited me like - I was born a gintleman, and shared with me as if I were of her own blood. - She walked the streets of the town with me before her friends with all the - pride of a queen. She forgot herself and didn't mind the Bird Woman, and - run big risks to help me out that first day, sir. This last time she - walked into that gang of murderers, took their leader, and twisted him to - the will of her. She outdone him and raced the life almost out of her - trying to save me. - </p> - <p> - “Since I can remimber, whatever the thing was that happened to me in the - beginning has been me curse. I've been bitter, hard, and smarting under it - hopelessly. She came by, and found me voice, and put hope of life and - success like other men into me in spite of it.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles held up his maimed arm. - </p> - <p> - “Look at it, sir!” he said. “A thousand times I've cursed it, hanging - there helpless. She took it on the street, before all the people, just as - if she didn't see that it was a thing to hide and shrink from. Again and - again I've had the feeling with her, if I didn't entirely forget it, that - she didn't see it was gone and I must he pointing it out to her. Her touch - on it was so sacred-like, at times since I've caught meself looking at the - awful thing near like I was proud of it, sir. If I had been born your son - she couldn't be traiting me more as her equal, and she can't help knowing - you ain't truly me father. Nobody can know the homeliness or the ignorance - of me better than I do, and all me lack of birth, relatives, and money, - and what's it all to her?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stepped back, squared his shoulders, and with a royal lift of his - head looked straight into the Boss's eyes. - </p> - <p> - “You saw her in the beautiful little room of her, and you can't be - forgetting how she begged and plead with you for me. She touched me body, - and 'twas sanctified. She laid her lips on my brow, and 'twas sacrament. - Nobody knows the height of her better than me. Nobody's studied my depths - closer. There's no bridge for the great distance between us, sir, and - clearest of all, I'm for realizing it: but she risked terrible things when - she came to me among that gang of thieves. She wore herself past bearing - to save me from such an easy thing as death! Now, here's me, a man, a big, - strong man, and letting her live under that fearful oath, so worse than - any death 'twould be for her, and lifting not a finger to save her. I - cannot hear it, sir. It's killing me by inches! Black Jack's hand may not - have been hurt so bad. Any hour he may be creeping up behind her! Any - minute the awful revenge he swore to be taking may in some way fall on - her, and I haven't even warned her father. I can't stay here doing nothing - another hour. The five nights gone I've watched under her windows, but - there's the whole of the day. She's her own horse and little cart, and's - free to be driving through the town and country as she pleases. If any - evil comes to her through Black Jack, it comes from her angel-like - goodness to me. Somewhere he's hiding! Somewhere he is waiting his chance! - Somewhere he is reaching out for her! I tell you I cannot, I dare not be - bearing it longer!” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, be quiet!” said McLean, his eyes humid and his voice quivering - with the pity of it all. “Believe me, I did not understand. I know the - Angel's father well. I will go to him at once. I have transacted business - with him for the past three years. I will make him see! I am only - beginning to realize your agony, and the real danger there is for the - Angel. Believe me, I will see that she is fully protected every hour of - the day and night until Jack is located and disposed of. And I promise you - further, that if I fail to move her father or make him understand the - danger, I will maintain a guard over her until Jack is caught. Now will - you go bathe, drink some milk, go to bed, and sleep for hours, and then be - my brave, bright old boy again?” - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” said Freckles simply. - </p> - <p> - But McLean could see the flesh was twitching on the lad's bones. - </p> - <p> - “What was it the guard brought there?” McLean asked in an effort to - distract Freckles' thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” Freckles said, glancing where the Boss pointed, “I forgot it! 'Tis - an otter, and fine past believing, for this warm weather. I shot it at the - creek this morning. 'Twas a good shot, considering. I expected to miss.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles picked up the animal and started toward McLean with it, but - Nellie pricked up her dainty little ears, danced into the swale, and - snorted with fright. Freckles dropped the otter and ran to her head. - </p> - <p> - “For pity's sake, get her on the trail, sir,” he begged. “She's just about - where the old king rattler crosses to go into the swamp—the old - buster Duncan and I have been telling you of. I haven't a doubt but it was - the one Mother Duncan met. 'Twas down the trail there, just a little - farther on, that I found her, and it's sure to be close yet.” - </p> - <p> - McLean slid from Nellie's back, led her into the trail farther down the - line, and tied her to a bush. Then he went to examine the otter. It was a - rare, big specimen, with exquisitely fine, long, silky hair. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want to do with it, Freckles?” asked McLean, as he stroked - the soft fur lingeringly. “Do you know that it is very valuable?” - </p> - <p> - “I was for almost praying so, sir,” said Freckles. “As I saw it coming up - the bank I thought this: Once somewhere in a book there was a picture of a - young girl, and she was just a breath like the beautifulness of the Angel. - Her hands were in a muff as big as her body, and I thought it was so - pretty. I think she was some queen, or the like. Do you suppose I could - have this skin tanned and made into such a muff as that?—an enormous - big one, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course you can,” said McLean. “That's a fine idea and it's easy - enough. We must box and express the otter, cold storage, by the first - train. You stand guard a minute and I'll tell Hall to carry it to the - cabin. I'll put Nellie to Duncan's rig, and we'll drive to town and call - on the Angel's father. Then we'll start the otter while it is fresh, and - I'll write your instructions later. It would be a mighty fine thing for - you to give to the Angel as a little reminder of the Limberlost before it - is despoiled, and as a souvenir of her trip for you.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted a face with a glow of happy color creeping into it and - eyes lighting with a former brightness. Throwing his arms around McLean, - he cried: “Oh, how I love you! Oh, I wish I could make you know how I love - you!” - </p> - <p> - McLean strained him to his breast. - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, Freckles,” he said. “I do know! We're going to have some - good old times out of this world together, and we can't begin too soon. - Would you rather sleep first, or have a bite of lunch, take the drive with - me, and then rest? I don't know but sleep will come sooner and deeper to - take the ride and have your mind set at ease before you lie down. Suppose - you go.” - </p> - <p> - “Suppose I do,” said Freckles, with a glimmer of the old light in his eyes - and newly found strength to shoulder the otter. Together they turned into - the trail. - </p> - <p> - McLean noticed and spoke of the big black chickens. - </p> - <p> - “They've been hanging round out there for several days past,” said - Freckles. “I'll tell you what I think it means. I think the old rattler - has killed something too big for him to swallow, and he's keeping guard - and won't let me chickens have it. I'm just sure, from the way the birds - have acted out there all summer, that it is the rattler's den. You watch - them now. See the way they dip and then rise, frightened like!” - </p> - <p> - Suddenly McLean turned toward him with blanching face - </p> - <p> - “Freckles!” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “My God, sir!” shuddered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - He dropped the otter, caught up his club, and plunged into the swale. - Reaching for his revolver, McLean followed. The chickens circled higher at - their coming, and the big snake lifted his head and rattled angrily. It - sank in sinuous coils at the report of McLean's revolver, and together he - and Freckles stood beside Black Jack. His fate was evident and most - horrible. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” said the Boss at last. “We don't dare touch him. We will get a - sheet from Mrs. Duncan and tuck over him, to keep these swarms of insects - away, and set Hall on guard, while we find the officers.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' lips closed resolutely. He deliberately thrust his club under - Black Jack's body, and, raising him, rested it on his knee. He pulled a - long silver pin from the front of the dead man's shirt and sent it - spinning into the swale. Then he gathered up a few crumpled bright flowers - and dropped them into the pool far away. - </p> - <p> - “My soul is sick with the horror of this thing,” said McLean, as he and - Freckles drove toward town. “I can't understand how Jack dared risk - creeping through the swale, even in desperation. No one knew its dangers - better than he. And why did he choose the rankest, muckiest place to cross - the swamp?” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you think, sir, it was because it was on a line with the Limberlost - south of the corduroy? The grass was tallest there, and he counted on - those willows to screen him. Once he got among them, he would have been - safe to walk by stooping. If he'd made it past that place, he'd been sure - to get out.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'm as sorry for Jack as I know how to be,” said McLean, “but I - can't help feeling relieved that our troubles are over, for now they are. - With so dreadful a punishment for Jack, Wessner under arrest, and warrants - for the others, we can count on their going away and remaining. As for - anyone else, I don't think they will care to attempt stealing my timber - after the experience of these men. There is no other man here with Jack's - fine ability in woodcraft. He was an expert.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear of anyone who ever tried to locate any trees excepting - him?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “No, I never did,” said McLean. “I am sure there was no one besides him. - You see, it was only with the arrival of our company that the other - fellows scented good stuff in the Limberlost, and tried to work in. Jack - knew the swamp better than anyone here. When he found there were two - companies trying to lease, he wanted to stand in with the one from which - he could realize the most. Even then he had trees marked that he was - trying to dispose of. I think his sole intention in forcing me to - discharge him from my gang was to come here and try to steal timber. We - had no idea, when we took the lease, what a gold mine it was.” - </p> - <p> - “That's exactly what Wessner said that first day,” said Freckles eagerly. - “That 'twas a 'gold mine'! He said he didn't know where the marked trees - were, but he knew a man who did, and if I would hold off and let them get - the marked ones, there were a dozen they could get out in a few days.” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles!” cried McLean. “You don't mean a dozen!” - </p> - <p> - “That's what he said, sir—a dozen. He said they couldn't tell how - the grain of all of them would work up, of course, but they were all worth - taking out, and five or six were real gold mines. This makes three they've - tried, so there must be nine more marked, and several of them for being - just fine.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I wish I knew which they are,” said McLean, “so I could get them - out first.” - </p> - <p> - “I have been thinking,” said Freckles. “I believe if you will leave one of - the guards on the line—say Hall—that I will begin on the - swamp, at the north end, and lay it off in sections, and try to hunt out - the marked trees. I suppose they are all marked something like that first - maple on the line was. Wessner mentioned another good one not so far from - that. He said it was best of all. I'd be having the swelled head if I - could find that. Of course, I don't know a thing about the trees, but I - could hunt for the marks. Jack was so good at it he could tell some of - them by the bark, but all he wanted to take that we've found so far have - just had a deep chip cut out, rather low down, and where the bushes were - thick over it. I believe I could be finding some of them.” - </p> - <p> - “Good head!” said McLean. “We will do that. You may begin as soon as you - are rested. And about things you come across in the swamp, Freckles—the - most trifling little thing that you think the Bird Woman would want, take - your wheel and go after her at any time. I'll leave two men on the line, - so that you will have one on either side, and you can come and go as you - please. Have you stopped to think of all we owe her, my boy?” - </p> - <p> - “Yis; and the Angel—we owe her a lot, too,” said Freckles. “I owe - her me life and honor. It's lying awake nights I'll have to be trying to - think how I'm ever to pay her up.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, begin with the muff,” suggested McLean. “That should be fine.” - </p> - <p> - He bent down and ruffled the rich fur of the otter lying at his feet. - </p> - <p> - “I don't exactly see how it comes to be in such splendid fur in summer. - Their coats are always thick in cold weather, but this scarcely could be - improved. I'll wire Cooper to be watching for it. They must have it fresh. - When it's tanned we won't spare any expense in making it up. It should be - a royal thing, and some way I think it will exactly suit the Angel. I - can't think of anything that would be more appropriate for her.” - </p> - <p> - “Neither can I,” agreed Freckles heartily. “When I reach the city there's - one other thing, if I've the money after the muff is finished.” - </p> - <p> - He told McLean of Mrs. Duncan's desire for a hat similar to the Angel's. - He hesitated a little in the telling, keeping sharp watch on McLean's - face. When he saw the Boss's eyes were full of comprehension and sympathy, - he loved him anew, for, as ever, McLean was quick to understand. Instead - of laughing, he said: “I think you'll have to let me in on that, too. You - mustn't be selfish, you know. I'll tell you what we'll do. Send it for - Christmas. I'll be home then, and we can fill a box. You get the hat. I'll - add a dress and wrap. You buy Duncan a hat and gloves. I'll send him a big - overcoat, and we'll put in a lot of little stuff for the babies. Won't - that be fun?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles fairly shivered with delight. - </p> - <p> - “That would be away too serious for fun,” he said. “That would be - heavenly. How long will it be?” - </p> - <p> - He began counting the time, and McLean deliberately set himself to - encourage Freckles and keep his thoughts from the trouble of the past few - days, for he had been overwrought and needed quiet and rest. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken - Furnishes the Subject - </h3> - <p> - A week later everything at the Limberlost was precisely as it had been - before the tragedy, except the case in Freckles' room now rested on the - stump of the newly felled tree. Enough of the vines were left to cover it - prettily, and every vestige of the havoc of a few days before was gone. - New guards were patrolling the trail. Freckles was roughly laying off the - swamp in sections and searching for marked trees. In that time he had - found one deeply chipped and the chip cunningly replaced and tacked in. It - promised to be quite rare, so he was jubilant. He also found so many - subjects for the Bird Woman that her coming was of almost daily - occurrence, and the hours he spent with her and the Angel were nothing - less than golden. - </p> - <p> - The Limberlost was now arrayed as the Queen of Sheba in all her glory. The - first frosts of autumn had bejewelled her crown in flashing topaz, ruby, - and emerald. Around her feet trailed the purple of her garments, while in - her hand was her golden scepter. Everything was at full tide. It seemed as - if nothing could grow lovelier, and it was all standing still a few weeks, - waiting coming destruction. - </p> - <p> - The swamp was palpitant with life. Every pair of birds that had flocked to - it in the spring was now multiplied by from two to ten. The young were - tame from Freckles' tri-parenthood, and so plump and sleek that they were - quite as beautiful as their elders, even if in many cases they lacked - their brilliant plumage. It was the same story of increase everywhere. - There were chubby little ground-hogs scudding on the trail. There were - cunning baby coons and opossums peeping from hollow logs and trees. Young - muskrats followed their parents across the lagoons. - </p> - <p> - If you could come upon a family of foxes that had not yet disbanded, and - see the young playing with a wild duck's carcass that their mother had - brought, and note the pride and satisfaction in her eyes as she lay at one - side guarding them, it would be a picture not to be forgotten. Freckles - never tired of studying the devotion of a fox mother to her babies. To - him, whose early life had been so embittered by continual proof of neglect - and cruelty in human parents toward their children, the love of these - furred and feathered folk of the Limberlost was even more of a miracle - than to the Bird Woman and the Angel. - </p> - <p> - The Angel liked the baby rabbits and squirrels. Earlier in the season, - when the young were yet very small, it so happened that at times Freckles - could give into her hands one of these little ones. Then it was pure joy - to stand back and watch her heaving breast, flushed cheek, and shining - eyes. Hers were such lovely eyes. Freckles had discovered lately that they - were not so dark as he had thought them at first, but that the length and - thickness of lash, by which they were shaded, made them appear darker than - they really were. They were forever changing. Now sparkling and darkling - with wit, now humid with sympathy, now burning with the fire of courage, - now taking on strength of color with ambition, now flashing indignantly at - the abuse of any creature. - </p> - <p> - She had carried several of the squirrel and bunny babies home, and had - littered the conservatory with them. Her care of them was perfect. She was - learning her natural history from nature, and having much healthful - exercise. To her, they were the most interesting of all, but the Bird - Woman preferred the birds, with a close second in the moths and - butterflies. - </p> - <p> - Brown butterfly time had come. The edge of the swale was filled with - milkweed, and other plants beloved of them, and the air was golden with - the flashing satin wings of the monarch, viceroy, and argynnis. They - outnumbered those of any other color three to one. - </p> - <p> - Among the birds it really seemed as if the little yellow fellows were in - the preponderance. At least, they were until the redwinged blackbirds and - bobolinks, that had nested on the upland, suddenly saw in the swamp the - garden of the Lord and came swarming by hundreds to feast and adventure - upon it these last few weeks before migration. Never was there a finer - feast spread for the birds. The grasses were filled with seeds: so, too, - were weeds of every variety. Fall berries were ripe. Wild grapes and black - haws were ready. Bugs were creeping everywhere. The muck was yeasty with - worms. Insects filled the air. Nature made glorious pause for holiday - before her next change, and by none of the frequenters of the swamp was - this more appreciated than by the big black chickens. - </p> - <p> - They seemed to feel the new reign of peace and fullness most of all. As - for food, they did not even have to hunt for themselves these days, for - the feasts now being spread before Little Chicken were more than he could - use, and he was glad to have his parents come down and help him. - </p> - <p> - He was a fine, big, overgrown fellow, and his wings, with quills of jetty - black, gleaming with bronze, were so strong they almost lifted his body. - He had three inches of tail, and his beak and claws were sharp. His - muscles began to clamor for exercise. He raced the forty feet of his home - back and forth many times every hour of the day. After a few days of that, - he began lifting and spreading his wings, and flopping them until the down - on his back was filled with elm fiber. Then he commenced jumping. The - funny little hops, springs, and sidewise bounds he gave set Freckles and - the Angel, hidden in the swamp, watching him, into smothered chuckles of - delight. - </p> - <p> - Sometimes he fell to coquetting with himself; and that was the funniest - thing of all, for he turned his head up, down, from side to side, and drew - in his chin with prinky little jerks and tilts. He would stretch his neck, - throw up his head, turn it to one side and smirk—actually smirk, the - most complacent and self-satisfied smirk that anyone ever saw on the face - of a bird. It was so comical that Freckles and the Angel told the Bird - Woman of it one day. - </p> - <p> - When she finished her work on Little Chicken, she left them the camera - ready for use, telling them they might hide in the bushes and watch. If - Little Chicken came out and truly smirked, and they could squeeze the bulb - at the proper moment to snap him, she would be more than delighted. - </p> - <p> - Freckles and the Angel quietly curled beside a big log, and with eager - eyes and softest breathing they patiently waited; but Little Chicken had - feasted before they told of his latest accomplishment. He was tired and - sleepy, so he went into the log to bed, and for an hour he never stirred. - </p> - <p> - They were becoming anxious, for the light soon would be gone, and they had - so wanted to try for the picture. At last Little Chicken lifted his head, - opened his beak, and gaped widely. He dozed a minute or two more. The - Angel said that was his beauty sleep. Then he lazily gaped again and stood - up, stretching and yawning. He ambled leisurely toward the gateway, and - the Angel said: “Now, we may have a chance, at last.” - </p> - <p> - “I do hope so,” shivered Freckles. - </p> - <p> - With one accord they arose to their knees and trained their eyes on the - mouth of the log. The light was full and strong. Little Chicken prospected - again with no results. He dressed his plumage, polished his beak, and when - he felt fine and in full toilet he began to flirt with himself. Freckles' - eyes snapped and his breath sucked between his clenched teeth. - </p> - <p> - “He's going to do it!” whispered the Angel. “That will come next. You'll - best give me that bulb!” - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” assented Freckles, but he was looking at the log and he made no - move to relinquish the bulb. - </p> - <p> - Little Chicken nodded daintily and ruffled his feathers. He gave his head - sundry little sidewise jerks and rapidly shifted his point of vision. Once - there was the fleeting little ghost of a smirk. - </p> - <p> - “Now!—No!” snapped the Angel. - </p> - <p> - Freckles leaned toward the bird. Tensely he waited. Unconsciously the hand - of the Angel clasped his. He scarcely knew it was there. Suddenly Little - Chicken sprang straight in the air and landed with a thud. The Angel - started slightly, but Freckles was immovable. Then, as if in approval of - his last performance, the big, overgrown baby wheeled until he was more - than three-quarters, almost full side, toward the camera, straightened on - his legs, squared his shoulders, stretched his neck full height, drew in - his chin and smirked his most pronounced smirk, directly in the face of - the lens. - </p> - <p> - Freckles' fingers closed on the bulb convulsively, and the Angel's closed - on his at the instant. Then she heaved a great sigh of relief and lifted - her hands to push back the damp, clustering hair from her face. - </p> - <p> - “How soon do you s'pose it will be finished?” came Freckles' strident - whisper. - </p> - <p> - For the first time the Angel looked at him. He was on his knees, leaning - forward, his eyes directed toward the bird, the perspiration running in - little streams down his red, mosquito-bitten face. His hat was awry, his - bright hair rampant, his breast heaving with excitement, while he yet - gripped the bulb with every ounce of strength in his body. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think we were for getting it?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - The Angel could only nod. Freckles heaved a deep sigh of relief. - </p> - <p> - “Well, if that ain't the hardest work I ever did in me life!” he - exclaimed. “It's no wonder the Bird Woman's for coming out of the swamp - looking as if she's been through a fire, a flood, and a famine, if that's - what she goes through day after day. But if you think we got it, why, it's - worth all it took, and I'm glad as ever you are, sure!” - </p> - <p> - They put the holders in the case, carefully closed the camera, set it in - also, and carried it to the road. - </p> - <p> - Then Freckles exulted. - </p> - <p> - “Now, let's be telling the Bird Woman about it!” he shouted, wildly - dancing and swinging his hat. - </p> - <p> - “We got it! We got it! I bet a farm we got it!” - </p> - <p> - Hand in hand they ran to the north end of the swamp, yelling “We got it!” - like young Comanches, and never gave a thought to what they might do until - a big blue-gray bird, with long neck and trailing legs, arose on flapping - wings and sailed over the Limberlost. - </p> - <p> - The Angel became white to the lips and gripped Freckles with both hands. - He gulped with mortification and turned his back. - </p> - <p> - To frighten her subject away carelessly! It was the head crime in the Bird - Woman's category. She extended her hands as she arose, baked, blistered, - and dripping, and exclaimed: “Bless you, my children! Bless you!” And it - truly sounded as if she meant it. - </p> - <p> - “Why, why——” stammered the bewildered Angel. - </p> - <p> - Freckles hurried into the breach. - </p> - <p> - “You must be for blaming it every bit on me. I was thinking we got Little - Chicken's picture real good. I was so drunk with the joy of it I lost all - me senses and, 'Let's run tell the Bird Woman,' says I. Like a fool I was - for running, and I sort of dragged the Angel along.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh Freckles!” expostulated the Angel. “Are you loony? Of course, it was - all my fault! I've been with her hundreds of times. I knew perfectly well - that I wasn't to let anything—NOT ANYTHING—scare her bird - away! I was so crazy I forgot. The blame is all mine, and she'll never - forgive me.” - </p> - <p> - “She will, too!” cried Freckles. “Wasn't you for telling me that very - first day that when people scared her birds away she just killed them! - It's all me foolishness, and I'll never forgive meself!” - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman plunged into the swale at the mouth of Sleepy Snake Creek, - and came wading toward them, with a couple of cameras and dripping - tripods. - </p> - <p> - “If you will permit me a word, my infants,” she said, “I will explain to - you that I have had three shots at that fellow.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel heaved a deep sigh of relief, and Freckles' face cleared a - little. - </p> - <p> - “Two of them,” continued the Bird Woman, “in the rushes—one facing, - crest lowered; one light on back, crest flared; and the last on wing, when - you came up. I simply had been praying for something to make him arise - from that side, so that he would fly toward the camera, for he had waded - around until in my position I couldn't do it myself. See? Behold in - yourselves the answer to the prayers of the long-suffering!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles took a step toward her. - </p> - <p> - “Are you really meaning that?” he asked wonderingly. “Only think, Angel, - we did the right thing! She won't lose her picture through the - carelessness of us, when she's waited and soaked nearly two hours. She's - not angry with us!” - </p> - <p> - “Never was in a sweeter temper in my life,” said the Bird Woman, busily - cleaning and packing the cameras. - </p> - <p> - Freckles removed his hat and solemnly held out his hand. With equal - solemnity the Angel grasped it. The Bird Woman laughed alone, for to them - the situation had been too serious to develop any of the elements of fun. - </p> - <p> - Then they loaded the carriage, and the Bird Woman and the Angel started - for their homes. It had been a difficult time for all of them, so they - were very tired, but they were joyful. Freckles was so happy it seemed to - him that life could hold little more. As the Bird Woman was ready to drive - away he laid his hand on the lines and looked into her face. - </p> - <p> - “Do you suppose we got it?” he asked, so eagerly that she would have given - much to be able to say yes with conviction. - </p> - <p> - “Why, my dear, I don't know,” she said. “I've no way to judge. If you made - the exposure just before you came to me, there was yet a fine light. If - you waited until Little Chicken was close the entrance, you should have - something good, even if you didn't catch just the fleeting expression for - which you hoped. Of course, I can't say surely, but I think there is every - reason to believe that you have it all right. I will develop the plate - tonight, make you a proof from it early in the morning, and bring it when - we come. It's only a question of a day or two now until the gang arrives. - I want to work in all the studies I can before that time, for they are - bound to disturb the birds. Mr. McLean will need you then, and I scarcely - see how we are to do without you.” - </p> - <p> - Moved by an impulse she never afterward regretted, she bent and laid her - lips on Freckles' forehead, kissing him gently and thanking him for his - many kindnesses to her in her loved work. Freckles started away so happy - that he felt inclined to keep watching behind to see if the trail were not - curling up and rolling down the line after him. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the Gang - </h3> - <p> - From afar Freckles saw them coming. The Angel was standing, waving her - hat. He sprang on his wheel and raced, jolting and pounding, down the - corduroy to meet them. The Bird Woman stopped the horse and the Angel gave - him the bit of print paper. Freckles leaned the wheel against a tree and - took the proof with eager fingers. He never before had seen a study from - any of his chickens. He stood staring. When he turned his face toward them - it was transfigured with delight. - </p> - <p> - “You see!” he exclaimed, and began gazing again. “Oh, me Little Chicken!” - he cried. “Oh me ilegant Little Chicken! I'd be giving all me money in the - bank for you!” - </p> - <p> - Then he thought of the Angel's muff and Mrs. Duncan's hat, and added, “or - at least, all but what I'm needing bad for something else. Would you mind - stopping at the cabin a minute and showing this to Mother Duncan?” he - asked. - </p> - <p> - “Give me that little book in your pocket,” said the Bird Woman. - </p> - <p> - She folded the outer edges of the proof so that it would fit into the - book, explaining as she did so its perishable nature in that state. - Freckles went hurrying ahead, and they arrived in time to see Mrs. Duncan - gazing as if awestruck, and to hear her bewildered “Weel I be drawed on!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles and the Angel helped the Bird Woman to establish herself for a - long day at the mouth of Sleepy Snake Creek. Then she sent them away and - waited what luck would bring to her. - </p> - <p> - “Now, what shall we do?” inquired the Angel, who was a bundle of nerves - and energy. - </p> - <p> - “Would you like to go to me room awhile?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “If you don't care to very much, I'd rather not,” said the Angel. “I'll - tell you. Let's go help Mrs. Duncan with dinner and play with the baby. I - love a nice, clean baby.” - </p> - <p> - They started toward the cabin. Every few minutes they stopped to - investigate something or to chatter over some natural history wonder. The - Angel had quick eyes; she seemed to see everything, but Freckles' were - even quicker; for life itself had depended on their sharpness ever since - the beginning of his work at the swamp. They saw it at the same time. - </p> - <p> - “Someone has been making a flagpole,” said the Angel, running the toe of - her shoe around the stump, evidently made that season. “Freckles, what - would anyone cut a tree as small as that for?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Well, but I want to know!” said the Angel. “No one came away here and cut - it for fun. They've taken it away. Let's go back and see if we can see it - anywhere around there.” - </p> - <p> - She turned, retraced her footsteps, and began eagerly searching. Freckles - did the same. - </p> - <p> - “There it is!” he exclaimed at last, “leaning against the trunk of that - big maple.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and leaning there has killed a patch of dried bark,” said the Angel. - “See how dried it appears?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles stared at her. - </p> - <p> - “Angel!” he shouted, “I bet you it's a marked tree!” - </p> - <p> - “Course it is!” cried the Angel. “No one would cut that sapling and carry - it away there and lean it up for nothing. I'll tell you! This is one of - Jack's marked trees. He's climbed up there above anyone's head, peeled the - bark, and cut into the grain enough to be sure. Then he's laid the bark - back and fastened it with that pole to mark it. You see, there're a lot of - other big maples close around it. Can you climb to that place?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Freckles; “if I take off my wading-boots I can.” - </p> - <p> - “Then take them off,” said the Angel, “and do hurry! Can't you see that I - am almost crazy to know if this tree is a marked one?” - </p> - <p> - When they pushed the sapling over, a piece of bark as big as the crown of - Freckles' hat fell away. - </p> - <p> - “I believe it looks kind of nubby,” encouraged the Angel, backing away, - with her face all screwed into a twist in an effort to intensify her - vision. - </p> - <p> - Freckles reached the opening, then slid rapidly to the ground. He was - almost breathless while his eyes were flashing. - </p> - <p> - “The bark's been cut clean with a knife, the sap scraped away, and a big - chip taken out deep. The trunk is the twistiest thing you ever saw. It's - full of eyes as a bird is of feathers!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel was dancing and shaking his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Freckles,” she cried, “I'm so delighted that you found it!” - </p> - <p> - “But I didn't,” said the astonished Freckles. “That tree isn't my find; - it's yours. I forgot it and was going on; you wouldn't give up, and kept - talking about it, and turned back. You found it!” - </p> - <p> - “You'd best be looking after your reputation for truth and veracity,” said - the Angel. “You know you saw that sapling first!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, after you took me back and set me looking for it,” scoffed Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The clear, ringing echo of strongly swung axes came crashing through the - Limberlost. - </p> - <p> - “'Tis the gang!” shouted Freckles. “They're clearing a place to make the - camp. Let's go help!” - </p> - <p> - “Hadn't we better mark that tree again?” cautioned the Angel. “It's away - in here. There's such a lot of them, and all so much alike. We'd feel good - and green to find it and then lose it.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted the sapling to replace it, but the Angel motioned him - away. - </p> - <p> - “Use your hatchet,” she said. “I predict this is the most valuable tree in - the swamp. You found it. I'm going to play that you're my knight. Now, you - nail my colors on it.” - </p> - <p> - She reached up, and pulling a blue bow from her hair, untied and doubled - it against the tree. Freckles turned his eyes from her and managed the - fastening with shaking fingers. The Angel had called him her knight! Dear - Lord, how he loved her! She must not see his face, or surely her quick - eyes would read what he was fighting to hide. He did not dare lay his lips - on that ribbon then, but that night he would return to it. When they had - gone a little distance, they both looked back, and the morning breeze set - the bit of blue waving them a farewell. - </p> - <p> - They walked at a rapid pace. - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry about scaring the birds,” said the Angel, “but it's almost - time for them to go anyway. I feel dreadfully over having the swamp - ruined, but isn't it a delight to hear the good, honest ring of those - axes, instead of straining your ears for stealthy sounds? Isn't it fine to - go openly and freely, with nothing worse than a snake or a poison-vine to - fear?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” said Freckles, with a long breath, “it's better than you can dream, - Angel. Nobody will ever be guessing some of the things I've been through - trying to keep me promise to the Boss, and to hold out until this day. - That it's come with only one fresh stump, and the log from that saved, and - this new tree to report, isn't it grand? Maybe Mr. McLean will be - forgetting that stump when he sees this tree, Angel!” - </p> - <p> - “He can't forget it,” said the Angel; and in answer to Freckles' startled - eyes she added, “because he never had any reason to remember it. He - couldn't have done a whit better himself. My father says so. You're all - right, Freckles!” - </p> - <p> - She reached him her hand, and as two children, they broke into a run when - they came closer the gang. They left the swamp by the west road and - followed the trail until they found the men. To the Angel it seemed - complete charm. In the shadiest spot on the west side of the line, at the - edge of the swamp and very close Freckles' room, they were cutting bushes - and clearing space for a big tent for the men's sleeping-quarters, another - for a dining-hall, and a board shack for the cook. The teamsters were - unloading, the horses were cropping leaves from the bushes, while each man - was doing his part toward the construction of the new Limberlost quarters. - </p> - <p> - Freckles helped the Angel climb on a wagonload of canvas in the shade. She - removed her leggings, wiped her heated face, and glowed with happiness and - interest. - </p> - <p> - The gang had been sifted carefully. McLean now felt that there was not a - man in it who was not trustworthy. - </p> - <p> - They all had heard of the Angel's plucky ride for Freckles' relief; - several of them had been in the rescue party. Others, new since that time, - had heard the tale rehearsed in its every aspect around the smudge-fires - at night. Almost all of them knew the Angel by sight from her trips with - the Bird Woman to their leases. They all knew her father, her position, - and the luxuries of her home. Whatever course she had chosen with them - they scarcely would have resented it, but the Angel never had been known - to choose a course. Her spirit of friendliness was inborn and inbred. She - loved everyone, so she sympathized with everyone. Her generosity was only - limited by what was in her power to give. - </p> - <p> - She came down the trail, hand in hand with the red-haired, freckled timber - guard whom she had worn herself past the limit of endurance to save only a - few weeks before, racing in her eagerness to reach them, and laughing her - “Good morning, gentlemen,” right and left. When she was ensconced on the - wagonload of tenting, she sat on a roll of canvas as a queen on her - throne. There was not a man of the gang who did not respect her. She was a - living exponent of universal brotherhood. There was no man among them who - needed her exquisite face or dainty clothing to teach him that the - deference due a gentlewoman should be paid her. That the spirit of good - fellowship she radiated levied an especial tribute of its own, and it - became their delight to honor and please her. - </p> - <p> - As they raced toward the wagon—“Let me tell about the tree, please?” - she begged Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sure!” said Freckles. - </p> - <p> - He probably would have said the same to anything she suggested. When - McLean came, he found the Angel flushed and glowing, sitting on the wagon, - her hands already filled. One of the men, who was cutting a scrub-oak, had - carried to her a handful of crimson leaves. Another had gathered a bunch - of delicate marsh-grass heads for her. Someone else, in taking out a bush, - had found a daintily built and lined little nest, fresh as when made. - </p> - <p> - She held up her treasures and greeted McLean, “Good morning, Mr. Boss of - the Limberlost!” - </p> - <p> - The gang shouted, while he bowed profoundly before her. - </p> - <p> - “Everyone listen!” cried the Angel, climbing a roll of canvas. “I have - something to say! Freckles has been guarding here over a year now, and he - presents the Limberlost to you, with every tree in it saved; for good - measure he has this morning located the rarest one of them all: the one in - from the east line, that Wessner spoke of the first day—nearest the - one you took out. All together! Everyone! Hurrah for Freckles!” - </p> - <p> - With flushing cheeks and gleaming eyes, gaily waving the grass above her - head, she led in three cheers and a tiger. Freckles slipped into the swamp - and hid himself, for fear he could not conceal his pride and his great - surging, throbbing love for her. - </p> - <p> - The Angel subsided on the canvas and explained to McLean about the maple. - The Boss was mightily pleased. He took Freckles and set out to re-locate - and examine the tree. The Angel was interested in the making of the camp, - so she preferred to remain with the men. With her sharp eyes she was - watching every detail of construction; but when it came to the stretching - of the dining-hall canvas she proceeded to take command. The men were - driving the rope-pins, when the Angel arose on the wagon and, leaning - forward, spoke to Duncan, who was directing the work. - </p> - <p> - “I believe if you will swing that around a few feet farther, you will find - it better, Mr. Duncan,” she said. “That way will let the hot sun in at - noon, while the sides will cut off the best breeze.” - </p> - <p> - “That's a fact,” said Duncan, studying the conditions. - </p> - <p> - So, by shifting the pins a little, they obtained comfort for which they - blessed the Angel every day. When they came to the sleeping-tent, they - consulted her about that. She explained the general direction of the night - breeze and indicated the best position for the tent. Before anyone knew - how it happened, the Angel was standing on the wagon, directing the - location and construction of the cooking-shack, the erection of the crane - for the big boiling-pots, and the building of the store-room. She - superintended the laying of the floor of the sleeping-tent lengthwise, So - that it would be easier to sweep, and suggested a new arrangement of the - cots that would afford all the men an equal share of night breeze. She - left the wagon, and climbing on the newly erected dining-table, advised - with the cook in placing his stove, table, and kitchen utensils. - </p> - <p> - When Freckles returned from the tree to join in the work around the camp, - he caught glimpses of her enthroned on a soapbox, cleaning beans. She - called to him that they were invited for dinner, and that they had - accepted the invitation. - </p> - <p> - When the beans were steaming in the pot, the Angel advised the cook to - soak them overnight the next time, so that they would cook more quickly - and not burst. She was sure their cook at home did that way, and the CHEF - of the gang thought it would be a good idea. The next Freckles saw of her - she was paring potatoes. A little later she arranged the table. - </p> - <p> - She swept it with a broom, instead of laying a cloth; took the hatchet and - hammered the deepest dents from the tin plates, and nearly skinned her - fingers scouring the tinware with rushes. She set the plates an even - distance apart, and laid the forks and spoons beside them. When the cook - threw away half a dozen fruit-cans, she gathered them up and melted off - the tops, although she almost blistered her face and quite blistered her - fingers doing it. Then she neatly covered these improvised vases with the - Manila paper from the groceries, tying it with wisps of marshgrass. These - she filled with fringed gentians, blazing-star, asters, goldenrod, and - ferns, placing them the length of the dining-table. In one of the end cans - she arranged her red leaves, and in the other the fancy grass. Two men, - watching her, went away proud of themselves and said that she was “a born - lady.” She laughingly caught up a paper bag and fitted it jauntily to her - head in imitation of a cook's cap. Then she ground the coffee, and beat a - couple of eggs to put in, “because there is company,” she gravely - explained to the cook. She asked that delighted individual if he did not - like it best that way, and he said he did not know, because he never had a - chance to taste it. The Angel said that was her case exactly—she - never had, either; she was not allowed anything stronger than milk. Then - they laughed together. - </p> - <p> - She told the cook about camping with her father, and explained that he - made his coffee that way. When the steam began to rise from the big - boiler, she stuffed the spout tightly with clean marshgrass, to keep the - aroma in, placed the boiler where it would only simmer, and explained why. - The influence of the Angel's visit lingered with the cook through the - remainder of his life, while the men prayed for her frequent return. - </p> - <p> - She was having a happy time, when McLean came back jubilant, from his trip - to the tree. How jubilant he told only the Angel, for he had been obliged - to lose faith in some trusted men of late, and had learned discretion by - what he suffered. He planned to begin clearing out a road to the tree that - same afternoon, and to set two guards every night, for it promised to be a - rare treasure, so he was eager to see it on the way to the mills. - </p> - <p> - “I am coming to see it felled,” cried the Angel. “I feel a sort of - motherly interest in that tree.” - </p> - <p> - McLean was highly amused. He would have staked his life on the honesty of - either the Angel or Freckles; yet their versions of the finding of the - tree differed widely. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, Angel,” the Boss said jestingly. “I think I have a right to - know. Who really did locate that tree?” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” she answered promptly and emphatically. - </p> - <p> - “But he says quite as positively that it was you. I don't understand.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's legal look flashed into her face. Her eyes grew tense with - earnestness. She glanced around, and seeing no towel or basin, held out - her hand for Sears to pour water over them. Then, using the skirt of her - dress to dry them, she climbed on the wagon. - </p> - <p> - “I'll tell you, word for word, how it happened,” she said, “and then you - shall decide, and Freckles and I will agree with you.” - </p> - <p> - When she had finished her version, “Tell us, 'oh, most learned judge!'” - she laughingly quoted, “which of us located that tree?” - </p> - <p> - “Blest if I know who located it!” exclaimed McLean. “But I have a fairly - accurate idea as to who put the blue ribbon on it.” - </p> - <p> - The Boss smiled significantly at Freckles, who just had come, for they had - planned that they would instruct the company to reserve enough of the - veneer from that very tree to make the most beautiful dressing table they - could design for the Angel's share of the discovery. - </p> - <p> - “What will you have for yours?” McLean had asked of Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “If it's all the same to you, I'll be taking mine out in music lessons—begging - your pardon—voice culture,” said Freckles with a grimace. - </p> - <p> - McLean laughed, for Freckles needed to see or hear only once to absorb - learning as the thirsty earth sucks up water. - </p> - <p> - The Angel placed McLean at the head of the table. She took the foot, with - Freckles on her right, while the lumber gang, washed, brushed, and - straightened until they felt unfamiliar with themselves and each other, - filled the sides. That imposed a slight constraint. Then, too, the men - were afraid of the flowers, the polished tableware, and above all, of the - dainty grace of the Angel. Nowhere do men so display lack of good breeding - and culture as in dining. To sprawl on the table, scoop with their knives, - chew loudly, gulp coffee, and duck their heads as snapping-turtles for - every bite, had not been noticed by them until the Angel, sitting - straightly, suddenly made them remember that they, too, were possessed of - spines. Instinctively every man at the table straightened. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body - </h3> - <p> - To reach the tree was a more difficult task than McLean had supposed. The - gang could approach nearest on the outside toward the east, but after they - reached the end of the east entrance there was yet a mile of most - impenetrable thicket, trees big and little, and bushes of every variety - and stage of growth. In many places the muck had to be filled to give the - horses and wagons a solid foundation over which to haul heavy loads. It - was several days before they completed a road to the noble, big tree and - were ready to fell it. - </p> - <p> - When the sawing began, Freckles was watching down the road where it met - the trail leading from Little Chicken's tree. He had gone to the tree - ahead of the gang to remove the blue ribbon. Carefully folded, it now lay - over his heart. He was promising himself much comfort with that ribbon, - when he would leave for the city next month to begin his studies and dream - the summer over again. It would help to make things tangible. When he was - dressed as other men, and at his work, he knew where he meant to home that - precious bit of blue. It should be his good-luck token, and he would wear - it always to keep bright in memory the day on which the Angel had called - him her knight. - </p> - <p> - How he would study, and oh, how he would sing! If only he could fulfill - McLean's expectations, and make the Angel proud of him! If only he could - be a real knight! - </p> - <p> - He could not understand why the Angel had failed to come. She had wanted - to see their tree felled. She would be too late if she did not arrive - soon. He had told her it would be ready that morning, and she had said she - surely would be there. Why, of all mornings, was she late on this? - </p> - <p> - McLean had ridden to town. If he had been there, Freckles would have asked - that they delay the felling, but he scarcely liked to ask the gang. He - really had no authority, although he thought the men would wait; but some - way he found such embarrassment in framing the request that he waited - until the work was practically ended. The saw was out, and the men were - cutting into the felling side of the tree when the Boss rode in. - </p> - <p> - His first word was to inquire for the Angel. When Freckles said she had - not yet come, the Boss at once gave orders to stop work on the tree until - she arrived; for he felt that she virtually had located it, and if she - desired to see it felled, she should. As the men stepped back, a stiff - morning breeze caught the top, that towered high above its fellows. There - was an ominous grinding at the base, a shiver of the mighty trunk, then - directly in line of its fall the bushes swung apart and the laughing face - of the Angel looked on them. - </p> - <p> - A groan of horror burst from the dry throats of the men, and reading the - agony in their faces, she stopped short, glanced up, and understood. - </p> - <p> - “South!” shouted McLean. “Run south!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel was helpless. It was apparent that she did not know which way - south was. There was another slow shiver of the big tree. The remainder of - the gang stood motionless, but Freckles sprang past the trunk and went - leaping in big bounds. He caught up the Angel and dashed through the - thicket for safety. The swaying trunk was half over when, for an instant, - a near-by tree stayed its fall. They saw Freckles' foot catch, and with - the Angel he plunged headlong. - </p> - <p> - A terrible cry broke from the men, while McLean covered his face. - Instantly Freckles was up, with the Angel in his arms, struggling on. The - outer limbs were on them when they saw Freckles hurl the Angel, face down, - in the muck, as far from him as he could send her. Springing after, in an - attempt to cover her body with his own, he whirled to see if they were yet - in danger, and with outstretched arms braced himself for the shock. The - branches shut them from sight, and the awful crash rocked the earth. - </p> - <p> - McLean and Duncan ran with axes and saws. The remainder of the gang - followed, and they worked desperately. It seemed a long time before they - caught a glimpse of the Angel's blue dress, but it renewed their vigor. - Duncan fell on his knees beside her and tore the muck from underneath her - with his hands. In a few seconds he dragged her out, choking and stunned, - but surely not fatally hurt. - </p> - <p> - Freckles lay a little farther under the tree, a big limb pinning him down. - His eyes were wide open. He was perfectly conscious. Duncan began mining - beneath him, but Freckles stopped him. - </p> - <p> - “You can't be moving me,” he said. “You must cut off the limb and lift it. - I know.” - </p> - <p> - Two men ran for the big saw. A number of them laid hold of the limb and - bore up. In a short time it was removed, and Freckles lay free. - </p> - <p> - The men bent over to lift him, but he motioned them away. - </p> - <p> - “Don't be touching me until I rest a bit,” he pleaded. - </p> - <p> - Then he twisted his head until he saw the Angel, who was wiping muck from - her eyes and face on the skirt of her dress. - </p> - <p> - “Try to get up,” he begged. - </p> - <p> - McLean laid hold of the Angel and helped her to her feet. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think any bones are broken?” gasped Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The Angel shook her head and wiped muck. - </p> - <p> - “You see if you can find any, sir,” Freckles commanded. - </p> - <p> - The Angel yielded herself to McLean's touch, and he assured Freckles that - she was not seriously injured. - </p> - <p> - Freckles settled back, a smile of ineffable tenderness on his face. - </p> - <p> - “Thank the Lord!” he hoarsely whispered. - </p> - <p> - The Angel leaned toward him. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Freckles, you!” she cried. “It's your turn. Please get up!” - </p> - <p> - A pitiful spasm swept Freckles' face. The sight of it washed every vestige - of color from the Angel's. She took hold of his hands. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, get up!” It was half command, half entreaty. - </p> - <p> - “Easy, Angel, easy! Let me rest a bit first!” implored Freckles. - </p> - <p> - She knelt beside him. He reached his arm around her and drew her closely. - He looked at McLean in an agony of entreaty that brought the Boss to his - knees on the other side. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Freckles!” McLean cried. “Not that! Surely we can do something! We - must! Let me see!” - </p> - <p> - He tried to unfasten Freckles' neckband, but his fingers shook so clumsily - that the Angel pushed them away and herself laid Freckles' chest bare. - With one hasty glance she gathered the clothing together and slipped her - arm under his head. Freckles lifted his eyes of agony to hers. - </p> - <p> - “You see?” he said. - </p> - <p> - The Angel nodded dumbly. - </p> - <p> - Freckles turned to McLean. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you for everything,” he panted. “Where are the boys?” - </p> - <p> - “They are all here,” said the Boss, “except a couple who have gone for - doctors, Mrs. Duncan and the Bird Woman.” - </p> - <p> - “It's no use trying to do anything,” said Freckles. “You won't forget the - muff and the Christmas box. The muff especial?” - </p> - <p> - There was a movement above them so pronounced that it attracted Freckles' - attention, even in that extreme hour. He looked up, and a pleased smile - flickered on his drawn face. - </p> - <p> - “Why, if it ain't me Little Chicken!” he cried hoarsely. “He must be - making his very first trip from the log. Now Duncan can have his big - watering-trough.” - </p> - <p> - “It was Little Chicken that made me late,” faltered the Angel. “I was so - anxious to get here early I forgot to bring his breakfast from the - carriage. He must have been hungry, for when I passed the log he started - after me. He was so wabbly, and so slow flying from tree to tree and - through the bushes, I just had to wait on him, for I couldn't drive him - back.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course you couldn't! Me bird has too amazing good sinse to go back - when he could be following you,” exulted Freckles, exactly as if he did - not realize what the delay had cost him. Then he lay silently thinking, - but presently he asked slowly: “And so 'twas me Little Chicken that was - making you late, Angel?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel. - </p> - <p> - A spasm of fierce pain shook Freckles, and a look of uncertainty crossed - his face. - </p> - <p> - “All summer I've been thanking God for the falling of the feather and all - the delights it's brought me,” he muttered, “but this looks as if——” - </p> - <p> - He stopped short and raised questioning eyes to McLean. - </p> - <p> - “I can't help being Irish, but I can help being superstitious,” he said. - “I mustn't be laying it to the Almighty, or to me bird, must I?” - </p> - <p> - “No, dear lad,” said McLean, stroking the brilliant hair. “The choice lay - with you. You could have stood a rooted dolt like all the remainder of us. - It was through your great love and your high courage that you made the - sacrifice.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you be so naming it, sir!” cried Freckles. “It's just the reverse. - If I could be giving me body the hundred times over to save hers from - this, I'd be doing it and take joy with every pain.” - </p> - <p> - He turned with a smile of adoring tenderness to the Angel. She was ghastly - white, and her eyes were dull and glazed. She scarcely seemed to hear or - understand what was coming, but she bravely tried to answer that smile. - </p> - <p> - “Is my forehead covered with dirt?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “You did once,” he gasped. - </p> - <p> - Instantly she laid her lips on his forehead, then on each cheek, and then - in a long kiss on his lips. - </p> - <p> - McLean bent over him. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” he said brokenly, “you will never know how I love you. You - won't go without saying good-bye to me?” - </p> - <p> - That word stung the Angel to quick comprehension. She started as if - arousing from sleep. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye?” she cried sharply, her eyes widening and the color rushing - into her white face. “Good-bye! Why, what do you mean? Who's saying - good-bye? Where could Freckles go, when he is hurt like this, save to the - hospital? You needn't say good-bye for that. Of course, we will all go - with him! You call up the men. We must start right away.” - </p> - <p> - “It's no use, Angel,” said Freckles. “I'm thinking ivry bone in me breast - is smashed. You'll have to be letting me go!” - </p> - <p> - “I will not,” said the Angel flatly. “It's no use wasting precious time - talking about it. You are alive. You are breathing; and no matter how - badly your bones are broken, what are great surgeons for but to fix you up - and make you well again? You promise me that you'll just grit your teeth - and hang on when we hurt you, for we must start with you as quickly as it - can be done. I don't know what has been the matter with me. Here's good - time wasted already.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Angel!” moaned Freckles, “I can't! You don't know how bad it is. I'll - die the minute you are for trying to lift me!” - </p> - <p> - “Of course you will, if you make up your mind to do it,” said the Angel. - “But if you are determined you won't, and set yourself to breathing deep - and strong, and hang on to me tight, I can get you out. Really you must, - Freckles, no matter how it hurts, for you did this for me, and now I must - save you, so you might as well promise.” - </p> - <p> - She bent over him, trying to smile encouragement with her fear-stiffened - lips. - </p> - <p> - “You will promise, Freckles?” - </p> - <p> - Big drops of cold sweat ran together on Freckles' temples. - </p> - <p> - “Angel, darlin' Angel,” he pleaded, taking her hand in his. “You ain't - understanding, and I can't for the life of me be telling you, but indade, - it's best to be letting me go. This is my chance. Please say good-bye, and - let me slip off quick!” - </p> - <p> - He appealed to McLean. - </p> - <p> - “Dear Boss, you know! You be telling her that, for me, living is far worse - pain than dying. Tell her you know death is the best thing that could ever - be happening to me!” - </p> - <p> - “Merciful Heaven!” burst in the Angel. “I can't endure this delay!” - </p> - <p> - She caught Freckles' hand to her breast, and bending over him, looked - deeply into his stricken eyes. - </p> - <p> - “'Angel, I give you my word of honor that I will keep right on breathing.' - That's what you are going to promise me,” she said. “Do you say it?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles!” imploringly commanded the Angel, “YOU DO SAY IT!” - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” gasped Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The Angel sprang to her feet. - </p> - <p> - “Then that's all right,” she said, with a tinge of her old-time briskness. - “You just keep breathing away like a steam engine, and I will do all the - remainder.” - </p> - <p> - The eager men gathered around her. - </p> - <p> - “It's going to be a tough pull to get Freckles out,” she said, “but it's - our only chance, so listen closely and don't for the lives of you fail me - in doing quickly what I tell you. There's no time to spend falling down - over each other; we must have some system. You four there get on those - wagon horses and ride to the sleeping-tent. Get the stoutest cot, a couple - of comforts, and a pillow. Ride back with them some way to save time. If - you meet any other men of the gang, send them here to help carry the cot. - We won't risk the jolt of driving with him. The others clear a path out to - the road; and Mr. McLean, you take Nellie and ride to town. Tell my father - how Freckles is hurt and that he risked it to save me. Tell him I'm going - to take Freckles to Chicago on the noon train, and I want him to hold it - if we are a little late. If he can't, then have a special ready at the - station and another on the Pittsburgh at Fort Wayne, so we can go straight - through. You needn't mind leaving us. The Bird Woman will be here soon. We - will rest awhile.” - </p> - <p> - She dropped into the muck beside Freckles and began stroking his hair and - hand. He lay with his face of agony turned to hers, and fought to smother - the groans that would tell her what he was suffering. - </p> - <p> - When they stood ready to lift him, the Angel bent over him in a passion of - tenderness. - </p> - <p> - “Dear old Limberlost guard, we're going to lift you now,” she said. “I - suspect you will faint from the pain of it, but we will be as easy as ever - we can, and don't you dare forget your promise!” - </p> - <p> - A whimsical half-smile touched Freckles' quivering lips. - </p> - <p> - “Angel, can a man be remembering a promise when he ain't knowing?” he - asked. - </p> - <p> - “You can,” said the Angel stoutly, “because a promise means so much more - to you than it does to most men.” - </p> - <p> - A look of strength flashed into Freckles' face at her words. - </p> - <p> - “I am ready,” he said. - </p> - <p> - With the first touch his eyes closed, a mighty groan was wrenched from - him, and he lay senseless. The Angel gave Duncan one panic-stricken look. - Then she set her lips and gathered her forces again. - </p> - <p> - “I guess that's a good thing,” she said. “Maybe he won't feel how we are - hurting him. Oh boys, are you being quick and gentle?” - </p> - <p> - She stepped to the side of the cot and bathed Freckles' face. Taking his - hand in hers, she gave the word to start. She told the men to ask every - able-bodied man they met to join them so that they could change carriers - often and make good time. - </p> - <p> - The Bird Woman insisted upon taking the Angel into the carriage and - following the cot, but she refused to leave Freckles, and suggested that - the Bird Woman drive ahead, pack them some clothing, and be at the station - ready to accompany them to Chicago. All the way the Angel walked beside - the cot, shading Freckles' face with a branch, and holding his hand. At - every pause to change carriers she moistened his face and lips and watched - each breath with heart-breaking anxiety. - </p> - <p> - She scarcely knew when her father joined them, and taking the branch from - her, slipped an arm around her waist and almost carried her. To the city - streets and the swarm of curious, staring faces she paid no more attention - than she had to the trees of the Limberlost. When the train came and the - gang placed Freckles aboard, big Duncan made a place for the Angel beside - the cot. - </p> - <p> - With the best physician to be found, and with the Bird Woman and McLean in - attendance, the four-hours' run to Chicago began. The Angel constantly - watched over Freckles; bathed his face, stroked his hand, and gently - fanned him. Not for an instant would she yield her place, or allow anyone - else to do anything for him. The Bird Woman and McLean regarded her in - amazement. There seemed to be no end to her resources and courage. The - only time she spoke was to ask McLean if he were sure the special would be - ready on the Pittsburgh road. He replied that it was made up and waiting. - </p> - <p> - At five o'clock Freckles lay stretched on the operating-table of Lake View - Hospital, while three of the greatest surgeons in Chicago bent over him. - At their command, McLean picked up the unwilling Angel and carried her to - the nurses to be bathed, have her bruises attended, and to be put to bed. - </p> - <p> - In a place where it is difficult to surprise people, they were astonished - women as they removed the Angel's dainty stained and torn clothing, drew - off hose muck-baked to her limbs, soaked the dried loam from her silken - hair, and washed the beautiful scratched, bruised, dirt-covered body. The - Angel fell fast asleep long before they had finished, and lay deeply - unconscious, while the fight for Freckles' life was being waged. - </p> - <p> - Three days later she was the same Angel as of old, except that Freckles - was constantly in her thoughts. The anxiety and responsibility that she - felt for his condition had bred in her a touch of womanliness and - authority that was new. That morning she arose early and hovered near - Freckles' door. She had been allowed to remain with him constantly, for - the nurses and surgeons had learned, with his returning consciousness, - that for her alone would the active, highly strung, pain-racked sufferer - be quiet and obey orders. When she was dropping from loss of sleep, the - threat that she would fall ill had to be used to send her to bed. Then by - telling Freckles that the Angel was asleep and they would waken her the - moment he moved, they were able to control him for a short time. - </p> - <p> - The surgeon was with Freckles. The Angel had been told that the word he - brought that morning would be final, so she curled in a window seat, - dropped the curtains behind her, and in dire anxiety, waited the opening - of the door. - </p> - <p> - Just as it unclosed, McLean came hurrying down the hall and to the - surgeon, but with one glance at his face he stepped back in dismay; while - the Angel, who had arisen, sank to the seat again, too dazed to come - forward. The men faced each other. The Angel, with parted lips and - frightened eyes, bent forward in tense anxiety. - </p> - <p> - “I—I thought he was doing nicely?” faltered McLean. - </p> - <p> - “He bore the operation well,” replied the surgeon, “and his wounds are not - necessarily fatal. I told you that yesterday, but I did not tell you that - something else probably would kill him; and it will. He need not die from - the accident, but he will not live the day out.” - </p> - <p> - “But why? What is it?” asked McLean hurriedly. “We all dearly love the - boy. We have millions among us to do anything that money can accomplish. - Why must he die, if those broken bones are not the cause?” - </p> - <p> - “That is what I am going to give you the opportunity to tell me,” replied - the surgeon. “He need not die from the accident, yet he is dying as fast - as his splendid physical condition will permit, and it is because he so - evidently prefers death to life. If he were full of hope and ambition to - live, my work would be easy. If all of you love him as you prove you do, - and there is unlimited means to give him anything he wants, why should he - desire death?” - </p> - <p> - “Is he dying?” demanded McLean. - </p> - <p> - “He is,” said the surgeon. “He will not live this day out, unless some - strong reaction sets in at once. He is so low, that preferring death to - life, nature cannot overcome his inertia. If he is to live, he must be - made to desire life. Now he undoubtedly wishes for death, and that it come - quickly.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he must die,” said McLean. - </p> - <p> - His broad shoulders shook convulsively. His strong hands opened and closed - mechanically. - </p> - <p> - “Does that mean that you know what he desires and cannot, or will not, - supply it?” - </p> - <p> - McLean groaned in misery. - </p> - <p> - “It means,” he said desperately, “that I know what he wants, but it is as - far removed from my power to help him as it would be to give him a star. - The thing for which he will die, he can never have.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you must prepare for the end very shortly” said the surgeon, turning - abruptly away. - </p> - <p> - McLean caught his arm roughly. - </p> - <p> - “You look here!” he cried in desperation. “You say that as if I could do - something if I would. I tell you the boy is dear to me past expression. I - would do anything—spend any sum. You have noticed and repeatedly - commented on the young girl with me. It is that child that he wants! He - worships her to adoration, and knowing he can never be anything to her, he - prefers death to life. In God's name, what can I do about it?” - </p> - <p> - “Barring that missing hand, I never examined a finer man,” said the - surgeon, “and she seemed perfectly devoted to him; why cannot he have - her?” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” echoed McLean. “Why? Well, for many reasons! I told you he was my - son. You probably knew that he was not. A little over a year ago I never - had seen him. He joined one of my lumber gangs from the road. He is a - stray, left at one of your homes for the friendless here in Chicago. When - he grew up the superintendent bound him to a brutal man. He ran away and - landed in one of my lumber camps. He has no name or knowledge of legal - birth. The Angel—we have talked of her. You see what she is, - physically and mentally. She has ancestors reaching back to Plymouth Rock, - and across the sea for generations before that. She is an idolized, petted - only child, and there is great wealth. Life holds everything for her, - nothing for him. He sees it more plainly than anyone else could. There is - nothing for the boy but death, if it is the Angel that is required to save - him.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel stood between them. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I just guess not!” she cried. “If Freckles wants me, all he has to - do is to say so, and he can have me!” - </p> - <p> - The amazed men stepped back, staring at her. - </p> - <p> - “That he will never say,” said McLean at last, “and you don't understand, - Angel. I don't know how you came here. I wouldn't have had you hear that - for the world, but since you have, dear girl, you must be told that it - isn't your friendship or your kindness Freckles wants; it is your love.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel looked straight into the great surgeon's eyes with her clear, - steady orbs of blue, and then into McLean's with unwavering frankness. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I do love him,” she said simply. - </p> - <p> - McLean's arms dropped helplessly. - </p> - <p> - “You don't understand,” he reiterated patiently. “It isn't the love of a - friend, or a comrade, or a sister, that Freckles wants from you; it is the - love of a sweetheart. And if to save the life he has offered for you, you - are thinking of being generous and impulsive enough to sacrifice your - future—in the absence of your father, it will become my plain duty, - as the protector in whose hands he has placed you, to prevent such - rashness. The very words you speak, and the manner in which you say them, - prove that you are a mere child, and have not dreamed what love is.” - </p> - <p> - Then the Angel grew splendid. A rosy flush swept the pallor of fear from - her face. Her big eyes widened and dilated with intense lights. She seemed - to leap to the height and the dignity of superb womanhood before their - wondering gaze. - </p> - <p> - “I never have had to dream of love,” she said proudly. “I never have known - anything else, in all my life, but to love everyone and to have everyone - love me. And there never has been anyone so dear as Freckles. If you will - remember, we have been through a good deal together. I do love Freckles, - just as I say I do. I don't know anything about the love of sweethearts, - but I love him with all the love in my heart, and I think that will - satisfy him.” - </p> - <p> - “Surely it should!” muttered the man of knives and lancets. - </p> - <p> - McLean reached to take hold of the Angel, but she saw the movement and - swiftly stepped back. - </p> - <p> - “As for my father,” she continued, “he at once told me what he learned - from you about Freckles. I've known all you know for several weeks. That - knowledge didn't change your love for him a particle. I think the Bird - Woman loved him more. Why should you two have all the fine perceptions - there are? Can't I see how brave, trustworthy, and splendid he is? Can't I - see how his soul vibrates with his music, his love of beautiful things and - the pangs of loneliness and heart hunger? Must you two love him with all - the love there is, and I give him none? My father is never unreasonable. - He won't expect me not to love Freckles, or not to tell him so, if the - telling will save him.” - </p> - <p> - She darted past McLean into Freckles' room, closed the door, and turned - the key. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and - the Angel Goes in Quest of it - </h3> - <p> - Freckles lay on a flat pillow, his body immovable in a plaster cast, his - maimed arm, as always, hidden. His greedy gaze fastened at once on the - Angel's face. She crossed to him with light step and bent over him with - infinite tenderness. Her heart ached at the change in his appearance. He - seemed so weak, heart hungry, so utterly hopeless, so alone. She could see - that the night had been one long terror. - </p> - <p> - For the first time she tried putting herself in Freckles' place. What - would it mean to have no parents, no home, no name? No name! That was the - worst of all. That was to be lost—indeed—utterly and - hopelessly lost. The Angel lifted her hands to her dazed head and reeled, - as she tried to face that proposition. She dropped on her knees beside the - bed, slipped her arm under the pillow, and leaning over Freckles, set her - lips on his forehead. He smiled faintly, but his wistful face appeared - worse for it. It hurt the Angel to the heart. - </p> - <p> - “Dear Freckles,” she said, “there is a story in your eyes this morning, - tell me?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles drew a long, wavering breath. - </p> - <p> - “Angel,” he begged, “be generous! Be thinking of me a little. I'm so - homesick and worn out, dear Angel, be giving me back me promise. Let me - go?” - </p> - <p> - “Why Freckles!” faltered the Angel. “You don't know what you are asking. - 'Let you go!' I cannot! I love you better than anyone, Freckles. I think - you are the very finest person I ever knew. I have our lives all planned. - I want you to be educated and learn all there is to know about singing, - just as soon as you are well enough. By the time you have completed your - education I will have finished college, and then I want,” she choked a - second, “I want you to be my real knight, Freckles, and come to me and - tell me that you—like me—a little. I have been counting on you - for my sweetheart from the very first, Freckles. I can't give you up, - unless you don't like me. But you do like me—just a little—don't - you, Freckles?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lay whiter than the coverlet, his staring eyes on the ceiling and - his breath wheezing between dry lips. The Angel awaited his answer a - second, and when none came, she dropped her crimsoning face beside him on - the pillow and whispered in his ear: - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, I—I'm trying to make love to you. Oh, can't you help me - only a little bit? It's awful hard all alone! I don't know how, when I - really mean it, but Freckles, I love you. I must have you, and now I guess—I - guess maybe I'd better kiss you next.” - </p> - <p> - She lifted her shamed face and bravely laid her feverish, quivering lips - on his. Her breath, like clover-bloom, was in his nostrils, and her hair - touched his face. Then she looked into his eyes with reproach. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” she panted, “Freckles! I didn't think it was in you to be - mean!” - </p> - <p> - “Mean, Angel! Mean to you?” gasped Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel. “Downright mean. When I kiss you, if you had any - mercy at all you'd kiss back, just a little bit.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' sinewy fist knotted into the coverlet. His chin pointed - ceilingward while his head rocked on the pillow. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Jesus!” burst from him in agony. “You ain't the only one that was - crucified!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel caught Freckles' hand and carried it to her breast. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles!” she wailed in terror, “Freckles! It is a mistake? Is it that - you don't want me?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' head rolled on in wordless suffering. - </p> - <p> - “Wait a bit, Angel?” he panted at last. “Be giving me a little time!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel arose with controlled features. She bathed his face, - straightened his hair, and held water to his lips. It seemed a long time - before he reached toward her. Instantly she knelt again, carried his hand - to her breast, and leaned her cheek upon it. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, Freckles,” she whispered softly. - </p> - <p> - “If I can,” said Freckles in agony. “It's just this. Angels are from - above. Outcasts are from below. You've a sound body and you're - beautifulest of all. You have everything that loving, careful raising and - money can give you. I have so much less than nothing that I don't suppose - I had any right to be born. It's a sure thing—nobody wanted me - afterward, so of course, they didn't before. Some of them should have been - telling you long ago.” - </p> - <p> - “If that's all you have to say, Freckles, I've known that quite a while,” - said the Angel stoutly. “Mr. McLean told my father, and he told me. That - only makes me love you more, to pay for all you've missed.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I'm wondering at you,” said Freckles in a voice of awe. “Can't you - see that if you were willing and your father would come and offer you to - me, I couldn't be touching the soles of your feet, in love—me, whose - people brawled over me, cut off me hand, and throwed me away to freeze and - to die! Me, who has no name just as much because I've no RIGHT to any, as - because I don't know it. When I was little, I planned to find me father - and mother when I grew up. Now I know me mother deserted me, and me father - was maybe a thief and surely a liar. The pity for me suffering and the - watching over me have gone to your head, dear Angel, and it's me must be - thinking for you. If you could be forgetting me lost hand, where I was - raised, and that I had no name to give you, and if you would be taking me - as I am, some day people such as mine must be, might come upon you. I used - to pray ivery night and morning and many times the day to see me mother. - Now I only pray to die quickly and never risk the sight of her. 'Tain't no - ways possible, Angel! It's a wildness of your dear head. Oh, do for mercy - sake, kiss me once more and be letting me go!” - </p> - <p> - “Not for a minute!” cried the Angel. “Not for a minute, if those are all - the reasons you have. It's you who are wild in your head, but I can - understand just how it happened. Being shut in that Home most of your - life, and seeing children every day whose parents did neglect and desert - them, makes you sure yours did the same; and yet there are so many other - things that could have happened so much more easily than that. There are - thousands of young couples who come to this country and start a family - with none of their relatives here. Chicago is a big, wicked city, and - grown people could disappear in many ways, and who would there ever be to - find to whom their little children belonged? The minute my father told me - how you felt, I began to study this thing over, and I've made up my mind - you are dead wrong. I meant to ask my father or the Bird Woman to talk to - you before you went away to school, but as matters are right now I guess - I'll just do it myself. It's all so plain to me. Oh, if I could only make - you see!” - </p> - <p> - She buried her face in the pillow and presently lifted it, transfigured. - </p> - <p> - “Now I have it!” she cried. “Oh, dear heart! I can make it so plain! - Freckles, can you imagine you see the old Limberlost trail? Well when we - followed it, you know there were places where ugly, prickly thistles - overgrew the path, and you went ahead with your club and bent them back to - keep them from stinging through my clothing. Other places there were big - shining pools where lovely, snow-white lilies grew, and you waded in and - gathered them for me. Oh dear heart, don't you see? It's this! Everywhere - the wind carried that thistledown, other thistles sprang up and grew - prickles; and wherever those lily seeds sank to the mire, the pure white - of other lilies bloomed. But, Freckles, there was never a place anywhere - in the Limberlost, or in the whole world, where the thistledown floated - and sprang up and blossomed into white lilies! Thistles grow from - thistles, and lilies from other lilies. Dear Freckles, think hard! You - must see it! You are a lily, straight through. You never, never could have - drifted from the thistle-patch. - </p> - <p> - “Where did you find the courage to go into the Limberlost and face its - terrors? You inherited it from the blood of a brave father, dear heart. - Where did you get the pluck to hold for over a year a job that few men - would have taken at all? You got it from a plucky mother, you bravest of - boys. You attacked single-handed a man almost twice your size, and fought - as a demon, merely at the suggestion that you be deceptive and dishonest. - Could your mother or your father have been untruthful? Here you are, so - hungry and starved that you are dying for love. Where did you get all that - capacity for loving? You didn't inherit it from hardened, heartless - people, who would disfigure you and purposely leave you to die, that's one - sure thing. You once told me of saving your big bullfrog from a - rattlesnake. You knew you risked a horrible death when you did it. Yet you - will spend miserable years torturing yourself with the idea that your own - mother might have cut off that hand. Shame on you, Freckles! Your mother - would have done this——” - </p> - <p> - The Angel deliberately turned back the cover, slipped up the sleeve, and - laid her lips on the scars. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles! Wake up!” she cried, almost shaking him. “Come to your senses! - Be a thinking, reasoning man! You have brooded too much, and been all your - life too much alone. It's all as plain as plain can be to me. You must see - it! Like breeds like in this world! You must be some sort of a - reproduction of your parents, and I am not afraid to vouch for them, not - for a minute! - </p> - <p> - “And then, too, if more proof is needed, here it is: Mr. McLean says that - you never once have failed in tact and courtesy. He says that you are the - most perfect gentleman he ever knew, and he has traveled the world over. - How does it happen, Freckles? No one at that Home taught you. Hundreds of - men couldn't be taught, even in a school of etiquette; so it must be - instinctive with you. If it is, why, that means that it is born in you, - and a direct inheritance from a race of men that have been gentlemen for - ages, and couldn't be anything else. - </p> - <p> - “Then there's your singing. I don't believe there ever was a mortal with a - sweeter voice than yours, and while that doesn't prove anything, there is - a point that does. The little training you had from that choirmaster won't - account for the wonderful accent and ease with which you sing. Somewhere - in your close blood is a marvelously trained vocalist; we every one of us - believe that, Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Why does my father refer to you constantly as being of fine perceptions - and honor? Because you are, Freckles. Why does the Bird Woman leave her - precious work and come here to help look after you? I never heard of her - losing any time over anyone else. It's because she loves you. And why does - Mr. McLean turn all of his valuable business over to hired men and watch - you personally? And why is he hunting excuses every day to spend money on - you? My father says McLean is full Scotch-close with a dollar. He is a - hard-headed business man, Freckles, and he is doing it because he finds - you worthy of it. Worthy of all we all can do and more than we know how to - do, dear heart! Freckles, are you listening to me? Oh! won't you see it? - Won't you believe it?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Angel!” chattered the bewildered Freckles, “are you truly maning it? - Could it be?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course it could,” flashed the Angel, “because it just is!” - </p> - <p> - “But you can't prove it,” wailed Freckles. “It ain't giving me a name, or - me honor!” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles,” said the Angel sternly, “you are unreasonable! Why, I did - prove every word I said! Everything proves it! You look here! If you knew - for sure that I could give you a name and your honor, and prove to you - that your mother did love you, why, then, would you just go to breathing - like perpetual motion and hang on for dear life and get well?” - </p> - <p> - A bright light shone in Freckles' eyes. - </p> - <p> - “If I knew that, Angel,” he said solemnly, “you couldn't be killing me if - you felled the biggest tree in the Limberlost smash on me!” - </p> - <p> - “Then you go right to work,” said the Angel, “and before night I'll prove - one thing to you: I can show you easily enough how much your mother loved - you. That will be the first step, and then the remainder will all come. If - my father and Mr. McLean are so anxious to spend some money, I'll give - them a chance. I don't see why we haven't comprehended how you felt and so - have been at work weeks ago. We've been awfully selfish. We've all been so - comfortable, we never stopped to think what other people were suffering - before our eyes. None of us has understood. I'll hire the finest detective - in Chicago, and we'll go to work together. This is nothing compared with - things people do find out. We'll go at it, beak and claw, and we'll show - you a thing or two.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles caught her sleeve. - </p> - <p> - “Me mother, Angel! Me mother!” he marveled hoarsely. “Did you say you - could be finding out today if me mother loved me? How? Oh, Angel! Nothing - matters, IF ONLY ME MOTHER DIDN'T DO IT!” - </p> - <p> - “Then you rest easy,” said the Angel, with large confidence. “Your mother - didn't do it! Mothers of sons such as you don't do things like that. I'll - go to work at once and prove it to you. The first thing to do is to go to - that Home where you were and get the clothes you wore the night you were - left there. I know that they are required to save those things carefully. - We can find out almost all there is to know about your mother from them. - Did you ever see them?” - </p> - <p> - “Yis,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles! Were they white?” she cried. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe they were once. They're all yellow with laying, and brown with - blood-stains now” said Freckles, the old note of bitterness creeping in. - “You can't be telling anything at all by them, Angel!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, but I just can!” said the Angel positively. “I can see from the - quality what kind of goods your mother could afford to buy. I can see from - the cut whether she had good taste. I can see from the care she took in - making them how much she loved and wanted you.” - </p> - <p> - “But how? Angel, tell me how!” implored Freckles with trembling eagerness. - </p> - <p> - “Why, easily enough,” said the Angel. “I thought you'd understand. People - that can afford anything at all, always buy white for little new babies—linen - and lace, and the very finest things to be had. There's a young woman - living near us who cut up her wedding clothes to have fine things for her - baby. Mothers who love and want their babies don't buy little rough, - ready-made things, and they don't run up what they make on an old sewing - machine. They make fine seams, and tucks, and put on lace and trimming by - hand. They sit and stitch, and stitch—little, even stitches, every - one just as careful. Their eyes shine and their faces glow. When they have - to quit to do something else, they look sorry, and fold up their work so - particularly. There isn't much worth knowing about your mother that those - little clothes won't tell. I can see her putting the little stitches into - them and smiling with shining eyes over your coming. Freckles, I'll wager - you a dollar those little clothes of yours are just alive with the - dearest, tiny handmade stitches.” - </p> - <p> - A new light dawned in Freckles' eyes. A tinge of warm color swept into his - face. Renewed strength was noticeable in his grip of her hands. - </p> - <p> - “Oh Angel! Will you go now? Will you be hurrying?” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Right away,” said the Angel. “I won't stop for a thing, and I'll hurry - with all my might.” - </p> - <p> - She smoothed his pillow, straightened the cover, gave him one steady look - in the eyes, and went quietly from the room. - </p> - <p> - Outside the door, McLean and the surgeon anxiously awaited her. McLean - caught her shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “Angel, what have you done?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - The Angel smiled defiance into his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “'What have I done?'” she repeated. “I've tried to save Freckles.” - </p> - <p> - “What will your father say?” groaned McLean. - </p> - <p> - “It strikes me,” said the Angel, “that what Freckles said would be to the - point.” - </p> - <p> - “Freckles!” exclaimed McLean. “What could he say?” - </p> - <p> - “He seemed to be able to say several things,” answered the Angel sweetly. - “I fancy the one that concerns you most at present was, that if my father - should offer me to him he would not have me.” - </p> - <p> - “And no one knows why better than I do,” cried McLean. “Every day he must - astonish me with some new fineness.” - </p> - <p> - He turned to the surgeon. “Save him!” he commanded. “Save him!” he - implored. “He is too fine to be sacrificed.” - </p> - <p> - “His salvation lies here,” said the surgeon, stroking the Angel's sunshiny - hair, “and I can read in the face of her that she knows how she is going - to work it out. Don't trouble for the boy. She will save him!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel laughingly sped down the hall, and into the street, just as she - was. - </p> - <p> - “I have come,” she said to the matron of the Home, “to ask if you will - allow me to examine, or, better yet, to take with me, the little clothes - that a boy you called Freckles, discharged last fall, wore the night he - was left here.” - </p> - <p> - The woman looked at her in greater astonishment than the occasion - demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I'd be glad to let you see them,” she said at last, “but the fact - is we haven't them. I do hope we haven't made some mistake. I was - thoroughly convinced, and so was the superintendent. We let his people - take those things away yesterday. Who are you, and what do you want with - them?” - </p> - <p> - The Angel stood dazed and speechless, staring at the matron. - </p> - <p> - “There couldn't have been a mistake,” continued the matron, seeing the - Angel's distress. “Freckles was here when I took charge, ten years ago. - These people had it all proved that he belonged to them. They had him - traced to where he ran away in Illinois last fall, and there they - completely lost track of him. I'm sorry you seem so disappointed, but it - is all right. The man is his uncle, and as like the boy as he possibly - could be. He is almost killed to go back without him. If you know where - Freckles is, they'd give big money to find out.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel laid a hand along each cheek to steady her chattering teeth. - </p> - <p> - “Who are they?” she stammered. “Where are they going?” - </p> - <p> - “They are Irish folks, miss,” said the matron. “They have been in Chicago - and over the country for the past three months, hunting him everywhere. - They have given up, and are starting home today. They——” - </p> - <p> - “Did they leave an address? Where could I find them?” interrupted the - Angel. - </p> - <p> - “They left a card, and I notice the morning paper has the man's picture - and is full of them. They've advertised a great deal in the city papers. - It's a wonder you haven't seen something.” - </p> - <p> - “Trains don't run right. We never get Chicago papers,” said the Angel. - “Please give me that card quickly. They may escape me. I simply must catch - them!” - </p> - <p> - The matron hurried to the secretary and came back with a card. - </p> - <p> - “Their addresses are there,” she said. “Both in Chicago and at their home. - They made them full and plain, and I was to cable at once if I got the - least clue of him at any time. If they've left the city, you can stop them - in New York. You're sure to catch them before they sail—if you - hurry.” - </p> - <p> - The matron caught up a paper and thrust it into the Angel's hand as she - ran to the street. - </p> - <p> - The Angel glanced at the card. The Chicago address was Suite Eleven, - Auditorium. She laid her hand on her driver's sleeve and looked into his - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “There is a fast-driving limit?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, miss.” - </p> - <p> - “Will you crowd it all you can without danger of arrest? I will pay well. - I must catch some people!” - </p> - <p> - Then she smiled at him. The hospital, an Orphans' Home, and the Auditorium - seemed a queer combination to that driver, but the Angel was always and - everywhere the Angel, and her methods were strictly her own. - </p> - <p> - “I will take you there as quickly as any man could with a team,” he said - promptly. - </p> - <p> - The Angel clung to the card and paper, and as best she could in the - lurching, swaying cab, read the addresses over. - </p> - <p> - “O'More, Suite Eleven, Auditorium.” - </p> - <p> - “'O'More,'” she repeated. “Seems to fit Freckles to a dot. Wonder if that - could be his name? 'Suite Eleven' means that you are pretty well fixed. - Suites in the Auditorium come high.” - </p> - <p> - Then she turned the card and read on its reverse, Lord Maxwell O'More, M. - P., Killvany Place, County Clare, Ireland. - </p> - <p> - The Angel sat on the edge of the seat, bracing her feet against the one - opposite, as the cab pitched and swung around corners and past vehicles. - She mechanically fingered the pasteboard and stared straight ahead. Then - she drew a deep breath and read the card again. - </p> - <p> - “A Lord-man!” she groaned despairingly. “A Lord-man! Bet my hoecake's - scorched! Here I've gone and pledged my word to Freckles I'd find him some - decent relatives, that he could be proud of, and now there isn't a chance - out of a dozen that he'll have to be ashamed of them after all. It's too - mean!” - </p> - <p> - The tears of vexation rolled down the tired, nerve-racked Angel's cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “This isn't going to do,” she said, resolutely wiping her eyes with the - palm of her hand and gulping down the nervous spasm in her throat. “I must - read this paper before I meet Lord O'More.” - </p> - <p> - She blinked back the tears and spreading the paper on her knee, read: - “After three months' fruitless search, Lord O'More gives up the quest of - his lost nephew, and leaves Chicago today for his home in Ireland.” - </p> - <p> - She read on, and realized every word. The likeness settled any doubt. It - was Freckles over again, only older and well dressed. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I must catch you if I can,” muttered the Angel. “But when I do, if - you are a gentleman in name only, you shan't have Freckles; that's flat. - You're not his father and he is twenty. Anyway, if the law will give him - to you for one year, you can't spoil him, because nobody could, and,” she - added, brightening, “he'll probably do you a lot of good. Freckles and I - both must study years yet, and you should be something that will save him. - I guess it will come out all right. At least, I don't believe you can take - him away if I say no.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you; and wait, no matter how long,” she said to her driver. - </p> - <p> - Catching up the paper, she hurried to the desk and laid down Lord O'More's - card. - </p> - <p> - “Has my uncle started yet?” she asked sweetly. - </p> - <p> - The surprised clerk stepped back on a bellboy, and covertly kicked him for - being in the way. - </p> - <p> - “His lordship is in his room,” he said, with a low bow. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said the Angel, picking up the card. “I thought he might have - started. I'll see him.” - </p> - <p> - The clerk shoved the bellboy toward the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “Show her ladyship to the elevator and Lord O'More's suite,” he said, - bowing double. - </p> - <p> - “Aw, thanks,” said the Angel with a slight nod, as she turned away. - </p> - <p> - “I'm not sure,” she muttered to herself as the elevator sped upward, - “whether it's the Irish or the English who say: 'Aw, thanks,' but it's - probable he isn't either; and anyway, I just had to do something to - counteract that 'All right.' How stupid of me!” - </p> - <p> - At the bellboy's tap, the door swung open and the liveried servant thrust - a cardtray before the Angel. The opening of the door created a current - that swayed a curtain aside, and in an adjoining room, lounging in a big - chair, with a paper in his hand, sat a man who was, beyond question, of - Freckles' blood and race. - </p> - <p> - With perfect control the Angel dropped Lord O'More's card in the tray, - stepped past his servant, and stood before his lordship. - </p> - <p> - “Good morning,” she said with tense politeness. - </p> - <p> - Lord O'More said nothing. He carelessly glanced her over with amused - curiosity, until her color began to deepen and her blood to run hotly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, my dear,” he said at last, “how can I serve you?” - </p> - <p> - Instantly the Angel became indignant. She had been so shielded in the - midst of almost entire freedom, owing to the circumstances of her life, - that the words and the look appeared to her as almost insulting. She - lifted her head with a proud gesture. - </p> - <p> - “I am not your 'dear,'” she said with slow distinctness. “There isn't a - thing in the world you can do for me. I came here to see if I could do - something—a very great something—for you; but if I don't like - you, I won't do it!” - </p> - <p> - Then Lord O'More did stare. Suddenly he broke into a ringing laugh. - Without a change of attitude or expression, the Angel stood looking - steadily at him. - </p> - <p> - There was a silken rustle, then a beautiful woman with cheeks of satiny - pink, dark hair, and eyes of pure Irish blue, moved to Lord O'More's side, - and catching his arm, shook him impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “Terence! Have you lost your senses?” she cried. “Didn't you understand - what the child said? Look at her face! See what she has!” - </p> - <p> - Lord O'More opened his eyes widely and sat up. He did look at the Angel's - face intently, and suddenly found it so good that it was difficult to - follow the next injunction. He arose instantly. - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon,” he said. “The fact is, I am leaving Chicago sorely - disappointed. It makes me bitter and reckless. I thought you one more of - those queer, useless people who have thrust themselves on me constantly, - and I was careless. Forgive me, and tell me why you came.” - </p> - <p> - “I will if I like you,” said the Angel stoutly, “and if I don't, I won't!” - </p> - <p> - “But I began all wrong, and now I don't know how to make you like me,” - said his lordship, with sincere penitence in his tone. - </p> - <p> - The Angel found herself yielding to his voice. He spoke in a soft, mellow, - smoothly flowing Irish tone, and although his speech was perfectly - correct, it was so rounded, and accented, and the sentences so turned, - that it was Freckles over again. Still, it was a matter of the very - greatest importance, and she must be sure; so she looked into the - beautiful woman's face. - </p> - <p> - “Are you his wife?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the woman, “I am his wife.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said the Angel judicially, “the Bird Woman says no one in the - whole world knows all a man's bignesses and all his littlenesses as his - wife does. What you think of him should do for me. Do you like him?” - </p> - <p> - The question was so earnestly asked that it met with equal earnestness. - The dark head moved caressingly against Lord O'More's sleeve. - </p> - <p> - “Better than anyone in the whole world,” said Lady O'More promptly. - </p> - <p> - The Angel mused a second, and then her legal tinge came to the fore again. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but have you anyone you could like better, if he wasn't all right?” - she persisted. - </p> - <p> - “I have three of his sons, two little daughters, a father, mother, and - several brothers and sisters,” came the quick reply. - </p> - <p> - “And you like him best?” persisted the Angel with finality. - </p> - <p> - “I love him so much that I would give up every one of them with dry eyes - if by so doing I could save him,” cried Lord O'More's wife. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried the Angel. “Oh, my!” - </p> - <p> - She lifted her clear eyes to Lord O'More's and shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “She never, never could do that!” she said. “But it's a mighty big thing - to your credit that she THINKS she could. I guess I'll tell you why I - came.” - </p> - <p> - She laid down the paper, and touched the portrait. - </p> - <p> - “When you were only a boy, did people call you Freckles?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Dozens of good fellows all over Ireland and the Continent are doing it - today,” answered Lord O'More. - </p> - <p> - The Angel's face wore her most beautiful smile. - </p> - <p> - “I was sure of it,” she said winningly. “That's what we call him, and he - is so like you, I doubt if any one of those three boys of yours are more - so. But it's been twenty years. Seems to me you've been a long time - coming!” - </p> - <p> - Lord O'More caught the Angel's wrists and his wife slipped her arms around - her. - </p> - <p> - “Steady, my girl!” said the man's voice hoarsely. “Don't make me think - you've brought word of the boy at this last hour, unless you know surely.” - </p> - <p> - “It's all right,” said the Angel. “We have him, and there's no chance of a - mistake. If I hadn't gone to that Home for his little clothes, and heard - of you and been hunting you, and had met you on the street, or anywhere, I - would have stopped you and asked you who you were, just because you are so - like him. It's all right. I can tell you where Freckles is; but whether - you deserve to know—that's another matter!” - </p> - <p> - Lord O'More did not hear her. He dropped in his chair, and covering his - face, burst into those terrible sobs that shake and rend a strong man. - Lady O'More hovered over him, weeping. - </p> - <p> - “Umph! Looks pretty fair for Freckles,” muttered the Angel. “Lots of - things can be explained; now perhaps they can explain this.” - </p> - <p> - They did explain so satisfactorily that in a few minutes the Angel was on - her feet, hurrying Lord and Lady O'More to reach the hospital. “You said - Freckles' old nurse knew his mother's picture instantly,” said the Angel. - “I want that picture and the bundle of little clothes.” - </p> - <p> - Lady O'More gave them into her hands. - </p> - <p> - The likeness was a large miniature, painted on ivory, with a frame of - beaten gold. Surrounded by masses of dark hair was a delicately cut face. - In the upper part of it there was no trace of Freckles, but the lips - curving in a smile were his very own. The Angel gazed at it steadily. Then - with a quivering breath she laid the portrait aside and reached both hands - to Lord O'More. - </p> - <p> - “That will save Freckles' life and insure his happiness,” she said - positively. “Thank you, oh thank you for coming!” - </p> - <p> - She opened the bundle of yellow and brown linen and gave only a glance at - the texture and work. Then she gathered the little clothes and the picture - to her heart and led the way to the cab. - </p> - <p> - Ushering Lord and Lady O'More into the reception room, she said to McLean, - “Please go call up my father and ask him to come on the first train.” - </p> - <p> - She closed the door after him. - </p> - <p> - “These are Freckles' people,” she said to the Bird Woman. “You can find - out about each other; I'm going to him.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart - </h3> - <p> - The nurse left the room quietly, as the Angel entered, carrying the bundle - and picture. When they were alone, she turned to Freckles and saw that the - crisis was indeed at hand. - </p> - <p> - That she had good word to give him was his salvation, for despite the - heavy plaster jacket that held his body immovable, his head was lifted - from the pillow. Both arms reached for her. His lips and cheeks flamed, - while his eyes flashed with excitement. - </p> - <p> - “Angel,” he panted. “Oh Angel! Did you find them? Are they white? Are the - little stitches there? OH ANGEL! DID ME MOTHER LOVE ME?” - </p> - <p> - The words seemed to leap from his burning lips. The Angel dropped the - bundle on the bed and laid the picture face down across his knees. She - gently pushed his head to the pillow and caught his arms in a firm grasp. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, dear heart,” she said with fullest assurance. “No little clothes - were ever whiter. I never in all my life saw such dainty, fine, little - stitches; and as for loving you, no boy's mother ever loved him more!” - </p> - <p> - A nervous trembling seized Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Sure? Are you sure?” he urged with clicking teeth. - </p> - <p> - “I know,” said the Angel firmly. “And Freckles, while you rest and be - glad, I want to tell you a story. When you feel stronger we will look at - the clothes together. They are here. They are all right. But while I was - at the Home getting them, I heard of some people that were hunting a lost - boy. I went to see them, and what they told me was all so exactly like - what might have happened to you that I must tell you. Then you'll - understand that things could be very different from what you always have - tortured yourself with thinking. Are you strong enough to listen? May I - tell you?” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe 'twasn't me mother! Maybe someone else made those little stitches!” - </p> - <p> - “Now, goosie, don't you begin that,” said the Angel, “because I know that - it was!” - </p> - <p> - “Know!” cried Freckles, his head springing from the pillow. “Know! How can - you know?” - </p> - <p> - The Angel gently soothed him back. - </p> - <p> - “Why, because nobody else would ever sit and do it the way it is done. - That's how I know,” she said emphatically. “Now you listen while I tell - you about this lost boy and his people, who have hunted for months and - can't find him.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lay quietly under her touch, but he did not hear a word that she - was saying until his roving eyes rested on her face; he immediately - noticed a remarkable thing. For the first time she was talking to him and - avoiding his eyes. That was not like the Angel at all. It was the delight - of hearing her speak that she looked one squarely in the face and with - perfect frankness. There were no side glances and down-drooping eyes when - the Angel talked; she was business straight through. Instantly Freckles' - wandering thoughts fastened on her words. - </p> - <p> - “—and he was a sour, grumpy, old man,” she was saying. “He always - had been spoiled, because he was an only son, so he had a title, and a big - estate. He would have just his way, no matter about his sweet little wife, - or his boys, or anyone. So when his elder son fell in love with a - beautiful girl having a title, the very girl of all the world his father - wanted him to, and added a big adjoining estate to his, why, that pleased - him mightily. - </p> - <p> - “Then he went and ordered his younger son to marry a poky kind of a girl, - that no one liked, to add another big estate on the other side, and that - was different. That was all the world different, because the elder son had - been in love all his life with the girl he married, and, oh, Freckles, - it's no wonder, for I saw her! She's a beauty and she has the sweetest - way. - </p> - <p> - “But that poor younger son, he had been in love with the village vicar's - daughter all his life. That's no wonder either, for she was more beautiful - yet. She could sing as the angels, but she hadn't a cent. She loved him to - death, too, if he was bony and freckled and red-haired—I don't mean - that! They didn't say what color his hair was, but his father's must have - been the reddest ever, for when he found out about them, and it wasn't - anything so terrible, HE JUST CAVED! - </p> - <p> - “The old man went to see the girl—the pretty one with no money, of - course—and he hurt her feelings until she ran away. She went to - London and began studying music. Soon she grew to be a fine singer, so she - joined a company and came to this country. - </p> - <p> - “When the younger son found that she had left London, he followed her. - When she got here all alone, and afraid, and saw him coming to her, why, - she was so glad she up and married him, just like anybody else would have - done. He didn't want her to travel with the troupe, so when they reached - Chicago they thought that would be a good place, and they stopped, while - he hunted work. It was slow business, because he never had been taught to - do a useful thing, and he didn't even know how to hunt work, least of all - to do it when he found it; so pretty soon things were going wrong. But if - he couldn't find work, she could always sing, so she sang at night, and - made little things in the daytime. He didn't like her to sing in public, - and he wouldn't allow her when he could HELP himself; but winter came, it - was very cold, and fire was expensive. Rents went up, and they had to move - farther out to cheaper and cheaper places; and you were coming—I - mean, the boy that is lost was coming—and they were almost - distracted. Then the man wrote and told his father all about it; and his - father sent the letter back unopened with a line telling him never to - write again. When the baby came, there was very little left to pawn for - food and a doctor, and nothing at all for a nurse; so an old neighbor - woman went in and took care of the young mother and the little baby, - because she was so sorry for them. By that time they were away in the - suburbs on the top floor of a little wooden house, among a lot of big - factories, and it kept growing colder, with less to eat. Then the man grew - desperate and he went just to find something to eat and the woman was - desperate, too. She got up, left the old woman to take care of her baby, - and went into the city to sing for some money. The woman became so cold - she put the baby in bed and went home. Then a boiler blew up in a big - factory beside the little house and set it on fire. A piece of iron was - pitched across and broke through the roof. It came down smash, and cut - just one little hand off the poor baby. It screamed and screamed; and the - fire kept coming closer and closer. - </p> - <p> - “The old woman ran out with the other people and saw what had happened. - She knew there wasn't going to be time to wait for firemen or anything, so - she ran into the building. She could hear the baby screaming, and she - couldn't stand that; so she worked her way to it. There it was, all hurt - and bleeding. Then she was almost scared to death over thinking what its - mother would do to her for going away and leaving it, so she ran to a Home - for little friendless babies, that was close, and banged on the door. Then - she hid across the street until the baby was taken in, and then she ran - back to see if her own house was burning. The big factory and the little - house and a lot of others were all gone. The people there told her that - the beautiful lady came back and ran into the house to find her baby. She - had just gone in when her husband came, and he went in after her, and the - house fell over both of them.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lay rigidly, with his eyes on the Angel's face, while she talked - rapidly to the ceiling. - </p> - <p> - “Then the old woman was sick about that poor little baby. She was afraid - to tell them at the Home, because she knew she never should have left it, - but she wrote a letter and sent it to where the beautiful woman, when she - was ill, had said her husband's people lived. She told all about the - little baby that she could remember: when it was born, how it was named - for the man's elder brother, that its hand had been cut off in the fire, - and where she had put it to be doctored and taken care of. She told them - that its mother and father were both burned, and she begged and implored - them to come after it. - </p> - <p> - “You'd think that would have melted a heart of ice, but that old man - hadn't any heart to melt, for he got that letter and read it. He hid it - away among his papers and never told a soul. A few months ago he died. - When his elder son went to settle his business, he found the letter almost - the first thing. He dropped everything, and came, with his wife, to hunt - that baby, because he always had loved his brother dearly, and wanted him - back. He had hunted for him all he dared all these years, but when he got - here you were gone—I mean the baby was gone, and I had to tell you, - Freckles, for you see, it might have happened to you like that just as - easy as to that other lost boy.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles reached up and turned the Angel's face until he compelled her - eyes to meet his. - </p> - <p> - “Angel,” he asked quietly, “why don't you look at me when you are telling - about that lost boy?” - </p> - <p> - “I—I didn't know I wasn't,” faltered the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “It seems to me,” said Freckles, his breath beginning to come in sharp - wheezes, “that you got us rather mixed, and it ain't like you to be mixing - things till one can't be knowing. If they were telling you so much, did - they say which hand was for being off that lost boy?” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's eyes escaped again. - </p> - <p> - “It—it was the same as yours,” she ventured, barely breathing in her - fear. - </p> - <p> - Still Freckles lay rigid and whiter than the coverlet. - </p> - <p> - “Would that boy be as old as me?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel faintly. - </p> - <p> - “Angel,” said Freckles at last, catching her wrist, “are you trying to - tell me that there is somebody hunting a boy that you're thinking might be - me? Are you belavin' you've found me relations?” - </p> - <p> - Then the Angel's eyes came home. The time had come. She pinioned Freckles' - arms to his sides and bent above him. - </p> - <p> - “How strong are you, dear heart?” she breathed. “How brave are you? Can - you bear it? Dare I tell you that?” - </p> - <p> - “No!” gasped Freckles. “Not if you're sure! I can't bear it! I'll die if - you do!” - </p> - <p> - The day had been one unremitting strain with the Angel. Nerve tension was - drawn to the finest thread. It snapped suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “Die!” she flamed. “Die, if I tell you that! You said this morning that - you would die if you DIDN'T know your name, and if your people were - honorable. Now I've gone and found you a name that stands for ages of - honor, a mother who loved you enough to go into the fire and die for you, - and the nicest kind of relatives, and you turn round and say you'll die - over that! YOU JUST TRY DYING AND YOU'LL GET A GOOD SLAP!” - </p> - <p> - The Angel stood glaring at him. One second Freckles lay paralyzed and dumb - with astonishment. The next the Irish in his soul arose above everything. - A laugh burst from him. The terrified Angel caught him in her arms and - tried to stifle the sound. She implored and commanded. When he was too - worn to utter another sound, his eyes laughed silently. - </p> - <p> - After a long time, when he was quiet and rested, the Angel commenced - talking to him gently, and this time her big eyes, humid with tenderness - and mellow with happiness, seemed as if they could not leave his face. - </p> - <p> - “Dear Freckles,” she was saying, “across your knees there is the face of - the mother who went into the fire for you, and I know the name—old - and full of honor—to which you were born. Dear heart, which will you - have first?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles was very tired; the big drops of perspiration ran together on his - temples; but the watching Angel caught the words his lips formed, “Me - mother!” - </p> - <p> - She lifted the lovely pictured face and set it in the nook of his arm. - Freckles caught her hand and drew her beside him, and together they gazed - at the picture while the tears slid over their cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Me mother! Oh, me mother! Can you ever be forgiving me? Oh, me beautiful - little mother!” chanted Freckles over and over in exalted wonder, until he - was so completely exhausted that his lips refused to form the question in - his weary eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Wait!” cried the Angel with inborn refinement, for she could no more - answer that question than he could ask. “Wait, I will write it!” - </p> - <p> - She hurried to the table, caught up the nurse's pencil, and on the back of - a prescription tablet scrawled it: “Terence Maxwell O'More, Dunderry - House, County Clare, Ireland.” - </p> - <p> - Before she had finished came Freckles' voice: “Angel, are you hurrying?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel; “I am. But there is a good deal of it. I have to - put in your house and country, so that you will feel located.” - </p> - <p> - “Me house?” marveled Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” said the Angel. “Your uncle says your grandmother left your - father her dower house and estate, because she knew his father would cut - him off. You get that, and all your share of your grandfather's property - besides. It is all set off for you and waiting. Lord O'More told me so. I - suspect you are richer than McLean, Freckles.” - </p> - <p> - She closed his fingers over the slip and straightened his hair. - </p> - <p> - “Now you are all right, dear Limberlost guard,” she said. “You go to sleep - and don't think of a thing but just pure joy, joy, joy! I'll keep your - people until you wake up. You are too tired to see anyone else just now!” - </p> - <p> - Freckles caught her skirt as she turned from him. - </p> - <p> - “I'll go to sleep in five minutes,” he said, “if you will be doing just - one thing more for me. Send for your father! Oh, Angel, send for him - quick! How will I ever be waiting until he comes?” - </p> - <p> - One instant the Angel stood looking at him. The next a crimson wave darkly - stained her lovely face. Her chin began a spasmodic quivering and the - tears sprang into her eyes. Her hands caught at her chest as if she were - stifling. Freckles' grasp on her tightened until he drew her beside him. - He slipped his arm around her and drew her face to his pillow. - </p> - <p> - “Don't, Angel; for the love of mercy don't be doing that,” he implored. “I - can't be bearing it. Tell me. You must tell me.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “That ain't fair, Angel,” said Freckles. “You made me tell you when it was - like tearing the heart raw from me breast. And you was for making - everything heaven—just heaven and nothing else for me. If I'm so - much more now than I was an hour ago, maybe I can be thinking of some way - to fix things. You will be telling me?” he coaxed, moving his cheek - against her hair. - </p> - <p> - The Angel's head moved in negation. Freckles did a moment of intent - thinking. - </p> - <p> - “Maybe I can be guessing,” he whispered. “Will you be giving me three - chances?” - </p> - <p> - There was the faintest possible assent. - </p> - <p> - “You didn't want me to be knowing me name,” guessed Freckles. - </p> - <p> - The Angel's head sprang from the pillow and her tear-stained face flamed - with outraged indignation. - </p> - <p> - “Why, I did too!” she cried angrily. - </p> - <p> - “One gone,” said Freckles calmly. “You didn't want me to have relatives, a - home, and money.” - </p> - <p> - “I did!” exclaimed the Angel. “Didn't I go myself, all alone, into the - city, and find them when I was afraid as death? I did too!” - </p> - <p> - “Two gone,” said Freckles. “You didn't want the beautifulest girl in the - world to be telling me.——” - </p> - <p> - Down went the Angel's face and a heavy sob shook her. Freckles' clasp - tightened around her shoulders, while his face, in its conflicting - emotions, was a study. He was so stunned and bewildered by the miracle - that had been performed in bringing to light his name and relatives that - he had no strength left for elaborate mental processes. Despite all it - meant to him to know his name at last, and that he was of honorable birth—knowledge - without which life was an eternal disgrace and burden the one thing that - was hammering in Freckles' heart and beating in his brain, past any - attempted expression, was the fact that, while nameless and possibly born - in shame, the Angel had told him that she loved him. He could find no word - with which to begin to voice the rapture of his heart over that. But if - she regretted it—if it had been a thing done out of her pity for his - condition, or her feeling of responsibility, if it killed him after all, - there was only one thing left to do. Not for McLean, not for the Bird - Woman, not for the Duncans would Freckles have done it—but for the - Angel—if it would make her happy—he would do anything. - </p> - <p> - “Angel,” whispered Freckles, with his lips against her hair, “you haven't - learned your history book very well, or else you've forgotten.” - </p> - <p> - “Forgotten what?” sobbed the Angel. - </p> - <p> - “Forgotten about the real knight, Ladybird,” breathed Freckles. “Don't you - know that, if anything happened that made his lady sorry, a real knight - just simply couldn't be remembering it? Angel, darling little Swamp Angel, - you be listening to me. There was one night on the trail, one solemn, - grand, white night, that there wasn't ever any other like before or since, - when the dear Boss put his arm around me and told me that he loved me; but - if you care, Angel, if you don't want it that way, why, I ain't - remembering that anyone else ever did—not in me whole life.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel lifted her head and looked into the depths of Freckles' honest - gray eyes, and they met hers unwaveringly; but the pain in them was - pitiful. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean,” she demanded, “that you don't remember that a brazen, - forward girl told you, when you hadn't asked her, that she”—the - Angel choked on it a second, but she gave a gulp and brought it out - bravely—“that she loved you?” - </p> - <p> - “No!” cried Freckles. “No! I don't remember anything of the kind!” - </p> - <p> - But all the songbirds of his soul burst into melody over that one little - clause: “When you hadn't asked her.” - </p> - <p> - “But you will,” said the Angel. “You may live to be an old, old man, and - then you will.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not!” cried Freckles. “How can you think it, Angel?” - </p> - <p> - “You won't even LOOK as if you remember?” - </p> - <p> - “I will not!” persisted Freckles. “I'll be swearing to it if you want me - to. If you wasn't too tired to think this thing out straight, you'd be - seeing that I couldn't—that I just simply couldn't! I'd rather give - it all up now and go into eternity alone, without ever seeing a soul of me - same blood, or me home, or hearing another man call me by the name I was - born to, than to remember anything that would be hurting you, Angel. I - should think you'd be understanding that it ain't no ways possible for me - to do it.” - </p> - <p> - The Angel's tear-stained face flashed into dazzling beauty. A - half-hysterical little laugh broke from her heart and bubbled over her - lips. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Freckles, forgive me!” she cried. “I've been through so much that I'm - scarcely myself, or I wouldn't be here bothering you when you should be - sleeping. Of course you couldn't! I knew it all the time! I was just - scared! I was forgetting that you were you! You're too good a knight to - remember a thing like that. Of course you are! And when you don't - remember, why, then it's the same as if it never happened. I was almost - killed because I'd gone and spoiled everything, but now it will be all - right. Now you can go on and do things like other men, and I can have some - flowers, and letters, and my sweetheart coming, and when you are SURE, - why, then YOU can tell ME things, can't you? Oh, Freckles, I'm so glad! - Oh, I'm so happy! It's dear of you not to remember, Freckles; perfectly - dear! It's no wonder I love you so. The wonder would be if I did not. Oh, - I should like to know how I'm ever going to make you understand how much I - love you!” - </p> - <p> - Pillow and all, she caught him to her breast one long second; then she was - gone. - </p> - <p> - Freckles lay dazed with astonishment. At last his amazed eyes searched the - room for something approaching the human to which he could appeal, and - falling on his mother's portrait, he set it before him. - </p> - <p> - “For the love of life! Me little mother,” he panted, “did you hear that? - Did you hear it! Tell me, am I living, or am I dead and all heaven come - true this minute? Did you hear it?” - </p> - <p> - He shook the frame in his impatience at receiving no answer. - </p> - <p> - “You are only a pictured face,” he said at last, “and of course you can't - talk; but the soul of you must be somewhere, and surely in this hour you - are close enough to be hearing. Tell me, did you hear that? I can't ever - be telling a living soul; but darling little mother, who gave your life - for mine, I can always be talking of it to you! Every day we'll talk it - over and try to understand the miracle of it. Tell me, are all women like - that? Were you like me Swamp Angel? If you were, then I'm understanding - why me father followed across the ocean and went into the fire.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX - </h2> - <h3> - Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for - Ireland Without Him - </h3> - <p> - Freckles' voice ceased, his eyes closed, and his head rolled back from - exhaustion. Later in the day he insisted on seeing Lord and Lady O'More, - but he fainted before the resemblance of another man to him, and gave all - of his friends a terrible fright. - </p> - <p> - The next morning, the Man of Affairs, with a heart filled with misgivings, - undertook the interview on which Freckles insisted. His fears were without - cause. Freckles was the soul of honor and simplicity. - </p> - <p> - “Have they been telling you what's come to me?” he asked without even - waiting for a greeting. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the Angel's father. - </p> - <p> - “Do you think you have the very worst of it clear to your understanding?” - </p> - <p> - Under Freckles' earnest eyes the Man of Affairs answered soberly: “I think - I have, Mr. O'More.” - </p> - <p> - That was the first time Freckles heard his name from the lips of another. - One second he lay overcome; the next, tears filled his eyes, and he - reached out his hand. Then the Angel's father understood, and he clasped - that hand and held it in a strong, firm grasp. - </p> - <p> - “Terence, my boy,” he said, “let me do the talking. I came here with the - understanding that you wanted to ask me for my only child. I should like, - at the proper time, to regard her marriage, if she has found the man she - desires to marry, not as losing all I have, but as gaining a man on whom I - can depend to love as a son and to take charge of my affairs for her when - I retire from business. Bend all of your energies toward rapid recovery, - and from this hour understand that my daughter and my home are yours.” - </p> - <p> - “You're not forgetting this?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted his right arm. - </p> - <p> - “Terence, I'm sorrier than I have words to express about that,” said the - Man of Affairs. “It's a damnable pity! But if it's for me to choose - whether I give all I have left in this world to a man lacking a hand, or - to one of these gambling, tippling, immoral spendthrifts of today, with - both hands and feet off their souls, and a rotten spot in the core, I - choose you; and it seems that my daughter does the same. Put what is left - you of that right arm to the best uses you can in this world, and never - again mention or feel that it is defective so long as you live. Good day, - sir!” - </p> - <p> - “One minute more,” said Freckles. “Yesterday the Angel was telling me that - there was money coming to me from two sources. She said that me - grandmother had left me father all of her fortune and her house, because - she knew that his father would be cutting him off, and also that me uncle - had set aside for me what would be me father's interest in his father's - estate. - </p> - <p> - “Whatever the sum is that me grandmother left me father, because she loved - him and wanted him to be having it, that I'll be taking. 'Twas hers from - her father, and she had the right to be giving it as she chose. Anything - from the man that knowingly left me father and me mother to go cold and - hungry, and into the fire in misery, when just a little would have made - life so beautiful to them, and saved me this crippled body—money - that he willed from me when he knew I was living, of his blood and on - charity among strangers, I don't touch, not if I freeze, starve, and burn - too! If there ain't enough besides that, and I can't be earning enough to - fix things for the Angel——” - </p> - <p> - “We are not discussing money!” burst in the Man of Affairs. “We don't want - any blood-money! We have all we need without it. If you don't feel right - and easy over it, don't you touch a cent of any of it.” - </p> - <p> - “It's right I should have what me grandmother intinded for me father, and - I want it,” said Freckles, “but I'd die before I'd touch a cent of me - grandfather's money!” - </p> - <p> - “Now,” said the Angel, “we are all going home. We have done all we can for - Freckles. His people are here. He should know them. They are very anxious - to become acquainted with him. We'll resign him to them. When he is well, - why, then he will be perfectly free to go to Ireland or come to the - Limberlost, just as he chooses. We will go at once.” - </p> - <p> - McLean held out for a week, and then he could endure it no longer. He was - heart hungry for Freckles. Communing with himself in the long, soundful - nights of the swamp, he had learned to his astonishment that for the past - year his heart had been circling the Limberlost with Freckles. He began to - wish that he had not left him. Perhaps the boy—his boy by first - right, after all—was being neglected. If the Boss had been a nervous - old woman, he scarcely could have imagined more things that might be going - wrong. - </p> - <p> - He started for Chicago, loaded with a big box of goldenrod, asters, - fringed gentians, and crimson leaves, that the Angel carefully had - gathered from Freckles' room, and a little, long slender package. He - traveled with biting, stinging jealousy in his heart. He would not admit - it even to himself, but he was unable to remain longer away from Freckles - and leave him to the care of Lord O'More. - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes' talk, while McLean awaited admission to Freckles' room, - his lordship had chatted genially of Freckles' rapid recovery, of his - delight that he was unspotted by his early surroundings, and his desire to - visit the Limberlost with Freckles before they sailed; he expressed the - hope that he could prevail upon the Angel's father to place her in his - wife's care and have her education finished in Paris. He said they were - anxious to do all they could to help bind Freckles' arrangements with the - Angel, as both he and Lady O'More regarded her as the most promising girl - they knew, and one who could be fitted to fill the high position in which - Freckles would place her. - </p> - <p> - Every word he uttered was pungent with bitterness to McLean. The swamp had - lost its flavor without Freckles; and yet, as Lord O'More talked, McLean - fervently wished himself in the heart of it. As he entered Freckles' room - he almost lost his breath. Everything was changed. - </p> - <p> - Freckles lay beside a window where he could follow Lake Michigan's blue - until the horizon dipped into it. He could see big soft clouds, - white-capped waves, shimmering sails, and puffing steamers trailing - billowing banners of lavender and gray across the sky. Gulls and curlews - wheeled over the water and dipped their wings in the foam. The room was - filled with every luxury that taste and money could introduce. - </p> - <p> - All the tan and sunburn had been washed from Freckles' face in sweats of - agony. It was a smooth, even white, its brown rift scarcely showing. What - the nurses and Lady O'More had done to Freckles' hair McLean could not - guess, but it was the most beautiful that he ever had seen. Fine as floss, - bright in color, waving and crisp, it fell around the white face. - </p> - <p> - They had gotten his arms into and his chest covered with a finely - embroidered, pale-blue silk shirt, with soft, white tie at the throat. - Among the many changes that had taken place during his absence, the fact - that Freckles was most attractive and barely escaped being handsome - remained almost unnoticed by the Boss, so great was his astonishment at - seeing both cuffs turned back and the right arm in view. Freckles was - using the maimed arm that previously he always had hidden. - </p> - <p> - “Oh Lord, sir, but I'm glad to see you!” cried Freckles, almost rolling - from the bed as he reached toward McLean. “Tell me quick, is the Angel - well and happy? Can me Little Chicken spread six feet of wing and sail to - his mother? How's me new father, the Bird Woman, Duncans, and Nellie—darling - little high-stepping Nelie? Me Aunt Alice is going to choose the hat just - as soon as I'm mended enough to be going with her. How are all the gang? - Have they found any more good trees? I've been thinking a lot, sir. I - believe I can find others near that last one. Me Aunt Alice thinks maybe I - can, and Uncle Terence says it's likely. Golly, but they're nice, ilegant - people. I tell you I'm proud to be same blood with them! Come closer, - quick! I was going to do this yesterday, and somehow I just felt that - you'd surely be coming today and I waited. I'm selecting the Angel's ring - stone. The ring she ordered for me is finished and they sent it to keep me - company. See? It's an emerald—just me color, Lord O'More says.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles flourished his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Ain't that fine? Never took so much comfort with anything in me life. - Every color of the old swamp is in it. I asked the Angel to have a little - shamrock leaf cut on it, so every time I saw it I'd be thinking of the - 'love, truth, and valor' of that song she was teaching me. Ain't that a - beautiful song? Some of these days I'm going to make it echo. I'm a little - afraid to be doing it with me voice yet, but me heart's tuning away on it - every blessed hour. Will you be looking at these now?” - </p> - <p> - Freckles tilted a tray of unset stones from Peacock's that would have - ransomed several valuable kings. He held them toward McLean, stirring them - with his right arm. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you I'm glad to see you, sir” he said. “I tried to tell me uncle - what I wanted, but this ain't for him to be mixed up in, anyway, and I - don't think I made it clear to him. I couldn't seem to say the words I - wanted. I can be telling you, sir.” - </p> - <p> - McLean's heart began to thump as a lover's. - </p> - <p> - “Go on, Freckles,” he said assuringly. - </p> - <p> - “It's this,” said Freckles. “I told him that I would pay only three - hundred dollars for the Angel's stone. I'm thinking that with what he has - laid up for me, and the bigness of things that the Angel did for me, it - seems like a stingy little sum to him. I know he thinks I should be giving - much more, but I feel as if I just had to be buying that stone with money - I earned meself; and that is all I have saved of me wages. I don't mind - paying for the muff, or the drexing table, or Mrs. Duncan's things, from - that other money, and later the Angel can have every last cent of me - grandmother's, if she'll take it; but just now—oh, sir, can't you - see that I have to be buying this stone with what I have in the bank? I'm - feeling that I couldn't do any other way, and don't you think the Angel - would rather have the best stone I can buy with the money I earned meself - than a finer one paid for with other money?” - </p> - <p> - “In other words, Freckles,” said the Boss in a husky voice, “you don't - want to buy the Angel's ring with money. You want to give for it your - first awful fear of the swamp. You want to pay for it with the loneliness - and heart hunger you have suffered there, with last winter's freezing on - the line and this summer's burning in the sun. You want it to stand to her - for every hour in which you risked your life to fulfill your contract - honorably. You want the price of that stone to be the fears that have - chilled your heart—the sweat and blood of your body.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles' eyes were filled with tears and his face quivering with feeling. - </p> - <p> - “Dear Mr. McLean,” he said, reaching with a caress over the Boss's black - hair and his cheek. “Dear Boss, that's why I've wanted you so. I knew you - would know. Now you will be looking at these? I don't want emeralds, - because that's what she gave me.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed the green stones into a little heap of rejected ones. Then he - singled out all the pearls. - </p> - <p> - “Ain't they pretty things?” he said. “I'll be getting her some of those - later. They are like lily faces, turtle-head flowers, dewdrops in the - shade or moonlight; but they haven't the life in them that I want in the - stone I give to the Angel right now.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles heaped the pearls with the emeralds. He studied the diamonds a - long time. - </p> - <p> - “These things are so fascinating like they almost tempt one, though they - ain't quite the proper thing,” he said. “I've always dearly loved to be - watching yours, sir. I must get her some of these big ones, too, some day. - They're like the Limberlost in January, when it's all ice-coated, and the - sun is in the west and shines through and makes all you can see of the - whole world look like fire and ice; but fire and ice ain't like the - Angel.” - </p> - <p> - The diamonds joined the emeralds and pearls. There was left a little red - heap, and Freckles' fingers touched it with a new tenderness. His eyes - were flashing. - </p> - <p> - “I'm thinking here's me Angel's stone,” he exulted. “The Limberlost, and - me with it, grew in mine; but it's going to bloom, and her with it, in - this! There's the red of the wild poppies, the cardinal-flowers, and the - little bunch of crushed foxfire that we found where she put it to save me. - There's the light of the campfire, and the sun setting over Sleepy Snake - Creek. There's the red of the blood we were willing to give for each - other. It's like her lips, and like the drops that dried on her beautiful - arm that first day, and I'm thinking it must be like the brave, tender, - clean, red heart of her.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted the ruby to his lips and handed it to McLean. - </p> - <p> - “I'll be signing me cheque and you have it set,” he said. “I want you to - draw me money and pay for it with those very same dollars, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Again the heart of McLean took hope. - </p> - <p> - “Freckles, may I ask you something?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Why, sure,” said Freckles. “There's nothing you would be asking that it - wouldn't be giving me joy to be telling you.” - </p> - <p> - McLean's eyes traveled to Freckles' right arm with which he was moving the - jewels. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that!” cried Freckles with a laugh. “You're wanting to know where all - the bitterness is gone? Well sir, 'twas carried from me soul, heart, and - body on the lips of an Angel. Seems that hurt was necessary in the - beginning to make today come true. The wound had always been raw, but the - Angel was healing it. If she doesn't care, I don't. Me dear new father - doesn't, nor me aunt and uncle, and you never did. Why should I be - fretting all me life about what can't be helped. The real truth is, that - since what happened to it last week, I'm so everlastingly proud of it I - catch meself sticking it out on display a bit.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles looked the Boss in the eyes and began to laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Well thank heaven!” said McLean. - </p> - <p> - “Now it's me turn,” said Freckles. “I don't know as I ought to be asking - you, and yet I can't see a reason good enough to keep me from it. It's a - thing I've had on me mind every hour since I've had time to straighten - things out a little. May I be asking you a question?” - </p> - <p> - McLean reached over and took Freckles' hand. His voice was shaken with - feeling as he replied: “Freckles, you almost hurt me. Will you never learn - how much you are to me—how happy you make me in coming to me with - anything, no matter what?” - </p> - <p> - “Then it's this,” said Freckles, gripping the hand of McLean strongly. “If - this accident, and all that's come to me since, had never happened, where - was it you had planned to send me to school? What was it you meant for me - to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, Freckles,” answered McLean, “I'm scarcely prepared to state - definitely. My ideas were rather hazy. I thought we would make a beginning - and see which way things went. I figured on taking you to Grand Rapids - first, and putting you in the care of my mother. I had an idea it would be - best to secure a private tutor to coach you for a year or two, until you - were ready to enter Ann Arbor or the Chicago University in good shape. - Then I thought we'd finish in this country at Yale or Harvard, and end - with Oxford, to get a good, all-round flavor.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that all?” asked Freckles. - </p> - <p> - “No; that's leaving the music out,” said McLean. “I intended to have your - voice tested by some master, and if you really were endowed for a career - as a great musician, and had inclinations that way, I wished to have you - drop some of the college work and make music your chief study. Finally, I - wanted us to take a trip through Europe and clear around the circle - together.” - </p> - <p> - “And then what?” queried Freckles breathlessly. - </p> - <p> - “Why, then,” said McLean, “you know that my heart is hopelessly in the - woods. I never will quit the timber business while there is timber to - handle and breath in my body. I thought if you didn't make a profession of - music, and had any inclination my way, we would stretch the partnership - one more and take you into the firm, placing your work with me. Those - plans may sound jumbled in the telling, but they have grown steadily on - me, Freckles, as you have grown dear to me.” - </p> - <p> - Freckles lifted anxious and eager eyes to McLean. - </p> - <p> - “You told me once on the trail, and again when we thought that I was - dying, that you loved me. Do these things that have come to me make any - difference in any way with your feeing toward me?” - </p> - <p> - “None,” said McLean. “How could they, Freckles? Nothing could make me love - you more, and you never will do anything that will make me love you less.” - </p> - <p> - “Glory be to God!” cried Freckles. “Glory to the Almighty! Hurry and be - telling your mother I'm coming! Just as soon as I can get on me feet I'll - be taking that ring to me Angel, and then I'll go to Grand Rapids and be - making me start just as you planned, only that I can be paying me own way. - When I'm educated enough, we'll all—the Angel and her father, the - Bird Woman, you, and me—all of us will go together and see me house - and me relations and be taking that trip. When we get back, we'll add - O'More to the Lumber Company, and golly, sir, but we'll make things hum! - Good land, sir! Don't do that! Why, Mr. McLean, dear Boss, dear father, - don't be doing that! What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, nothing!” boomed McLean's deep bass; “nothing at all!” - </p> - <p> - He abruptly turned, and hurried to the window. - </p> - <p> - “This is a mighty fine view,” he said. “Lake's beautiful this morning. No - wonder Chicago people are so proud of their city's location on its shore. - But, Freckles, what is Lord O'More going to say to this?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” said Freckles. “I am going to be cut deep if he cares, for - he's been more than good to me, and Lady Alice is next to me Angel. He's - made me feel me blood and race me own possession. She's talked to me by - the hour of me father and mother and me grandmother. She's made them all - that real I can lay claim to them and feel that they are mine. I'm very - sorry to be hurting them, if it will, but it can't be changed. Nobody ever - puts the width of the ocean between me and the Angel. From here to the - Limberlost is all I can be bearing peaceable. I want the education, and - then I want to work and live here in the country where I was born, and - where the ashes of me father and mother rest. - </p> - <p> - “I'll be glad to see Ireland, and glad especial to see those little people - who are my kin, but I ain't ever staying long. All me heart is the - Angel's, and the Limberlost is calling every minute. You're thinking, sir, - that when I look from that window I see the beautiful water, ain't you? - I'm not. - </p> - <p> - “I see soft, slow clouds oozing across the blue, me big black chickens - hanging up there, and a great feather softly sliding down. I see mighty - trees, swinging vines, bright flowers, and always masses of the wild - roses, with the wild rose face of me Ladybird looking through. I see the - swale rocking, smell the sweetness of the blooming things, and the damp, - mucky odor of the swamp; and I hear me birds sing, me squirrels bark, the - rattlers hiss, and the step of Wessner or Black Jack coming; and whether - it's the things that I loved or the things that I feared, it's all a part - of the day. - </p> - <p> - “Me heart's all me Swamp Angel's, and me love is all hers, and I have her - and the swamp so confused in me mind I never can be separating them. When - I look at her, I see blue sky, the sun rifting through the leaves and pink - and red flowers; and when I look at the Limberlost I see a pink face with - blue eyes, gold hair, and red lips, and, it's the truth, sir, they're - mixed till they're one to me! - </p> - <p> - “I'm afraid it will be hurting some, but I have the feeing that I can be - making my dear people understand, so that they will be willing to let me - come back home. Send Lady O'More to put these flowers God made in the - place of these glass-house ilegancies, and please be cutting the string of - this little package the Angel's sent me.” - </p> - <p> - As Freckles held up the package, the lights of the Limberlost flashed from - the emerald on his finger. On the cover was printed: “To the Limberlost - Guard!” Under it was a big, crisp, iridescent black feather. Limberlost - Guard!” Under it was a big, crisp, iridescent black feather. - </p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRECKLES ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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