FRECKLES

By Gene Stratton-Porter

 To all good Irishmen in general and one CHARLES DARWIN PORTER in particular

Characters:

 FRECKLES, a plucky waif who guards the Limberlost timber leases and dreams of Angels. 

 THE SWAMP ANGEL, in whom Freckles' sweetest dream materializes. 

 MCLEAN, a member of a Grand Rapids lumber company, who befriends Freckles. 

 MRS. DUNCAN, who gives mother-love and a home to Freckles. 

 DUNCAN, head teamster of McLean's timber gang. 

 THE BIRD WOMAN, who is collecting camera studies of birds for a book. 

 LORD AND LADY O'MORE, who come from Ireland in quest of a lost relative. 

 THE MAN OF AFFAIRS, brusque of manner, but big of heart. 

 WESSNER, a Dutch timber-thief who wants rascality made easy. 

 BLACK JACK, a villain to whom thought of repentance comes too late. 

 SEARS, camp cook. 

Contents:

 I Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is Hired

 II Wherein Freckles Proves His Mettle and Finds Friends

 III Wherein a Feather Falls and a Soul Is Born

 IV Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences

 V Wherein an Angel Materializes and a Man Worships

 VI Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight

 VII Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail

 VIII Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter

 IX Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes to the Rescue

 X Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards Him

 XI Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman

 XII Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack

 XIII Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her

 XIV Wherein Freckles Nurses a Heartache and Black Jack Drops Out

 XV Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject

 XVI Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the Gang

 XVII Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body

 XVIII Wherein Freckles Refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it

 XIX Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart

 XX Wherein Freckles Returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him

CHAPTER I

Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is Hired

Freckles came down the corduroy that crosses the lower end of theLimberlost. At a glance he might have been mistaken for a tramp, but hewas truly seeking work. He was intensely eager to belong somewhere andto be attached to almost any enterprise that would furnish him food andclothing. 

Long before he came in sight of the camp of the Grand Rapids LumberCompany, he could hear the cheery voices of the men, the neighing of thehorses, and could scent the tempting odors of cooking food. A feelingof homeless friendlessness swept over him in a sickening wave. Withoutstopping to think, he turned into the newly made road and followed it tothe camp, where the gang was making ready for supper and bed. 

The scene was intensely attractive. The thickness of the swamp made adark, massive background below, while above towered gigantic trees. The men were calling jovially back and forth as they unharnessed tiredhorses that fell into attitudes of rest and crunched, in deep content, the grain given them. Duncan, the brawny Scotch head-teamster, lovinglywiped the flanks of his big bays with handfuls of pawpaw leaves, as hesoftly whistled, "O wha will be my dearie, O!" and a cricket beneaththe leaves at his feet accompanied him. The green wood fire hissed andcrackled merrily. Wreathing tongues of flame wrapped around the bigblack kettles, and when the cook lifted the lids to plunge in histesting-fork, gusts of savory odors escaped. 

Freckles approached him. 

"I want to speak with the Boss, " he said. 

The cook glanced at him and answered carelessly: "He can't use you. "

The color flooded Freckles' face, but he said simply: "If you will behaving the goodness to point him out, we will give him a chance to dohis own talking. "

With a shrug of astonishment, the cook led the way to a rough boardtable where a broad, square-shouldered man was bending over someaccount-books. 

"Mr. McLean, here's another man wanting to be taken on the gang, Isuppose, " he said. 

"All right, " came the cheery answer. "I never needed a good man morethan I do just now. "

The manager turned a page and carefully began a new line. 

"No use of your bothering with this fellow, " volunteered the cook. "Hehasn't but one hand. "

The flush on Freckles' face burned deeper. His lips thinned to a mereline. He lifted his shoulders, took a step forward, and thrust out hisright arm, from which the sleeve dangled empty at the wrist. 

"That will do, Sears, " came the voice of the Boss sharply. "I willinterview my man when I finish this report. "

He turned to his work, while the cook hurried to the fires. Frecklesstood one instant as he had braced himself to meet the eyes of themanager; then his arm dropped and a wave of whiteness swept him. TheBoss had not even turned his head. He had used the possessive. When hesaid "my man, " the hungry heart of Freckles went reaching toward him. 

The boy drew a quivering breath. Then he whipped off his old hat andbeat the dust from it carefully. With his left hand he caught the rightsleeve, wiped his sweaty face, and tried to straighten his hair withhis fingers. He broke a spray of ironwort beside him and used the purplebloom to beat the dust from his shoulders and limbs. The Boss, busy overhis report, was, nevertheless, vaguely alive to the toilet being madebehind him, and scored one for the man. 

McLean was a Scotchman. It was his habit to work slowly andmethodically. The men of his camps never had known him to be in a hurryor to lose his temper. Discipline was inflexible, but the Boss wasalways kind. His habits were simple. He shared camp life with his gangs. The only visible signs of wealth consisted of a big, shimmering diamondstone of ice and fire that glittered and burned on one of his fingers, and the dainty, beautiful thoroughbred mare he rode between camps andacross the country on business. 

No man of McLean's gangs could honestly say that he ever had beenoverdriven or underpaid. The Boss never had exacted any deference fromhis men, yet so intense was his personality that no man of them ever hadattempted a familiarity. They all knew him to be a thorough gentleman, and that in the great timber city several millions stood to his credit. 

He was the only son of that McLean who had sent out the finest shipsever built in Scotland. That his son should carry on this business afterthe father's death had been his ambition. He had sent the boy throughthe universities of Oxford and Edinburgh, and allowed him several years'travel before he should attempt his first commission for the firm. 

Then he was ordered to southern Canada and Michigan to purchase aconsignment of tall, straight timber for masts, and south to Indiana foroak beams. The young man entered these mighty forests, parts of whichlay untouched since the dawn of the morning of time. The clear, cool, pungent atmosphere was intoxicating. The intense silence, like that of agreat empty cathedral, fascinated him. He gradually learned that, tothe shy wood creatures that darted across his path or peeped inquiringlyfrom leafy ambush, he was brother. He found himself approaching, with afeeling of reverence, those majestic trees that had stood through agesof sun, wind, and snow. Soon it became difficult to fell them. When hehad filled his order and returned home, he was amazed to learn that inthe swamps and forests he had lost his heart and it was calling--forevercalling him. 

When he inherited his father's property, he promptly disposed of it, and, with his mother, founded a home in a splendid residence in theoutskirts of Grand Rapids. With three partners, he organized a lumbercompany. His work was to purchase, fell, and ship the timber to themills. Marshall managed the milling process and passed the lumber to thefactory. 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 surfacesof that furniture and found comfort in its use, few there were to whomit suggested mighty forests and trackless swamps, and the man, bigof soul and body, who cut his way through them, and with the eye ofexperience doomed the proud trees that were now entering the homes ofcivilization for service. 

When McLean turned from his finished report, he faced a young man, yet under twenty, tall, spare, heavily framed, closely freckled, andred-haired, with a homely Irish face, but in the steady gray eyes, straightly meeting his searching ones of blue, there was unswervingcandor and the appearance of longing not to be ignored. He was dressedin the roughest of farm clothing, and seemed tired to the point offalling. 

"You are looking for work?" questioned McLean. 

"Yis, " answered Freckles. 

"I am very sorry, " said the Boss with genuine sympathy in his everytone, "but there is only one man I want at present--a hardy, big fellowwith a stout heart and a strong body. I hoped that you would do, but Iam afraid you are too young and scarcely strong enough. "

Freckles stood, hat in hand, watching McLean. 

"And what was it you thought I might be doing?" he asked. 

The Boss could scarcely repress a start. Somewhere before accident andpoverty there had been an ancestor who used cultivated English, evenwith 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 atrick in the turning of the sentence, the wrong sound of a letter hereand there, that was almost irresistible to McLean, and presaged a misuseof infinitives and possessives with which he was very familiar andwhich touched him nearly. He was of foreign birth, and despite years ofalienation, in times of strong feeling he committed inherited sins ofaccent and construction. 

"It's no child's job, " answered McLean. "I am the field manager of abig lumber company. We have just leased two thousand acres of theLimberlost. Many of these trees are of great value. We can't leave ourcamp, six miles south, for almost a year yet; so we have blazed a trailand strung barbed wires securely around this lease. Before we return toour 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 oneeye open at night. I shall require the entire length of the trail to bewalked at least twice each day, to make sure that our lines are up andthat no one has been trespassing. "

Freckles was leaning forward, absorbing every word with such intenseeagerness that he was beguiling the Boss into explanations he had neverintended making. 

"But why wouldn't that be the finest job in the world for me?" hepleaded. "I am never sick. I could walk the trail twice, three timesevery day, and I'd be watching sharp all the while. "

"It's because you are scarcely more than a boy, and this will be atrying job for a work-hardened man, " answered McLean. "You see, in thefirst place, you would be afraid. In stretching our lines, we killed sixrattlesnakes almost as long as your body and as thick as your arm. It'sthe price of your life to start through the marshgrass surrounding theswamp unless you are covered with heavy leather above your knees. 

"You should be able to swim in case high water undermines the temporarybridge we have built where Sleepy Snake Creek enters the swamp. The falland winter changes of weather are abrupt and severe, while I would wantstrict watch kept every day. You would always be alone, and I don'tguarantee what is in the Limberlost. It is lying here as it has lainsince the beginning of time, and it is alive with forms and voices. Idon't pretend to say what all of them come from; but from a few slinkingshapes I've seen, and hair-raising yells I've heard, I'd rather notconfront their owners myself; and I am neither weak nor fearful. 

"Worst of all, any man who will enter the swamp to mark and stealtimber is desperate. One of my employees at the south camp, John Carter, compelled me to discharge him for a number of serious reasons. He camehere, entered the swamp alone, and succeeded in locating and markinga number of valuable trees that he was endeavoring to sell to a rivalcompany when we secured the lease. He has sworn to have these trees ifhe has to die or to kill others to get them; and he is a man that thestrongest would not care to meet. "

"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?" queriedthe boy. 

"Yes, " replied McLean. 

"Then why couldn't I be watching just as closely, and coming as fast, asan older, stronger man?" asked Freckles. 

"Why, by George, you could!" exclaimed McLean. "I don't know as the sizeof a man would be half so important as his grit and faithfulness, cometo think of it. Sit on that log there and we will talk it over. What isyour name?"

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 hiseyes never faltered. 

"Freckles!" he said. 

"Good enough for everyday, " laughed McLean, "but I scarcely can put'Freckles' on the company's books. Tell me your name. "

"I haven't any name, " replied the boy. 

"I don't understand, " said McLean. 

"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 onanything else in all me life, and I don't understand. Does it seem toyou that anyone would take a newborn baby and row over it, until it wasbruised black, cut off its hand, and leave it out in a bitter nighton the steps of a charity home, to the care of strangers? That's whatsomebody did to me. "

McLean stared aghast. He had no reply ready, and presently in a lowvoice he suggested: "And after?"

"The Home people took me in, and I was there the full legal age andseveral years over. For the most part we were a lot of little Irishmentogether. They could always find homes for the other children, butnobody would ever be wanting me on account of me arm. "

"Were they kind to you?" McLean regretted the question the minute it wasasked. 

"I don't know, " answered Freckles. The reply sounded so hopeless, evento 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 joblots and that belong equally to several hundred others, ain't going tobe soaking into any one fellow so much. "

"Go on, " said McLean, nodding comprehendingly. 

"There's nothing worth the taking of your time to tell, " repliedFreckles. "The Home was in Chicago, and I was there all me life untilthree months ago. When I was too old for the training they gave to thelittle children, they sent me to the closest ward school as long as thelaw would let them; but I was never like any of the other children, andthey all knew it. I'd to go and come like a prisoner, and be workingaround the Home early and late for me board and clothes. I always wantedto learn mighty bad, but I was glad when that was over. 

"Every few days, all me life, I'd to be called up, looked over, andrefused a home and love, on account of me hand and ugly face; but it wasall the home I'd ever known, and I didn't seem to belong to any placeelse. 

"Then a new superintendent was put in. He wasn't for being like any ofthe others, and he swore he'd weed me out the first thing he did. Hemade a plan to send me down the State to a man he said he knew whoneeded a boy. He wasn't for remembering to tell that man that I was ahand short, and he knocked me down the minute he found I was the boy whohad been sent him. Between noon and that evening, he and his son closemy age had me in pretty much the same shape in which I was found inthe beginning, so I lay awake that night and ran away. I'd like to havesquared me account with that boy before I left, but I didn't dare forfear of waking the old man, and I knew I couldn't handle the two ofthem; but I'm hoping to meet him alone some day before I die. "

McLean tugged at his mustache to hide the smile on his lips, but heliked the boy all the better for this confession. 

"I didn't even have to steal clothes to get rid of starting in me Homeones, " Freckles continued, "for they had already taken all me clean, neat things for the boy and put me into his rags, and that went almostas sore as the beatings, for where I was we were always kept tidy andsweet-smelling, anyway. I hustled clear into this State before I learnedthat man couldn't have kept me if he'd wanted to. When I thought Iwas good and away from him, I commenced hunting work, but it is witheverybody else just as it is with you, sir. Big, strong, whole men arethe only ones for being wanted. "

"I have been studying over this matter, " answered McLean. "I am not sosure but that a man no older than you and similar in every way could dothis work very well, if he were not a coward, and had it in him to betrustworthy and industrious. "

Freckles came forward a step. 

"If you will give me a job where I can earn me food, clothes, and aplace to sleep, " he said, "if I can have a Boss to work for like othermen, and a place I feel I've a right to, I will do precisely what youtell me or die trying. "

He spoke so convincingly that McLean believed, although in his heart heknew that to employ a stranger would be wretched business for a man withthe interests he had involved. 

"Very well, " the Boss found himself answering, "I will enter you on mypay rolls. We'll have supper, and then I will provide you with cleanclothing, wading-boots, the wire-mending apparatus, and a revolver. The first thing in the morning, I will take you the length of the trailmyself and explain fully what I want done. All I ask of you is to cometo me at once at the south camp and tell me as a man if you find thisjob too hard for you. It will not surprise me. It is work that few menwould perform faithfully. What name shall I put down?"

Freckles' gaze never left McLean's face, and the Boss saw the swiftspasm of pain that swept his lonely, sensitive features. 

"I haven't any name, " he said stubbornly, "no more than one somebodyclapped on to me when they put me on the Home books, with not thethought or care they'd name a house cat. I've seen how they enter thosepoor little abandoned devils often enough to know. What they called meis no more my name than it is yours. I don't know what mine is, and Inever will; but I am going to be your man and do your work, and I'll beglad to answer to any name you choose to call me. Won't you please begiving me a name, Mr. McLean?"

The Boss wheeled abruptly and began stacking his books. What he wasthinking was probably what any other gentleman would have thought in thecircumstances. With his eyes still downcast, and in a voice harsh withhuskiness, he spoke. 

"I will tell you what we will do, my lad, " he said. "My father was myideal man, and I loved him better than any other I have ever known. Hewent out five years ago, but that he would have been proud to leave youhis name I firmly believe. If I give to you the name of my nearest kinand the man I loved best--will that do?"

Freckles' rigid attitude relaxed suddenly. His head dropped, and bigtears splashed on the soiled calico shirt. McLean was not surprised atthe silence, for he found that talking came none too easily just then. 

"All right, " he said. "I will write it on the roll--James Ross McLean. "

"Thank you mightily, " said Freckles. "That makes me feel almost as if Ibelonged, already. "

"You do, " said McLean. "Until someone armed with every right comes toclaim you, you are mine. Now, come and take a bath, have some supper, and go to bed. "

As Freckles followed into the lights and sounds of the camp, his heartand soul were singing for joy. 

CHAPTER II

Wherein Freckles Proves His Mettle and Finds Friends

Next morning found Freckles in clean, whole clothing, fed, and rested. Then McLean outfitted him and gave him careful instruction in the use ofhis weapon. The Boss showed him around the timber-line, and engaged hima place to board with the family of his head teamster, Duncan, whom hehad brought from Scotland with him, and who lived in a small clearinghe was working out between the swamp and the corduroy. When the gang wasstarted for the south camp, Freckles was left to guard a fortune in theLimberlost. That he was under guard himself those first weeks he neverknew. 

Each hour was torture to the boy. The restricted life of a greatcity orphanage was the other extreme of the world compared with theLimberlost. He was afraid for his life every minute. The heat wasintense. The heavy wading-boots rubbed his feet until they bled. He wassore and stiff from his long tramp and outdoor exposure. The sevenmiles of trail was agony at every step. He practiced at night, under thedirection of Duncan, until he grew sure in the use of his revolver. Hecut 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 himselfcould not recall clearly afterward. 

His heart stood still every time he saw the beautiful marsh-grass begina sinuous waving AGAINST the play of the wind, as McLean had told him itwould. He bolted half a mile with the first boom of the bittern, and hishat lifted with every yelp of the sheitpoke. Once he saw a lean, shadowyform following him, and fired his revolver. Then he was frightened worsethan ever for fear it might have been Duncan's collie. 

The first afternoon that he found his wires down, and he was compelledto plunge knee deep into the black swamp-muck to restring them, hebecame so ill from fear and nervousness that he scarcely could controlhis shaking hand to do the work. With every step, he felt that he wouldmiss secure footing and be swallowed in that clinging sea of blackness. In dumb agony he plunged forward, clinging to the posts and trees untilhe had finished restringing and testing the wire. He had consumedmuch time. Night closed in. The Limberlost stirred gently, then shookherself, growled, and awoke around him. 

There seemed to be a great owl hooting from every hollow tree, anda little one screeching from every knothole. The bellowing of bigbullfrogs was not sufficiently deafening to shut out the wailing ofwhip-poor-wills that seemed to come from every bush. Nighthawks sweptpast him with their shivering cry, and bats struck his face. A prowlingwildcat missed its catch and screamed with rage. A straying fox bayedincessantly for its mate. 

The hair on the back of Freckles' neck arose as bristles, and his kneeswavered beneath him. He could not see whether the dreaded snakes were onthe trail, or, in the pandemonium, hear the rattle for which McLean hadcautioned him to listen. He stood motionless in an agony of fear. Hisbreath whistled between his teeth. The perspiration ran down his faceand body in little streams. 

Something big, black, and heavy came crashing through the swamp closeto him, and with a yell of utter panic Freckles ran--how far he did notknow; 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 reachedthe place from which he had started to run, he turned and with measuredsteps made his way down the line. After a time he realized that he wasonly walking, so he faced that sea of horrors again. When he came towardthe corduroy, the cudgel fell to test the wire at each step. 

Sounds that curdled his blood seemed to encompass him, and shapes ofterror to draw closer and closer. Fear had so gained the mastery that hedid not dare look behind him; and just when he felt that he would falldead 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. 

The next morning he started on time. Day after day, with his heartpounding, he ducked, dodged, ran when he could, and fought when he wasbrought to bay. If he ever had an idea of giving up, no one knew it; forhe clung to his job without the shadow of wavering. All these things, inso far as he guessed them, Duncan, who had been set to watch the firstweeks of Freckles' work, carried to the Boss at the south camp; butthe innermost, exquisite torture of the thing the big Scotchman neverguessed, and McLean, with his finer perceptions, came only a littlecloser. 

After a few weeks, when Freckles learned that he was still living, thathe had a home, and the very first money he ever had possessed was safein his pockets, he began to grow proud. He yet side-stepped, dodged, andhurried to avoid being late again, but he was gradually developing thefearlessness that men ever acquire of dangers to which they are hourlyaccustomed. 

His heart seemed to be leaping when his first rattler disputed the trailwith him, but he mustered courage to attack it with his club. After itshead had been crushed, he mastered an Irishman's inborn repugnance forsnakes sufficiently to cut off its rattles to show Duncan. With thisvictory, his greatest fear of them was gone. 

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 hisrevolver 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 nuptialsong-and-dance with his mate. Realizing that it was intended intenderness, no matter how it appeared, the lonely, starved heart of theboy sympathized with them. 

Before the first month passed, he was fairly easy about his job; by thenext he rather liked it. Nature can be trusted to work her own miraclein the heart of any man whose daily task keeps him alone among hersights, sounds, and silences. 

When day after day the only thing that relieved his utter loneliness wasthe companionship of the birds and beasts of the swamp, it was themost natural thing in the world that Freckles should turn to them forfriendship. He began by instinctively protecting the weak and helpless. He was astonished at the quickness with which they became accustomed tohim and the disregard they showed for his movements, when they learnedthat he was not a hunter, while the club he carried was used morefrequently for their benefit than his own. He scarcely could believewhat he saw. 

From the effort to protect the birds and animals, it was only a shortstep to the possessive feeling, and with that sprang the impulse tocaress and provide. Through fall, when brooding was finished and theupland birds sought the swamp in swarms to feast on its seeds andberries, Freckles was content with watching them and speculating aboutthem. Outside of half a dozen of the very commonest they were strangersto him. The likeness of their actions to humanity was an hourlysurprise. 

When black frost began stripping the Limberlost, cutting the ferns, shearing the vines from the trees, mowing the succulent green thingsof the swale, and setting the leaves swirling down, he watched thedeparting troops of his friends with dismay. He began to realize that hewould be left alone. He made especial efforts toward friendliness withthe hope that he could induce some of them to stay. It was then that heconceived the idea of carrying food to the birds; for he saw that theywere leaving for lack of it; but he could not stop them. Day after day, flocks gathered and departed: by the time the first snow whitenedhis trail around the Limberlost, there were left only the littleblack-and-white juncos, the sapsuckers, yellow-hammers, a few patriarchsamong the flaming cardinals, the blue jays, the crows, and the quail. 

Then Freckles began his wizard work. He cleared a space of swale, andtwice a day he spread a birds' banquet. By the middle of December thestrong winds of winter had beaten most of the seed from the grass andbushes. The snow fell, covering the swamp, and food was very scarce anddifficult to find. The birds scarcely waited until Freckles' back wasturned to attack his provisions. In a few weeks they flew toward theclearing to meet him. During the bitter weather of January they camehalfway to the cabin every morning, and fluttered around him asdoves all the way to the feeding-ground. Before February they were soaccustomed to him, and so hunger-driven, that they would perch onhis head and shoulders, and the saucy jays would try to pry into hispockets. 

Then Freckles added to wheat and crumbs, every scrap of refuse food hecould find at the cabin. He carried to his pets the parings of apples, turnips, potatoes, stray cabbage-leaves, and carrots, and tied to thebushes meat-bones having scraps of fat and gristle. One morning, comingto his feeding-ground unusually early, he found a gorgeous cardinaland a rabbit side by side sociably nibbling a cabbage-leaf, and thatinstantly gave to him the idea of cracking nuts, from the store he hadgathered for Duncan's children, for the squirrels, in the effort to addthem to his family. Soon he had them coming--red, gray, and black; thenhe became filled with a vast impatience that he did not know their namesor habits. 

So the winter passed. Every week McLean rode to the Limberlost; never onthe same day or at the same hour. Always he found Freckles at his work, faithful and brave, no matter how severe the weather. 

The boy's earnings constituted his first money; and when the Bossexplained to him that he could leave them safe at a bank and carry awaya scrap of paper that represented the amount, he went straight on everypayday and made his deposit, keeping out barely what was necessary forhis board and clothing. What he wanted to do with his money he did notknow, but it gave to him a sense of freedom and power to feel that itwas there--it was his and he could have it when he chose. In imitationof McLean, he bought a small pocket account-book, in which he carefullyset down every dollar he earned and every penny he spent. As hisexpenses were small and the Boss paid him generously, it was astonishinghow his little hoard grew. 

That winter held the first hours of real happiness in Freckles' life. Hewas free. He was doing a man's work faithfully, through every rigor ofrain, snow, and blizzard. He was gathering a wonderful strength of body, paying his way, and saving money. Every man of the gang and of thatlocality knew that he was under the protection of McLean, who wasa power, this had the effect of smoothing Freckles' path in manydirections. 

Mrs. Duncan showed him that individual kindness for which his hungryheart was longing. She had a hot drink ready for him when he came froma freezing day on the trail. She knit him a heavy mitten for his lefthand, and devised a way to sew and pad the right sleeve that protectedthe maimed arm in bitter weather. She patched his clothing--frequentlytorn by the wire--and saved kitchen scraps for his birds, not becauseshe either knew or cared anything about them, but because she herselfwas close enough to the swamp to be touched by its utter loneliness. When Duncan laughed at her for this, she retorted: "My God, mannie, ifFreckles hadna the birds and the beasts he would be always alone. It wasnever meant for a human being to be so solitary. He'd get touched in thehead if he hadna them to think for and to talk to. "

"How much answer do ye think he gets to his talkin', lass?" laughedDuncan. 

"He gets the answer that keeps the eye bright, the heart happy, and thefeet walking faithful the rough path he's set them in, " answered Mrs. Duncan earnestly. 

Duncan walked away appearing very thoughtful. The next morning he gavean ear from the corn he was shelling for his chickens to Freckles, andtold him to carry it to his wild chickens in the Limberlost. Freckleslaughed delightedly. 

"Me chickens!" he said. "Why didn't I ever think of that before? Ofcourse 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 agood deal tamer than yours here in your yard?"

"Hoot, lad!" cried Duncan. 

"Make yours light on your head and eat out of your hands and pockets, "challenged Freckles. 

"Go and tell your fairy tales to the wee people! They're juist brash onbelievin' things, " said Duncan. "Ye canna invent any story too big tostop them from callin' for a bigger. "

"I dare you to come see!" retorted Freckles. 

"Take ye!" said Duncan. "If ye make juist ane bird licht on your heidor eat frae your hand, ye are free to help yoursel' to my corn-crib andwheat bin the rest of the winter. "

Freckles sprang in air and howled in glee. 

"Oh, Duncan! You're too, aisy" he cried. "When will you come?"

"I'll come next Sabbath, " said Duncan. "And I'll believe the birds ofthe Limberlost are tame as barnyard fowl when I see it, and no sooner!"

After that Freckles always spoke of the birds as his chickens, and theDuncans followed his example. The very next Sabbath, Duncan, with hiswife and children, followed Freckles to the swamp. They saw a sight sowonderful it will keep them talking all the remainder of their lives, and make them unfailing friends of all the birds. 

Freckles' chickens were awaiting him at the edge of the clearing. Theycut the frosty air around his head into curves and circles of crimson, blue, and black. They chased each other from Freckles, and swept soclosely themselves that they brushed him with their outspread wings. 

At their feeding-ground Freckles set down his old pail of scraps andswept the snow from a small level space with a broom improvised oftwigs. As soon as his back was turned, the birds clustered over thefood, snatching scraps to carry to the nearest bushes. Several of theboldest, a big crow and a couple of jays, settled on the rim and feastedat leisure, while a cardinal, that hesitated to venture, fumed andscolded from a twig overhead. 

Then Freckles scattered his store. At once the ground resembled thespread mantle of Montezuma, except that this mass of gaily coloredfeathers was on the backs of living birds. While they feasted, Duncangripped his wife's arm and stared in astonishment; for from the bushesand dry grass, with gentle cheeping and queer, throaty chatter, as if toencourage each other, came flocks of quail. Before anyone saw it arrive, a big gray rabbit sat in the midst of the feast, contentedly gnawing acabbage-leaf. 

"Weel, I be drawed on!" came Mrs. Duncan's tense whisper. 

"Shu-shu, " cautioned Duncan. 

Lastly Freckles removed his cap. He began filling it with handfuls ofwheat from his pockets. In a swarm the grain-eaters arose around him asa flock of tame pigeons. They perched on his arms and the cap, and inthe stress of hunger, forgetting all caution, a brilliant cock cardinaland an equally gaudy jay fought for a perching-place on his head. 

"Weel, I'm beat, " muttered Duncan, forgetting the silence imposed on hiswife. "I'll hae to give in. 'Seein' is believin'. A man wad hae to seethat to believe it. We mauna let the Boss miss that sight, for it's achance will no likely come twice in a life. Everything is snowed underand thae craturs near starved, but trustin' Freckles that complete theyare tamer than our chickens. Look hard, bairns!" he whispered. "Ye winnasee the like o' yon again, while God lets ye live. Notice their coloragainst the ice and snow, and the pretty skippin' ways of them! Andspunky! Weel, I'm heat fair!"

Freckles emptied his cap, turned his pockets and scattered his lastgrain. Then he waved his watching friends good-bye and started down thetimber-line. 

A week later, Duncan and Freckles arose from breakfast to face thebitterest morning of the winter. When Freckles, warmly capped andgloved, stepped to the corner of the kitchen for his scrap-pail, hefound a big pan of steaming boiled wheat on the top of it. He wheeled toMrs. Duncan with a shining face. 

"Were you fixing this warm food for me chickens or yours?" he asked. 

"It's for yours, Freckles, " she said. "I was afeared this cold weatherthey wadna lay good without a warm bite now and then. "

Duncan laughed as he stepped to the other room for his pipe; butFreckles faced Mrs. Duncan with a trace of every pang of starvedmother-hunger he ever had suffered written large on his homely, splotched, narrow features. 

"Oh, how I wish you were my mother!" he cried. 

Mrs. Duncan attempted an echo of her husband's laugh. 

"Lord love the lad!" she exclaimed. "Why, Freckles, are ye no brightenough 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'erforget it. Ance a woman is the wife of any man, she becomes wife to allmen for having had the wifely experience she kens! Ance a man-child hasbeaten his way to life under the heart of a woman, she is mither toall men, for the hearts of mithers are everywhere the same. Bless ye, laddie, I am your mither!"

She tucked the coarse scarf she had knit for him closer over his chestand pulled his cap lower over his ears, but Freckles, whipping itoff and holding it under his arm, caught her rough, reddened hand andpressed it to his lips in a long kiss. Then he hurried away to hide thehappy, embarrassing tears that were coming straight from his swellingheart. 

Mrs. Duncan, sobbing unrestrainedly, swept into the adjoining room andthrew herself into Duncan's arms. 

"Oh, the puir lad!" she wailed. "Oh, the puir mither-hungry lad! Hebreaks my heart!"

Duncan's arms closed convulsively around his wife. With a big, brownhand he lovingly stroked her rough, sorrel hair. 

"Sarah, you're a guid woman!" he said. "You're a michty guid woman! Yehae a way o' speakin' out at times that's like the inspired prophets ofthe Lord. If that had been put to me, now, I'd 'a' felt all I kent howto 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 onybodya mite o' good. But ye, Sarah! Did ye see his face, woman? Ye sent himoff lookin' leke a white light of holiness had passed ower and settledon him. Ye sent the lad away too happy for mortal words, Sarah. Andye made me that proud o' ye! I wouldna trade ye an' my share o' theLimberlost with ony king ye could mention. "

He relaxed his clasp, and setting a heavy hand on each shoulder, helooked straight into her eyes. 

"Ye're prime, Sarah! Juist prime!" he said. 

Sarah Duncan stood alone in the middle of her two-roomed log cabin andlifted a bony, clawlike pair of hands, reddened by frequent immersionin hot water, cracked and chafed by exposure to cold, black-lined byconstant battle with swamp-loam, calloused with burns, and stared atthem wonderingly. 

"Pretty-lookin' things ye are!" she whispered. "But ye hae juist beenkissed. 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 hundredvisitors a day into the bargain. Ye've been that honored I'm blest ifI 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 amnaproud! Kisses on these old claws! Weel, I be drawed on!"

CHAPTER III

Wherein a Feather Falls and a Soul Is Born

So Freckles fared through the bitter winter. He was very happy. Hehad hungered for freedom, love, and appreciation so long! He had beenunspeakably lonely at the Home; and the utter loneliness of a greatdesert or forest is not so difficult to endure as the loneliness ofbeing constantly surrounded by crowds of people who do not care in theleast whether one is living or dead. 

All through the winter Freckles' entire energy was given to keeping uphis lines and his "chickens" from freezing or starving. When the firstbreath 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 thetrees, bushes, and swale; when the rushes lifted their heads, and thepulse of the newly resurrected season beat strongly in the heart ofnature, something new stirred in the breast of the boy. 

Nature always levies her tribute. Now she laid a powerful hand on thesoul of Freckles, to which the boy's whole being responded, thoughhe had not the least idea what was troubling him. Duncan accepted hiswife's theory that it was a touch of spring fever, but Freckles knewbetter. He never had been so well. Clean, hot, and steady the bloodpulsed in his veins. He was always hungry, and his most difficult worktired him not at all. For long months, without a single intermission, he had tramped those seven miles of trail twice each day, through everyconceivable state of weather. With the heavy club he gave his wires asure test, and between sections, first in play, afterward to keep hiscirculation 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 ofthe day, at night a bath, wholesome food, and sound sleep in a room thatnever knew fire. He had gained flesh and color, and developed a greaterstrength and endurance than anyone ever could have guessed. 

Nor did the Limberlost contain last year's terrors. He had been withher in her hour of desolation, when stripped bare and deserted, she hadstood shivering, as if herself afraid. He had made excursions into theinterior until he was familiar with every path and road that everhad been cut. He had sounded the depths of her deepest pools, and hadlearned why the trees grew so magnificently. He had found that placesof swamp and swale were few compared with miles of solid timber-land, concealed by summer's luxuriant undergrowth. 

The sounds that at first had struck cold fear into his soul he now knewhad left on wing and silent foot at the approach of winter. As flockafter flock of the birds returned and he recognized the old echoesreawakening, he found to his surprise that he had been lonely forthem and was hailing their return with great joy. All his fears wereforgotten. Instead, he was possessed of an overpowering desire to knowwhat they were, to learn where they had been, and whether they wouldmake 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, andwinging bug, most of Freckles' "chickens" had deserted him, entered theswamp, and feasted to such a state of plethora on its store that theycared little for his supply, so that in the strenuous days of mating andnest-building the boy was deserted. 

He chafed at the birds' ingratitude, but he found speedy consolation inwatching and befriending the newcomers. He surely would have been proudand highly pleased if he had known that many of the former inhabitantsof the interior swamp now grouped their nests beside the timber-linesolely for the sake of his protection and company. 

The yearly resurrection of the Limberlost is a mighty revival. Frecklesstood back and watched with awe and envy the gradual reclothing andrepopulation of the swamp. Keen-eyed and alert through danger andloneliness, he noted every stage of development, from the first pipingfrog and unsheathing bud, to full leafage and the return of the lastmigrant. 

The knowledge of his complete loneliness and utter insignificance washourly 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, alonging that he scarcely could endure. 

It was June by the zodiac, June by the Limberlost, and by every delightof a newly resurrected season it should have been June in the hearts ofall men. Yet Freckles scowled darkly as he came down the trail, and therunning TAP, TAP that tested the sagging wire and telegraphed wordof his coming to his furred and feathered friends of the swamp, thismorning carried the story of his discontent a mile ahead of him. 

Freckles' special pet, a dainty, yellow-coated, black-sleeved, cockgoldfinch, had remained on the wire for several days past the bravestof all; and Freckles, absorbed with the cunning and beauty of the tinyfellow, never guessed that he was being duped. For the goldfinch wasskipping, flirting, and swinging for the express purpose of so holdinghis attention that he would not look up and see a small cradle ofthistledown and wool perilously near his head. In the beginning ofbrooding, the spunky little homesteader had clung heroically to the wirewhen he was almost paralyzed with fright. When day after day passedand brought only softly whistled repetitions of his call, a handful ofcrumbs on the top of a locust line-post, and gently worded coaxings, hegrew in confidence. Of late he had sung and swung during the passing ofFreckles, who, not dreaming of the nest and the solemn-eyed little henso close above, thought himself unusually gifted in his power to attractthe birds. This morning the goldfinch scarcely could believe his ears, and clung to the wire until an unusually vicious rap sent him spinning afoot in air, and his "PTSEET" came with a squall of utter panic. 

The wires were ringing with a story the birds could not translate, andFreckles was quite as ignorant of the trouble as they. 

A peculiar movement beneath a small walnut tree caught his attention. He stopped to investigate. There was an unusually large Luna cocoon, andthe moth was bursting the upper end in its struggles to reach light andair. Freckles stood and stared. 

"There's something in there trying to get out, " he muttered. "Wonder ifI 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 behurting it. It's--it's----Oh, skaggany! It's just being born!"

Freckles gasped with surprise. The moth cleared the opening, and withmany wabblings and contortions climbed up the tree. He stared speechlesswith amazement as the moth crept around a limb and clung to the underside. There was a big pursy body, almost as large as his thumb, and ofthe very snowiest white that Freckles ever had seen. There was a bandof delicate lavender across its forehead, and its feet were of the samecolour; 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. 

The minutes passed. Freckles' steady gaze never wavered. Withoutrealizing it, he was trembling with eagerness and anxiety. As he sawwhat was taking place, "It's going to fly, " he breathed in hushedwonder. The morning sun fell on the moth and dried its velvet down, while the warm air made it fluffy. The rapidly growing wings began toshow the most delicate green, with lavender fore-ribs, transparent, eye-shaped markings, edged with lines of red, tan, and black, and long, crisp trailers. 

Freckles was whispering to himself for fear of disturbing the moth. Itbegan a systematic exercise of raising and lowering its exquisite wingsto dry them and to establish circulation. The boy realized that soon itwould be able to spread them and sail away. His long-coming soul sent upits first shivering cry. 

"I don't know what it is! Oh, I wish I knew! How I wish I knew! It mustbe something grand! It can't be a butterfly! It's away too big. Oh, Iwish there was someone to tell me what it is!"

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. Itunhesitatingly climbed on, so he stepped to the path, holding it to thelight and examining it closely. Then he held it in the shade and turnedit, gloating over its markings and beautiful coloring. When he held themoth to the limb, it climbed on, still waving those magnificent wings. 

"My, but I'd like to be staying with you!" he said. "But if I was tostand here all day you couldn't grow any prettier than you are rightnow, and I wouldn't grow smart enough to tell what you are. I supposethere's someone who knows. Of course there is! Mr. McLean said therewere people who knew every leaf, bird, and flower in the Limberlost. OhLord! How I wish You'd be telling me just this one thing!"

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 simplymust not be allowed to look up, so the brave little fellow rocked on thewire and piped, as he had done every day for a week: "SEE ME? SEE ME?"

"See you! Of course I see you, " growled Freckles. "I see you day afterday, and what good is it doing me? I might see you every morning for ayear, and then not be able to be telling anyone about it. 'Seen a birdwith black silk wings--little, and yellow as any canary. ' That's as faras I'd get. What you doing here, anyway? Have you a mate? What's yourname? 'See you?' I reckon I see you; but I might as well be blind, forany good it's doing me!"

Freckles impatiently struck the wire. With a screech of fear, thegoldfinch fled precipitately. His mate arose from the nest with awhirr--Freckles looked up and saw it. 

"O--ho!" he cried. "So THAT'S what you are doing here! You have awife. And so close my head I have been mighty near wearing a bird on mybonnet, and never knew it!"

Freckles laughed at his own jest, while in better humor he climbed toexamine the neat, tiny cradle and its contents. The hen darted at him ina frenzy. "Now, where do you come in?" he demanded, when he saw that shewas not similar to the goldfinch. 

"You be clearing out of here! This is none of your fry. This is the nestof 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 andbeauties of eggs. Will you be keeping away, or will I fire this stick atyou?"

Freckles dropped to the trail. The hen darted to the nest and settled onit with a tender, coddling movement. He of the yellow coat flew to theedge to make sure that everything was right. It would have been plain tothe veriest novice that they were partners in that cradle. 

"Well, I'll be switched!" muttered Freckles. "If that ain't both theirnest! 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'splain as the nose on your face that they are both ready to be fightingfor 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 inthe thorn tree down the line. One day a blue bird is setting, so I thinkit is hers. The next day a brown bird is on, and I chase it off becausethe nest is blue's. Next day the brown bird is on again, and I let herbe, because I think it must be hers. Next day, be golly, blue's on, andoff I send her because it's brown's; and now, I bet my hat, it's boththeir nest and I've only been bothering them and making a big fool ofmesilf. 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 andbrown are a pair, of course, if yellow and green are--and there's thered birds! I never thought of them! He's red and she's gray--and nowI want to be knowing, are they all different? Why no! Of course, theyain't! There's the jays all blue, and the crows all black. "

The tide of Freckles' discontent welled until he almost choked withanger and chagrin. He plodded down the trail, scowling blackly andviciously spanging the wire. At the finches' nest he left the lineand peered into the thorn tree. There was no bird brooding. He pressedcloser to take a peep at the snowy, spotless little eggs he had found sobeautiful, when at the slight noise up raised four tiny baby heads withwide-open mouths, uttering hunger cries. Freckles stepped back. Thebrown bird alighted on the edge and closed one cavity with a wigglinggreen worm, while not two minutes later the blue filled another witha white. That settled it. The blue and brown were mates. Once againFreckles repeated his "How I wish I knew!"

Around the bridge spanning Sleepy Snake Creek the swale spread widely, the timber was scattering, and willows, rushes, marsh-grass, andsplendid wild flowers grew abundantly. Here lazy, big, black watersnakes, for which the creek was named, sunned on the bushes, wild ducksand grebe chattered, cranes and herons fished, and muskrats plowed thebank in queer, rolling furrows. It was always a place full of interest, so Freckles loved to linger on the bridge, watching the marsh and waterpeople. He also transacted affairs of importance with the wild flowersand sweet marsh-grass. He enjoyed splashing through the shallow pools oneither side of the bridge. 

Then, too, where the creek entered the swamp was a place of unusualbeauty. The water spread in darksome, mossy, green pools. Water-plantsand lilies grew luxuriantly, throwing up large, rank, green leaves. Nowhere else in the Limberlost could be found frog-music to equalthat of the mouth of the creek. The drumming and piping rolled innever-ending orchestral effect, while the full chorus rang to itsaccompaniment throughout the season. 

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 boldesttimber thief the swamp ever had known would not have attempted to enterit by the mouth of the creek, on account of the water and because therewas no protection from surrounding trees. He was bending the rank grasswith his cudgel, and thinking of the shade the denser swamp afforded, when he suddenly dodged sidewise; the cudgel whistled sharply throughthe air and Freckles sprang back. 

From the clear sky above him, first level with his face, then skimming, dipping, tilting, whirling until it struck, quill down, in the pathin front of him, came a glossy, iridescent, big black feather. As ittouched the ground, Freckles snatched it up with almost a continuousmovement facing the sky. There was not a tree of any size in a largeopen space. There was no wind to carry it. From the clear sky it hadfallen, and Freckles, gazing eagerly into the arch of June blue with afew lazy clouds floating high in the sea of ether, had neither mind norknowledge to dream of a bird hanging as if frozen there. He turned thebig quill questioningly, and again his awed eyes swept the sky. 

"A feather dropped from Heaven!" he breathed reverently. "Are the holyangels moulting? But no; if they were, it would be white. Maybe all theangels are not for being white. What if the angels of God are white andthose 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 forslipping to the gates, beating its wings trying to make the Masterhear!"

Again and again Freckles searched the sky, but there was no answeringgleam of golden gates, no form of sailing bird; then he went slowlyon his way, turning the feather and wondering about it. It was a wingquill, 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'srays in slanting gleams of green and bronze. Again Freckles' "old manof the sea" sat sullen and heavy on his shoulders and weighted him downuntil his step lagged and his heart ached. 

"Where did it come from? What is it? Oh, how I wish I knew!" he keptrepeating as he turned and studied the feather, with almost unseeingeyes, so intently was he thinking. 

Before him spread a large, green pool, filled with rotting logs andleaves, bordered with delicate ferns and grasses among which lifted thecreamy spikes of the arrow-head, the blue of water-hyacinth, and thedelicate yellow of the jewel-flower. As Freckles leaned, handling thefeather and staring at it, then into the depths of the pool, he oncemore gave voice to his old query: "I wonder what it is!"

Straight across from him, couched in the mosses of a soggy old log, abig green bullfrog, with palpitant throat and batting eyes, lifted hishead and bellowed in answer. "FIN' DOUT! FIN' DOUT!"

"Wha--what's that?" stammered Freckles, almost too much bewildered tospeak. "I--I know you are only a bullfrog, but, be jabbers, that soundedmightily like speech. Wouldn't you please to be saying it over?"

The bullfrog cuddled contentedly in the ooze. Then suddenly he liftedhis voice, and, as an imperative drumbeat, rolled it again: "FIN' DOUT!FIN' DOUT! FIN DOUT!"

Freckles had the answer. Something seemed to snap in his brain. Therewas a wavering flame before his eyes. Then his mind cleared. Hishead lifted in a new poise, his shoulders squared, while his spinestraightened. The agony was over. His soul floated free. Freckles cameinto his birthright. 

"Before God, I will!" He uttered the oath so impressively that therecording angel never winced as he posted it in the prayer column. 

Freckles set his hat over the top of one of the locust posts usedbetween trees to hold up the wire while he fastened the feather securelyin the band. Then he started down the line, talking to himself as menwho have worked long alone always fall into the habit of doing. 

"What a fool I have been!" he muttered. "Of course that's what I have todo! 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 Icouldn't; but a man can do anything if he's the grit to work hard enoughand stick at it, Mr. McLean is always saying, and here's the way I am todo it. He said, too, that there were people that knew everything in theswamp. Of course they have written books! The thing for me to be doingis 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 Ididn't waste me money! I'll surely be having enough to get a few. Let mesee. "

Freckles sat on a log, took his pencil and account-book, and figuredon a back page. He had walked the timber-line ten months. His paywas thirty dollars a month, and his board cost him eight. That lefttwenty-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 deepbreath and smiled at the sky with satisfaction. 

"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 takesevery cent I have, " he promised himself. 

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, andthe cheery, gladsome whistle carried far ahead of him the message thatFreckles was himself again. 

He fell into a rapid pace, for he had lost time that morning; when herounded the last curve he was almost running. There was a chance thatthe Boss might be there for his weekly report. 

Then, wavering, flickering, darting here and there over the sweetmarsh-grass, came a large black shadow, sweeping so closely before himthat 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 beclassed as large birds, but never anything like this, for six feet itspread its big, shining wings. Its strong feet could be seen drawnamong its feathers. The sun glinted on its sharp, hooked beak. Its eyesglowed, caught the light, and seemed able to pierce the ground at hisfeet. It cared no more for Freckles than if he had not been there; forit perched on a low tree, while a second later it awkwardly hopped tothe trunk of a lightning-riven elm, turned its back, and began searchingthe blue. 

Freckles looked just in time to see a second shadow sweep the grass; andanother 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 herwing. Then he coquettishly drew away and ogled her. He lifted his head, waddled from her a few steps, awkwardly ambled back, and gave her sucha simple sort of kiss on her beak that Freckles burst into a laugh, butclapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. 

The lover ducked and side-stepped a few feet. He spread his wingsand slowly and softly waved them precisely as if he were fanning hischarmer, which was indeed the result he accomplished. Then a wave ofuncontrollable tenderness moved him so he hobbled to his bombardmentonce more. He faced her squarely this time, and turned his head fromside to side with queer little jerks and indiscriminate peckings at herwings and head, and smirkings that really should have been irresistible. She yawned and shuffled away indifferently. Freckles reached up, pulledthe quill from his hat, and looking from it to the birds, nodded insettled conviction. 

"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. Youfly higher than I can see. Have you picked the Limberlost for a goodthing 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 thisstick for a gun and go skinning a mile?"

Freckles broke into an unrestrained laugh, for the bird-lover was keenabout his courting, while evidently his mate was diffident. When heapproached too boisterously, she relieved him of a goodly tuft offeathers and sent him backward in a series of squirmy little jumps thatgave the boy an idea of what had happened up-sky to send the fallingfeather across his pathway. 

"Score one for the lady! I'll be umpiring this, " volunteered Freckles. 

With a ravishing swagger, half-lifted wings, and deep, guttural hissing, the lover approached again. He suddenly lifted his body, but she coollyrocked forward on the limb, glided gracefully beneath him, and slowlysailed into the Limberlost. He recovered himself and gazed after her inastonishment. 

Freckles hurried down the trail, shaking with laughter. When he nearedthe path to the clearing and saw the Boss sitting motionless on the marethat was the pride of his heart, the boy broke into a run. 

"Oh, Mr. McLean!" he cried. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting verylong! And the sun is getting hot! I have been so slow this morning! Icould have gone faster, only there were that many things to keep me, andI didn't know you would be here. I'll hurry after this. I've never hadto be giving excuses before. The line wasn't down, and there wasn't asign of trouble; it was other things that were making me late. "

McLean, smiling on the boy, immediately noticed the difference in him. This flushed, panting, talkative lad was not the same creature who hadsought him in despair and bitterness. He watched in wonder as Frecklesmopped the perspiration from his forehead and began to laugh. Then, forgetting all his customary reserve with the Boss, the pent-upboyishness in the lad broke forth. With an eloquence of which he neverdreamed he told his story. He talked with such enthusiasm that McLeannever took his eyes from his face or shifted in the saddle until hedescribed the strange bird-lover, and then the Boss suddenly bent overthe pommel and laughed with the boy. 

Freckles decorated his story with keen appreciation and rare touchesof Irish wit and drollery that made it most interesting as well as veryfunny. It was a first attempt at descriptive narration. With an inborngift for striking the vital point, a naturalist's dawning enthusiasm forthe wonders of the Limberlost, and the welling joy of his newly foundhappiness, he made McLean see the struggles of the moth and its freshlypainted wings, the dainty, brilliant bird-mates of different colors, thefeather sliding through the clear air, the palpitant throat and battingeyes of the frog; while his version of the big bird's courtship won forthe Boss the best laugh he had enjoyed for years. 

"They're in the middle of a swamp now" said Freckles. "Do you supposethere 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 findingsome plum good ones. There's a new kind over at the mouth of the creekthat uses its wings like feet and walks on all fours. It travels like athrashing machine. There's another, tall as me waist, with a bill afoot long, a neck near two, not the thickness of me wrist and an elegantcolor. 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 besidea tree and crying at it a few times he could be sawing it square off. Idon't know but it would be a good idea to try him on the gang, sir. "

McLean laughed. "Those must be blue herons, Freckles, " he said. "Andit doesn't seem possible, but your description of the big black birdssounds like genuine black vultures. They are common enough in the South. I've seen them numerous around the lumber camps of Georgia, but Inever before heard of any this far north. They must be strays. You havedescribed perfectly our nearest equivalent to a branch of these birdscalled in Europe Pharaoh's Chickens, but if they are coming to theLimberlost they will have to drop Pharaoh and become Freckles' Chickens, like the remainder of the birds; won't they? Or are they too odd andugly to interest you?"

"Oh, not at all, at all!" cried Freckles, bursting into pure brogue inhis haste. "I don't know as I'd be calling them exactly pretty, and theydo 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 sostrong. You never saw anything so keen as their eyes! And fly? Why, justthink, sir, they must be flying miles straight up, for they were out ofsight completely when the feather fell. I don't suppose I've a chickenin the swamp that can go as close heaven as those big, black fellows, and then----"

Freckles' voice dragged and he hesitated. 

"Then what?" interestedly urged McLean. 

"He was loving her so, " answered Freckles in a hushed voice. "I know itlooked awful funny, and I laughed and told on him, but if I'd taken timeto think I don't believe I'd have done it. You see, I've seen such alittle bit of loving in me life. You easily can be understanding that atthe Home it was every day the old story of neglect and desertion. Alwayspeople that didn't even care enough for their children to keep them, soyou see, sir, I had to like him for trying so hard to make her know howhe loved her. Of course, they're only birds, but if they are caring foreach other like that, why, it's just the same as people, ain't it?"

Freckles lifted his brave, steady eyes to the Boss. 

"If anybody loved me like that, Mr. McLean, I wouldn't be spending anytime on how they looked or moved. All I'd be thinking of would be howthey felt toward me. If they will stay, I'll be caring as much for themas any chickens I have. If I did laugh at them I thought he was justfine!"

The face of McLean was a study; but the honest eyes of the boy were socompelling that he found himself answering: "You are right, Freckles. He's a gentleman, isn't he? And the only real chicken you have. Ofcourse he'll remain! The Limberlost will be paradise for his family. Andnow, Freckles, what has been the trouble all spring? You have done yourwork as faithfully as anyone could ask, but I can't help seeing thatthere is something wrong. Are you tired of your job?"

"I love it, " answered Freckles. "It will almost break me heart whenthe gang comes and begins tearing up the swamp and scaring away mechickens. "

"Then what is the trouble?" insisted McLean. 

"I think, sir, it's been books, " answered Freckles. "You see, I didn'trealize it meself until the bullfrog told me this morning. I hadn't evereven heard about a place like this. Anyway, I wasn't understanding howit would be, if I had. Being among these beautiful things every day, Igot so anxious like to be knowing and naming them, that it got to eatinginto 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, butthere 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 thingsas there are here. I've seen the parks--but good Lord, they ain't evenbeginning to be in it with the Limberlost! It's all new and strange tome. I don't know a thing about any of it. The bullfrog told me to 'findout, ' plain as day, and books are the only way; ain't they?"

"Of course, " said McLean, astonished at himself for his heartfeltrelief. He had not guessed until that minute what it would have meantto him to have Freckles give up. "You know enough to study out what youwant yourself, if you have the books; don't you?"

"I am pretty sure I do, " said Freckles. "I learned all I'd the chance atin the Home, and me schooling was good as far as it went. Wouldn't letyou go past fourteen, you know. I always did me sums perfect, and lovedme history books. I had them almost by heart. I never could get megrammar to suit them. They said it was just born in me to go wrongtalking, and if it hadn't been I suppose I would have picked it up fromthe other children; but I'd the best voice of any of them in the Homeor at school. I could knock them all out singing. I was always leader inthe Home, and once one of the superintendents gave me carfare and letme go into the city and sing in a boys' choir. The master said I'd theswatest voice of them all until it got rough like, and then he made mequit for awhile, but he said it would be coming back by now, and I'mrailly thinking it is, sir, for I've tried on the line a bit of late andit seems to go smooth again and lots stronger. That and me chickens havebeen all the company I've been having, and it will be all I'll want if Ican have some books and learn the real names of things, where they comefrom, and why they do such interesting things. It's been fretting memore than I knew to be shut up here among all these wonders and notknowing a thing. I wanted to ask you what some books would cost me, andif you'd be having the goodness to get me the right ones. I think I haveenough money. "

Freckles offered his account-book and the Boss studied it gravely. 

"You needn't touch your account, Freckles, " he said. "Ten dollars fromthis month's pay will provide you everything you need to start on. Iwill write a friend in Grand Rapids today to select you the very bestand send them at once. "

Freckles' eyes were shining. 

"Never owned a book in me life!" he said. "Even me schoolbooks werenever mine. Lord! How I used to wish I could have just one of them forme very own! Won't it be fun to see me sawbird and me little yellowfellow looking at me from the pages of a book, and their real names andall about them printed alongside? How long will it be taking, sir?"

"Ten days should do it nicely, " said McLean. Then, seeing Freckles'lengthening face, he added: "I'll have Duncan bring you a ten-bushelstore-box the next time he goes to town. He can haul it to the westentrance and set it up wherever you want it. You can put in your sparetime filling it with the specimens you find until the books come, and then you can study out what you have. I suspect you could collectspecimens 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 inthat 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'tremember rarer coloring than their wings. I'll order you a butterfly-netand box and show you how scientists pin specimens. Possibly you can makea fine collection of these swamp beauties. It will be all right for youto take a pair of different moths and butterflies, but I don't want tohear of your killing any birds. They are protected by heavy fines. "

McLean rode away leaving Freckles staring aghast. Then he saw the pointand smiled. Standing on the trail, he twirled the feather and thoughtover the morning. 

"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 myway, but I wouldn't ever thought anybody could strike such magnificentprospects through only a falling feather. "

CHAPTER IV

Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for NewExperiences

On Duncan's return from his next trip to town there was a big store-boxloaded on the back of his wagon. He drove to the west entrance of theswamp, 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 atits back. 

"It seems most a pity to nail into that tree, " said Duncan. "I haena thetime to examine into the grain of it, but it looks as if it might be arare ane. Anyhow, the nailin' winna hurt it deep, and havin' the case byit will make it safer if it is a guid ane. "

"Isn't it an oak?" asked Freckles. 

"Ay, " said Duncan. "It looks like it might be ane of thae fine-grainedwhite anes that mak' such grand furniture. "

When the body of the case was secure, Duncan made a door from the lidand fastened it with hinges. He drove a staple, screwed on a latch, andgave Freckles a small padlock--so that he might fasten in his treasuressafely. He made a shelf at the top for his books, and last of allcovered the case with oil-cloth. 

It was the first time in Freckles' life that anyone ever had done thatmuch for his pleasure, and it warmed his heart with pure joy. If theinterior of the box already had been covered with the rarest treasuresof the Limberlost he could have been no happier. 

When the big teamster stood back to look at his work he laughinglyquoted, "'Neat, but no' gaudy, ' as McLean says. All we're, needing nowis a coat of paint to make a cupboard that would turn Sarah green withenvy. Ye'll find that safe an' dry, lad, an' that's all that's needed. "

"Mr. Duncan, " said Freckles, "I don't know why you are being so mightygood to me; but if you have any jobs at the cabin that I could do foryou or Mrs. Duncan, hours off the line, it would make me mighty happy. "

Duncan laughed. "Ye needna feel ye are obliged to me, lad. Ye maunathink I could take a half-day off in the best hauling season and go totown for boxes to rig up, and spend of my little for fixtures. "

"I knew Mr. McLean sent you, " said Freckles, his eyes wide and brightwith happiness. "It's so good of him. How I wish I could do somethingthat would please him as much!"

"Why, Freckles, " said Duncan, as he knelt and began collecting histools, "I canna see that it will hurt ye to be told that ye are doingevery day a thing that pleases the Boss as much as anything ye coulddo. Ye're being uncommon faithful, lad, and honest as old Father Time. McLean is trusting ye as he would his own flesh and blood. "

"Oh, Duncan!" cried the happy boy. "Are you sure?"

"Why I know, " answered Duncan. "I wadna venture to say so else. In thosefirst days he cautioned me na to tell ye, but now he wadna care. D'yeken, Freckles, that some of the single trees ye are guarding are worth athousand dollars?"

Freckles caught his breath and stood speechless. 

"Ye see, " said Duncan, "that's why they maun be watched so closely. Theytak', say, for instance, a burl maple--bird's eye they call it in thefactory, because it's full o' wee knots and twists that look like theeye 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 itwith the maple--veneer, they call it. When it's all done and polished yenever saw onythin' grander. Gang into a retail shop the next time yeare in town and see some. By sawin' it thin that way they get finish forthousands of dollars' worth of furniture from a single tree. If ye dinnawatch faithful, and Black Jack gets out a few he has marked, it meansthe 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 nobodywad ever ken till the gang gets here. "

A wave of scarlet flooded Freckles' face and he blazed hotly at theinsult. 

"And the Boss, " continued Duncan, coolly ignoring Freckles' anger, "helays back just as cool as cowcumbers an' says: 'I'll give a thousanddollars to ony man that will show me a fresh stump when we reach theLimberlost, ' says he. Some of the men just snapped him op that they'dfind some. So you see bow the Boss is trustin' ye, lad. "

"I am gladder than I can ever expriss, " said Freckles. "And now will Ibe walking double time to keep some of them from cutting a tree to getall that money!"

"Mither o' Moses!" howled Duncan. "Ye can trust the Scotch to bunglethings a'thegither. McLean was only meanin' to show ye all confidenceand honor. He's gone and set a high price for some dirty whelp to ruinye. I was just tryin' to show ye how he felt toward ye, and I've gonean' give ye that worry to bear. Damn the Scotch! They're so slow an' sodumb!"

"Exciptin' prisint company?" sweetly inquired Freckles. 

"No!" growled Duncan. "Headin' the list! He'd nae business to set aprice on ye, lad, for that's about the amount of it, an' I'd nae rightto tell ye. We've both done ye ill, an' both meanin' the verra best. Juist what I'm always sayin' to Sarah. "

"I am mighty proud of what you have been telling me, Duncan, " saidFreckles. "I need the warning, sure. For with the books coming I mightbe timpted to neglect me work when double watching is needed. Thank youmore than I can say for putting me on to it. What you've told me may bethe saving of me. I won't stop for dinner now. I'll be getting along theeast line, and when I come around about three, maybe Mother Duncan willlet me have a glass of milk and a bite of something. "

"Ye see now!" cried Duncan in disgust. "Ye'll start on that seven-miletramp with na bite to stay your stomach. What was it I told ye?"

"You told me that the Scotch had the hardest heads and the softesthearts of any people that's living, " answered Freckles. 

Duncan grunted in gratified disapproval. 

Freckles picked up his club and started down the line, whistlingcheerily, for he had an unusually long repertoire upon which to draw. 

Duncan went straight to the lower camp, and calling McLean aside, repeated the conversation verbatim, ending: "And nae matter what happensnow or ever, dinna ye dare let onythin' make ye believe that Freckleshasna guarded faithful as ony man could. "

"I don't think anything could shake my faith in the lad, " answeredMcLean. 

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 asearch of the sky for his latest arrivals. Every day since their cominghe had seen them, either hanging as small, black clouds above the swampor bobbing over logs and trees with their queer, tilting walk. Wheneverhe could spare time, he entered the swamp and tried to make friendswith them, for they were the tamest of all his unnumbered subjects. Theyducked, dodged, and ambled around him, over logs and bushes, and noteven a near approach would drive them to flight. 

For two weeks he had found them circling over the Limberlost regularly, but one morning the female was missing and only the big black chickenhung sentinel above the swamp. His mate did not reappear in thefollowing days, and Freckles grew very anxious. He spoke of it to Mrs. Duncan, and she quieted his fears by raising a delightful hope in theirstead. 

"Why, Freckles, if it's the hen-bird ye are missing, it's ten to oneshe's safe, " she said. "She's laid, and is setting, ye silly! Watch himand mark whaur he lichts. Then follow and find the nest. Some Sabbathwe'll all gang see it. "

Accepting this theory, Freckles began searching for the nest. Becausethese "chickens" were large, as the hawks, he looked among the treetopsuntil he almost sprained the back of his neck. He had half the crow andhawk nests in the swamp located. He searched for this nest instead ofcollecting subjects for his case. He found the pair the middle of oneforenoon on the elm where he had watched their love-making. The bigblack chicken was feeding his mate; so it was proved that they were apair, they were both alive, and undoubtedly she was brooding. After thatFreckles' nest-hunting continued with renewed zeal, but as he had noidea where to look and Duncan could offer no helpful suggestion, thenest was no nearer to being found. 

Coming from a long day on the trail, Freckles saw Duncan's childrenawaiting him much closer the swale than they usually ventured, and fromtheir wild gestures he knew that something had happened. He began torun, but the cry that reached him was: "The books have come!"

How they hurried! Freckles lifted the youngest to his shoulder, thesecond took his club and dinner pail, and when they reached Mrs. Duncanthey found her at work on a big box. She had loosened the lid, and thenshe laughingly sat on it. 

"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'llno be willin' to tak' your nose o' it till bedtime, and I willna get mywork done the nicht. We've eaten long ago. "

It was difficult work, but Freckles smiled bravely. He made himselfneat, swallowed a few bites, then came so eagerly that Mrs. Duncanyielded, although she said she very well knew all the time that hissupper would be spoiled. 

Lifting the lid, they removed the packing and found in that box bookson birds, trees, flowers, moths, and butterflies. There was also onecontaining Freckles' bullfrog, true to life. Besides these were abutterfly-net, a naturalist's tin specimen-box, a bottle of cyanide, a box of cotton, a paper of long, steel specimen-pins, and a lettertelling what all these things were and how to use them. 

At the discovery of each new treasure, Freckles shouted: "Will you belooking at this, now?"

Mrs. Duncan cried: "Weel, I be drawed on!"

The eldest boy turned a somersault for every extra, while the baby, trying to follow his example, bunched over in a sidewise sprawl and cuthis 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 topshelf in her closet cleared for them, far above the reach of meddlinglittle fingers. 

When Freckles started for the trail next morning, the shining newspecimen-box flashed on his back. The black "chicken, " a mere speck inthe blue, caught the gleam of it. The folded net hung beside the boy'shatchet, and the bird book was in the box. He walked the line and testedeach section scrupulously, watching every foot of the trail, for he wasdetermined 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 thespace he had cleared and planted around his case, his heart swelled withthe pride of possessing even so much that he could call his own, whilehis quick eyes feasted on the beauty of it. 

He had made a large room with the door of the case set even with oneside of it. On three sides, fine big bushes of wild rose climbed to thelower branches of the trees. Part of his walls were mallow, part alder, thorn, willow, and dogwood. Below there filled in a solid mass of palepink sheep-laurel, and yellow St. John's wort, while the amber threadsof the dodder interlaced everywhere. At one side the swamp came close, here cattails grew in profusion. In front of them he had planted a rowof water-hyacinths without disturbing in the least the state of theirazure bloom, and where the ground arose higher for his floor, a row offoxfire, that soon would be open. 

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 sothat a long, open vista stretched away until lost in the dim recessesof the swamp. A little trimming of underbush, rolling of dead logs, levelling of floor and carpeting with moss, made it easy to understandwhy Freckles had named this the "cathedral"; yet he never had beentaught that "the groves were God's first temples. "

On either side of the trees that constituted the first arch of this dimvista of the swamp he planted ferns that grew waist-high thus early inthe season, and so skilfully the work had been done that not a fronddrooped because of the change. Opposite, he cleared a space and made aflower bed. He filled one end with every delicate, lacy vine and fern hecould transplant successfully. The body of the bed was a riot of color. Here he set growing dainty blue-eyed-Marys and blue-eyed grass sideby side. He planted harebells; violets, blue, white, and yellow; wildgeranium, 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 ofthe Limberlost that was in bloom or bore a bud presaging a flower. Everyday saw the addition of new specimens. The place would have driven abotanist wild with envy. 

On the line side he left the bushes thick for concealment, entering by anarrow path he and Duncan had cleared in setting up the case. He calledthis the front door, though he used every precaution to hide it. Hebuilt rustic seats between several of the trees, leveled the floor, andthickly carpeted it with rank, heavy, woolly-dog moss. Around the casehe planted wild clematis, bittersweet, and wild-grapevines, and trainedthem over it until it was almost covered. Every day he planted newflowers, cut back rough bushes, and coaxed out graceful ones. Hispride in his room was very great, but he had no idea how surprisinglybeautiful it would appear to anyone who had not witnessed its growth andconstruction. 

This morning Freckles walked straight to his case, unlocked it, and sethis apparatus and dinner inside. He planted a new specimen he had foundclose the trail, and, bringing his old scrap-bucket from the corner inwhich it was hidden, from a near-by pool he dipped water to pour overhis carpet and flowers. 

Then he took out the bird book, settled comfortably on a bench, andwith a deep sigh of satisfaction turned to the section headed. "V. " Past"veery" and "vireo" he went, down the line until his finger, tremblingwith eagerness, stopped at "vulture. "

"'Great black California vulture, '" he read. 

"Humph! This side the Rockies will do for us. "

"'Common turkey-buzzard. '"

"Well, we ain't hunting common turkeys. McLean said chickens, and whathe says goes. "

"'Black vulture of the South. '"

"Here we are arrived at once. "

Freckles' finger followed the line, and he read scraps aloud. 

"'Common in the South. Sometimes called Jim Crow. Nearest equivalent toC-a-t-h-a-r-t-e-s A-t-r-a-t-a. '"

"How the divil am I ever to learn them corkin' big words by mesel'?"

"'--the Pharaoh's Chickens of European species. Sometimes stray north asfar as Virginia and Kentucky----'"

"And sometimes farther, " interpolated Freckles, "'cos I got them righthere in Indiana so like these pictures I can just see me big chickenbobbing up to get his ears boxed. Hey?"

"'Light-blue eggs'----"

"Golly! I got to be seeing them!"

"'--big as a common turkey's, but shaped like a hen's, heavily splotchedwith chocolate----'"

"Caramels, I suppose. And----"

"'--in hollow logs or stumps. '"

"Oh, hagginy! Wasn't I barking up the wrong tree, though? Ought to beenlooking close the ground all this time. Now it's all to do over, and Isuspect the sooner I start the sooner I'll be likely to find them. "

Freckles put away his book, dampened the smudge-fire, without which themosquitoes 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 hislast drop of water. The heat of June was growing intense. Even on thewest of the swamp, where one had full benefit of the breeze from theupland, it was beginning to be unpleasant in the middle of the day. 

He brushed the crumbs from his knees and sat resting awhile and watchingthe sky to see if his big chicken were hanging up there. But he came tothe earth abruptly, for there were steps coming down the trail thatwere 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 feelif his revolver and hatchet were there, caught up his cudgel and laidit across his knees--then sat quietly, waiting. Was it Black Jack, or someone even worse? Forced to do something to brace his nerves, hepuckered his stiffening lips and began whistling a tune he had led inhis clear tenor every year of his life at the Home Christmas exercises. 

 "Who comes this way, so blithe and gay, Upon a merry Christmas day?"

His quick Irish wit roused to the ridiculousness of it until he brokeinto a laugh that steadied him amazingly. 

Through the bushes he caught a glimpse of the oncoming figure. His heartflooded with joy, for it was a man from the gang. Wessner had been hisbunk-mate the night he came down the corduroy. He knew him as well asany of McLean's men. This was no timber-thief. No doubt the Boss hadsent him with a message. Freckles sprang up and called cheerily, a warmwelcome on his face. 

"Well, it's good telling if you're glad to see me, " said Wessner, withsomething very like a breath of relief. "We been hearing down at thecamp you were so mighty touchy you didn't allow a man within a rod ofthe line. "

"No more do I, " answered Freckles, "if he's a stranger, but you're fromMcLean, ain't you?"

"Oh, damn McLean!" said Wessner. 

Freckles gripped the cudgel until his knuckles slowly turned purple. 

"And are you railly saying so?" he inquired with elaborate politeness. 

"Yes, I am, " said Wessner. "So would every man of the gang if theywasn't too big cowards to say anything, unless maybe that otherslobbering old Scotchman, Duncan. Grinding the lives out of us! Workingus like dogs, and paying us starvation wages, while he rolls up hismillions and lives like a prince!"

Green lights began to play through the gray of Freckles' eyes. 

"Wessner, " he said impressively, "you'd make a fine pattern for thefather of liars! Every man on that gang is strong and hilthy, paid allhe earns, and treated with the courtesy of a gentleman! As for the Bossliving like a prince, he shares fare with you every day of your lives!"

Wessner was not a born diplomat, but he saw he was on the wrong tack, sohe tried another. 

"How would you like to make a good big pile of money, without evenlifting your hand?" he asked. 

"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?"

Wessner came close. 

"Freckles, old fellow, " he said, "if you let me give you a pointer, Ican put you on to making a cool five hundred without stepping out ofyour tracks. "

Freckles drew back. 

"You needn't be afraid of speaking up, " he said. "There isn't a soul inthe Limberlost save the birds and the beasts, unless some of your sort'scome along and's crowding the privileges of the legal tinints. "

"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 withreason, he can see you later, but it ain't necessary. We can make allthe plans needed. The trick's so dead small and easy. "

"Must be if you have the engineering of it, " said Freckles. But heheard, with a sigh of relief, that they were alone. 

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 achance to clear five hundred in a day! You surely won't be the fool tomiss it!"

"And how was you proposing for me to stale it?" inquired Freckles. "Oram I just to find it laying in me path beside the line?"

"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 morningwhen you will walk up the west side of the swamp and then turn roundand walk back down the same side again and the money is yours. Couldn'tanything be easier than that, could it?"

"Depinds entirely on the man, " said Freckles. The lilt of a lark hangingabove the swale beside them was not sweeter than the sweetness of hisvoice. "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'mnot the man that goes into a scheme like that with the blindfold overme eyes, for, you see, it manes to break trust with the Boss; and I'veserved him faithful as I knew. You'll have to be making the thing veryclear to me understanding. "

"It's so dead easy, " repeated Wessner, "it makes me tired of thesimpleness of it. You see there's a few trees in the swamp that's realgold mines. There's three especial. Two are back in, but one's square onthe line. Why, your pottering old Scotch fool of a Boss nailed thewire to it with his own hands! He never noticed where the bark had beenpeeled, or saw what it was. If you will stay on this side of the trailjust one day we can have it cut, loaded, and ready to drive out atnight. Next morning you can find it, report, and be the busiest manin the search for us. We know where to fix it all safe and easy. ThenMcLean has a bet up with a couple of the gang that there can't be a rawstump found in the Limberlost. There's plenty of witnesses to swear toit, and I know three that will. There's a cool thousand, and this treeis worth all of that, raw. Say, it's a gold mine, I tell you, and justfive hundred of it is yours. There's no danger on earth to you, foryou've got McLean that bamboozled you could sell out the whole swamp andhe'd never mistrust you. What do you say?"

Freckles' soul was satisfied. "Is that all?" he asked. 

"No, it ain't, " said Wessner. "If you really want to brace up and be aman and go into the thing for keeps, you can make five times that in aweek. My friend knows a dozen others we could get out in a few days, andall you'd have to do would be to keep out of sight. Then you couldtake your money and skip some night, and begin life like a gentlemansomewhere else. What do you think about it?"

Freckles purred like a kitten. 

"'Twould be a rare joke on the Boss, " he said, "to be stalin' from himthe very thing he's trusted me to guard, and be getting me wages allwinter throwed in free. And you're making the pay awful high. Me tobe getting five hundred for such a simple little thing as that. You'retrating 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 lookedinto thorough. Just you wait here until I do a minute's turn in theswamp, and then I'll be eschorting you out of the clearing and givingyou the answer. "

Freckles lifted the overhanging bushes and hurried to the case. Heunslung the specimen-box and laid it inside with his hatchet andrevolver. He slipped the key in his pocket and went back to Wessner. 

"Now for the answer, " he said. "Stand up!"

There was iron in his voice, and he was commanding as an outragedgeneral. "Anything, you want to be taking off?" he questioned. 

Wessner looked the astonishment he felt. "Why, no, Freckles, " he said. 

"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 maystand with your back to the light or be taking any advantage you want. "

"Why, what do you mean?" spluttered Wessner. 

"I'm manin', " said Freckles tersely, "to lick a quarter-section of hellout of you, and may the Holy Vargin stay me before I leave you herecarrion, for your carcass would turn the stummicks of me chickens!"

At the camp that morning, Wessner's conduct had been so palpable anexcuse to force a discharge that Duncan moved near McLean and whispered, "Think of the boy, sir?"

McLean was so troubled that, an hour later, he mounted Nellie andfollowed Wessner to his home in Wildcat Hollow, only to find that he hadleft there shortly before, heading for the Limberlost. McLean rode attop speed. When Mrs. Duncan told him that a man answering Wessner'sdescription had gone down the west side of the swamp close noon, he leftthe mare in her charge and followed on foot. When he heard voices heentered the swamp and silently crept close just in time to hear Wessnerwhine: "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. "

The Boss slid off his coat and crouched among the bushes, ready tospring; but as Freckles' voice reached him he held himself, with astrong effort, to learn what mettle was in the boy. 

"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 weaknessof me mimbers, and the size of a cowardly thief doesn't count. You'llthink all the wildcats of the Limberlost are turned loose on you whin Icome against you, and as for me cause----I slept with you, Wessner, thenight I came down the corduroy like a dirty, friendless tramp, and theBoss was for taking me up, washing, clothing, and feeding me, and givingme a home full of love and tinderness, and a master to look to, andgood, well-earned money in the bank. He's trusting me his heartful, andhere comes you, you spotted toad of the big road, and insults me, as isan honest Irish gintleman, by hinting that you concaive I'd be willingto shut me eyes and hold fast while you rob him of the thing I was setand paid to guard, and then act the sneak and liar to him, and ruin andeternally blacken the soul of me. You damned rascal, " raved Freckles, "be fighting before I forget the laws of a gintlemin's game and splityour dirty head with me stick!"

Wessner backed away, mumbling, "But I don't want to hurt you, Freckles!"

"Oh, don't you!" raged the boy, now fairly frothing. "Well, you ain'tresembling me none, for I'm itching like death to git me fingers in theface of you. "

He danced up, and as Wessner lunged in self-defense, ducked under hisarm as a bantam and punched him in the pit of the stomach so that hedoubled with a groan. Before Wessner could straighten himself, Freckleswas on him, fighting like the wildest fury that ever left the beautifulisland. The Dutchman dealt thundering blows that sometimes landed andsent Freckles reeling, and sometimes missed, while he went plunging intothe swale with the impetus of them. Freckles could not strike with halfWessner'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, theperpetual swinging of the heavy cudgel, and the endurance of all weatherstood him in good stead; for he was tough, and agile. He skipped, ducked, and dodged. For the first five minutes he endured fearfulpunishment. Then Wessner's breath commenced to whistle between histeeth, when Freckles only had begun fighting. He sprang back with shrilllaughter. 

"Begolly! and will your honor be whistling the hornpipe for me to bedancing of?" he cried. 

SPANG! went his fist into Wessner's face, and he was past him into theswale. 

"And would you be pleased to tune up a little livelier?" he gasped, andclipped 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 anddrove the toe of his heavy wading-boot in Wessner's middle until hedoubled and fell heavily. In a flash Freckles was on him. For a timeMcLean could not see what was happening. "Go! Go to him now!" hecommanded himself, but so intense was his desire to see the boy winalone that he did not stir. 

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 letyou throw in an extra hand and lick you to me complate satisfaction allthe same. Did you hear me call the limit? Will you get up and be facingme?"

As Wessner struggled to his feet, he resembled a battlefield, for hisclothing was in ribbons and his face and hands streaming blood. 

"I--I guess I got enough, " he mumbled. 

"Oh, you do?" roared Freckles. "Well this ain't your say. You come onto me ground, lying about me Boss and intimatin' I'd stale from his verypockets. Now will you be standing up and taking your medicine like aman, or getting it poured down the throat of you like a baby? I ain'tgot enough! This is only just the beginning with me. Be looking outthere!"

He sprang against Wessner and sent him rolling. He attacked theunresisting figure and fought him until he lay limp and quiet andFreckles had no strength left to lift an arm. Then he arose and steppedback, gasping for breath. With his first lungful of air he shouted:"Time!" But the figure of Wessner lay motionless. 

Freckles watched him with regardful eye and saw at last that he wascompletely exhausted. He bent over him, and catching him by the back ofthe neck, jerked him to his knees. Wessner lifted the face of a whippedcur, and fearing further punishment, burst into shivering sobs, whilethe tears washed tiny rivulets through the blood and muck. Frecklesstepped back, glaring at Wessner, but suddenly the scowl of anger andthe ugly disfiguring red faded from the boy's face. He dabbed at a cuton his temple from which issued a tiny crimson stream, and jauntilyshook 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 alook of diabolical mischief. 

He glanced vaguely around him until he saw his club, seized and twirledit as a drum major, stuck it upright in the muck, and marched on tiptoeto Wessner, mechanically, as a puppet worked by a string. Bending over, Freckles reached an arm around Wessner's waist and helped him to hisfeet. 

"Careful, now" he cautioned, "be careful, Freddy; there's danger of youhurting me. "

Drawing a handkerchief from a back pocket, Freckles tenderly wipedWessner's eyes and nose. 

"Come, Freddy, me child, " he admonished Wessner, "it's time little boyswere going home. I've me work to do, and can't be entertaining you anymore today. Come back tomorrow, if you ain't through yet, and we'llrepate the perfarmance. Don't be staring at me so wild like! I would eatyou, but I can't afford it. Me earnings, being honest, come slow, andI've no money to be squanderin' on the pailful of Dyspeptic's Delight itwould be to taking to work you out of my innards!"

Again an awful wrenching seized McLean. Freckles stepped back asWessner, tottering and reeling, as a thoroughly drunken man, came towardthe path, appearing indeed as if wildcats had attacked him. 

The cudgel spun high in air, and catching it with an expertness acquiredby long practice on the line, the boy twirled it a second, shook backhis thick hair bonnily, and stepping into the trail, followed Wessner. Because Freckles was Irish, it was impossible to do it silently, sopresently his clear tenor rang out, though there were bad catches wherehe was hard pressed for breath:

 "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----"

Wessner turned and mumbled: "What you following me for? What are yougoing to do with me?"

Freckles called the Limberlost to witness: "How's that for theingratitude of a beast? And me troubling mesilf to show him off meterritory with the honors of war!"

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 inyour 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 sinseof the mare!" he added hastily. 

Wessner belched a fearful oath, while Freckles laughed merrily. 

"That's a sample of the thanks a generous act's always for getting, " hecontinued. "Here's me neglictin' me work to eschort you out proper, andyou saying such awful words Freddy, " he demanded sternly, "do you wantme to soap out your mouth? You don't seem to be realizing it, but if youwas to buck into Mr. McLean in your prisint state, without me thereto explain matters the chance is he'd cut the liver out of you; and Ishouldn't think you'd be wanting such a fine gintleman as him to seethat it's white!"

Wessner grew ghastly under his grime and broke into a staggering run. 

"And now will you be looking at the manners of him?" questioned Frecklesplaintively. "Going without even a 'thank you, ' right in the face of allthe pains I've taken to make it interesting for him!"

Freckles twirled the club and stood as a soldier at attentionuntil Wessner left the clearing, but it was the last scene of thatperformance. When the boy turned, there was deathly illness on his face, while his legs wavered beneath his weight. He staggered to the case, andopening 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 shiveringwith pain and excitement in spite of himself. He unbuttoned the band ofhis right sleeve, and turning it back, exposed the blue-lined, callousedwhiteness of his maimed arm, now vividly streaked with contusions, whilein a series of circular dots the blood oozed slowly. Here Wessner hadsucceeded in setting his teeth. When Freckles saw what it was he forgavehimself the kick in the pit of Wessner's stomach, and cursed ferventlyand deep. 

"Freckles, Freckles, " said McLean's voice. 

Freckles snatched down his sleeve and arose to his feet. 

"Excuse me, sir, " he said. "You'll surely be belavin' I thought meselfalone. "

McLean pushed him carefully to the seat, and bending over him, opened apocket-case that he carried as regularly as his revolver and watch, forcuts and bruises were of daily occurrence among the gang. 

Taking the hurt arm, he turned back the sleeve and bathed and bound thewounds. He examined Freckles' head and body and convinced himself thatthere was no permanent injury, although the cruelty of the punishmentthe boy had borne set the Boss shuddering. Then he closed thecase, shoved it into his pocket, and sat beside Freckles. All theindescribable beauty of the place was strong around him, but he sawonly the bruised face of the suffering boy, who had hedged for theinformation he wanted as a diplomat, argued as a judge, fought as asheik, and triumphed as a devil. 

When the pain lessened and breath relieved Freckles' pounding heart, hewatched the Boss covertly. How had McLean gotten there and how long hadhe been there? Freckles did not dare ask. At last he arose, and goingto the case, took out his revolver and the wire-mending apparatus andlocked the door. Then he turned to McLean. 

"Have you any orders, sir?" he asked. 

"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 inthe hottest bath your skin will bear and go to bed at once. Now hurry. "

"Mr. McLean, " said Freckles, "it's sorry I am to be telling you, butthe afternoon's walking of the line ain't done. You see, I was justfor getting to me feet to start, and I was on time, when up camea gintleman, and we got into a little heated argument. It's eithersettled, or it's just begun, but between us, I'm that late I haven'tstarted for the afternoon yet. I must be going at once, for there's atree I must find before the day's over. "

"You plucky little idiot, " growled McLean. "You can't walk the line! Idoubt if you can reach Duncan's. Don't you know when you are done up?You go to bed; I'll finish your work. "

"Niver!" protested Freckles. "I was just a little done up for theprisint, 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!"

As he reached for the outfit he pitched forward and his eyes closed. McLean stretched him on the moss and applied restoratives. When Frecklesreturned to consciousness, McLean ran to the cabin to tell Mrs. Duncanto have a hot bath ready, and to bring Nellie. That worthy womanpromptly filled the wash-boiler, starting a roaring fire under it. Shepushed the horse-trough from its base and rolled it to the kitchen. 

By the time McLean came again, leading Nelie and holding Freckles on herback, Mrs. Duncan was ready for business. She and the Boss laid Frecklesin the trough and poured on hot water until he squirmed. They soaked andmassaged him. Then they drew off the hot water and closed his pores withcold. Lastly they stretched him on the floor and chafed, rubbed, andkneaded him until he cried out for mercy. As they rolled him into bed, his eyes dropped shut, but a little later they flared open. 

"Mr. McLean, " he cried, "the tree! Oh, do be looking after the tree!"

McLean bent over him. "Which tree, Freckles?"

"I don't know exact sir; but it's on the east line, and the wire isfastened to it. He bragged that you nailed it yourself, sir. You'll knowit 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!"

Freckles' head rolled over and his eyes dropped shut. McLean toweredabove the lad. His bright hair waved on the pillow. His face wasswollen, and purple with bruises. His left arm, with the hand batteredalmost out of shape, stretched beside him, and the right, with no handat all, lay across a chest that was a mass of purple welts. McLean'smind traveled to the night, almost a year before, when he had engagedFreckles, a stranger. 

The Boss bent, covering the hurt arm with one hand and laying the otherwith a caress on the boy's forehead. Freckles stirred at his touch, andwhispered as softly as the swallows under the eaves: "If you're comingthis way--tomorrow--be pleased to step over--and we'll repate--thechorus softly!"

"Bless the gritty devil, " muttered McLean. 

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, theBoss entered Freckles' study quietly, as if his spirit, keeping there, might be roused, and gazed around with astonished eyes. 

How had the boy conceived it? What a picture he had wrought in livingcolors! He had the heart of a painter. He had the soul of a poet. TheBoss stepped carefully over the velvet carpet to touch the walls ofcrisp verdure with gentle fingers. He stood long beside the flowerbed, and gazed at the banked wall of bright bloom as if he doubted itsreality. 

Where had Freckles ever found, and how had he transplanted such ferns?As McLean turned from them he stopped suddenly. 

He had reached the door of the cathedral. That which Freckles hadattempted would have been patent to anyone. What had been in the heartof the shy, silent boy when he had found that long, dim stretch offorest, decorated its entrance, cleared and smoothed its aisle, andcarpeted its altar? What veriest work of God was in these mighty livingpillars and the arched dome of green! How similar to stained cathedralwindows were the long openings between the trees, filled with rifts ofblue, rays of gold, and the shifting emerald of leaves! Where could befound mosaics to match this aisle paved with living color and glowinglight? Was Freckles a devout Christian, and did he worship here? Or washe an untaught heathen, and down this vista of entrancing loveliness didPan come piping, and dryads, nymphs, and fairies dance for him?

Who can fathom the heart of a boy? McLean had been thinking of Frecklesas a creature of unswerving honesty, courage, and faithfulness. Here wasevidence of a heart aching for beauty, art, companionship, worship. Itwas writ large all over the floor, walls, and furnishing of that littleLimberlost clearing. 

When Duncan came, McLean told him the story of the fight, and theylaughed until they cried. Then they started around the line in search ofthe tree. 

Said Duncan: "Now the boy is in for sore trouble!"

"I hope not, " answered McLean. "You never in all your life saw a curwhipped so completely. He won't come back for the repetition of thechorus. We surely can find the tree. If we can't, Freckles can. I willbring enough of the gang to take it out at once. That will insure peacefor a time, at least, and I am hoping that in a month more the wholegang may be moved here. It soon will be fall, and then, if he will go, Iintend to send Freckles to my mother to be educated. With his quicknessof 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 andseen for yourself. "

"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 seeony born child o' my ain taken from our home. We love the lad, me andSarah. "

Locating the tree was easy, because it was so well identified. Whenthe rumble of the big lumber wagons passing the cabin on the way to theswamp wakened Freckles next morning, he sprang up and was soon followingthem. 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 scoldedhim for coming, yet in his heart triumphed over every new evidence offineness in the boy. 

The tree was a giant maple, and so precious that they almost dug it outby the roots. When it was down, cut in lengths, and loaded, there wasyet an empty wagon. As they were gathering up their tools to go, Duncansaid: "There's a big hollow tree somewhere mighty close here that I'vebeen wanting for a watering-trough for my stock; the one I have is sosmall. The Portland company cut this for elm butts last year, and it'ssix feet diameter and hollow for forty feet. It was a buster! While themen are here and there is an empty wagon, why mightn't I load it on andtak' it up to the barn as we pass?"

McLean said he was very willing, ordered the driver to break line andload the log, detailing men to assist. He told Freckles to ride on asection of the maple with him, but now the boy asked to enter the swampwith Duncan. 

"I don't see why you want to go, " said McLean. "I have no business tolet you out today at all. "

"It's me chickens, " whispered Freckles in distress. "You see, I was justafter finding yesterday, from me new book, how they do be nesting inhollow trees, and there ain't any too many in the swamp. There's just achance that they might be in that one. "

"Go ahead, " said McLean. "That's a different story. If they happen to bethere, why tell Duncan he must give up the tree until they have finishedwith it. "

Then he climbed on a wagon and was driven away. Freckles hurried intothe swamp. He was a little behind, yet he could see the men. Before heovertook them, they had turned from the west road and had entered theswamp toward the east. 

They stopped at the trunk of a monstrous prostrate log. It had been cutthree feet from the ground, over three-fourths of the way through, andhad fallen toward the east, the body of the log still resting on thestump. The underbrush was almost impenetrable, but Duncan plunged in andwith a crowbar began tapping along the trunk to decide how far itwas hollow, so that they would know where to cut. As they waited hisdecision, there came from the mouth of it--on wings--a large black birdthat swept over their heads. 

Freckles danced wildly. "It's me chickens! Oh, it's me chickens!" heshouted. "Oh, Duncan, come quick! You've found the nest of me preciouschickens!"

Duncan hurried to the mouth of the log, but Freckles was before him. Hecrashed through poison-vines and underbrush regardless of any danger, and climbed on the stump. When Duncan came he was shouting like a wildman. 

"It's hatched!" he yelled. "Oh, me big chicken has hatched out me littlechicken, and there's another egg. I can see it plain, and oh, the funnylittle white baby! Oh, Duncan, can you see me little white chicken?"

Duncan could easily see it; so could everyone else. Freckles crept intothe log and tenderly carried the hissing, blinking little bird to thelight in a leaf-lined hat. The men found it sufficiently wonderful tosatisfy even Freckles, who had forgotten he was ever sore or stiff, andcoddled over it with every blarneying term of endearment he knew. 

Duncan gathered his tools. "Deal's off, boys!" he said cheerfully. "Thislog mauna be touched until Freckles' chaukies have finished with it. Wemight as weel gang. Better put it back, Freckles. It's just out, and itmay chill. Ye will probably hae twa the morn. "

Freckles crept into the log and carefully deposited the baby besidethe egg. When he came back, he said: "I made a big mistake not to bebringing 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 thebeautifulest blue--just splattered with big brown splotches, like mebook said, precise. Bet you never saw such a sight as it made on theyellow of the rotten wood beside that funny leathery-faced little whitebaby. "

"Tell you what, Freckles, " said one of the teamsters. "Have you everheard of this Bird Woman who goes all over the country with a camera andmakes pictures? She made some on my brother Jim's place last summer, andJim's so wild about them he quits plowing and goes after her about everynest he finds. He helps her all he can to take them, and then she giveshim 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 picturejust like life. If you help her, she will give you one. It would beuncommon pretty to keep, after your birds are gone. I dunno what theyare. I never see their like before. They must be something rare. Any youfellows ever see a bird like that hereabouts?"

No one ever had. 

"Well, " said the teamster, "failing to get this log lets me off tillnoon, and I'm going to town. I go right past her place. I've a bignotion to stop and tell her. If she drives straight back in the swampon the west road, and turns east at this big sycamore, she can't missfinding the tree, even if Freckles ain't here to show her. Jim saysher work is a credit to the State she lives in, and any man is a measlycreature who isn't willing to help her all he can. My old daddy used tosay that all there was to religion was doing to the other fellow whatyou'd want him to do to you, and if I was making a living taking birdpictures, seems to me I'd be mighty glad for a chance to take one likethat. So I'll just stop and tell her, and by gummy! maybe she will giveme a picture of the little white sucker for my trouble. "

Freckles touched his arm. 

"Will she be rough with it?" he asked. 

"Government land! No!" said the teamster. "She's dead down on anybodythat shoots a bird or tears up a nest. Why, she's half killing herselfin all kinds of places and weather to teach people to love and protectthe birds. She's that plum careful of them that Jim's wife says she hasJim a standin' like a big fool holding an ombrelly over them when theyare young and tender until she gets a focus, whatever that is. Jim saysthere ain't a bird on his place that don't actually seem to like havingher around after she has wheedled them a few days, and the pictures shetakes nobody would ever believe who didn't stand by and see. "

"Will you he sure to tell her to come?" asked Freckles. 

Duncan slept at home that night. He heard Freckles slipping out earlythe next morning, but he was too sleepy to wonder why, until he came todo his morning chores. When he found that none of his stock was at allthirsty, and saw the water-trough brimming, he knew that the boy wastrying to make up to him for the loss of the big trough that he had beenso anxious to have. 

"Bless his fool little hot heart!" said Duncan. "And him so sore it istearing him to move for anything. Nae wonder he has us all loving him!"

Freckles was moving briskly, and his heart was so happy that he forgotall about the bruises. He hurried around the trail, and on his way downthe east side he went to see the chickens. The mother bird was on thenest. He was afraid the other egg might be hatching, so he did notventure 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 themiddle of the afternoon. He would have long hours to work on his flowerbed, improve his study, and learn about his chickens. Lovingly he sethis room in order and watered the flowers and carpet. He had chosen forhis resting-place the coolest spot on the west side, where there wasalmost always a breeze; but today the heat was so intense that itpenetrated even there. 

"I'm mighty glad there's nothing calling me inside!" he said. "There'sno bit of air stirring, and it will just be steaming. Oh, but it'sluck Duncan found the nest before it got so unbearing hot! I might havemissed 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 meetme, won't he be a circus? Wonder if he'll be as graceful a performerafoot as his father and mother?"

The heat became more insistent. Noon came; Freckles ate his dinner andsettled for an hour or two on a bench with a book. 

CHAPTER V

Wherein an Angel Materializes and a Man Worships

Perhaps there was a breath of sound--Freckles never afterward couldremember--but for some reason he lifted his head as the bushes partedand the face of an angel looked between. Saints, nymphs, and fairieshad floated down his cathedral aisle for him many times, with forms andvoices of exquisite beauty. 

Parting the wild roses at the entrance was beauty of which Frecklesnever 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, gazingintently. This was real flesh and blood. It was in every way kin to theLimberlost, for no bird of its branches swung with easier grace thanthis dainty young thing rocked on the bit of morass on which she stood. A sapling beside her was not straighter or rounder than her slenderform. Her soft, waving hair clung around her face from the heat, andcurled over her shoulders. It was all of one piece with the gold of thesun that filtered between the branches. Her eyes were the deepest blueof the iris, her lips the reddest red of the foxfire, while her cheekswere exactly of the same satin as the wild rose petals caressing them. She was smiling at Freckles in perfect confidence, and she cried:

"Oh, I'm so delighted that I've found you!"

The wildly leaping heart of Freckles burst from his body and fell in theblack swamp-muck at her feet with such a thud that he did not understandhow she could avoid hearing. He really felt that if she looked down shewould see. 

Incredulous, he quavered: "An'--an' was you looking for me?"

"I hoped I might find you, " said the Angel. "You see, I didn't do asI was told, and I'm lost. The Bird Woman said I should wait in thecarriage until she came back. She's been gone hours. It's a perfectTurkish bath in there, and I'm all lumpy with mosquito bites. Just whenI thought that I couldn't bear it another minute, along came the biggestPapilio Ajax you ever saw. I knew how pleased she'd be, so I ran afterit. 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 findmy way back to save me. I think I've walked more than an hour. I havebeen mired to my knees. A thorn raked my arm until it is bleeding, andI'm so tired and warm. "

She parted the bushes farther. Freckles saw that her blue cotton frockclung to her, limp with perspiration. It was torn across the breast. Onesleeve hung open from shoulder to elbow. A thorn had torn her arm untilit was covered with blood, and the gnats and mosquitoes were clusteringaround it. Her feet were in lace hose and low shoes. Freckles gasped. Inthe Limberlost in low shoes! He caught an armful of moss from his carpetand buried it in the ooze in front of her for a footing. 

"Come out here so I can see where you are stepping. Quick, for the lifeof you!" he ordered. 

She smiled on him indulgently. 

"Why?" she inquired. 

"Did anybody let you come here and not be telling you of the snakes?"urged Freckles. 

"We met Mr. McLean on the corduroy, and he did say something aboutsnakes, 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'dnothing to do but swelter. "

"Will you be coming out of there?" groaned Freckles. 

She laughed as if it were a fine joke. 

"Maybe if I'd be telling you I killed a rattler curled upon that sameplace 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. 

"What a perfectly delightful little brogue you speak, " she said. "Myfather is Irish, and half should be enough to entitle me to that much. 'Maybe--if I'd--be telling you, '" she imitated, rounding and accentingeach word carefully. 

Freckles was beginning to feel a wildness in his head. He had deridedWessner at that same hour yesterday. Now his own eyes were filling withtears. 

"If you were understanding the danger!" he continued desperately. 

"Oh, I don't think there is much!"

She tilted on the morass. 

"If you killed one snake here, it's probably all there is near; andanyway, the Bird Woman says a rattlesnake is a gentleman and alwaysgives warning before he strikes. I don't hear any rattling. Do you?"

"Would you be knowing it if you did?" asked Freckles, almostimpatiently. 

How the laugh of the young thing rippled!

"'Would I be knowing it?'" she mocked. "You should see the swamps ofMichigan where they dump rattlers from the marl-dredgers three and fourat a time!"

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 thecontract and rattle in time for her to move. The one characteristican Irishman admires in a woman, above all others, is courage. Frecklesworshiped anew. He changed his tactics. 

"I'd be pleased to be receiving you at me front door, " he said, "but asyou have arrived at the back, will you come in and be seated?"

He waved toward a bench. The Angel came instantly. 

"Oh, how lovely and cool!" she cried. 

As she moved across his room, Freckles had difficult work to keep fromfalling on his knees; for they were very weak, while he was hard drivenby an impulse to worship. 

"Did you arrange this?" she asked. 

"Yis, " said Freckles simply. 

"Someone must come with a big canvas and copy each side of it, " shesaid. "I never saw anything so beautiful! How I wish I might remainhere with you! I will, some day, if you will let me; but now, if you canspare the time, will you help me find the carriage? If the Bird Womancomes back and I am gone, she will be almost distracted. "

"Did you come on the west road?" asked Freckles. 

"I think so, " she said. "The man who told the Bird Woman said thatwas the only place the wires were down. We drove away in, and it wasdreadful--over stumps and logs, and we mired to the hubs. I suppose youknow, 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. Myfather 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 begood fun after all. "

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 cantake you around the trail almost to where you were. Then you can sit inthe carriage, and I will go find the Bird Woman. "

"You'll be killed if you do! When she stays this long, it means that shehas a focus on something. You see, when she has a focus, and lies in theweeds and water for hours, and the sun bakes her, and things crawl overher, and then someone comes along and scares her bird away just as shehas it coaxed up--why, she kills them. If I melt, you won't go afterher. She's probably blistered and half eaten up; but she never will quituntil she is satisfied. "

"Then it will be safer to be taking care of you, " suggested Freckles. 

"Now you're talking sense!" said the Angel. 

"May I try to help your arm?" he asked. 

"Have you any idea how it hurts?" she parried. 

"A little, " said Freckles. 

"Well, Mr. McLean said We'd probably find his son here"

"His son!" cried Freckles. 

"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 trustedyou anyway, if I hadn't known a thing about you. Say, your father isrampaging proud of you, isn't he?"

"I don't know, " answered the dazed Freckles. 

"Well, call on me if you want reliable information. He's so proud of youhe is all swelled up like the toad in AEsop's Fables. If you have everhad an arm hurt like this, and can do anything, why, for pity sake, doit!"

She turned back her sleeve, holding toward Freckles an arm of palestcameo, shaped so exquisitely that no sculptor could have chiseled it. 

Freckles unlocked his case, and taking out some cotton cloth, he tore itin 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 bloodand bandaged the ugly, ragged wound. He finished his surgery by lappingthe torn sleeve over the cloth and binding it down with a piece oftwine, with the Angel's help about the knots. 

Freckles worked with trembling fingers and a face tense withearnestness. 

"Is it feeling any better?" he asked. 

"Oh, it's well now!" cried the Angel. "It doesn't hurt at all, anymore. "

"I'm mighty glad, " said Freckles. "But you had best go and be havingyour doctor fix it right; the minute you get home. "

"Oh, bother! A little scratch like that!" jeered the Angel. "My blood isperfectly pure. It will heal in three days. "

"It's cut cruel deep. It might be making a scar, " faltered Freckles, hiseyes on the ground. "'Twould--'twould be an awful pity. A doctor mightknow something to prevent it. "

"Why, I never thought of that!" exclaimed the Angel. 

"I noticed you didn't, " said Freckles softly. "I don't know much aboutit, but it seems as if most girls would. "

The Angel thought intently, while Freckles still knelt beside her. Suddenly she gave herself an impatient little shake, lifted her gloriouseyes full to his, and the smile that swept her sweet, young face was theloveliest thing that Freckles ever had seen. 

"Don't let's bother about it, " she proposed, with the faintest hint ofa confiding gesture toward him. "It won't make a scar. Why, it couldn't, when you have dressed it so nicely. "

The velvety touch of her warm arm was tingling in Freckles' fingertips. Dainty lace and fine white ribbon peeped through her torn dress. Therewere beautiful rings on her fingers. Every article she wore was ofthe finest material and in excellent taste. There was the tremblingLimberlost guard in his coarse clothing, with his cotton rags andhis old pail of swamp water. Freckles was sufficiently accustomed tocontrasts to notice them, and sufficiently fine to be hurt by themalways. 

He lifted his eyes with a shadowy pain in them to hers, and found themof serene, unconscious purity. What she had said was straight from akind, untainted, young heart. She meant every word of it. Freckles' soulsickened. He scarcely knew whether he could muster strength to stand. 

"We must go and hunt for the carriage, " said the Angel, rising. 

In instant alarm for her, Freckles sprang up, grasped the cudgel, andled the way, sharply watching every step. He went as close the log as hefelt that he dared, and with a little searching found the carriage. Hecleared a path for the Angel, and with a sigh of relief saw her enter itsafely. The heat was intense. She pushed the damp hair from her temples. 

"This is a shame!" said Freckles. "You'll never be coming here again. "

"Oh yes I shall!" said the Angel. "The Bird Woman says that these birdsremain over a month in the nest and she would like to make a pictureevery few days for seven or eight weeks, perhaps. "

Freckles barely escaped crying aloud for joy. 

"Then don't you ever be torturing yourself and your horse to be comingin here again, " he said. "I'll show you a way to drive almost to thenest on the east trail, and then you can come around to my room and staywhile the Bird Woman works. It's nearly always cool there, and there'scomfortable seats, and water. "

"Oh! did you have drinking-water there?" she cried. "I was never sothirsty or so hungry in my life, but I thought I wouldn't mention it. "

"And I had not the wit to be seeing!" wailed Freckles. "I can be gettingyou a good drink in no time. "

He turned to the trail. 

"Please wait a minute, " called the Angel. "What's your name? I want tothink about you while you are gone. " Freckles lifted his face with thebrown rift across it and smiled quizzically. 

"Freckles?" she guessed, with a peal of laughter. "And mine is----"

"I'm knowing yours, " interrupted Freckles. 

"I don't believe you do. What is it?" asked the girl. 

"You won't be getting angry?"

"Not until I've had the water, at least. "

It was Freckles' turn to laugh. He whipped off his big, floppy strawhat, stood uncovered before her, and said, in the sweetest of all thesweet tones of his voice: "There's nothing you could be but the SwampAngel. "

The girl laughed happily. 

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. Hecarried it in the crook of his right arm, and a basket filled with breadand butter, cold meat, apple pie, and pickles, in his left hand. 

"Pickles are kind o' cooling, " said Mrs. Duncan. 

Then Freckles ran again. 

The Angel was on her knees, reaching for the bucket, as he came up. 

"Be drinking slow, " he cautioned her. 

"Oh!" she cried, with a long breath of satisfaction. "It's so good! Youare more than kind to bring it!"

Freckles stood blinking in the dazzling glory of her smile until hescarcely could see to lift the basket. 

"Mercy!" she exclaimed. "I think I had better be naming you the 'Angel. 'My Guardian Angel. "

"Yis, " said Freckles. "I look the character every day--but today mostemphatic!"

"Angels don't go by looks, " laughed the girl. "Your father told us youhad been scrapping. But he told us why. I'd gladly wear all your cutsand bruises if I could do anything that would make my father look aspeacocky as yours did. He strutted about proper. I never saw anyone lookprouder. "

"Did he say he was proud of me?" marveled Freckles. 

"He didn't need to, " answered the Angel. "He was radiating pride fromevery pore. Now, have you brought me your dinner?"

"I had my dinner two hours ago, " answered Freckles. 

"Honest Injun?" bantered the Angel. 

"Honest! I brought that on purpose for you. "

"Well, if you knew how hungry I am, you would know how thankful I am, tothe dot, " said the Angel. 

"Then you be eating, " cried the happy Freckles. 

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 shecarefully put back into the basket. The remainder she ate. AgainFreckles found her of the swamp, for though she was almost ravenous, she managed her food as gracefully as his little yellow fellow, and herevery movement was easy and charming. As he watched her with famishedeyes, Freckles told her of his birds, flowers, and books, and neverrealized what he was doing. 

He led the horse to a deep pool that he knew of, and the torturedcreature drank greedily, and lovingly rubbed him with its nose as hewiped down its welted body with grass. Suddenly the Angel cried: "Therecomes the Bird Woman!"

Freckles had intended leaving before she came, but now he was gladindeed to be there, for a warmer, more worn, and worse bitten creaturehe never had seen. She was staggering under a load of cameras andparaphernalia. Freckles ran to her aid. He took all he could carry ofher load, stowed it in the back of the carriage, and helped her in. The Angel gave her water, knelt and unfastened the leggings, bathed herface, and offered the lunch. 

Freckles brought the horse. He was not sure about the harness, but theAngel knew, and soon they left the swamp. Then he showed them how toreach the chicken tree from the outside, indicated a cooler place forthe horse, and told them how, the next time they came, the Angel couldfind his room while she waited. 

The Bird Woman finished her lunch, and lay back, almost too tired tospeak. 

"Were you for getting Little Chicken's picture?" Freckles asked. 

"Finely!" she answered. "He posed splendidly. But I couldn't do anythingwith his mother. She will require coaxing. "

"The Lord be praised!" muttered Freckles under his breath. 

The Bird Woman began to feel better. 

"Why do you call the baby vulture 'Little Chicken'?" she asked, leaningtoward Freckles in an interested manner. 

"'Twas Duncan began it, " said Freckles. "You see, through the fiercecold of winter the birds of the swamp were almost starving. It ismighty lonely here, and they were all the company I was having. I got tocarrying scraps and grain down to them. Duncan was that ginerous he wasgiving me of his wheat and corn from his chickens' feed, and he calledthe birds me swamp chickens. Then when these big black fellows came, Mr. McLean said they were our nearest kind to some in the old worldthat they called 'Pharaoh's Chickens, ' and he called mine 'Freckles'Chickens. '"

"Good enough!" cried the Bird Woman, her splotched purple face lightingwith interest. "You must shoot something for them occasionally, and I'llbring more food when I come. If you will help me keep them until Iget my series, I'll give you a copy of each study I make, mounted in abook. "

Freckles drew a deep breath. 

"I'll be doing me very best, " he promised, and from the deeps he meantit. 

"I wonder if that other egg is going to hatch?" mused the Bird Woman. "Iam afraid not. It should have pipped today. Isn't it a beauty! I neverbefore saw either an egg or the young. They are rare this far north. "

"So Mr. McLean said, " answered Freckles. 

Before they drove away, the Bird Woman thanked him for his kindness tothe Angel and to her. She gave him her hand at parting, and Frecklesjoyfully realized that this was going to be another person for him tolove. He could not remember, after they had driven away, that they evenhad noticed his missing hand, and for the first time in his life he hadforgotten it. 

When the Bird Woman and the Angel were on the home road, she told ofthe little corner of paradise into which she had strayed and of her newname. The Bird Woman looked at the girl and guessed its appropriateness. 

"Did you know Mr. McLean had a son?" asked the Angel. "Isn't the littleaccent he has, and the way he twists a sentence, too dear? And isn't ittoo old-fashioned and funny to hear him call his father 'mister'?"

"It sounds too good to be true, " said the Bird Woman, answering thelast question first. "I am so tired of these present-day young men whopatronizingly call their fathers 'Dad, ' 'Governor, ' 'Old Man' and 'OldChap, ' that the boy's attitude of respect and deference appealed to meas being fine as silk. There must be something rare about that youngman. "

She did not find it necessary to tell the Angel that for several yearsshe had known the man who so proudly proclaimed himself Freckles' fatherto be a bachelor and a Scotchman. The Bird Woman had a fine way ofattending strictly to her own business. 

Freckles turned to the trail, but he stopped at every wild brier tostudy the pink satin of the petals. She was not of his world, andbetter than any other he knew it; but she might be his Angel, and he wasdreaming of naught but blind, silent worship. He finished the happiestday of his life, and that night he returned to the swamp as if drawn byinvisible force. That Wessner would try for his revenge, he knew. Thathe would be abetted by Black Jack was almost certain, but fear hadfled the happy heart of Freckles. He had kept his trust. He had won therespect of the Boss. No one ever could wipe from his heart the flood ofholy adoration that had welled with the coming of his Angel. He would dohis best, and trust for strength to meet the dark day of reckoning thathe knew would come sooner or later. He swung round the trail, brisklytapping the wire, and singing in a voice that scarcely could have beensurpassed for sweetness. 

At the edge of the clearing he came into the bright moonlight and theresat McLean on his mare. Freckles hurried to him. 

"Is there trouble?" he inquired anxiously. 

"That's what I wanted to ask you, " said the Boss. "I stopped at thecabin to see you a minute, before I turned in, and they said you hadcome down here. You must not do it, Freckles. The swamp is none toohealthful at any time, and at night it is rank poison. "

Freckles stood combing his fingers through Nellie's mane, while thedainty creature was twisting her head for his caresses. He pushed backhis hat and looked into McLean's face. "It's come to the 'sleep with oneeye open, ' sir. I'm not looking for anything to be happening for a weekor two, but it's bound to come, and soon. If I'm to keep me trust asI've promised you and meself, I've to live here mostly until the gangcomes. You must be knowing that, sir. "

"I'm afraid it's true, Freckles, " said McLean. "And I've decided todouble the guard until we come. It will be only a few weeks, now; andI'm so anxious for you that you must not be left alone further. Ifanything should happen to you, Freckles, it would spoil one of the verydearest plans of my life. "

Freckles heard with dismay the proposition to place a second guard. 

"Oh! no, no, Mr. McLean, " he cried. "Not for the world! I wouldn't behaving a stranger around, scaring me birds and tramping up me study, anddisturbing all me ways, for any money! I am all the guard you need! Iwill be faithful! I will turn over the lease with no tree missing--onme life, I will! Oh, don't be sending another man to set them sayingI turned coward and asked for help. It will just kill the honor of meheart if you do it. The only thing I want is another gun. If it raillycomes to trouble, six cartridges ain't many, and you know I am slow-likeabout reloading. " McLean reached into his hip pocket and handed ashining big revolver to Freckles, who slipped it beside the one alreadyin his belt. 

Then the Boss sat brooding. 

"Freckles, " he said at last, "we never know the timber of a man's souluntil 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 youshall have your own way these few weeks yet. Then, if you will go, Iintend to take you to the city and educate you, and you are to be myson, my lad--my own son!"

Freckles twisted his finger in Nellie's mane to steady himself. 

"But why should you be doing that, sir?" he faltered. 

McLean slid his arm around the boy's shoulder and gathered him close. 

"Because I love you, Freckles, " he said simply. 

Freckles lifted a white face. "My God, sir!" he whispered. "Oh, my God!"

McLean tightened his clasp a second longer, then he rode down the trail. 

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 brushedhis face; and still Freckles gazed upward, trying to fathom these thingsthat had come to him. There was no help from the sky. It seemed faraway, cold, and blue. The earth, where flowers blossomed, angels walked, and love could be found, was better. But to One, above, he must makeacknowledgment for these miracles. His lips moved and he began talkingsoftly. 

"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 reallyfall from an angel, its falling brought an Angel, and if it's in thegreat heart of you to exercise yourself any further about me, oh, doplease to be taking good care of her!"

CHAPTER VI

Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight

The following morning Freckles, inexpressibly happy, circled theLimberlost. He kept snatches of song ringing, as well as the wires. Hisheart was so full that tears of joy glistened in his eyes. He rigorouslystrove to divide his thought evenly between McLean and the Angel. He realized to the fullest the debt he already owed the Boss and themagnitude of last night's declaration and promises. He was hourlyplanning to deliver his trust and then enter with equal zeal on whatevertask his beloved Boss saw fit to set him next. He wanted to be ready tomeet every device that Wessner and Black Jack could think of to outwithim. He recognized their double leverage, for if they succeeded infelling even one tree McLean became liable for his wager. 

Freckles' brow wrinkled in his effort to think deeply and strongly, butfrom every swaying wild rose the Angel beckoned to him. When he crossedSleepy Snake Creek and the goldfinch, waiting as ever, challenged: "SEEME?" Freckles saw the dainty swaying grace of the Angel instead. Whatis a man to do with an Angel who dismembers herself and scatters over awhole swamp, thrusting a vivid reminder upon him at every turn?

Freckles counted the days. This first one he could do little but testhis wires, sing broken snatches, and dream; but before the week wouldbring her again he could do many things. He would carry all his booksto the swamp to show to her. He would complete his flower bed, arrangeevery detail he had planned for his room, and make of it a bower fairiesmight 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 nextcoming, so that if the Bird Woman happened to be late, the Angel mightnot suffer from thirst and hunger. He would tell her to bring heavyleather 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. 

On the line he talked of her incessantly. 

"You needn't be thinking, " he said to the goldfinch, "that because I'mcoming down this line alone day after day, it's always to be so. Some ofthese 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 rightspunky: 'SEE ME?' I'll be saying 'See you? Oh, Lord! See her!' You'lllook, and there she'll stand. The sunshine won't look gold any more, orthe roses pink, or the sky blue, because she'll be the pinkest, bluest, goldest thing of all. You'll be yelling yourself hoarse with thejealousy of her. The sawbird will stretch his neck out of joint, andshe'll turn the heads of all the flowers. Wherever she goes, I cango back afterward and see the things she's seen, walk the path she'swalked, hear the grasses whispering over all she's said; and if there'sa place too swampy for her bits of feet; Holy Mother! Maybe--maybe she'dbe putting the beautiful arms of her around me neck and letting me carryher over!"

Freckles shivered as with a chill. He sent the cudgel whirling skyward, dexterously caught it, and set it spinning. 

"You damned presumptuous fool!" he cried. "The thing for you to bethinking of would be to stretch in the muck for the feet of her to bewalking over, and then you could hold yourself holy to be even of thatservice to her. 

"Maybe she'll be wanting the cup me blue-and-brown chickens raised theirbabies in. Perhaps she'd like to stop at the pool and see me bullfrogthat had the goodness to take on human speech to show me the way out ofme trouble. If there's any feathers falling that day, why, it's from thewings of me chickens--it's sure to be, for the only Angel outside thegates will be walking this timberline, and every step of the way I'll beholding me breath and praying that she don't unfold wings and sail awaybefore the hungry eyes of me. "

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 themoff, every one bringing her closer, he grew happier in the prospect ofher coming. He managed daily to leave some offering at the big elm logfor his black chickens. He slipped under the line at every passing, andwent to make sure that nothing was molesting them. Though it was a longtrip, he paid them several extra visits a day for fear a snake, hawk, orfox might have found the baby. For now his chickens not only representedall his former interest in them, but they furnished the inducement thatwas bringing his Angel. 

Possibly he could find other subjects that the Bird Woman wanted. Theteamster had said that his brother went after her every time he founda nest. He never had counted the nests that he knew of, and it might bethat among all the birds of the swamp some would be rare to her. 

The feathered folk of the Limberlost were practically undisturbed saveby their natural enemies. It was very probable that among his chickensothers as odd as the big black ones could be found. If she wantedpictures of half-grown birds, he could pick up fifty in one morning'strip around the line, for he had fed, handled, and made friends withthem ever since their eyes opened. 

He had gathered bugs and worms all spring as he noticed them on thegrass and bushes, and dropped them into the first little open mouth hehad found. The babies gladly had accepted this queer tri-parent additionto their natural providers. 

When the week had passed, Freckles had his room crisp and glowingwith fresh living things that represented every color of the swamp. Hecarried bark and filled all the muckiest places of the trail. 

It was middle July. The heat of the past few days had dried the wateraround and through the Limberlost, so that it was possible to cross iton foot in almost any direction--if one had an idea of direction and didnot become completely lost in its rank tangle of vegetation and bushes. The brighter-hued flowers were opening. The trumpet-creepers wereflaunting their gorgeous horns of red and gold sweetness from the topsof lordly oak and elm, and below entire pools were pink-sheeted inmallow bloom. 

The heat was doing one other thing that was bound to make Freckles, as agood Irishman, shiver. As the swale dried, its inhabitants were seekingthe cooler depths of the swamp. They liked neither the heat nor leavingthe field mice, moles, and young rabbits of their chosen location. Hesaw them crossing the trail every day as the heat grew intense. Therattlers were sadly forgetting their manners, for they struck on noprovocation whatever, and did not even remember to rattle afterward. Daily Freckles was compelled to drive big black snakes and blue racersfrom the nests of his chickens. Often the terrified squalls of theparent birds would reach him far down the line and he would run torescue the babies. 

He saw the Angel when the carriage turned from the corduroy into theclearing. They stopped at the west entrance to the swamp, waiting forhim to precede them down the trail, as he had told them it was safestfor the horse that he should do. They followed the east line to a pointopposite the big chickens' tree, and Freckles carried in the cameras andshowed the Bird Woman a path he had cleared to the log. He explained toher the effect the heat was having on the snakes, and creeping back toLittle Chicken, brought him to the light. As she worked at setting upher camera, he told her of the birds of the line, while she stared athim, wide-eyed and incredulous. 

They arranged that Freckles should drive the carriage into the eastentrance in the shade and then take the horse toward the north to abetter place he knew. Then he was to entertain the Angel at his study oron the line until the Bird Woman finished her work and came to them. 

"This will take only a little time, " she said. "I know where to set thecamera now, and Little Chicken is big enough to be good and too smallto run away or to act very ugly, so I will be coming soon to see aboutthose nests. I have ten plates along, and I surely won't use morethan two on him; so perhaps I can get some nests or young birds thismorning. "

Freckles almost flew, for his dream had come true so soon. He waswalking the timber-line and the Angel was following him. He asked to beexcused for going first, because he wanted to be sure the trail was safefor her. She laughed at his fears, telling him that it was the politething for him to do, anyway. 

"Oh!" said Freckles, "so you was after knowing that? Well, I didn'ts'pose you did, and I was afraid you'd think me wanting in respect to bepreceding you!"

The astonished Angel looked at him, caught the irrepressible gleam ofIrish fun in his eyes, so they stood and laughed together. 

Freckles did not realize how he was talking that morning. He showed hermany of the beautiful nests and eggs of the line. She could identify anumber of them, but of some she was ignorant, so they made notes of thenumber 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. 

At his room, when Freckles had lifted the overhanging bushes and steppedback for her to enter, his heart was all out of time and place. Thestudy was vastly more beautiful than a week previous. The Angel drew adeep breath and stood gazing first at one side, then at another, then far down the cathedral aisle. "It's just fairyland!" she criedecstatically. Then she turned and stared at Freckles as she had at hishandiwork. 

"What are you planning to be?" she asked wonderingly. 

"Whatever Mr. McLean wants me to, " he replied. 

"What do you do most?" she asked. 

"Watch me lines. "

"I don't mean work!"

"Oh, in me spare time I keep me room and study in me books. "

"Do you work on the room or the books most?"

"On the room only what it takes to keep it up, and the rest of the timeon me books. "

The Angel studied him closely. "Well, maybe you are going to be a greatscholar, " she said, "but you don't look it. Your face isn't right forthat, but it's got something big in it--something really great. Imust find out what it is and then you must work on it. Your father isexpecting you to do something. One can tell by the way he talks. Youshould begin right away. You've wasted too much time already. "

Poor Freckles hung his head. He never had wasted an hour in his life. There never had been one that was his to waste. 

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 yourappearance. It's this I mean: there is something fine, strong, and fullof power in your face. There is something you are to do in thisworld, and no matter how you work at all these other things, or howsuccessfully you do them, it is all wasted until you find the ONE THINGthat 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 wouldyou do?" persisted the Angel. 

"I'd go to Chicago and sing in the First Episcopal choir, " answeredFreckles promptly. 

The Angel dropped on a seat--the hat she had removed and held in herfingers rolled to her feet. "There!" she exclaimed vehemently. "You cansee what I'm going to be. Nothing! Absolutely nothing! You can sing? Ofcourse you can sing! It is written all over you. "

"Anyone with half wit could have seen he could sing, without having tobe told, " she thought. "It's in the slenderness of his fingers and hisquick nervous touch. It is in the brightness of his hair, the fire ofhis 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 speakit's the sweetest sound I ever heard from the throat of a mortal. "

"Will you do something for me?" she asked. 

"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. "

"Good! That's business!" said the Angel. "You go over there and standbefore that hedge and sing something. Just anything you think of first. "

Freckles faced the Angel from his banked wall of brown, blue, andcrimson, with its background of solid green, and lifting his face tothe sky, he sang the first thing that came into his mind. It was achildren's song that he had led for the little folks at the Home manytimes, recalled to his mind by the Angel's exclamation:

 "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----"

No song could have given the intense sweetness and rollicking qualityof Freckles' voice better scope. He forgot everything but pride in hiswork. He was singing the chorus, and the Angel was shivering in ecstasy, when clip! clip! came the sharply beating feet of a swiftly ridden horsedown the trail from the north. They both sprang toward the entrance. 

"Freckles! Freckles!" called the voice of the Bird Woman. 

They were at the trail on the instant. 

"Both those revolvers loaded?" she asked. 

"Yes, " said Freckles. 

"Is there a way you can cut across the swamp and reach the chicken treein a few minutes, and with little noise?"

"Yes. "

"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. Ifinished Little Chicken in no time and put him back. His mother came soclose, I felt sure she would enter the log. The light was fine, so I setand focused the camera and covered it with branches, attached the longhose, 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 almostcould have reached out and touched them. They carried a big saw on theirshoulders. They said they could work until near noon, and then they mustlay off until you passed and then try to load and get out at night. Theywent on--not entirely from sight--and began cutting a tree. Mr. McLeantold me the other day what would probably happen here, and if they fellthat tree he loses his wager on you. Keep to the east and north andhustle. We'll meet you at the carriage. I always am armed. Give Angelone of your revolvers, and you keep the other. We will separate andcreep toward them from different sides and give them a fusillade thatwill send them flying. You hurry, now!"

She lifted the reins and started briskly down the trail. The Angel, hatless and with sparkling eyes, was clinging around her waist. 

Freckles wheeled and ran. He worked his way with much care, dodginglimbs and bushes with noiseless tread, and cutting as closely wherehe thought the men were as he felt that he dared if he were to remainunseen. As he ran he tried to think. It was Wessner, burning for hisrevenge, 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 havingtwo women on his hands who undoubtedly would have to be taken care of inspite of the Bird Woman's offer to help him. His heart was jarring as itnever had before with running. He must follow the Bird Woman's plan andmeet them at the carriage, but if they really did intend to try to helphim, he must not allow it. Allow the Angel to try to handle a revolverin his defence? Never! Not for all the trees in the Limberlost! Shemight shoot herself. She might forget to watch sharply and run acrossa snake that was not particularly well behaved that morning. Frecklespermitted himself a grim smile as he went speeding on. 

When he reached the carriage, the Bird Woman and the Angel had the horsehitched, the outfit packed, and were calmly waiting. The Bird Woman helda revolver in her hand. She wore dark clothing. They had pinned a bigfocusing cloth over the front of the Angel's light dress. 

"Give Angel one of your revolvers, quick!" said the Bird Woman. "We willcreep up until we are in fair range. The underbrush is so thick and theyare 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 hitthem. We'll go close enough to the cowards to make it interesting, andkeep it up until we have them going. "

Freckles protested. 

The Bird Woman reached over, and, taking the smaller revolver from hisbelt, handed it to the Angel. "Keep your nerve steady, dear; watch whereyou step, and shoot high, " she said. "Go straight at them from where youare. Wait until you hear Freckles' first shot, then follow me as closelyas you can, to let them know that we outnumber them. If you want to saveMcLean's wager on you, now you go!" she commanded Freckles, who, with anagonized glance at the Angel, ran toward the east. 

The Bird Woman chose the middle distance, and for a last time cautionedthe Angel as she moved away to lie down and shoot high. 

Through the underbrush the Bird Woman crept even more closely than shehad intended, found a clear range, and waited for Freckles' shot. Therewas one long minute of sickening suspense. The men straightened forbreath. Work was difficult with a handsaw in the heat of the swamp. Asthey rested, the big dark fellow took a bottle from his pocket and beganoiling the saw. 

"We got to keep mighty quiet, " he said, "and wait to fell it until thatdamned guard has gone to his dinner. "

Again they bent to their work. Freckles' revolver spat fire. Leadspanged on steel. The saw-handle flew from Wessner's hand and he reeledfrom the jar of the shock. Black Jack straightened, uttering a fearfuloath. The hat sailed from his head from the far northeast. The Angelhad not waited for the Bird Woman, and her shot scarcely could have beencalled high. At almost the same instant the third shot whistled from theeast. Black Jack sprang into the air with a yell of complete panic, forit ripped a heel from his boot. Freckles emptied his second chamber, andthe earth spattered over Wessner. Shots poured in rapidly. Withouteven reaching for a weapon, both men ran toward the east road in greatleaping bounds, while leaden slugs sung and hissed around them in deadlyearnest. 

Freckles was trimming his corners as closely as he dared, but if theAngel did not really intend to hit, she was taking risks in a scandalousmanner. 

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!"

As he had hoped, Jack and Wessner instantly plunged into the swale. Aspattering of lead followed them. They crossed the swale, running low, with not even one backward glance, and entered the woods beyond thecorduroy. 

Then the little party gathered at the tree. 

"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. 

"Now we must leave here without being seen, " said the Bird Woman to theAngel. "It won't do for me to make enemies of these men, for I am likelyto meet them while at work any day. "

"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 acornfield. I will take down the fence and let you into that. Follow thefurrows 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 woodseast of it. Then take that road and follow east until you reach thepike. You will come out on your way back to town, and two miles northof anywhere they are likely to be. Don't for your lives ever let it outthat you did this, " he earnestly cautioned, "for it's black enemies youwould be making. "

Freckles clipped the wires and they drove through. The Angel leanedfrom the carriage and held out his revolver. Freckles looked at her insurprise. Her eyes were black, while her face was a deeper rose thanusual. He felt that his own was white. 

"Did I shoot high enough?" she asked sweetly. "I really forgot aboutlying down. "

Freckles winced. Did the child know how close she had gone? Surely shecould not! Or was it possible that she had the nerve and skill to firelike that purposely?

"I will send the first reliable man I meet for McLean, " said the BirdWoman, 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, Iwould go myself; but I will promise you that you will have help in alittle over two hours. You keep well hidden. They must think some of thegang 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, itprobably would be for their saw. " She laughed as at a fine joke. 

CHAPTER VII

Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail

Round-eyed, Freckles watched the Bird Woman and the Angel drive away. After they were from sight and he was safely hidden among the branchesof a small tree, he remembered that he neither had thanked them nor saidgood-bye. Considering what they had been through, they never would comeagain. His heart sank until he had palpitation in his wading-boots. 

Stretching the length of the limb, he thought deeply, though he was notthinking of Black Jack or Wessner. Would the Bird Woman and the Angelcome again? No other woman whom he ever had known would. But did theyresemble any other women he ever had known? He thought of the BirdWoman's unruffled face and the Angel's revolver practice, and presentlyhe was not so sure that they would not return. 

What were the people in the big world like? His knowledge was so verylimited. There had been people at the Home, who exchanged a stilted, perfunctory kindness for their salaries. The visitors who called onreceiving days he had divided into three classes: the psalm-singingkind, who came with a tear in the eye and hypocrisy in every featureof their faces; the kind who dressed in silks and jewels, and handed tothose poor little mother-hungry souls worn toys that their childrenno longer cared for, in exactly the same spirit in which they pitchedbiscuits to the monkeys at the zoo, and for the same reason--to see howthey would take them and be amused by what they would do; and the thirdclass, whom he considered real people. They made him feel they caredthat he was there, and that they would have been glad to see himelsewhere. 

Now here was another class, that had all they needed of the world's bestand were engaged in doing work that counted. They had things worth whileto be proud of; and they had met him as a son and brother. With them hecould, for the only time in his life, forget the lost hand that everyday tortured him with a new pang. What kind of people were they andwhere did they belong among the classes he knew? He failed to decide, because he never had known others similar to them; but how he lovedthem!

In the world where he was going soon, were the majority like them, orwere they of the hypocrite and bun-throwing classes?

He had forgotten the excitement of the morning and the passing of timewhen distant voices aroused him, and he gently lifted his head. Nearerand nearer they came, and as the heavy wagons rumbled down the easttrail he could hear them plainly. The gang were shouting themselveshoarse for the Limberlost guard. Freckles did not feel that he deservedit. He would have given much to be able to go to the men and explain, but to McLean only could he tell his story. 

At the sight of Freckles the men threw up their hats and cheered. McLeanshook hands with him warmly, but big Duncan gathered him into his armsand hugged him as a bear and choked over a few words of praise. The gangdrove in and finished felling the tree. McLean was angry beyond measureat this attempt on his property, for in their haste to fell the treethe thieves had cut too high and wasted a foot and a half of valuabletimber. 

When the last wagon rolled away, McLean sat on the stump and Frecklestold the story he was aching to tell. The Boss scarcely could believehis senses. Also, he was much disappointed. 

"I have been almost praying all the way over, Freckles, " he said, "thatyou would have some evidence by which we could arrest those fellows andget them out of our way, but this will never do. We can't mix up thosewomen 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 beexpected to testify against them. "

"No, indeed; nor the Angel, either, sir, " said Freckles. 

"The Angel?" queried the astonished McLean. 

The Boss listened in silence while Freckles told of the coming andchristening of the Angel. 

"I know her father well, " said McLean at last, "and I have often seenher. You are right; she is a beautiful young girl, and she appears to beutterly free from the least particle of false pride or foolishness. I donot understand why her father risks such a jewel in this place. "

"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, andof course, she thinks she can trust mankind as well. The man isn't madewho wouldn't lay down the life of him for her. She doesn't need anycare. Her face and the pretty ways of her are all the protection shewould need in a band of howling savages. "

"Did you say she handled one of the revolvers?" asked McLean. 

"She scared all the breath out of me body, " admitted Freckles. "Seemsthat her father has taught her to shoot. The Bird Woman told herdistinctly to lie low and blaze away high, just to help scare them. Thespunky little thing followed them right out into the west road, spittinglead like hail, and clipping all around the heads and heels of them; andI'm damned, sir, if I believe she'd cared a rap if she'd hit. I neversaw much shooting, but if that wasn't the nearest to miss I ever want tosee! Scared the life near out of me body with the fear that she'd dropone of them. As long as I'd no one to help me but a couple of women thatdidn't dare be mixed up in it, all I could do was to let them get away. "

"Now, will they come back?" asked McLean. 

"Of course!" said Freckles. "They're not going to be taking that. Youcould stake your life on it, they'll be coming back. At least, BlackJack will. Wessner may not have the pluck, unless he is half drunk. Thenhe'd be a terror. And the next time--" Freckles hesitated. 

"What?"

"It will be a question of who shoots first and straightest. "

"Then the only thing for me to do is to double the guard and bring thegang here the first minute possible. As soon as I feel that we have therarest 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 tobe. It won't do to leave you here longer alone. Jack has been shootingtwenty years to your one, and it stands to reason that you are no matchfor him. Who of the gang would you like best to have with you?"

"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, andthen make tracks for you. I'll need to come like lightning, and Duncanhas no extra horse, so I'm thinking you'd best get me one--or perhaps awheel would be better. I used to do extra work for the Home doctor, andhe would let me take his bicycle to ride around the place. And at timesthe head nurse would loan me his for an hour. A wheel would cost lessand be faster than a horse, and would take less care. I believe, if youare going to town soon, you had best pick up any kind of an old oneat some second-hand store, for if I'm ever called to use it in a hurrythere won't be the handlebars left after crossing the corduroy. "

"Yes, " said McLean; "and if you didn't have a first-class wheel, younever could cross the corduroy on it at all. "

As they walked to the cabin, McLean insisted on another guard, butFreckles was stubbornly set on fighting his battle alone. He made onemental condition. If the Bird Woman was going to give up the LittleChicken series, he would yield to the second guard, solely for the sakeof her work and the presence of the Angel in the Limberlost. He did notpropose to have a second man unless it were absolutely necessary, forhe 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 andmeddle with his arrangements, frighten his pets, pull his flowers, and interrupt him when he wanted to study, so annoyed him that he wasblinded to his real need for help. 

With McLean it was a case of letting his sober, better judgment beoverridden by the boy he was growing so to love that he could not endureto oppose him, and to have Freckles keep his trust and win alone meantmore than any money the Boss might lose. 

The following morning McLean brought the wheel, and Freckles took it tothe trail to test it. It was new, chainless, with as little as possibleto catch in hurried riding, and in every way the best of its kind. Freckles went skimming around the trail on it on a preliminary tripbefore he locked it in his case and started his minute examination ofhis line on foot. He glanced around his room as he left it, and thenstood staring. 

On the moss before his prettiest seat lay the Angel's hat. In theexcitement of yesterday all of them had forgotten it. He went and pickedit up, oh! so carefully, gazing at it with hungry eyes, but touching itonly to carry it to his case, where he hung it on the shining handlebarof the new wheel and locked it among his treasures. Then he went to thetrail, with a new expression on his face and a strange throbbing in hisheart. He was not in the least afraid of anything that morning. He felthe was the veriest Daniel, but all his lions seemed weak and harmless. 

What Black Jack's next move would be he could not imagine, but thatthere would be a move of some kind was certain. The big bully was not aman to give up his purpose, or to have the hat swept from his headwith a bullet and bear it meekly. Moreover, Wessner would cling to hisrevenge with a Dutchman's singleness of mind. 

Freckles tried to think connectedly, but there were too many places onthe trail where the Angel's footprints were vet visible. She had steppedin one mucky spot and left a sharp impression. The afternoon sun hadbaked it hard, and the horses' hoofs had not obliterated any part of it, as they had in so many places. Freckles stood fascinated, gazing atit. He measured it lovingly with his eye. He would not have ventured acaress 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 andwanted it. He stooped under the wires and entered the swamp. With alittle searching, he found a big piece of thick bark loose on a log andcarefully peeling it, carried it out and covered the print so that thefirst rain would not obliterate it. 

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 ontrail again. It was like flying, for the path was worn smooth with hisfeet and baked hard with the sun almost all the way. When he came to thebark, he veered far to one side and smiled at it in passing. Suddenlyhe was off the wheel, kneeling beside it. He removed his hat, carefullylifted the bark, and gazed lovingly at the imprint. 

"I wonder what she was going to say of me voice, " he whispered. "Shenever got it said, but from the face of her, I believe she was liking itfairly well. Perhaps she was going to say that singing was the big thingI was to be doing. That's what they all thought at the Home. Well, ifit is, I'll just shut me eyes, think of me little room, the face of herwatching, 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!"

With this dire threat, Freckles knelt, as at a wayside spring, anddeliberately laid his lips on the footprint. Then he arose, appearing asif he had been drinking at the fountain of gladness. 

CHAPTER VIII

Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by theEncounter

"Weel, I be drawed on!" exclaimed Mrs. Duncan. 

Freckles stood before her, holding the Angel's hat. 

"I've been thinking this long time that ye or Duncan would see thatsunbonnets werena braw enough for a woman of my standing, and ye're aguid laddie to bring me this beautiful hat. "

She turned it around, examining the weave of the straw and the foliagetrimmings, passing her rough fingers over the satin ties delightedly. Asshe held it up, admiring it, Freckles' astonished eyes saw a new side ofSarah Duncan. She was jesting, but under the jest the fact loomed strongthat, though poor, overworked, and with none but God-given refinement, there was something in her soul crying after that bit of femininefinery, and it made his heart ache for her. He resolved that when hereached the city he would send her a hat, if it took fifty dollars to doit. 

She lingeringly handed it back to him. 

"It's unco guid of ye to think of me, " she said lightly, "but I maunquestion your taste a wee. D'ye no think ye had best return this and geta woman with half her hair gray a little plainer headdress? Seems likethat's far ower gay for me. I'm no' saying that it's no' exactly whatI'd like to hae, but I mauna mak mysel' ridiculous. Ye'd best give thisto somebody young and pretty, say about sixteen. Where did ye come byit, Freckles? If there's anything been dropping lately, ye hae forgottento mention it. "

"Do you see anything heavenly about that hat?" queried Freckles, holdingit up. 

The morning breeze waved the ribbons gracefully, binding one aroundFreckles' sleeve and the other across his chest, where they caught andclung as if magnetized. 

"Yes, " said Sarah Duncan. "It's verra plain and simple, but it juistmakes ye feel that it's all of the finest stuff. It's exactly what I'dcall a heavenly hat. "

"Sure, " said Freckles, "for it's belonging to an Angel!"

Then he told her about the hat and asked her what he should do with it. 

"Take it to her, of course!" said Sarah Duncan. "Like it's the only aneshe has and she may need it badly. "

Freckles smiled. He had a clear idea about the hat being the only onethe Angel had. However, there was a thing he felt he should do andwanted to do, but he was not sure. 

"You think I might be taking it home?" he said. 

"Of course ye must, " said Mrs. Duncan. "And without another hour'sdelay. It's been here two days noo, and she may want it, and be too busyor afraid to come. "

"But how can I take it?" asked Freckles. 

"Gang spinning on your wheel. Ye can do it easy in an hour. "

"But in that hour, what if----?"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Sarah Duncan. "Ye've watched that timber-lineuntil ye're grown fast to it, lad. Give me your boots and club and I'llgae walk the south end and watch doon the east and west sides until yecome back. "

"Mrs. Duncan! You never would be doing it, " cried Freckles. 

"Why not?" inquired she. 

"But you know you're mortal afraid of snakes and a lot of other thingsin the swamp. "

"I am afraid of snakes, " said Mrs. Duncan, "but likely they've gone intothe swamp this hot weather. I'll juist stay on the trail and watch, andye might hurry the least bit. The day's so bright it feels like storm. Ican put the bairns on the woodpile to play until I get back. Ye gang awaand take the blessed little angel her beautiful hat. "

"Are you sure it will be all right?" urged Freckles. "Do you think ifMr. McLean came he would care?"

"Na, " said Mrs. Duncan; "I dinna. If ye and me agree that a thing oughtto be done, and I watch in your place, why, it's bound to be all rightwith McLean. Let me pin the hat in a paper, and ye jump on your wheeland gang flying. Ought ye put on your Sabbath-day clothes?"

Freckles shook his head. He knew what he should do, but there was nouse in taking time to try to explain it to Mrs. Duncan while he was sohurried. He exchanged his wading-boots for shoes, gave her his club, andwent spinning toward town. He knew very well where the Angel lived. He had seen her home many times, and he passed it again without evenraising his eyes from the street, steering straight for her father'splace of business. 

Carrying the hat, Freckles passed a long line of clerks, and at the doorof the private office asked to see the proprietor. When he had waiteda moment, a tall, spare, keen-eyed man faced him, and in brisk, nervoustones asked: "How can I serve you, sir?"

Freckles handed him the package and answered, "By delivering to yourdaughter this hat, which she was after leaving at me place the otherday, when she went away in a hurry. And by saying to her and the BirdWoman that I'm more thankful than I'll be having words to express forthe brave things they was doing for me. I'm McLean's Limberlost guard, sir. "

"Why don't you take it yourself?" questioned the Man of Affairs. 

Freckles' clear gray eyes met those of the Angel's father squarely, andhe asked: "If you were in my place, would you take it to her yourself?"

"No, I would not, " said that gentleman quickly. 

"Then why ask why I did not?" came Freckles' lamb-like query. 

"Bless me!" said the Angel's father. He stared at the package, then atthe lifted chin of the boy, and then at the package again, and muttered, "Excuse me!"

Freckles bowed. 

"It would be favoring me greatly if you would deliver the hat and themessage. Good morning, sir, " and he turned away. 

"One minute, " said the Angel's father. "Suppose I give you permission toreturn this hat in person and make your own acknowledgments. "

Freckles stood one moment thinking intently, and then he lifted thoseeyes of unswerving truth and asked: "Why should you, sir? You arekind, indade, to mention it, and it's thanking you I am for your goodintintions, but my wanting to go or your being willing to have me ain'tproving that your daughter would be wanting me or care to bother withme. "

The Angel's father looked keenly into the face of this extraordinaryyoung man, for he found it to his liking. 

"There's one other thing I meant to say, " said Freckles. "Every day Isee something, and at times a lot of things, that I think the Bird Womanwould be wanting pictures of badly, if she knew. You might be speakingof it to her, and if she'd want me to, I can send her word when I findthings she wouldn't likely get elsewhere. "

"If that's the case, " said the Angel's father, "and you feel underobligations for her assistance the other day, you can discharge them inthat way. She is spending all her time in the fields and woods searchingfor subjects. If you run across things, perhaps rarer than she may find, about your work, it would save her the time she spends searching forsubjects, and she could work in security under your protection. By allmeans let her know if you find subjects you think she could use, and wewill do anything we can for you, if you will give her what help you canand see that she is as safe as possible. "

"It's hungry for human beings I am, " said Freckles, "and it's likeHeaven to me to have them come. Of course, I'll be telling or sendingher word every time me work can spare me. Anything I can do it wouldmake me uncommon happy, but"--again truth had to be told, because it wasFreckles who was speaking--"when it comes to protecting them, I'd riskme 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 callfor every person to look sharp. If there wasn't really thieving to guardagainst, 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 toldthat there's danger of them running into timber thieves again any day, sir. "

"Yes, " said the Angel's father, "and I suppose there's danger of theearth opening up and swallowing the town any day, but I'm damned ifI 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 worldof anyone in any way molesting her, even if he were stealing a few ofMcLean's gold-plated trees. She's as safe in the Limberlost as she is athome, so far as timber thieves are concerned. All I am ever uneasy aboutare the snakes, poison-vines, and insects; and those are risks she mustrun anywhere. You need not hesitate a minute about that. I shall be gladto tell them what you wish. Thank you very much, and good day, sir. "

There was no way in which Freckles could know it, but by following hisbest instincts and being what he conceived a gentleman should be, hesurprised the Man of Affairs into thinking of him and seeing his faceover his books many times that morning; whereas, if he had gone to theAngel as he had longed to do, her father never would have given him asecond thought. 

On the street he drew a deep breath. How had he acquitted himself? Heonly knew that he had lived up to his best impulse, and that is allanyone 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 thatthrilled him through and through: "Freckles! Oh Freckles!"

The Angel separated from a group of laughing, sweet-faced girls and camehurrying to him. She was in snowy white--a quaint little frock, witha marvel of soft lace around her throat and wrists. Through the sheersleeves of it her beautiful, rounded arms showed distinctly, and it wascut just to the base of her perfect neck. On her head was a pure whitecreation of fancy braid, with folds on folds of tulle, soft and silkenas cobwebs, lining the brim; while a mass of white roses clusteredagainst the gold of her hair, crept around the crown, and fell in a riotto her shoulders at the back. There were gleams of gold with settingsof blue on her fingers, and altogether she was the daintiest, sweetestsight he ever had seen. Freckles, standing on the curb, forgot himselfin his cotton shirt, corduroys, and his belt to which his wire-cutterand pliers were hanging, and gazed as a man gazes when first he seesthe woman he adores with all her charms enhanced by appropriate andbeautiful clothing. 

"Oh Freckles, " she cried as she came to him. "I was wondering about youthe other day. Do you know I never saw you in town before. You watchthat old line so closely! Why did you come? Is there any trouble? Areyou just starting to the Limberlost?"

"I came to bring your hat, " said Freckles. "You forgot it in the rushthe other day. I have left it with your father, and a message tryingto ixpriss the gratitude of me for how you and the Bird Woman were forhelping me out. "

The Angel nodded gravely, then Freckles saw that he had done the properthing in going to her father. His heart bounded until it jarred hisbody, for she was saying that she scarcely could wait for the time tocome for the next picture of the Little Chicken series. "I want to hearthe remainder of that song, and I hadn't even begun seeing your roomyet, " she complained. "As for singing, if you can sing like that everyday, I never can get enough of it. I wonder if I couldn't bring my banjoand some of the songs I like best. I'll play and you sing, and we'll putthe birds out of commission. "

Freckles stood on the curb with drooped eyes, for he felt that ifhe lifted them the tumult of tender adoration in them would show andfrighten her. 

"I was afraid your ixperience the other day would scare you so thatyou'd never be coming again, " he found himself saying. 

The Angel laughed gaily. 

"Did I seem scared?" she questioned. 

"No, " said Freckles, "you did not. "

"Oh, I just enjoyed that, " she cried. "Those hateful, stealing oldthings! I had a big notion to pink one of them, but I thought maybesomeway it would be best for you that I shouldn't. They needed it. Thatdidn't scare me; and as for the Bird Woman, she's accustomed to findingsnakes, tramps, cross dogs, sheep, cattle, and goodness knows what! Youcan't frighten her when she's after a picture. Did they come back?"

"No, " said Freckles. "The gang got there a little after noon and tookout 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 haveto make it before long now, for it's soon the gang will be there to workon the swamp. "

"Oh, what a shame!" cried the Angel. "They'll clear out roads, cut downthe beautiful trees, and tear up everything. They'll drive away thebirds and spoil the cathedral. When they have done their worst, thenall 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 twosummers more the Limberlost will be in corn and potatoes. "

They looked at each other, and groaned despairingly in unison. 

"You like it, too, " said Freckles. 

"Yes, " said the Angel, "I love it. Your room is a little piece right outof 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. Thebirds, flowers, and vines are all so lovely. The Bird Woman says it isreally a fact that the mallows, foxfire, iris, and lilies are larger andof richer coloring there than in the remainder of the country. She saysit'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?"

"Something like, " said Freckles. "Still, I've the Limberlost in me heartso that all of it will be real to me while I live, no matter what theydo 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 tobe thinking. "

"Come, have a cool drink before you start back, " said the Angel. 

"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 bigsnake, I don't know what she'll do. "

"It won't take but a minute, and you can ride fast enough to make upfor it. Please. I want to think of something fine for you, to make up alittle for what you did for me that first day. "

Freckles looked in sheer wonderment into the beautiful face of theAngel. Did she truly mean it? Would she walk down that street with him, crippled, homely, in mean clothing, with the tools of his occupation onhim, and share with him the treat she was offering? He could not believeit, 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 notmean it. She really did mean just what she said, but when it came tocarrying out her offer and he saw the stares of her friends, thesneers of her enemies--if such as she could have enemies--and heard thewhispered jeers of the curious, then she would see her mistake and besorry. It would be only a manly thing for him to think this out, andsave her from the results of her own blessed bigness of heart. 

"I railly must be off, " said Freckles earnestly, "but I'm thanking youmore than you'll ever know for your kindness. I'll just be drinkingbowls of icy things all me way home in the thoughts of it. "

Down came the Angel's foot. Her eyes flashed indignantly. "There's nosense in that, " she said. "How do you think you would have felt when youknew I was warm and thirsty and you went and brought me a drink andI wouldn't take it because--because goodness knows why! You can ridefaster to make up for the time. I've just thought out what I want to fixfor you. "

She stepped to his side and deliberately slipped her hand under hisarm--that right arm that ended in an empty sleeve. 

"You are coming, " she said firmly. "I won't have it. "

Freckles could not have told how he felt, neither could anyone else. Hisblood rioted and his head swam, but he kept his wits. He bent over her. 

"Please don't, Angel, " he said softly. "You don't understand. "

How Freckles came to understand was a problem. 

"It's this, " he persisted. "If your father met me on the street, inmy station and dress, with you on me arm, he'd have every right to becaning me before the people, and not a finger would I lift to stay him. "

The Angel's eyes snapped. "If you think my father cares about my doinganything 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 andjust show you. "

She dropped Freckles' arm and turned toward the entrance to thebuilding. "Why, look there!" she exclaimed. 

Her father stood in a big window fronting the street, a bundle of papersin his hand, interestedly watching the little scene, with eyes thatcomprehended quite as thoroughly as if he had heard every word. TheAngel caught his glance and made a despairing little gesture towardFreckles. The Man of Affairs answered her with a look of infinitetenderness. He nodded his head and waved the papers in the direction shehad indicated, and the veriest dolt could have read the words his lipsformed: "Take him along!"

A sudden trembling seized Freckles. At sight of the Angel's father hehad stepped back as far from her as he could, leaned the wheel againsthim, and snatched off his hat. 

The Angel turned on him with triumphing eyes. 

She was highly strung and not accustomed to being thwarted. "Did You seethat?" she demanded. "Now are you satisfied? Will you come, or must Icall a policeman to bring you?"

Freckles went. There was nothing else to do. Guiding his wheel, hewalked down the street beside her. On every hand she was kept busygiving and receiving the cheeriest greetings. She walked into theparlors exactly as if she owned them. A clerk came hurrying to meet her. 

"There's a table vacant beside a window where it is cool. I'll save itfor you, " and he started back. 

"Please not, " said the Angel. "I've taken this man unawares, whenhe's in a rush. I'm afraid if we sit down we'll take too much time andafterward he will blame me. "

She walked to the fountain, and a long row of people stared with all thevarying degrees of insolence and curiosity that Freckles had felt theywould. He glanced at the Angel. NOW would she see?

"On my soul!" he muttered under his breath. "They don't aven touch her!"

She laid down her sunshade and gloves. She walked to the end of thecounter and turned the full battery of her eyes on the attendant. 

"Please, " she said. 

The white-aproned individual stepped back and gave delighted assent. TheAngel stepped beside him, and selecting a tall, flaring glass, of almostpaper thinness, she stooped and rolled it in a tray of cracked ice. 

"I want to mix a drink for my friend, " she said. "He has a long, hotride before him, and I don't want him started off with one of those oldpalate-teasing sweetnesses that you mix just on purpose to drive a manback in ten minutes. " There was an appreciative laugh from the line atthe counter. 

"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?"

The attendant did think. He pointed out the different taps, and theAngel compounded the drink, while Freckles, standing so erect he almostleaned backward, gazed at her and paid no attention to anyone else. Whenshe had the glass brimming, she tilted a little of its contents into asecond glass and tasted it. 

"That's entirely too sweet for a thirsty man, " she said. 

She poured out half the mixture, and refilling the glass, tasted it asecond time. She submitted that result to the attendant. "Isn't thatabout the thing?" she asked. 

He replied enthusiastically. "I'd get my wages raised ten a month if Icould learn that trick. "

The Angel carried the brimming, frosty glass to Freckles. He removed hishat, and lifting the icy liquid even with her eyes and looking straightinto them, he said in the mellowest of all the mellow tones of hisvoice: "I'll be drinking it to the Swamp Angel. "

As he had said to her that first day, she now cautioned him: "Bedrinking slowly. "

When the screen-door swung behind them, one of the men at the counterasked of the attendant: "Now, what did that mean?"

"Exactly what you saw, " replied he, rather curtly. "We're accustomedto it here. Hardly a day passes, this hot weather, but she's pickingup some poor, god-forsaken mortal and bringing him in. Then she comesbehind 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 andconditions, and you bet she can just hit the spot! Ain't a clerk herecan put up a drink to touch her. She's a sort of knack at it. Every oncein a while, when the Boss sees her, he calls out to her to mix him adrink. "

"And does she?" asked the man with an interested grin. 

"Well, I guess! But first she goes back and sees how long it is sincehe'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 ofacid, and a bit of cherry, lemon, grape, pineapple, or something sourand 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 thetrick, for I watch her closely and I can't come within gunshot of herconcoctions. She has a running bill here. Her father settles once amonth. 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. Eventhe scrub-boy of this establishment would fight for her. It lasts theyear round, for in winter it's some poor, frozen cuss that she's warmingup on hot coffee or chocolate. "

"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 'fightfor her!' Wonder who he is?"

"I think, " said a third, "that he's McLean's Limberlost guard, and Isuspect she's gone to the swamp with the Bird Woman for pictures andknows 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. "

On the street the Angel walked beside Freckles to the first crossing andthere she stopped. "Now, will you promise to ride fast enough to make upfor the five minutes that took?" she asked. "I am a little uneasy aboutMrs. Duncan. "

Freckles turned his wheel into the street. It seemed to him he hadpoured that delicious icy liquid into every vein in his body instead ofhis stomach. It even went to his brain. 

"Did you insist on fixing that drink because you knew how intoxicating'twould be?" he asked. 

There was subtlety in the compliment and it delighted the Angel. Shelaughed gleefully. 

"Next time, maybe you won't take so much coaxing, " she teased. 

"I wouldn't this, if I had known your father and been understanding youbetter. Do you really think the Bird Woman will be coming again?"

The Angel jeered. "Wild horses couldn't drag her away, " she cried. "Shewill have hard work to wait the week out. I shouldn't be in the leastsurprised to see her start any hour. "

Freckles could not endure the suspense; it had to come. 

"And you?" he questioned, but he dared not lift his eyes. 

"Wild horses me, too, " she laughed, "couldn't keep me away either! Idearly 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'tyou?"

"Yis, " said Freckles, because it was all he was capable of saying justthen. 

"It's beginning to act stormy, " she said. "If you hurry you will justabout make it. Now, good-bye. "

CHAPTER IX

Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes to theRescue

Freckles was halfway to the Limberlost when he dismounted. He could rideno 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 wouldremind him of his position, speak condescendingly, or notice his hand, he could endure it, but this--it surely would kill him! His hot, pulsingIrish blood was stirred deeply. What did they mean? Why did they do it?Were they like that to everyone? Was it pity?

It could not be, for he knew that the Bird Woman and the Angel's fathermust know that he was not really McLean's son, and it did not matterto them in the least. In spite of accident and poverty, they evidentlyexpected him to do something worth while in the world. That must be hisremedy. He must work on his education. He must get away. He must findand do the great thing of which the Angel talked. For the first time, his thoughts turned anxiously toward the city and the beginning of hisstudies. McLean and the Duncans spoke of him as "the boy, " but he wasa man. He must face life bravely and act a man's part. The Angel was amere child. He must not allow her to torture him past endurance with herfrank comradeship that meant to him high heaven, earth's richness, andall that lay between, and NOTHING to her. 

There was an ominous growl of thunder, and amazed at himself, Frecklessnatched up his wheel and raced toward the swamp. He was worried to findhis boots lying at the cabin door; the children playing on the woodpiletold him that "mither" said they were so heavy she couldn't walk inthem, 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 hisstrength for the Limberlost. To the west, the long, black, hard-beatentrail lay clear; but far up the east side, straight across the path, hecould see what was certainly a limp, brown figure. Freckles spun withall his might. 

Face down, Sarah Duncan lay across the trail. When Freckles turned herover, his blood chilled at the look of horror settled on her face. Therewas a low humming and something spatted against him. Glancing around, Freckles shivered in terror, for there was a swarm of wild bees settledon 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 suitablelocation. Then he thought he understood, and with a prayer ofthankfulness in his heart that she had escaped, even so narrowly, hecaught her up and hurried down the trail until they were well out ofdanger. He laid her in the shade, and carrying water from the swampin the crown of his hat, he bathed her face and hands; but she lay inunbroken stillness, without a sign of life. 

She had found Freckles' boots so large and heavy that she had gone backand taken them off, although she was mortally afraid to approach theswamp without them. The thought of it made her nervous, and the factthat she never had been there alone added to her fears. She had notfollowed the trail many rods when her trouble began. She was notFreckles, so not a bird of the line was going to be fooled into thinkingshe was. 

They began jumping from their nests and darting from unexpected placesaround her head and feet, with quick whirs, that kept her starting anddodging. Before Freckles was halfway to the town, poor Mrs. Duncan washysterical, and the Limberlost had neither sung nor performed for her. 

But there was trouble brewing. It was quiet and intensely hot, with thatstifling stillness that precedes a summer storm, and feathers andfur were tense and nervous. The birds were singing only a few brokensnatches, and flying around, seeking places of shelter. One momenteverything seemed devoid of life, the next there was an unexpectedwhir, buzz, and sharp cry. Inside, a pandemonium of growling, spatting, snarling, and grunting broke loose. 

The swale bent flat before heavy gusts of wind, and the big blackchicken swept lower and lower above the swamp. Patches of cloudsgathered, shutting out the sun and making it very dark, and the nextmoment were swept away. The sun poured with fierce, burning brightness, and everything was quiet. It was at the first growl of thunder thatFreckles really had noticed the weather, and putting his own troublesaside resolutely, raced for the swamp. 

Sarah Duncan paused on the line. "Weel, I wouldna stay in this place fora million a month, " she said aloud, and the sound of her voice broughtno comfort, for it was so little like she had thought it that sheglanced hastily around to see if it had really been she that spoke. Shetremblingly wiped the perspiration from her face with the skirt of hersunbonnet. 

"Awfu' hot, " she panted huskily. "B'lieve there's going to be a bigstorm. I do hope Freckles will hurry. "

Her chin was quivering as a terrified child's. She lifted her bonnet toreplace it and brushed against a bush beside her. WHIRR, almost into herface, 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 washopping across. The horrible croak it gave as she crushed it sickenedher. She screamed wildly and jumped to one side. That carried her intothe swale, where the grasses reached almost to her waist, and her horrorof snakes returning, she made a flying leap for an old log lying besidethe line. She alighted squarely, but it was so damp and rotten that shesank straight through it to her knees. She caught at the wire as shewent down, and missing, raked her wrist across a barb until she tore ableeding gash. Her fingers closed convulsively around the second strand. She was too frightened to scream now. Her tongue stiffened. She clungfrantically to the sagging wire, and finally managed to grasp it withthe other hand. Then she could reach the top wire, and so she drewherself up and found solid footing. She picked up the club that shehad dropped in order to extricate herself. Leaning heavily on it, she managed to return to the trail, but she was trembling so that shescarcely could walk. Going a few steps farther, she came to the stump ofthe first tree that had been taken out. 

She sat bolt upright and very still, trying to collect her thoughts andreason away her terror. A squirrel above her dropped a nut, and as itcame rattling down, bouncing from branch to branch, every nerve in hertugged wildly. When the disgusted squirrel barked loudly, she sprang tothe trail. 

The wind arose higher, the changes from light to darkness were moreabrupt, while the thunder came closer and louder at every peal. Inswarms the blackbirds arose from the swale and came flocking to theinterior, with a clamoring cry: "T'CHECK, T'CHECK. " Grackles marshaledto the tribal call: "TRALL-A-HEE, TRALL-A-HEE. " Red-winged blackbirdsswept low, calling to belated mates: "FOL-LOW-ME, FOL-LOW-ME. " Big, jetty crows gathered close to her, crying, as if warning her to fleebefore it was everlastingly too late. A heron, fishing the near-by poolfor Freckles' "find-out" frog, fell into trouble with a muskrat anduttered a rasping note that sent Mrs. Duncan a rod down the line withoutrealizing that she had moved. She was too shaken to run far. She stoppedand looked around her fearfully. 

Several bees struck her and were angrily buzzing before she noticedthem. 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 theswarming bees, ducking, dodging, fighting for her very life. Presentlythe humming seemed to become a little fainter. She found the trailagain, and ran with all her might from a few of her angry pursuers. 

As she ran, straining every muscle, she suddenly became aware that, crossing the trail before her, was a big, round, black body, with brownmarkings on its back, like painted geometrical patterns. She tried tostop, but the louder buzzing behind warned her she dared not. Gatheringher skirts higher, with hair flying around her face and her eyes almostbursting from their sockets, she ran straight toward it. The sound ofher feet and the humming of the bees alarmed the rattler, so it stoppedacross the trail, lifting its head above the grasses of the swale andrattling inquiringly--rattled until the bees were outdone. 

Straight toward it went the panic-stricken woman, running wildly anduncontrollably. She took one leap, clearing its body on the path, thenflew ahead with winged feet. The snake, coiled to strike, missed Mrs. Duncan and landed among the bees instead. They settled over and aroundit, and realizing that it had found trouble, it sank among the grassesand 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 ofenraged bees darted angrily around, searching for it, and striking thescrub-thorn, began a temporary settling there to discover whether itwere a suitable place. Completely exhausted, Mrs. Duncan staggered on afew steps farther, fell facing the path, where Freckles found her, andlay quietly. 

Freckles worked over her until she drew a long, quivering breath andopened her eyes. 

When she saw him bending above her, she closed them tightly, andgripping him, struggled to her feet. He helped her, and with his armaround and half carrying her, they made their way to the clearing. Sheclung to him with all her remaining strength, but open her eyes shewould not until her children came clustering around her. Then, brawny, big Scotswoman though she was, she quietly keeled over again. Thechildren added their wailing to Freckles' panic. 

This time he was so close the cabin that he could carry her into thehouse and lay her on the bed. He sent the oldest boy scudding down thecorduroy for the nearest neighbor, and between them they undressed Mrs. Duncan and discovered that she was not bitten. They bathed and bound thebleeding wrist and coaxed her back to consciousness. She lay sobbing andshuddering. The first intelligent word she said was: "Freckles, look atthat jar on the kitchen table and see if my yeast is no running ower. "

Several days passed before she could give Duncan and Freckles anydetailed account of what had happened to her, even then she could notdo it without crying as the least of her babies. Freckles was almostheartbroken, and nursed her as well as any woman could have done; whilebig Duncan, with a heart full for them both, worked early and late tochink every crack of the cabin and examine every spot that possiblycould harbor a snake. The effects of her morning on the trail kept hershivering half the time. She could not rest until she sent for McLeanand begged him to save Freckles from further risk, in that place ofhorrors. The Boss went to the swamp with his mind fully determined to doso. 

Freckles stood and laughed at him. "Why, Mr. McLean, don't you let awoman's nervous system set you worrying about me, " he said. "I'm notdenying how she felt, because I've been through it meself, but that'sall over and gone. It's the height of me glory to fight it out with theold swamp, and all that's in it, or will be coming to it, and thento turn it over to you as I promised you and meself I'd do, sir. Youcouldn't break the heart of me entire quicker than to be taking it fromme now, when I'm just on the home-stretch. It won't be over three orfour weeks yet, and when I've gone it almost a year, why, what's thatto me, sir? You mustn't let a woman get mixed up with business, for I'vealways heard about how it's bringing trouble. "

McLean smiled. "What about that last tree?" he said. 

Freckles blushed and grinned appreciatively. 

"Angels and Bird Women don't count in the common run, sir, " he affirmedshamelessly. 

McLean sat in the saddle and laughed. 

CHAPTER X

Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards Him

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 onthe line talking to Freckles. The Boss was filled with enthusiasm over amarsh article of the Bird Woman's that he just had read. He begged tobe allowed to accompany her into the swamp and watch the method by whichshe secured an illustration in such a location. 

The Bird Woman explained to him that it was an easy matter with thesubject she then had in hand; and as Little Chicken was too small tobe frightened by him, and big enough to be growing troublesome, she wasglad for his company. They went to the chicken log together, leaving tothe happy Freckles the care of the Angel, who had brought her banjo anda roll of songs that she wanted to hear him sing. The Bird Woman toldthem that they might practice in Freckles' room until she finished withLittle Chicken, and then she and McLean would come to the concert. 

It was almost three hours before they finished and came down the westtrail for their rest and lunch. McLean walked ahead, keeping sharp watchon the trail and clearing it of fallen limbs from overhanging trees. Hesent a big piece of bark flying into the swale, and then stopped shortand stared at the trail. 

The Bird Woman bent forward. Together they studied that imprint ofthe Angel's foot. At last their eyes met, the Bird Woman's filled withastonishment, and McLean's humid with pity. Neither said a word, butthey knew. McLean entered the swale and hunted up the bark. He replacedit, and the Bird Woman carefully stepped over. As they reached thebushes at the entrance, the voice of the Angel stopped them, for it wascommanding and filled with much impatience. 

"Freckles James Ross McLean!" she was saying. "You fill me withdark-blue despair! You're singing as if your voice were glass and mightbreak at any minute. Why don't you sing as you did a week ago? Answer methat, please. "

Freckles smiled confusedly at the Angel, who sat on one of his fancyseats, playing his accompaniment on her banjo. 

"You are a fraud, " she said. "Here you went last week and led me tothink that there was the making of a great singer in you, and now youare singing--do you know how badly you are singing?"

"Yis, " said Freckles meekly. "I'm thinking I'm too happy to be singingwell 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 keepme thoughts on me notes. It's more than sorry I am to be disappointingyou. Play it over, and I'll be beginning again, and this time I'll holdhard. "

"Well, " said the Angel disgustedly, "it seems to me that if I had allthe things to be proud of that you have, I'd lift up my head and sing!"

"And what is it I've to be proud of, ma'am?" politely inquired Freckles. 

"Why, a whole worldful of things, " cried the Angel explosively. "Forone thing, you can be good and proud over the way you've kept the timberthieves out of this lease, and the trust your father has in you. You canbe proud that you've never even once disappointed him or failed in whathe believed you could do. You can be proud over the way everyone speaksof you with trust and honor, and about how brave of heart and strong ofbody you are I heard a big man say a few days ago that the Limberlostwas full of disagreeable things--positive dangers, unhealthful as itcould be, and that since the memory of the first settlers it has been arendezvous for runaways, thieves, and murderers. This swamp is named fora man that was lost here and wandered around 'til he starved. That man Iwas talking with said he wouldn't take your job for a thousand dollarsa month--in fact, he said he wouldn't have it for any money, and you'venever missed a day or lost a tree. Proud! Why, I should think you wouldjust parade around about proper over that!

"And you can always be proud that you are born an Irishman. My fatheris Irish, and if you want to see him get up and strut give him a teenyopening to enlarge on his race. He says that if the Irish had decentterritory they'd lead the world. He says they've always been handicappedby lack of space and of fertile soil. He says if Ireland had been as bigand fertile as Indiana, why, England wouldn't ever have had the upperhand. She'd only be an appendage. Fancy England an appendage! He saysIreland has the finest orators and the keenest statesmen in Europetoday, and when England wants to fight, with whom does she fill hertrenches? Irishmen, of course! Ireland has the greenest grass and trees, the finest stones and lakes, and they've jaunting-cars. I don't knowjust 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 asweeter poet than one of theirs. You should hear my father recite 'DearHarp of My Country. ' He does it this way. "

The Angel arose, made an elaborate old-time bow, and holding up thebanjo, recited in clipping feet and meter, with rhythmic swing and atouch of brogue that was simply irresistible:

"Dear harp of my country" [The Angel ardently clasped the banjo], "In darkness I found thee" [She held it to the light], "The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long" [She muted thestrings with her rosy palm];

"Then proudly, my own Irish harp, I unbound thee" [She threw up her headand swept a ringing harmony];

"And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song" [She crashed intothe notes of the accompaniment she had been playing for Freckles]. 

"That's what you want to be thinking of!" she cried. "Not darkness, andlonesomeness, and sadness, but 'light, freedom, and song. ' I can't beginto think offhand of all the big, splendid things an Irishman has to beproud of; but whatever they are, they are all yours, and you are a partof them. I just despise that 'saddest-when-I-sing' business. You cansing! 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 outthere before the cathedral door, and I'm going to come down the aisleplaying that accompaniment, and when I stop in front of you--you sing!"

The Angel's face wore an unusual flush. Her eyes were flashing and shewas palpitating with earnestness. 

She parted the bushes and disappeared. Freckles, straight and tense, stood waiting. Presently, before he saw she was there, she was comingdown the aisle toward him, playing compellingly, and rifts of light weretouching her with golden glory. Freckles stood as if transfixed. 

The cathedral was majestically beautiful, from arched dome of frescoedgold, green, and blue in never-ending shades and harmonies, to themosaic aisle she trod, richly inlaid in choicest colors, and giganticpillars that were God's handiwork fashioned and perfected through agesof sunshine and rain. But the fair young face and divinely molded formof the Angel were His most perfect work of all. Never had she appearedso surpassingly beautiful. She was smiling encouragingly now, and as shecame toward him, she struck the chords full and strong. 

The heart of poor Freckles almost burst with dull pain and his greatlove for her. In his desire to fulfill her expectations he forgoteverything else, and when she reached his initial chord he was ready. Heliterally burst forth:

 "Three little leaves of Irish green, United on one stem, Love, truth, and valor do they mean, They form a magic gem. "

The Angel's eyes widened curiously and her lips parted. A deep colorswept into her cheeks. She had intended to arouse him. She had more thansucceeded. 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 itnever had been sung before, for her alone; and instead of her helpinghim, as she had intended, he was carrying her with him on the wavesof his voice, away, away into another world. When he struck into thechorus, wide-eyed and panting, she was swaying toward him and playingwith all her might. 

 "Oh, do you love? Oh, say you love You love the shamrock green!"

At the last note, Freckles' voice ceased and he looked at the Angel. Hehad given his best and his all. He fell on his knees and folded his armsacross his breast. The Angel, as if magnetized, walked straight down theaisle to him, and running her fingers into the crisp masses of his redhair, tilted his head back and laid her lips on his forehead. 

Then she stepped back and faced him. "Good boy!" she said, in a voicethat wavered from the throbbing of her shaken heart. "Dear boy! I knewyou could do it! I knew it was in you! Freckles, when you go into theworld, if you can face a big audience and sing like that, just once, youwill be immortal, and anything you want will be yours. "

"Anything!" gasped Freckles. 

"Anything, " said the Angel. 

Freckles arose, muttered something, and catching up his old bucket, plunged into the swamp blindly on a pretence of bringing water. TheAngel walked slowly across the study, sat on the rustic bench, and, through narrowed lids, intently studied the tip of her shoe. 

On the trail the Bird Woman wheeled to McLean with a dumbfounded look. 

"God!" muttered he. 

At last the Bird Woman spoke. 

"Do you think the Angel knew she did that?" she asked softly. 

"No, " said McLean; "I do not. But the poor boy knew it. Heaven helphim!"

The Bird Woman stared across the gently waving swale. "I don't see how Iam going to blame her, " she said at last. "It's so exactly what I wouldhave done myself. "

"Say the remainder, " demanded McLean hoarsely. "Do him justice. "

"He was born a gentleman, " conceded the Bird Woman. "He took noadvantage. He never even offered to touch her. Whatever that kiss meantto him, he recognized that it was the loving impulse of a child understress of strong emotion. He was fine and manly as any man ever couldhave been. "

McLean lifted his hat. "Thank you, " he said simply, and parted thebushes for her to enter Freckles' room. 

It was her first visit. Before she left she sent for her cameras andmade studies of each side of it and of the cathedral. She was entrancedwith the delicate beauty of the place, while her eyes kept followingFreckles as if she could not believe that it could be his conception andwork. 

That was a happy day. The Bird Woman had brought a lunch, and theyspread it, with Freckles' dinner, on the study floor and sat, restingand enjoying themselves. But the Angel put her banjo into its case, silently gathered her music, and no one mentioned the concert. 

The Bird Woman left McLean and the Angel to clear away the lunch, andwith Freckles examined the walls of his room and told him all she knewabout his shrubs and flowers. She analyzed a cardinal-flower andshowed him what he had wanted to know all summer--why the beesbuzzed ineffectually around it while the humming-birds found in itan ever-ready feast. Some of his specimens were so rare that she wasunfamiliar with them, and with the flower book between them theyknelt, studying the different varieties. She wandered the length of thecathedral aisle with him, and it was at her suggestion that he lightedhis altar with a row of flaming foxfire. 

As Freckles came to the cabin from his long day at the swamp he sawMrs. Chicken sweeping to the south and wondered where she was going. Hestepped into the bright, cosy little kitchen, and as he reached down thewash-basin he asked Mrs. Duncan a question. 

"Mother Duncan, do kisses wash off?"

So warm a wave swept her heart that a half-flush mantled her face. Shestraightened her shoulders and glanced at her hands tenderly. 

"Lord, na! Freckles, " she cried. "At least, the anes ye get from peopleye love dinna. They dinna stay on the outside. They strike in until theyfind the center of your heart and make their stopping-place there, andnaething can take them from ye--I doubt if even death----Na, lad, ye canbe reet sure kisses dinna wash off!"

Freckles set the basin down and muttered as he plunged his hot, tiredface into the water, "I needn't be afraid to be washing, then, for thatone struck in. "

CHAPTER XI

Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the BirdWoman

"I wish, " said Freckles at breakfast one morning, "that I had some wayto be sending a message to the Bird Woman. I've something at the swampthat I'm believing never happened before, and surely she'll be wantingit. "

"What now, Freckles?" asked Mrs. Duncan. 

"Why, the oddest thing you ever heard of, " said Freckles; "the wholeinsect tribe gone on a spree. I'm supposing it's my doings, but it allhappened by accident, like. You see, on the swale side of the line, right against me trail, there's one of these scrub wild crabtrees. Wherethe grass grows thick around it, is the finest place you ever conceivedof for snakes. Having women about has set me trying to clean out thosefellows a bit, and yesterday I noticed that tree in passing. It struckme that it would be a good idea to be taking it out. First I thought I'dtake 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 theair with sweetness. The coloring of the blossoms is beautiful, and Ihated to be killing it. I just cut the grass short all around it. ThenI started at the ground, trimmed up the trunk near the height ofme shoulder, and left the top spreading. That made it look so trulyornamental that, idle like, I chips off the rough places neat, and thismorning, on me soul, it's a sight! You see, cutting off the limbs andtrimming up the trunk sets the sap running. In this hot sun it fermentsin a few hours. There isn't much room for more things to crowd on thattree than there are, and to get drunker isn't noways possible. "

"Weel, I be drawed on!" exclaimed Mrs. Duncan. "What kind of things doye mean, Freckles?"

"Why, just an army of black ants. Some of them are sucking away likeold topers. Some of them are setting up on their tails and hind legs, fiddling with their fore-feet and wiping their eyes. Some are rollingaround on the ground, contented. There are quantities of big blue-bottleflies over the bark and hanging on the grasses around, too drunk tosteer a course flying; so they just buzz away like flying, and allthe time sitting still. The snake-feeders are too full to feedanything--even more sap to themselves. There's a lot of hard-backedbugs--beetles, I guess--colored like the brown, blue, and black of apeacock's tail. They hang on until the legs of them are so wake theycan't stick a minute longer, and then they break away and fall to theground. They just lay there on their backs, fably clawing air. When itwears off a bit, up they get, and go crawling back for more, and they sofull they bump into each other and roll over. Sometimes they can't climbthe tree until they wait to sober up a little. There's a lot of bigblack-and-gold bumblebees, done for entire, stumbling over the bark androlling on the ground. They just lay there on their backs, rocking fromside to side, singing to themselves like fat, happy babies. The wildbees keep up a steady buzzing with the beating of their wings. 

"The butterflies are the worst old topers of them all. They're just acircus! You never saw the like of the beauties! They come every coloryou could be naming, and every shape you could be thinking up. Theydrink and drink until, if I'm driving them away, they stagger as theyfly and turn somersaults in the air. If I lave them alone, they cling tothe grasses, shivering happy like; and I'm blest, Mother Duncan, ifthe best of them could be unlocking the front door with a lead pencil, even. "

"I never heard of anything sae surprising, " said Mrs. Duncan. 

"It's a rare sight to watch them, and no one ever made a picture of athing like that before, I'm for thinking, " said Freckles earnestly. 

"Na, " said Mrs. Duncan. "Ye can be pretty sure there didna. The BirdWoman must have word in some way, if ye walk the line and I walk to townand tell her. If ye think ye can wait until after supper, I am mostsure ye can gang yoursel', for Duncan is coming home and he'd be glad towatch for ye. If he does na come, and na ane passes that I can sendword with today, I really will gang early in the morning and tell hermysel'. "

Freckles took his lunch and went to the swamp. He walked and watchedeagerly. He could find no trace of anything, yet he felt a tensenervousness, as if trouble might be brooding. He examined every sectionof the wire, and kept watchful eyes on the grasses of the swale, inan effort to discover if anyone had passed through them; but he coulddiscover no trace of anything to justify his fears. 

He tilted his hat brim to shade his face and looked for his chickens. They were hanging almost beyond sight in the sky. 

"Gee!" he said. "If I only had your sharp eyes and convenient locationnow, I wouldn't need be troubling so. "

He reached his room and cautiously scanned the entrance before hestepped in. Then he pushed the bushes apart with his right arm andentered, his left hand on the butt of his favorite revolver. Instantlyhe knew that someone had been there. He stepped to the center of theroom, closely scanning each wall and the floor. He could find no traceof a clue to confirm his belief, yet so intimate was he with the spiritof the place that he knew. 

How he knew he could not have told, yet he did know that someone hadentered his room, sat on his benches, and walked over his floor. He wassurest around the case. Nothing was disturbed, yet it seemed to Frecklesthat he could see where prying fingers had tried the lock. He steppedbehind the case, carefully examining the ground all around it, and closebeside the tree to which it was nailed he found a deep, fresh footprintin the spongy soil--a long, narrow print, that was never made by thefoot of Wessner. His heart tugged in his breast as he mentally measuredthe print, but he did not linger, for now the feeling arose that hewas being watched. It seemed to him that he could feel the eyes of someintruder at his back. He knew he was examining things too closely: ifanyone were watching, he did not want him to know that he felt it. 

He took the most open way, and carried water for his flowers and mossas usual; but he put himself into no position in which he was fullyexposed, and his hand was close his revolver constantly. Growing restiveat last under the strain, he plunged boldly into the swamp and searchedminutely all around his room, but he could not discover the least thingto give him further cause for alarm. He unlocked his case, took out hiswheel, and for the remainder of the day he rode and watched as he neverhad before. Several times he locked the wheel and crossed the swamp onfoot, zigzagging to cover all the space possible. Every rod he traveledhe used the caution that sprang from knowledge of danger and thedirection from which it probably would come. Several times he thought ofsending for McLean, but for his life he could not make up his mind to doit with nothing more tangible than one footprint to justify him. 

He waited until he was sure Duncan would be at home, if he were comingfor the night, before he went to supper. The first thing he saw as hecrossed the swale was the big bays in the yard. 

There had been no one passing that day, and Duncan readily agreed towatch until Freckles rode to town. He told Duncan of the footprint, andurged him to guard closely. Duncan said he might rest easy, and fillinghis pipe and taking a good revolver, the big man went to the Limberlost. 

Freckles made himself clean and neat, and raced to town, but it wasnight and the stars were shining before he reached the home of the BirdWoman. From afar he could see that the house was ablaze with lights. Thelawn and veranda were strung with fancy lanterns and alive with people. He thought his errand important, so to turn back never occurred toFreckles. This was all the time or opportunity he would have. He mustsee the Bird Woman, and see her at once. He leaned his wheel inside thefence and walked up the broad front entrance. As he neared the steps, hesaw that the place was swarming with young people, and the Angel, withan excuse to a group that surrounded her, came hurrying to him. 

"Oh Freckles!" she cried delightedly. "So you could come? We were soafraid you could not! I'm as glad as I can be!"

"I don't understand, " said Freckles. "Were you expecting me?"

"Why of course!" exclaimed the Angel. "Haven't you come to my party?Didn't you get my invitation? I sent you one. "

"By mail?" asked Freckles. 

"Yes, " said the Angel. "I had to help with the preparations, and Icouldn't find time to drive out; but I wrote you a letter, and toldyou that the Bird Woman was giving a party for me, and we wanted youto come, surely. I told them at the office to put it with Mr. Duncan'smail. "

"Then that's likely where it is at present, " said Freckles. "Duncancomes to town only once a week, and at times not that. He's home tonightfor the first in a week. He's watching an hour for me until I come tothe Bird Woman with a bit of work I thought she'd be caring to hearabout bad. Is she where I can see her?"

The Angel's face clouded. 

"What a disappointment!" she cried. "I did so want all my friends toknow you. Can't you stay anyway?"

Freckles glanced from his wading-boots to the patent leathers of some ofthe Angel's friends, and smiled whimsically, but there was no danger ofhis ever misjudging her again. 

"You know I cannot, Angel, " he said. 

"I am afraid I do, " she said ruefully. "It's too bad! But there is athing I want for you more than to come to my party, and that is to hangon and win with your work. I think of you every day, and I just praythat those thieves are not getting ahead of you. Oh, Freckles, do watchclosely!"

She was so lovely a picture as she stood before him, ardent in hiscause, that Freckles could not take his eyes from her to notice what herfriends were thinking. If she did not mind, why should he? Anyway, if they really were the Angel's friends, probably they were betteraccustomed to her ways than he. 

Her face and bared neck and arms were like the wild rose bloom. Hersoft frock of white tulle lifted and stirred around her with the gentleevening air. The beautiful golden hair, that crept around her templesand ears as if it loved to cling there, was caught back and bound withbroad blue satin ribbon. There was a sash of blue at her waist, andknots of it catching up her draperies. 

"Must I go after the Bird Woman?" she pleaded. 

"Indade, you must, " answered Freckles firmly. 

The Angel went away, but returned to say that the Bird Woman was tellinga story to those inside and she could not come for a short time. 

"You won't come in?" she pleaded. 

"I must not, " said Freckles. "I am not dressed to be among your friends, and I might be forgetting meself and stay too long. "

"Then, " said the Angel, "we mustn't go through the house, because itwould disturb the story; but I want you to come the outside way to theconservatory and have some of my birthday lunch and some cake to take toMrs. Duncan and the babies. Won't that be fun?"

Freckles thought that it would be more than fun, and followeddelightedly. 

The Angel gave him a big glass, brimming with some icy, sparkling liquidthat struck his palate as it never had been touched before, because acombination of frosty fruit juices had not been a frequent beverage withhim. The night was warm, and the Angel most beautiful and kind. A tripledelirium of spirit, mind, and body seized upon him and developed aboldness all unnatural. He slightly parted the heavy curtains thatseparated the conservatory from the company and looked between. Healmost stopped breathing. He had read of things like that, but he neverhad seen them. 

The open space seemed to stretch through half a dozen rooms, all ablazewith lights, perfumed with flowers, and filled with elegantly dressedpeople. There were glimpses of polished floors, sparkling glass, andfine furnishings. From somewhere, the voice of his beloved Bird Womanarose and fell. 

The Angel crowded beside him and was watching also. 

"Doesn't it look pretty?" she whispered. 

"Do you suppose Heaven is any finer than that?" asked Freckles. 

The Angel began to laugh. 

"Do you want to be laughing harder than that?" queried Freckles. 

"A laugh is always good, " said the Angel. "A little more avoirdupoiswon't hurt me. Go ahead. "

"Well then, " said Freckles, "it's only that I feel all over as if Ibelonged there. I could wear fine clothes, and move over those floors, and hold me own against the best of them. "

"But where does my laugh come in?" demanded the Angel, as if she hadbeen defrauded. 

"And you ask me where the laugh comes in, looking me in the face afterthat, " marveled Freckles. 

"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, knowsthat you are never guilty of a discourtesy, and you move with twice thegrace of any man here. Why shouldn't you feel as if you belonged wherepeople are graceful and courteous?"

"On me soul!" said Freckles, "you are kind to be thinking it. You aredoubly kind to be saying it. "

The curtains parted and a woman came toward them. Her silks and lacestrailed across the polished floors. The lights gleamed on her neck andarms, and flashed from rare jewels. She was smiling brightly; and untilshe spoke, Freckles had not realized fully that it was his loved BirdWoman. 

Noticing his bewilderment, she cried: "Why, Freckles! Don't you know mein my war clothes?"

"I do in the uniform in which you fight the Limberlost, " said Freckles. 

The Bird Woman laughed. Then he told her why he had come, but shescarcely 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 forthe study. 

While they talked, the Angel was busy packing a box of sandwiches, cake, fruit, and flowers. She gave him a last frosty glass, thanked himrepeatedly for bringing news of new material; then Freckles went intothe night. He rode toward the Limberlost with his eyes on the stars. Presently he removed his hat, hung it to his belt, and ruffled hishair to the sweep of the night wind. He filled the air all the way withsnatches of oratorios, gospel hymns, and dialect and coon songs, in astartlingly varied programme. The one thing Freckles knew that he coulddo was to sing. The Duncans heard him coming a mile up the corduroy andcould not believe their senses. Freckles unfastened the box fromhis belt, and gave Mrs. Duncan and the children all the eatablesit contained, except one big piece of cake that he carried to thesweet-loving Duncan. He put the flowers back in the box and set it amonghis books. He did not say anything, but they understood it was not to betouched. 

"Thae's Freckles' flow'rs, " said a tiny Scotsman, "but, " he addedcheerfully, "it's oor sweeties!"

Freckles' face slowly flushed as he took Duncan's cake and startedtoward the swamp. While Duncan ate, Freckles told him something aboutthe evening, as well as he could find words to express himself, and thebig man was so amazed he kept forgetting the treat in his hands. 

Then Freckles mounted his wheel and began a spin that terminated onlywhen the biggest Plymouth Rock in Duncan's coop saluted a new day, andlong lines of light reddened the east. As he rode he sang, while hesang he worshiped, but the god he tried to glorify was a dim and farawaymystery. The Angel was warm flesh and blood. 

Every time he passed the little bark-covered imprint on the trail hedismounted, removed his hat, solemnly knelt and laid his lips on theimpression. Because he kept no account himself, only the laughing-facedold man of the moon knew how often it happened; and as from thebeginning, to the follies of earth that gentleman has ever been kind. 

With the near approach of dawn Freckles tuned his last note. Weariedalmost to falling, he turned from the trail into the path leading to thecabin for a few hours' rest. 

CHAPTER XII

Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack

As Freckles left the trail, from the swale close the south entrance, four large muscular men arose and swiftly and carefully entered theswamp by the wagon road. Two of them carried a big saw, the third, coilsof rope and wire, and all of them were heavily armed. They left one manon guard at the entrance. The other three made their way through thedarkness as best they could, and were soon at Freckles' room. He hadleft the swamp on his wheel from the west trail. They counted on hisreturning on the wheel and circling the east line before he came there. 

A little below the west entrance to Freckles' room, Black Jack steppedinto the swale, and binding a wire tightly around a scrub oak, carriedit below the waving grasses, stretched it taut across the trail, andfastened it to a tree in the swamp. Then he obliterated all signs of hiswork, and arranged the grass over the wire until it was so completelycovered that only minute examination would reveal it. They enteredFreckles' room with coarse oaths and jests. In a few moments, hisspecimen case with its precious contents was rolled into the swamp, while the saw was eating into one of the finest trees of the Limberlost. 

The first report from the man on watch was that Duncan had driven to theSouth camp; the second, that Freckles was coming. The man watching wassent to see on which side the boy turned into the path; as they hadexpected, he took the east. He was a little tired and his head wasrather stupid, for he had not been able to sleep as he had hoped, but hewas very happy. Although he watched until his eyes ached, he could seeno sign of anyone having entered the swamp. 

He called a cheery greeting to all his chickens. At Sleepy Snake Creekhe almost fell from his wheel with surprise: the saw-bird was surroundedby four lanky youngsters clamoring for breakfast. The father wasstrutting with all the importance of a drum major. 

"No use to expect the Bird Woman today, " said Freckles; "but nowwouldn't she be jumping for a chance at that?"

As soon as Freckles was far down the east line, the watch was postedbelow the room on the west to report his coming. It was only a fewmoments before the signal came. Then the saw stopped, and the rope wasbrought out and uncoiled close to a sapling. Wessner and Black Jackcrowded to the very edge of the swamp a little above the wire, andcrouched, waiting. 

They heard Freckles before they saw him. He came gliding down the lineswiftly, and as he rode he was singing softly:

 "Oh, do you love, Oh, say you love----"

He got no farther. The sharply driven wheel struck the tense wire andbounded back. Freckles shot over the handlebar and coasted down thetrail 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 himinto his room. Almost before he realized that anything had happened, hewas trussed to a tree and securely gagged. 

Then three of the men resumed work on the tree. The other followedthe path Freckles had worn to Little Chicken's tree, and presentlyhe reported that the wires were down and two teams with the loadingapparatus coming to take out the timber. All the time the saw was slowlyeating, eating into the big tree. 

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 bushesso that if anyone did pass on the trail he would not see it doubled inthe swamp-grass. 

Then he came and stood in front of Freckles and laughed in devilishhate. To his own amazement, Freckles found himself looking fear in theface, and marveled that he was not afraid. Four to one! The tree halfwayeaten through, the wagons coming up the inside road--he, bound andgagged! The men with Black Jack and Wessner had belonged to McLean'sgang when last he had heard of them, but who those coming with thewagons might be he could not guess. 

If they secured that tree, McLean lost its value, lost his wager, andlost his faith in him. The words of the Angel hammered in his ears. "Oh, Freckles, do watch closely!"

The saw worked steadily. 

When the tree was down and loaded, what would they do? Pull out, andleave him there to report them? It was not to be hoped for. The placealways had been lawless. It could mean but one thing. 

A mist swept before his eyes, while his head swam. Was it only lastnight that he had worshiped the Angel in a delirium of happiness? Andnow, what? Wessner, released from a turn at the saw, walked to theflower bed, and tearing up a handful of rare ferns by the roots, startedtoward Freckles. His intention was obvious. Black Jack stopped him, withan oath. 

"You see here, Dutchy, " he bawled, "mebby you think you'll wash his facewith that, but you won't. A contract's a contract. We agreed to take outthese 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 tiedman 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'regone, but you needn't think you're free to begin before. Don't you lay ahand on him while I'm here! What do you say, boys?"

"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 hadhim face down and you on his back; why the hell didn't you cover hishead and roll him into the bushes until we were gone? When I went intothis, I didn't understand that he was to see all of us and that therewas murder on the ticket. I'm not up to it. I don't mind lifting treeswe came for, but I'm cursed if I want blood on my hands. "

"Well, you ain't going to get it, " bellowed Jack. "You fellows onlycontracted to help me get out my marked trees. He belong to Wessner, andit ain't in our deal what happens to him. "

"Yes, and if Wessner finishes him safely, we are practically in formurder as well as stealing the trees; and if he don't, all hell's topay. I think you've made a damnable bungle of this thing; that's what Ithink!"

"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 tothink of it, killing is what he needs. He's away too good for this worldof woe, anyhow. I tell you, it's all safe enough. His dropping out won'tbe the only secret the old Limberlost has never told. It's too dead easyto make it look like he helped take the timber and then cut. Why, he'splayed 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, evenold fool Duncan won't lift a finger to look for his carcass. We couldn'thave him going in better shape. "

"You just bet, " said Wessner. "I owe him all he'll get, and be damned toyou, but I'll pay!" he snarled at Freckles. 

So it was killing, then. They were not only after this one tree, butmany, and with his body it was their plan to kill his honor. To brandhim a thief, with them, before the Angel, the Bird Woman, the dear Boss, and the Duncans--Freckles, in sick despair, sagged against the ropes. 

Then he gathered his forces and thought swiftly. There was no hopeof McLean's coming. They had chosen a day when they knew he had a bigcontract at the South camp. The Boss could not come before tomorrow byany possibility, and there would be no tomorrow for the boy. Duncan wason his way to the South camp, and the Bird Woman had said she would comeas soon as she could. After the fatigue of the party, it was uselessto expect her and the Angel today, and God save them from coming! TheAngel's father had said they would be as safe in the Limberlost as athome. What would he think of this?

The sweat broke on Freckles' forehead. He tugged at the ropes wheneverhe felt that he dared, but they were passed around the tree and his bodyseveral times, and knotted on his chest. He was helpless. There was nohope, no help. And after they had conspired to make him appear a runawaythief to his loved ones, what was it that Wessner would do to him?

Whatever it was, Freckles lifted his head and resolved that he wouldbear in mind what he had once heard the Bird Woman say. He would go outbonnily. Never would he let them see, if he grew afraid. After all, whatdid it matter what they did to his body if by some scheme of the devilthey could encompass his disgrace?

Then hope suddenly rose high in Freckles' breast. They could not dothat! The Angel would not believe. Neither would McLean. He would keepup his courage. Kill him they could; dishonor him they could not. 

Yet, summon all the fortitude he might, that saw eating into the treerasped his nerves worse and worse. With whirling brain he gazed intothe Limberlost, searching for something, he knew not what, and in blankhorror found his eyes focusing on the Angel. She was quite a distanceaway, but he could see her white lips and angry expression. 

Last week he had taken her and the Bird Woman across the swamp over thepath he followed in going from his room to the chicken tree. He had toldthem the night before, that the butterfly tree was on the line close tothis path. In figuring on their not coming that day, he failed to reckonwith 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 wasthere something in his room they needed? The blood surged in his ears asthe roar of the Limberlost in the wrath of a storm. 

He looked again, and it had been a dream. She was not there. Had shebeen? For his life, Freckles could not tell whether he really had seenthe Angel, or whether his strained senses had played him the most crueltrick of all. Or was it not the kindest? Now he could go with the visionof her lovely face fresh with him. 

"Thank You for that, oh God!" whispered Freckles. "'Twas more than kindof You and I don't s'pose I ought to be wanting anything else; butif You can, oh, I wish I could know before this ends, if 'twas memother"--Freckles could not even whisper the words, for he hesitated asecond and ended--"IF 'TWAS ME MOTHER DID IT!"

"Freckles! Freckles! Oh, Freckles!" the voice of the Angel came calling. Freckles swayed forward and wrenched at the rope until it cut deeplyinto his body. 

"Hell!" cried Black Jack. "Who is that? Do you know?"

Freckles nodded. 

Jack whipped out a revolver and snatched the gag from Freckles' mouth. 

"Say quick, or it's up with you right now, and whoever that is withyou!"

"It's the girl the Bird Woman takes with her, " whispered Frecklesthrough dry, swollen lips. 

"They ain't due here for five days yet, " said Wessner. "We got on tothat last week. "

"Yes, " said Freckles, "but I found a tree covered with butterflies andthings along the east line yesterday that I thought the Bird Woman wouldwant extra, and I went to town to tell her last night. She said she'dcome soon, but she didn't say when. They must be here. I take care ofthe 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. "

"He ain't lying, " volunteered Wessner. "I saw that tree covered withbutterflies and him watching around it when we were spying on himyesterday. "

"No, he leaves lying to your sort, " snapped Black Jack, as he undid therope and pitched it across the room. "Remember that you're covered everymove you make, my buck, " he cautioned. 

"Freckles! Freckles!" came the Angel's impatient voice, closer andcloser. 

"I must be answering, " said Freckles, and Jack nodded. "Right here!"he called, and to the men: "You go on with your work, and rememberone thing yourselves. The work of the Bird Woman is known all over theworld. This girl's father is a rich man, and she is all he has. If youoffer hurt of any kind to either of them, this world has no place farenough away or dark enough for you to be hiding in. Hell will be easy towhat any man will get if he touches either of them!"

"Freckles, where are you?" demanded the Angel. 

Soulsick with fear for her, Freckles went toward her and parted thebushes that she might enter. She came through without apparently givinghim a glance, and the first words she said were: "Why have the gang comeso soon? I didn't know you expected them for three weeks yet. Or is thissome especial tree that Mr. McLean needs to fill an order right now?"

Freckles hesitated. Would a man dare lie to save himself? No. But tosave the Angel--surely that was different. He opened his lips, but theAngel was capable of saving herself. She walked among them, exactly asif she had been reared in a lumber camp, and never waited for an answer. 

"Why, your specimen case!" she cried. "Look! Haven't you noticed thatit's tipped over? Set it straight, quickly!"

A couple of the men stepped out and carefully righted the case. 

"There! That's better, " she said. "Freckles, I'm surprised at your beingso careless. It would be a shame to break those lovely butterflies forone old tree! Is that a valuable tree? Why didn't you tell us last nightyou were going to take out a tree this morning? Oh, say, did you putyour case there to protect that tree from that stealing old Black Jackand his gang? I bet you did! Well, if that wasn't bright! What kind of atree is it?"

"It's a white oak, " said Freckles. 

"Like those they make dining-tables and sideboards from?"

"Yes. "

"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 askhim to let me come here and watch you until I know enough to boss a gangmyself. Do you like to cut trees, gentlemen?" she asked with angelicsweetness of the men. 

Some of them appeared foolish and some grim, but one managed to say theydid. 

Then the Angel's eyes turned full on Black Jack, and she gave the mostnatural little start of astonishment. 

"Oh! I almost thought that you were a ghost!" she cried. "But I see nowthat you are really and truly. Were you ever in Colorado?"

"No, " said Jack. 

"I see you aren't the same man, " said the Angel. "You know, we were inColorado last year, and there was a cowboy who was the handsomest mananywhere around. He'd come riding into town every night, and all wegirls just adored him! Oh, but he was a beauty! I thought at firstglance you were really he, but I see now he wasn't nearly so tall nor sobroad as you, and only half as handsome. "

The men began to laugh while Jack flushed crimson. The Angel joined inthe laugh. 

"Well, I'll leave it to you! Isn't he handsome?" she challenged. "As forthat cowboy's face, it couldn't be compared with yours. The only troublewith you is that your clothes are spoiling you. It's the dress thosecowboys wear that makes half their attraction. If you were properlyclothed, you could break the heart of the prettiest girl in thecountry. "

With one accord the other men looked at Black Jack, and for the firsttime realized that he was a superb specimen of manhood, for he stood sixfeet tall, was broad, well-rounded, and had dark, even skin, big blackeyes, and full red lips. 

"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed the Angel. "I'd just love to see you onhorseback. Nothing sets a handsome man off so splendidly. Do you ride?"

"Yes, " said Jack, and his eyes were burning on the Angel as if he wouldfathom the depths of her soul. 

"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 ablue flannel shirt a little open at the throat, a red tie, and abroad-brimmed felt hat, and ride past my house of evenings. I'm alwaysat home then, and almost always on the veranda, and, oh! but I wouldlike to see you! Will you do that for me?" It is impossible to describethe art with which the Angel asked the question. She was lookingstraight into Jack's face, coarse and hardened with sin and carelessliving, which was now taking on a wholly different expression. The evillines of it were softening and fading under her clear gaze. A dull redflamed into his bronze cheeks, while his eyes were growing brightlytender. 

"Yes, " he said, and the glance he gave the men was of such a nature thatno one saw fit even to change countenance. 

"Oh, goody!" she cried, tilting on her toes. "I'll ask all the girlsto come see, but they needn't stick in! We can get along without them, can't we?"

Jack leaned toward her. He was the charmed fluttering bird, while theAngel was the snake. 

"Well, I rather guess!" he cried. 

The Angel drew a deep breath and surveyed him rapturously. 

"My, but you're tall!" she commented. "Do you suppose I ever will growto reach your shoulders?"

She stood on tiptoe and measured the distance with her eyes. Then shedeveloped timid confusion, while her glance sought the ground. 

"I wish I could do something, " she half whispered. 

Jack seemed to increase an inch in height. 

"What?" he asked hoarsely. 

"Lariat Bill used always to have a bunch of red flowers in his shirtpocket. The red lit up his dark eyes and olive cheeks and made himsplendid. May I put some red flowers on you?"

Freckles stared as he wheezed for breath. He wished the earth would openand swallow him. Was he dead or alive? Since his Angel had seen BlackJack she never had glanced his way. Was she completely bewitched? Wouldshe throw herself at the man's feet before them all? Couldn't she givehim even one thought? Hadn't she seen that he was gagged and bound? Didshe truly think that these were McLean's men? Why, she could not! It wasonly a few days ago that she had been close enough to this man and angryenough with him to peel the hat from his head with a shot! Suddenly athing she had said jestingly to him one day came back with startlingforce: "You must take Angels on trust. " Of course you must! She was hisAngel. She must have seen! His life, and what was far more, her own, wasin her hands. There was nothing he could do but trust her. Surely shewas working out some plan. 

The Angel knelt beside his flower bed and recklessly tore up by theroots a big bunch of foxfire. 

"These stems are so tough and sticky, " she said. "I can't break them. Loan me your knife, " she ordered Freckles. 

As she reached for the knife, her back was for one second toward themen. She looked into his eyes and deliberately winked. 

She severed the stems, tossed the knife to Freckles, and walking toJack, laid the flowers over his heart. 

Freckles broke into a sweat of agony. He had said she would be safe ina herd of howling savages. Would she? If Black Jack even made a motiontoward touching her, Freckles knew that from somewhere he would musterthe strength to kill him. He mentally measured the distance to where hisclub lay and set his muscles for a spring. But no--by the splendor ofGod! 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 fastenedher flowers securely. 

Freckles was quaking. What was to come next? What was she planning, andoh! did she understand the danger of her presence among those men; thereal necessity for action?

As the Angel stepped from Jack, she turned her head to one side andpeered at him, quite as Freckles had seen the little yellow fellow doon the line a hundred times, and said: "Well, that does the trick! Isn'tthat fine? See how it sets him off, boys? Don't you forget the tie is tobe 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 menext, for she is busy today. What did I come here for anyway?"

She glanced inquiringly around, and several of the men laughed. Oh, thedelight of it! She had forgotten her errand for him! Jack had a secondincrease 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 cameto tell you that we put them under the box where we hide things, atthe entrance to the swamp as we came in. I knew I would need my handscrossing the swamp, so I hid them there. You'll find them at the sameold place. "

Then Freckles spoke. 

"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 knowit's a little farther, but it's begging you I am to be going back by thetrail. That's bad enough, but it's far safer than the swamp. "

The Angel laughed merrily. 

"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 overonly once, but I was sure I could do it, and I'm rather proud of theperformance. Now, don't go babying! You know I'm not afraid!"

"No, " said Freckles gently, "I know you're not; but that has nothing todo with the fact that your friends are afraid for you. On the trail youcan see your way a bit ahead, and you've all the world a better chanceif you meet a snake. "

Then Freckles had an inspiration. He turned to Jack imploringly. 

"You tell her!" he pleaded. "Tell her to go by the trail. She will foryou. "

The implication of this statement was so gratifying to Black Jack thathe seemed again to expand and take on increase before their very eyes. 

"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, exceptme, and if he says 'go by the trail, ' you'd best do it. "

The Angel hesitated. She wanted to recross the swamp and try to reachthe horse. She knew Freckles would brave any danger to save her crossingthe swamp alone, but she really was not afraid, while the trail addedover a mile to the walk. She knew the path. She intended to run for dearlife the instant she felt herself from their sight, and tucked in thefolds of her blouse was a fine little 32-caliber revolver that herfather had presented her for her share in what he was pleased to callher military exploit. One last glance at Freckles showed her the agonyin his eyes, and immediately she imagined he had some other reason. Shewould follow the trail. 

"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. "

She lifted the bushes and started toward the entrance. 

"You damned fool! Stop her!" growled Wessner. "Keep her till we'reloaded, anyhow. You're playing hell! Can't you see that when this thingis 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. "

Jack sprang forward. Freckles' heart muffled in his throat. The Angelseemed to divine Jack's coming. She was humming a little song. Shedeliberately stopped and began pulling the heads of the curious grassesthat grew all around her. When she straightened, she took a stepbackward and called: "Ho! Freckles, the Bird Woman wants that naturalhistory pamphlet returned. It belongs to a set she is going to havebound. That's one of the reasons we put it under the box. You be sure toget them as you go home tonight, for fear it rains or becomes damp withthe heavy dews. "

"All right, " said Freckles, but it was in a voice that he never hadheard before. 

Then the Angel turned and sent a parting glance at Jack. She wasoverpoweringly human and bewitchingly lovely. 

"You won't forget that ride and the red tie, " she half asserted, halfquestioned. 

Jack succumbed. Freckles was his captive, but he was the Angel's, souland body. His face wore the holiest look it ever had known as he softlyre-echoed Freckles' "All right. " With her head held well up, the Angelwalked slowly away, and Jack turned to the men. 

"Drop your damned staring and saw wood, " he shouted. "Don't you knowanything at all about how to treat a lady?" It might have been aquestion which of the cronies that crouched over green wood fires in thecabins of Wildcat Hollow, eternally sucking a corncob pipe and stirringthe endless kettles of stewing coon and opossum, had taught him to doeven as well as he had by the Angel. 

The men muttered and threatened among themselves, but they began workingdesperately. Someone suggested that a man be sent to follow the Angeland to watch her and the Bird Woman leave the swamp. Freckles' heartsank within him, but Jack was in a delirium and past all caution. 

"Yes, " he sneered. "Mebby all of you had better give over on the saw andrun after the girl. I guess not! Seems to me I got the favors. I didn'tsee no bouquets on the rest of you! If anybody follows her, I do, andI'm needed here among such a pack of idiots. There's no danger in thatbaby 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 otherside. "

"What about the noise?" asked Wessner. 

"No difference about the noise, " answered Jack. "She took us to be fromMcLean's gang, slick as grease. Make the chips fly!"

So all of them attacked the big tree. 

Freckles sat on one of his benches and waited. In their haste to fellthe tree and load it, so that the teamsters could start, and leave themfree to attack another, they had forgotten to rebind him. 

The Angel was on the trail and safely started. The cold perspirationmade Freckles' temples clammy and ran in little streams down his chest. It would take her more time to follow the trail, but her safety wasFreckles' sole thought in urging her to go that way. He tried to figureon how long it would require to walk to the carriage. He wondered if theBird 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 thedeep pool where his "find-out" frog lived, cross Sleepy Snake Creek, andreach the carriage. 

He wondered what she would say to the Bird Woman, and how long it wouldtake them to pack and start. He knew now that they would understand, andthe 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 andWessner cutting into the opposite side of the tree. It appeared as ifthey could fell at least that tree, before McLean could come, and ifthey did he lost his wager. 

When it was down, would they rebind him and leave him for Wessner towreak his insane vengeance on, or would they take him along to the nexttree 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 hewould not run all that risk for one tree, when he had many others of fargreater value marked. Freckles felt that he had some hope to cling tonow, but he found himself praying that the Angel would hurry. 

Once Jack came to Freckles and asked if he had any water. Freckles aroseand showed him where he kept his drinking-water. Jack drank in greatgulps, and as he passed back the bucket, he said: "When a man's got achance of catching a fine girl like that, he ought not be mixed up inany dirty business. I wish to God I was out of this!"

Freckles answered heartily: "I wish I was, too!"

Jack stared at him a minute and then broke into a roar of roughlaughter. 

"Blest if I blame you, " he said. "But you had your chance! We offeredyou a fair thing and you gave Wessner his answer. I ain't envying youwhen he gives you his. "

"You're six to one, " answered Freckles. "It will be easy enough for youto be killing the body of me, but, curse you all, you can't blacken mesoul!"

"Well, I'd give anything you could name if I had your honesty, " saidJack. 

When the mighty tree fell, the Limberlost shivered and screamed with theecho. Freckles groaned in despair, but the gang took heart. That wasso much accomplished. They knew where to dispose of it safely, withno questions asked. Before the day was over, they could remove threeothers, all suitable for veneer and worth far more than this. Then theywould leave Freckles to Wessner and scatter for safety, with more moneythan they had ever hoped for in their possession. 

CHAPTER XIII

Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Fallsupon Her

On the line, the Angel gave one backward glance at Black Jack, to seethat he had returned to his work. Then she gathered her skirts above herknees and leaped forward on the run. In the first three yards she passedFreckles' wheel. Instantly she imagined that was why he had insisted onher coming by the trail. She seized it and sprang on. The saddle wastoo high, but she was an expert rider and could catch the pedals asthey came up. She stopped at Duncan's cabin long enough to remedy this, telling Mrs. Duncan while working what was happening, and for her tofollow the east trail until she found the Bird Woman, and told her thatshe had gone after McLean and for her to leave the swamp as quickly aspossible. 

Even with her fear for Freckles to spur her, Sarah Duncan blanched andbegan shivering at the idea of facing the Limberlost. The Angel lookedher in the eyes. 

"No matter how afraid you are, you have to go, " she said. "If you don'tthe Bird Woman will go to Freckles' room, hunting me, and they will havetrouble with her. If she isn't told to leave at once, they may followme, and, finding I'm gone, do some terrible thing to Freckles. I can'tgo--that's flat--for if they caught me, then there'd be no one to gofor help. You don't suppose they are going to take out the trees they'reafter and then leave Freckles to run and tell? They are going to murderthe 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. "

The Angel saw Mrs. Duncan started; then began her race. 

Those awful miles of corduroy! Would they never end? She did not dareuse the wheel too roughly, for if it broke she never could arrive ontime 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 heatof August. The bushes claimed her hat, and she did not stop for it. 

Where it was at all possible, the Angel mounted and pounded over thecorduroy again. She was panting for breath and almost worn out when shereached the level pike. She had no idea how long she had been--and onlytwo miles covered. She leaned over the bars, almost standing on thepedals, racing with all the strength in her body. The blood surged inher ears while her head swam, but she kept a straight course, and rodeand rode. It seemed to her that she was standing still, while the treesand houses were racing past her. 

Once a farmer's big dog rushed angrily into the road and she swerveduntil she almost fell, but she regained her balance, and setting hermuscles, 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 corduroyand at least three of gravel, and it was only six in all. 

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. Justwhen she was choking with dust, and almost prostrate with heat andexhaustion--crash, she ran into a broken bottle. Snap! went the tire;the wheel swerved and pitched over. The Angel rolled into the thickyellow dust of the road and lay quietly. 

From afar, Duncan began to notice a strange, dust-covered object in theroad, as he headed toward town with the first load of the day's felling. 

He chirruped to the bays and hurried them all he could. As he neared theAngel, he saw it was a woman and a broken wheel. He was beside her in aninstant. He carried her to a shaded fence-corner, stretched her onthe grass, and wiped the dust from the lovely face all dirt-streaked, crimson, and bearing a startling whiteness around the mouth and nose. 

Wheels were common enough. Many of the farmers' daughters owned androde them, but he knew these same farmers' daughters; this face was astranger's. He glanced at the Angel's tumbled clothing, the silkiness ofher hair, with its pale satin ribbon, and noticed that she had lost herhat. Her lips tightened in an ominous quiver. He left her and pickedup the wheel: as he had surmised, he knew it. This, then, was Freckles'Swamp Angel. There was trouble in the Limberlost, and she had brokendown racing to McLean. Duncan turned the bays into a fence-corner, tiedone of them, unharnessed the other, fastened up the trace chains, andhurried to the nearest farmhouse to send help to the Angel. He found awoman, who took a bottle of camphor, a jug of water, and some towels, and started on the run. 

Then Duncan put the bay to speed and raced to camp. 

The Angel, left alone, lay still for a second, then she shivered andopened her eyes. She saw that she was on the grass and the broken wheelbeside her. Instantly she realized that someone had carried her thereand gone after help. She sat up and looked around. She noticed the loadof logs and the one horse. Someone was riding after help for her!

"Oh, poor Freckles!" she wailed. "They may be killing him by now. Oh, how much time have I wasted?"

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 caughtthe 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 thatDuncan was accustomed to crack over him. He was frightened, and ran attop speed. 

The Angel passed a wildly waving, screaming woman on the road, and alittle later a man riding as if he, too, were in great haste. The mancalled to her, but she only lay lower and used the whip. Soon the feetof the man's horse sounded farther and farther away. 

At the South camp they were loading a second wagon, when the Angelappeared riding one of Duncan's bays, lathered and dripping, and cried:"Everybody go to Freckles! There are thieves stealing trees, and theyhad him bound. They're going to kill him!"

She wheeled the horse toward the Limberlost. The alarm sounded throughcamp. The gang were not unprepared. McLean sprang to Nellie's back andraced after the Angel. As they passed Duncan, he wheeled and followed. Soon the pike was an irregular procession of barebacked riders, wildlydriving flying horses toward the swamp. 

The Boss rode neck-and-neck with the Angel. He repeatedly commanded herto stop and fall out of line, until he remembered that he would need herto lead him to Freckles. Then he gave up and rode beside her, for shewas sending the bay at as sharp a pace as the other horses could keepand hold out. He could see that she was not hearing him. He glanced backand saw that Duncan was close. There was something terrifying in theappearance of the big man, and the manner in which he sat his beast androde. 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 theremainder 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 grippedthe hames, leaned along the bay's neck, and slashed away with theblacksnake. The steaming horse, with crimson nostrils and heaving sides, stretched out and ran for home with all the speed there was in him. 

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 tobe seen. The Angel sent the bay along the path and turned into the westtrail, while the men bunched and followed her. When she reached theentrance to Freckles' room, there were four men with her, and two morevery close behind. She slid from the horse, and snatching the littlerevolver from her pocket, darted toward the bushes. McLean caught themback, and with drawn weapon, pressed beside her. There they stopped inastonishment. 

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 withtheir hands above their heads. 

Freckles, with the blood trickling down his face, from an ugly cut inhis temple, was gagged and bound to the tree again; the remainder of themen were gone. Black Jack was raving as a maniac, and when they lookedcloser it was only the left arm that he raised. His right, with thehand shattered, hung helpless at his side, while his revolver layat Freckles' feet. Wessner's weapon was in his belt, and beside himFreckles' club. 

Freckles' face was white, with colorless lips, but in his eyes was thestrength of undying courage. McLean pushed past the Bird Woman crying. "Hold steady on them only one minute more!"

He snatched the revolver from Wessner's belt, and stooped for Jack's. 

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 werecrowding in, and Duncan seized Wessner. As the Angel saw Freckles standout, free, she reached her arms to him and pitched forward. A fearfuloath burst from the lips of Black Jack. To have saved his life, Frecklescould not have avoided the glance of triumph he gave Jack, when foldingthe Angel in his arms and stretching her on the mosses. 

The Bird Woman cried out sharply for water as she ran to them. Someonesprang to bring that, and another to break open the case for brandy. As McLean arose from binding Wessner, there was a cry that Jack wasescaping. 

He was already far in the swamp, running for its densest part in leapingbounds. Every man who could be spared plunged after him. 

Other members of the gang arriving, were sent to follow the tracksof the wagons. The teamsters had driven from the west entrance, andcrossing the swale, had taken the same route the Bird Woman and theAngel had before them. There had been ample time for the drivers toreach 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 andtravelers attracted by the disturbance. 

Watchers were set along the trail at short intervals. They patrolled theline and roads through the swamp that night, with lighted torches, andthe next day McLean headed as thorough a search as he felt could be madeof one side, while Duncan covered the other; but Black Jack could not befound. Spies were set around his home, in Wildcat Hollow, to ascertainif he reached there or aid was being sent in any direction to him; butit was soon clear that his relatives were ignorant of his hiding-place, and were searching for him. 

Great is the elasticity of youth. A hot bath and a sound night's sleeprenewed Freckles' strength, and it needed but little more to work thesame result with the Angel. Freckles was on the trail early the nextmorning. Besides a crowd of people anxious to witness Jack's capture, he found four stalwart guards, one at each turn. In his heart he wascompelled to admit that he was glad to have them there. Close noon, McLean placed his men in charge of Duncan, and taking Freckles, drove totown to see how the Angel fared. McLean visited a greenhouse and boughtan 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 firstgoldenrod. 

The Bird Woman received them, and in answer to their eager inquiries, said that the Angel was in no way seriously injured, only so bruisedand 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 theAngel promptly returned word that she wanted to see them. 

She reached both hands to McLean. "What if one old tree is gone? Youdon't care, sir? You feel that Freckles has kept his trust as nobodyever did before, don't you? You won't forget all those long first daysof fright that you told us of, the fearful cold of winter, the rain, heat, and lonesomeness, and the brave days, and lately, nights, too, andlet 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 fornothing 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 hasdone than you or any of us expected! What's one old tree, anyway?" shecried passionately. 

"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 yougloves against gloves they never took those logs out to the pike. Mycoming upset them. Before you feel bad any more, you go look and see ifthey 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 todrive out with it in daylight. Go see if they didn't figure on leavingthe way we did the other morning, and you'll find the logs before youreach the road. They never risked taking them into the open, when theygot away and had time to think. Of course they didn't!

"And, then, another thing. You haven't lost your wager! It never willbe claimed, because you made it with a stout, dark, red-faced man whodrives a bay and a gray. He was right back of you, Mr. McLean, when Icame yesterday. He went deathly white and shook on his feet when he sawthose men probably would be caught. Some one of them was something tohim, and you can just spot him for one of the men at the bottom of yourtroubles, and urging those younger fellows to steal from you. I supposehe'd promised to divide. You settle with him, and that business willstop. "

She turned to Freckles. "And you be the happiest man alive, because youhave 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 littlehill, into the next woods after the cornfield, why, they could unloosethe chains and the logs would roll from the wagons themselves. Now, yougo look; and Mr. McLean, you do feel that Freckles has been brave andfaithful? You won't love him any the less even if you don't find thelogs. "

The Angel's nerve gave way and she began to cry. Freckles could notendure it. He almost ran from the room, with the tears in his eyes; butMcLean took the Angel from the Bird Woman's arms, and kissed her bravelittle face, stroked her hair, and petted her into quietness before heleft. 

As they drove to the swamp, McLean so earnestly seconded all that theAngel had said that he soon had the boy feeling much better. 

"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, andbeauty for half a dozen girls, " said McLean. 

"It's altogether right you are, sir, " affirmed Freckles heartily. Presently he added, "There's no question but the series is over now. "

"Don't think it!" answered McLean. "The Bird Woman is working forsuccess, and success along any line is not won by being scared out. Shewill be back on the usual day, and ten to one, the Angel will be withher. They are made of pretty stern stuff, and they don't scare wortha cent. Before I left, I told the Bird Woman it would be safe; and itwill. You may do your usual walking, but those four guards are there toremain. They are under your orders absolutely. They are prohibited fromfiring on any bird or molesting anything that you want to protect, butthere 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, andthat voice of yours is too precious to the world to run any more risks. "

"I am sorry to have anything spoil the series, " said Freckles, "and I'dlove them to be coming, the Angel especial, but it can't be. You'll haveto tell them so. You see, Jack would have been ready to stake his lifeshe 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 theyshould 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. Wessnerwanted to get at me right then, and Jack said he shouldn't be touchingme till the last tree was out and all the rest of them gone. I'mbelaying Jack really hated to see me done for in the beginning; andI think, too, he was afraid if Wessner finished me then he'd lose hisnerve 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 abouthaving to tie me and needing another man to help handle me. I told himwhat I'd do to him if I was free, and he grabs up me own club and laysopen 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 Wessnerturned on Jack and gives it to him for letting the Angel make a fool ofhim. Tells him she was just playing with him, and beyond all manner ofdoubt she'd gone after you, and there was nothing to do on account ofhis foolishness but finish me, get out, and let the rest of the timbergo, for likely you was on the way right then. That drove Jack plumcrazy. 

"I don't think he was for having a doubt of the Angel before, but thenhe just raved. He grabbed out his gun and turned on Wessner. Spang! Itwent out of his fist, and the order comes: 'Hands up!' Wessner reachedfor kingdom come like he was expecting to grab hold and pull himselfup. Jack puts up what he has left. Then he leans over to me and tells mewhat he'll do to me if he ever gets out of there alive. Then, just likea snake hissing, he spits out what he'll do to her for playing him. Hedid get away, and with his strength, that wound in his hand won't bebothering him long. He'll do to me just what he said, and when he hearsit really was she that went after you, why, he'll keep his oath abouther. 

"He's lived in the swamp all his life, sir, and everybody says it'salways been the home of cutthroats, outlaws, and runaways. He knows itsmost 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 withpassion, twisted with pain, and black with hate, and heard him swearingthat 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. "

"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 greaterharm than the loss of a tree. I've sent for a couple of first-classdetectives. We will put them on his track, and rout him out and rid thecountry of him. I don't propose for him to stop either our work or ourpleasure. As for his being in the swamp now, I don't believe it. He'dfind a way out last night, in spite of us. Don't you worry! I am at thehelm now, and I'll see to that gentleman in my own way. "

"I wish to my soul you had seen and heard him!" said Freckles, unconvinced. 

They entered the swamp, taking the route followed by the Bird Woman andthe Angel. They really did find the logs, almost where the Angel hadpredicted they would be. McLean went to the South camp and had aninterview with Crowen that completely convinced him that the Angelwas correct there also. But he had no proof, so all he could do was todischarge the man, although his guilt was so apparent that he offered towithdraw the wager. 

Then McLean sent for a pack of bloodhounds and put them on the trail ofBlack Jack. They clung to it, on and on, into the depths of the swamp, leading their followers through what had been considered impassable andimpenetrable ways, and finally, around near the west entrance and intothe swale. Here the dogs bellowed, raved, and fell over each other intheir excitement. They raced back and forth from swamp to swale, butfollow the scent farther they would not, even though cruelly driven. Atlast their owner attributed their actions to snakes, and as they werevery valuable dogs, abandoned the effort to urge them on. So that allthey really established was the fact that Black Jack had eluded theirvigilance and crossed the trail some time in the night. He had escapedto the swale; from there he probably crossed the corduroy, and reachingthe lower end of the swamp, had found friends. It was a great relief tofeel that he was not in the swamp, and it raised the spirits of everyman on the line, though many of them expressed regrets that he whowas undoubtedly most to blame should escape, while Wessner, who in thebeginning was only his tool, should be left to punishment. 

But for Freckles, with Jack's fearful oath ringing in his ears, therewas neither rest nor peace. He was almost ill when the day for the nextstudy of the series arrived and he saw the Bird Woman and the Angelcoming down the corduroy. The guards of the east line he left at theircustomary places, but those of the west he brought over and placed, onenear Little Chicken's tree, and the other at the carriage. He was firmabout the Angel's remaining in the carriage, that he did not offer tohave 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 simplereason that the placing of the guards and the unusual movement aroundthe swamp had made Mr. And Mrs. Chicken timid, and they had not carriedLittle Chicken the customary amount of food. Freckles, in the anxiety ofthe past few days, had neglected him, and he had been so hungry, muchof the time, that when the Bird Woman held up a sweet-bread, althoughhe 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 astudy of great value, showing every point of his head, also his wing andtail development. 

When the Bird Woman proposed to look for other subjects close about theline, Freckles went so far as to tell her that Jack had made fearfulthreats against the Angel. He implored her to take the Angel home andkeep her under unceasing guard until Jack was located. He wanted totell her all about it, but he knew how dear the Angel was to her, and hedreaded to burden her with his fears when they might prove groundless. He allowed her to go, but afterward blamed himself severely for havingdone so. 

CHAPTER XIV

Wherein Freckles Nurses a Heartache and Black Jack Drops Out

"McLean, " said Mrs. Duncan, as the Boss paused to greet her in passingthe cabin, "do you know that Freckles hasna been in bed the past fivenights and all he's eaten in that many days ye could pack into a pintcup?"

"Why, what does the boy mean?" demanded McLean. "There's no necessityfor him being on guard, with the watch I've set on the line. I had noidea he was staying down there. "

"He's no there, " said Mrs. Duncan. "He goes somewhere else. He leaveson his wheel juist after we're abed and rides in close cock-crow or alittle earlier, and he's looking like death and nothing short of it. "

"But where does he go?" asked McLean in astonishment. 

"I'm no given to bearing tales out of school, " said Sarah Duncan, "butin this case I'd tell ye if I could. What the trouble is I dinna ken. Ifit is no' stopped, he's in for dreadful sickness, and I thought ye couldfind out and help him. He's in sair trouble; that's all I know. "

McLean sat brooding as he stroked Nellie's neck. 

At last he said: "I suspect I understand. At any rate, I think I canfind out. Thank you for telling me. "

"Ye'll no need telling, once ye clap your eyes on him, " prophesiedMrs. Duncan. "His face is all a glist'ny yellow, and he's peaked as astarving caged bird. "

McLean rode to the Limberlost, and stopping in the shade, sat waitingfor Freckles, whose hour for passing the foot of the lease had come. 

Along the north line came Freckles, fairly staggering. When he turnedeast and reached Sleepy Snake Creek, sliding through the swale as thelong black snake for which it was named, he sat on the bridge and closedhis 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 hisbody danced, twitched, and tingled. 

He bent forward and idly watched the limpid little stream flowingbeneath his feet. Stretching into the swale, it came creeping betweenan impenetrable wall of magnificent wild flowers, vines, and ferns. Milkweed, goldenrod, ironwort, fringed gentians, cardinal-flowers, andturtle-head stood on the very edge of the creek, and every flower ofthem had a double in the water. Wild clematis crowned with snow theheads of trees scattered here and there on the bank. 

From afar the creek appeared to be murky, dirty water. Really it wasclear and sparkling. The tinge of blackness was gained from its bed ofmuck showing through the transparent current. He could see small andwonderfully marked fish. What became of them when the creek spread intothe swamp? For one thing, they would make mighty fine eating for thefamily of that self-satisfied old blue heron. 

Freckles sat so quietly that soon the brim of his hat was covered withsnake-feeders, rasping their crisp wings and singing while they rested. Some of them settled on the club, and one on his shoulder. He was somotionless; feathers, fur, and gauze were so accustomed to him, thatall through the swale they continued their daily life and forgot he wasthere. 

The heron family were wading the mouth of the creek. Freckles idlywondered whether the nerve-racking rasps they occasionally emittedindicated domestic felicity or a raging quarrel. He could not decide. Asheitpoke, with flaring crest, went stalking across a bare spaceclose to the creek's mouth. A stately brown bittern waded into theclear-flowing water, lifting his feet high at every step, and settingthem down carefully, as if he dreaded wetting them, and with slightlyparted beak, stood eagerly watching around him for worms. Behind himwere some mighty trees of the swamp above, and below the bank glowed asolid wall of goldenrod. 

No wonder the ancients had chosen yellow as the color to representvictory, for the fierce, conquering hue of the sun was in it. They haddone well, too, in selecting purple as the emblem of royalty. It was adignified, compelling color, while in its warm tone there was a hint ofblood. 

It was the Limberlost's hour to proclaim her sovereignty and triumph. Everywhere she flaunted her yellow banner and trailed the purple of hermantle, that was paler in the thistle-heads, took on strength in thefirst opening asters, and glowed and burned in the ironwort. 

He gazed into her damp, mossy recesses where high-piled riven treesdecayed under coats of living green, where dainty vines swayed andclambered, and here and there a yellow leaf, fluttering down, presagedthe coming of winter. His love of the swamp laid hold of him and shookhim with its force. 

Compellingly beautiful was the Limberlost, but cruel withal; for insidebleached the uncoffined bones of her victims, while she had missedcradling him, oh! so narrowly. 

He shifted restlessly; the movement sent the snake-feeders skimming. Thehum of life swelled and roared in his strained ears. Small turtles, thathad climbed on a log to sun, splashed clumsily into the water. Somewherein the timber of the bridge a bloodthirsty little frog cried sharply. "KEEL'IM! KEEL'IM!"

Freckles muttered: "It's worse than that Black Jack swore to do to me, little fellow. "

A muskrat waddled down the bank and swam for the swamp, its pointed noseriffling the water into a shining trail in its wake. 

Then, below the turtle-log, a dripping silver-gray head, with shiningeyes, 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 hisshaking hand and doubted, but he gathered his forces, the shot rang, andthe otter lay quiet. He hurried down and tried to lift it. He scarcelycould muster strength to carry it to the bridge. The consciousness thathe really could go no farther with it made Freckles realize the factthat 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 beforehim, and behind it the awful distorted image of Black Jack, as he hadsworn to the punishment he would mete out to her. He must either seeMcLean, or else make a trip to town and find her father. Which shouldhe do? He was almost a stranger, so the Angel's father might not beimpressed with what he said as he would if McLean went to him. Then heremembered that McLean had said he would come that morning. Frecklesnever had forgotten before. He hurried on the east trail as fast as histottering legs would carry him. 

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 anxiousto meet McLean. 

Freckles passed the second guard without seeing him, and hurried to theBoss. He took off his hat, wiped his forehead, and stood silent underthe eyes of McLean. 

The Boss was dumbfounded. Mrs. Duncan had led him to expect that hewould find a change in Freckles, but this was almost deathly. The factwas apparent that the boy scarcely knew what he was doing. His eyes hada glazed, far-sighted appearance, that wrung the heart of the man wholoved him. Without a thought of preliminaries, McLean leaned in thesaddle and drew Freckles to him. 

"My poor lad!" he said. "My poor, dear lad! tell me, and we will try toright it!"

Freckles had twisted his fingers in Nellie's mane. At the kind words hisface dropped on McLean's thigh and he shook with a nervous chill. McLeangathered him closer and waited. 

When the guard came with the otter, McLean without a word motioned himto lay it down and leave them. 

"Freckles, " said McLean at last, "will you tell me, or must I set towork in the dark and try to find the trouble?"

"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 Iremimbered you would be here. "

He lifted his face and gazed across the swale, with his jaws set firmlya minute, as if gathering his forces. Then he spoke. 

"It's the Angel, sir, " he said. 

Instinctively McLean's grip on him tightened, and Freckles looked intothe Boss's face in wonder. 

"I tried, the other day, " said Freckles, "and I couldn't seem to makeyou 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 theface of her hasn't been before me in all the tinderness, beauty, andmischief of it. She talked to me friendly like. She trusted me entirelyto take right care of her. She helped me with things about me books. Shetraited me like I was born a gintleman, and shared with me as if I wereof her own blood. She walked the streets of the town with me before herfriends with all the pride of a queen. She forgot herself and didn'tmind 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 theirleader, and twisted him to the will of her. She outdone him and racedthe life almost out of her trying to save me. 

"Since I can remimber, whatever the thing was that happened to me in thebeginning has been me curse. I've been bitter, hard, and smarting underit hopelessly. She came by, and found me voice, and put hope of life andsuccess like other men into me in spite of it. "

Freckles held up his maimed arm. 

"Look at it, sir!" he said. "A thousand times I've cursed it, hangingthere helpless. She took it on the street, before all the people, justas if she didn't see that it was a thing to hide and shrink from. Againand 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 meselflooking at the awful thing near like I was proud of it, sir. If I hadbeen born your son she couldn't be traiting me more as her equal, andshe can't help knowing you ain't truly me father. Nobody can know thehomeliness or the ignorance of me better than I do, and all me lack ofbirth, relatives, and money, and what's it all to her?"

Freckles stepped back, squared his shoulders, and with a royal lift ofhis head looked straight into the Boss's eyes. 

"You saw her in the beautiful little room of her, and you can't beforgetting how she begged and plead with you for me. She touched mebody, and 'twas sanctified. She laid her lips on my brow, and 'twassacrament. Nobody knows the height of her better than me. Nobody'sstudied my depths closer. There's no bridge for the great distancebetween us, sir, and clearest of all, I'm for realizing it: but sherisked 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 asdeath! Now, here's me, a man, a big, strong man, and letting her liveunder that fearful oath, so worse than any death 'twould be for her, andlifting not a finger to save her. I cannot hear it, sir. It's killing meby inches! Black Jack's hand may not have been hurt so bad. Any hour hemay be creeping up behind her! Any minute the awful revenge he sworeto be taking may in some way fall on her, and I haven't even warned herfather. I can't stay here doing nothing another hour. The five nightsgone 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 throughthe town and country as she pleases. If any evil comes to her throughBlack Jack, it comes from her angel-like goodness to me. Somewhere he'shiding! Somewhere he is waiting his chance! Somewhere he is reaching outfor her! I tell you I cannot, I dare not be bearing it longer!"

"Freckles, be quiet!" said McLean, his eyes humid and his voicequivering 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 havetransacted business with him for the past three years. I will make himsee! I am only beginning to realize your agony, and the real dangerthere is for the Angel. Believe me, I will see that she is fullyprotected every hour of the day and night until Jack is located anddisposed of. And I promise you further, that if I fail to move herfather or make him understand the danger, I will maintain a guard overher until Jack is caught. Now will you go bathe, drink some milk, go tobed, and sleep for hours, and then be my brave, bright old boy again?"

"Yis, " said Freckles simply. 

But McLean could see the flesh was twitching on the lad's bones. 

"What was it the guard brought there?" McLean asked in an effort todistract Freckles' thoughts. 

"Oh!" Freckles said, glancing where the Boss pointed, "I forgot it! 'Tisan otter, and fine past believing, for this warm weather. I shot it atthe creek this morning. 'Twas a good shot, considering. I expected tomiss. "

Freckles picked up the animal and started toward McLean with it, butNellie pricked up her dainty little ears, danced into the swale, andsnorted with fright. Freckles dropped the otter and ran to her head. 

"For pity's sake, get her on the trail, sir, " he begged. "She's justabout where the old king rattler crosses to go into the swamp--the oldbuster Duncan and I have been telling you of. I haven't a doubt but itwas the one Mother Duncan met. 'Twas down the trail there, just a littlefarther on, that I found her, and it's sure to be close yet. "

McLean slid from Nellie's back, led her into the trail farther down theline, and tied her to a bush. Then he went to examine the otter. It wasa rare, big specimen, with exquisitely fine, long, silky hair. 

"What do you want to do with it, Freckles?" asked McLean, as he strokedthe soft fur lingeringly. "Do you know that it is very valuable?"

"I was for almost praying so, sir, " said Freckles. "As I saw it comingup the bank I thought this: Once somewhere in a book there was a pictureof a young girl, and she was just a breath like the beautifulness of theAngel. Her hands were in a muff as big as her body, and I thought itwas so pretty. I think she was some queen, or the like. Do you supposeI could have this skin tanned and made into such a muff as that?--anenormous big one, sir?"

"Of course you can, " said McLean. "That's a fine idea and it's easyenough. We must box and express the otter, cold storage, by the firsttrain. You stand guard a minute and I'll tell Hall to carry it to thecabin. I'll put Nellie to Duncan's rig, and we'll drive to town and callon the Angel's father. Then we'll start the otter while it is fresh, andI'll write your instructions later. It would be a mighty fine thing foryou to give to the Angel as a little reminder of the Limberlost beforeit is despoiled, and as a souvenir of her trip for you. "

Freckles lifted a face with a glow of happy color creeping into it andeyes 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 Ilove you!"

McLean strained him to his breast. 

"God bless you, Freckles, " he said. "I do know! We're going to have somegood 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 drivewith me, and then rest? I don't know but sleep will come sooner anddeeper to take the ride and have your mind set at ease before you liedown. Suppose you go. "

"Suppose I do, " said Freckles, with a glimmer of the old light in hiseyes and newly found strength to shoulder the otter. Together theyturned into the trail. 

McLean noticed and spoke of the big black chickens. 

"They've been hanging round out there for several days past, " saidFreckles. "I'll tell you what I think it means. I think the old rattlerhas killed something too big for him to swallow, and he's keeping guardand won't let me chickens have it. I'm just sure, from the way the birdshave acted out there all summer, that it is the rattler's den. You watchthem now. See the way they dip and then rise, frightened like!"

Suddenly McLean turned toward him with blanching face

"Freckles!" he cried. 

"My God, sir!" shuddered Freckles. 

He dropped the otter, caught up his club, and plunged into the swale. Reaching for his revolver, McLean followed. The chickens circled higherat their coming, and the big snake lifted his head and rattled angrily. It sank in sinuous coils at the report of McLean's revolver, andtogether he and Freckles stood beside Black Jack. His fate was evidentand most horrible. 

"Come, " said the Boss at last. "We don't dare touch him. We will geta sheet from Mrs. Duncan and tuck over him, to keep these swarms ofinsects away, and set Hall on guard, while we find the officers. "

Freckles' lips closed resolutely. He deliberately thrust his club underBlack Jack's body, and, raising him, rested it on his knee. He pulleda long silver pin from the front of the dead man's shirt and sent itspinning into the swale. Then he gathered up a few crumpled brightflowers and dropped them into the pool far away. 

"My soul is sick with the horror of this thing, " said McLean, as heand Freckles drove toward town. "I can't understand how Jack dared riskcreeping through the swale, even in desperation. No one knew its dangersbetter than he. And why did he choose the rankest, muckiest place tocross the swamp?"

"Don't you think, sir, it was because it was on a line with theLimberlost south of the corduroy? The grass was tallest there, and hecounted on those willows to screen him. Once he got among them, he wouldhave been safe to walk by stooping. If he'd made it past that place, he'd been sure to get out. "

"Well, I'm as sorry for Jack as I know how to be, " said McLean, "butI can't help feeling relieved that our troubles are over, for now theyare. With so dreadful a punishment for Jack, Wessner under arrest, andwarrants 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 stealingmy timber after the experience of these men. There is no other man herewith Jack's fine ability in woodcraft. He was an expert. "

"Did you ever hear of anyone who ever tried to locate any treesexcepting him?" asked Freckles. 

"No, I never did, " said McLean. "I am sure there was no one besideshim. You see, it was only with the arrival of our company that the otherfellows scented good stuff in the Limberlost, and tried to work in. Jackknew the swamp better than anyone here. When he found there were twocompanies trying to lease, he wanted to stand in with the one from whichhe could realize the most. Even then he had trees marked that he wastrying to dispose of. I think his sole intention in forcing me todischarge him from my gang was to come here and try to steal timber. Wehad no idea, when we took the lease, what a gold mine it was. "

"That's exactly what Wessner said that first day, " said Freckleseagerly. "That 'twas a 'gold mine'! He said he didn't know where themarked trees were, but he knew a man who did, and if I would hold offand let them get the marked ones, there were a dozen they could get outin a few days. "

"Freckles!" cried McLean. "You don't mean a dozen!"

"That's what he said, sir--a dozen. He said they couldn't tell how thegrain of all of them would work up, of course, but they were all worthtaking out, and five or six were real gold mines. This makes threethey've tried, so there must be nine more marked, and several of themfor being just fine. "

"Well, I wish I knew which they are, " said McLean, "so I could get themout first. "

"I have been thinking, " said Freckles. "I believe if you will leave oneof 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 themarked trees. I suppose they are all marked something like that firstmaple on the line was. Wessner mentioned another good one not so farfrom that. He said it was best of all. I'd be having the swelled head ifI could find that. Of course, I don't know a thing about the trees, butI could hunt for the marks. Jack was so good at it he could tell some ofthem by the bark, but all he wanted to take that we've found so far havejust had a deep chip cut out, rather low down, and where the bushes werethick over it. I believe I could be finding some of them. "

"Good head!" said McLean. "We will do that. You may begin as soon as youare rested. And about things you come across in the swamp, Freckles--themost 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 theline, so that you will have one on either side, and you can come and goas you please. Have you stopped to think of all we owe her, my boy?"

"Yis; and the Angel--we owe her a lot, too, " said Freckles. "I owe herme life and honor. It's lying awake nights I'll have to be trying tothink how I'm ever to pay her up. "

"Well, begin with the muff, " suggested McLean. "That should be fine. "

He bent down and ruffled the rich fur of the otter lying at his feet. 

"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 couldbe improved. I'll wire Cooper to be watching for it. They must have itfresh. When it's tanned we won't spare any expense in making it up. Itshould be a royal thing, and some way I think it will exactly suit theAngel. I can't think of anything that would be more appropriate forher. "

"Neither can I, " agreed Freckles heartily. "When I reach the citythere's one other thing, if I've the money after the muff is finished. "

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'sface. When he saw the Boss's eyes were full of comprehension andsympathy, he loved him anew, for, as ever, McLean was quick tounderstand. Instead of laughing, he said: "I think you'll have to letme in on that, too. You mustn't be selfish, you know. I'll tell you whatwe'll do. Send it for Christmas. I'll be home then, and we can fill abox. You get the hat. I'll add a dress and wrap. You buy Duncan a hatand gloves. I'll send him a big overcoat, and we'll put in a lot oflittle stuff for the babies. Won't that be fun?"

Freckles fairly shivered with delight. 

"That would be away too serious for fun, " he said. "That would beheavenly. How long will it be?"

He began counting the time, and McLean deliberately set himself toencourage Freckles and keep his thoughts from the trouble of the pastfew days, for he had been overwrought and needed quiet and rest. 

CHAPTER XV

Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little ChickenFurnishes the Subject

A week later everything at the Limberlost was precisely as it had beenbefore the tragedy, except the case in Freckles' room now rested on thestump of the newly felled tree. Enough of the vines were left to coverit prettily, and every vestige of the havoc of a few days before wasgone. New guards were patrolling the trail. Freckles was roughly layingoff the swamp in sections and searching for marked trees. In that timehe had found one deeply chipped and the chip cunningly replaced andtacked in. It promised to be quite rare, so he was jubilant. He alsofound so many subjects for the Bird Woman that her coming was of almostdaily occurrence, and the hours he spent with her and the Angel werenothing less than golden. 

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 standingstill a few weeks, waiting coming destruction. 

The swamp was palpitant with life. Every pair of birds that had flockedto it in the spring was now multiplied by from two to ten. The youngwere tame from Freckles' tri-parenthood, and so plump and sleek thatthey were quite as beautiful as their elders, even if in many casesthey lacked their brilliant plumage. It was the same story of increaseeverywhere. There were chubby little ground-hogs scudding on the trail. There were cunning baby coons and opossums peeping from hollow logs andtrees. Young muskrats followed their parents across the lagoons. 

If you could come upon a family of foxes that had not yet disbanded, andsee the young playing with a wild duck's carcass that their mother hadbrought, and note the pride and satisfaction in her eyes as she layat 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 herbabies. To him, whose early life had been so embittered by continualproof of neglect and cruelty in human parents toward their children, thelove of these furred and feathered folk of the Limberlost was even moreof a miracle than to the Bird Woman and the Angel. 

The Angel liked the baby rabbits and squirrels. Earlier in the season, when the young were yet very small, it so happened that at timesFreckles could give into her hands one of these little ones. Then it waspure joy to stand back and watch her heaving breast, flushed cheek, andshining eyes. Hers were such lovely eyes. Freckles had discovered latelythat they were not so dark as he had thought them at first, but thatthe length and thickness of lash, by which they were shaded, made themappear darker than they really were. They were forever changing. Nowsparkling and darkling with wit, now humid with sympathy, now burningwith the fire of courage, now taking on strength of color with ambition, now flashing indignantly at the abuse of any creature. 

She had carried several of the squirrel and bunny babies home, and hadlittered the conservatory with them. Her care of them was perfect. Shewas learning her natural history from nature, and having much healthfulexercise. To her, they were the most interesting of all, but theBird Woman preferred the birds, with a close second in the moths andbutterflies. 

Brown butterfly time had come. The edge of the swale was filled withmilkweed, and other plants beloved of them, and the air was golden withthe flashing satin wings of the monarch, viceroy, and argynnis. Theyoutnumbered those of any other color three to one. 

Among the birds it really seemed as if the little yellow fellows werein the preponderance. At least, they were until the redwinged blackbirdsand bobolinks, that had nested on the upland, suddenly saw in theswamp the garden of the Lord and came swarming by hundreds to feast andadventure upon it these last few weeks before migration. Never was therea finer feast spread for the birds. The grasses were filled with seeds:so, too, were weeds of every variety. Fall berries were ripe. Wildgrapes and black haws were ready. Bugs were creeping everywhere. Themuck was yeasty with worms. Insects filled the air. Nature made gloriouspause for holiday before her next change, and by none of the frequentersof the swamp was this more appreciated than by the big black chickens. 

They seemed to feel the new reign of peace and fullness most of all. Asfor food, they did not even have to hunt for themselves these days, for the feasts now being spread before Little Chicken were more than hecould use, and he was glad to have his parents come down and help him. 

He was a fine, big, overgrown fellow, and his wings, with quills ofjetty black, gleaming with bronze, were so strong they almost lifted hisbody. 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 hishome back and forth many times every hour of the day. After a few daysof that, he began lifting and spreading his wings, and flopping themuntil the down on his back was filled with elm fiber. Then he commencedjumping. The funny little hops, springs, and sidewise bounds he gaveset Freckles and the Angel, hidden in the swamp, watching him, intosmothered chuckles of delight. 

Sometimes he fell to coquetting with himself; and that was the funniestthing of all, for he turned his head up, down, from side to side, anddrew in his chin with prinky little jerks and tilts. He would stretchhis neck, throw up his head, turn it to one side and smirk--actuallysmirk, the most complacent and self-satisfied smirk that anyone eversaw on the face of a bird. It was so comical that Freckles and the Angeltold the Bird Woman of it one day. 

When she finished her work on Little Chicken, she left them the cameraready for use, telling them they might hide in the bushes and watch. IfLittle Chicken came out and truly smirked, and they could squeeze thebulb at the proper moment to snap him, she would be more than delighted. 

Freckles and the Angel quietly curled beside a big log, and with eagereyes and softest breathing they patiently waited; but Little Chicken hadfeasted before they told of his latest accomplishment. He was tiredand sleepy, so he went into the log to bed, and for an hour he neverstirred. 

They were becoming anxious, for the light soon would be gone, and theyhad so wanted to try for the picture. At last Little Chicken lifted hishead, 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 againand stood up, stretching and yawning. He ambled leisurely toward thegateway, and the Angel said: "Now, we may have a chance, at last. "

"I do hope so, " shivered Freckles. 

With one accord they arose to their knees and trained their eyes onthe mouth of the log. The light was full and strong. Little Chickenprospected again with no results. He dressed his plumage, polished hisbeak, and when he felt fine and in full toilet he began to flirt withhimself. Freckles' eyes snapped and his breath sucked between hisclenched teeth. 

"He's going to do it!" whispered the Angel. "That will come next. You'llbest give me that bulb!"

"Yis, " assented Freckles, but he was looking at the log and he made nomove to relinquish the bulb. 

Little Chicken nodded daintily and ruffled his feathers. He gave hishead sundry little sidewise jerks and rapidly shifted his point ofvision. Once there was the fleeting little ghost of a smirk. 

"Now!--No!" snapped the Angel. 

Freckles leaned toward the bird. Tensely he waited. Unconsciously thehand of the Angel clasped his. He scarcely knew it was there. SuddenlyLittle Chicken sprang straight in the air and landed with a thud. TheAngel started slightly, but Freckles was immovable. Then, as if inapproval of his last performance, the big, overgrown baby wheeled untilhe was more than three-quarters, almost full side, toward the camera, straightened on his legs, squared his shoulders, stretched his neck fullheight, drew in his chin and smirked his most pronounced smirk, directlyin the face of the lens. 

Freckles' fingers closed on the bulb convulsively, and the Angel'sclosed on his at the instant. Then she heaved a great sigh of relief andlifted her hands to push back the damp, clustering hair from her face. 

"How soon do you s'pose it will be finished?" came Freckles' stridentwhisper. 

For the first time the Angel looked at him. He was on his knees, leaningforward, his eyes directed toward the bird, the perspiration running inlittle streams down his red, mosquito-bitten face. His hat was awry, hisbright hair rampant, his breast heaving with excitement, while he yetgripped the bulb with every ounce of strength in his body. 

"Do you think we were for getting it?" he asked. 

The Angel could only nod. Freckles heaved a deep sigh of relief. 

"Well, if that ain't the hardest work I ever did in me life!" heexclaimed. "It's no wonder the Bird Woman's for coming out of the swamplooking as if she's been through a fire, a flood, and a famine, ifthat'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!"

They put the holders in the case, carefully closed the camera, set it inalso, and carried it to the road. 

Then Freckles exulted. 

"Now, let's be telling the Bird Woman about it!" he shouted, wildlydancing and swinging his hat. 

"We got it! We got it! I bet a farm we got it!"

Hand in hand they ran to the north end of the swamp, yelling "We gotit!" like young Comanches, and never gave a thought to what they mightdo until a big blue-gray bird, with long neck and trailing legs, aroseon flapping wings and sailed over the Limberlost. 

The Angel became white to the lips and gripped Freckles with both hands. He gulped with mortification and turned his back. 

To frighten her subject away carelessly! It was the head crime in theBird Woman's category. She extended her hands as she arose, baked, blistered, and dripping, and exclaimed: "Bless you, my children! Blessyou!" And it truly sounded as if she meant it. 

"Why, why----" stammered the bewildered Angel. 

Freckles hurried into the breach. 

"You must be for blaming it every bit on me. I was thinking we gotLittle Chicken's picture real good. I was so drunk with the joy of it Ilost all me senses and, 'Let's run tell the Bird Woman, ' says I. Like afool I was for running, and I sort of dragged the Angel along. "

"Oh Freckles!" expostulated the Angel. "Are you loony? Of course, itwas all my fault! I've been with her hundreds of times. I knew perfectlywell 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 forgiveme. "

"She will, too!" cried Freckles. "Wasn't you for telling me that veryfirst day that when people scared her birds away she just killed them!It's all me foolishness, and I'll never forgive meself!"

The Bird Woman plunged into the swale at the mouth of Sleepy SnakeCreek, and came wading toward them, with a couple of cameras anddripping tripods. 

"If you will permit me a word, my infants, " she said, "I will explain toyou that I have had three shots at that fellow. "

The Angel heaved a deep sigh of relief, and Freckles' face cleared alittle. 

"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 himarise from that side, so that he would fly toward the camera, for he hadwaded around until in my position I couldn't do it myself. See? Beholdin yourselves the answer to the prayers of the long-suffering!"

Freckles took a step toward her. 

"Are you really meaning that?" he asked wonderingly. "Only think, Angel, we did the right thing! She won't lose her picture through thecarelessness of us, when she's waited and soaked nearly two hours. She'snot angry with us!"

"Never was in a sweeter temper in my life, " said the Bird Woman, busilycleaning and packing the cameras. 

Freckles removed his hat and solemnly held out his hand. With equalsolemnity the Angel grasped it. The Bird Woman laughed alone, for tothem the situation had been too serious to develop any of the elementsof fun. 

Then they loaded the carriage, and the Bird Woman and the Angel startedfor their homes. It had been a difficult time for all of them, so theywere very tired, but they were joyful. Freckles was so happy it seemedto him that life could hold little more. As the Bird Woman was ready todrive away he laid his hand on the lines and looked into her face. 

"Do you suppose we got it?" he asked, so eagerly that she would havegiven much to be able to say yes with conviction. 

"Why, my dear, I don't know, " she said. "I've no way to judge. If youmade the exposure just before you came to me, there was yet a finelight. If you waited until Little Chicken was close the entrance, youshould have something good, even if you didn't catch just the fleetingexpression for which you hoped. Of course, I can't say surely, but Ithink there is every reason to believe that you have it all right. Iwill develop the plate tonight, make you a proof from it early in themorning, and bring it when we come. It's only a question of a day ortwo now until the gang arrives. I want to work in all the studies I canbefore that time, for they are bound to disturb the birds. Mr. McLeanwill need you then, and I scarcely see how we are to do without you. "

Moved by an impulse she never afterward regretted, she bent and laid herlips on Freckles' forehead, kissing him gently and thanking him for hismany kindnesses to her in her loved work. Freckles started away so happythat he felt inclined to keep watching behind to see if the trail werenot curling up and rolling down the line after him. 

CHAPTER XVI

Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the Gang

From afar Freckles saw them coming. The Angel was standing, waving herhat. He sprang on his wheel and raced, jolting and pounding, down thecorduroy to meet them. The Bird Woman stopped the horse and the Angelgave him the bit of print paper. Freckles leaned the wheel against atree and took the proof with eager fingers. He never before had seena study from any of his chickens. He stood staring. When he turned hisface toward them it was transfigured with delight. 

"You see!" he exclaimed, and began gazing again. "Oh, me LittleChicken!" he cried. "Oh me ilegant Little Chicken! I'd be giving all memoney in the bank for you!"

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 youmind stopping at the cabin a minute and showing this to Mother Duncan?"he asked. 

"Give me that little book in your pocket, " said the Bird Woman. 

She folded the outer edges of the proof so that it would fit into thebook, 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 bedrawed on!"

Freckles and the Angel helped the Bird Woman to establish herself for along day at the mouth of Sleepy Snake Creek. Then she sent them away andwaited what luck would bring to her. 

"Now, what shall we do?" inquired the Angel, who was a bundle of nervesand energy. 

"Would you like to go to me room awhile?" asked Freckles. 

"If you don't care to very much, I'd rather not, " said the Angel. "I'lltell you. Let's go help Mrs. Duncan with dinner and play with the baby. I love a nice, clean baby. "

They started toward the cabin. Every few minutes they stopped toinvestigate 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 eversince the beginning of his work at the swamp. They saw it at the sametime. 

"Someone has been making a flagpole, " said the Angel, running the toe ofher shoe around the stump, evidently made that season. "Freckles, whatwould anyone cut a tree as small as that for?"

"I don't know, " said Freckles. 

"Well, but I want to know!" said the Angel. "No one came away here andcut it for fun. They've taken it away. Let's go back and see if we cansee it anywhere around there. "

She turned, retraced her footsteps, and began eagerly searching. Freckles did the same. 

"There it is!" he exclaimed at last, "leaning against the trunk of thatbig maple. "

"Yes, and leaning there has killed a patch of dried bark, " said theAngel. "See how dried it appears?"

Freckles stared at her. 

"Angel!" he shouted, "I bet you it's a marked tree!"

"Course it is!" cried the Angel. "No one would cut that sapling andcarry it away there and lean it up for nothing. I'll tell you! This isone 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'slaid 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 tothat place?"

"Yes, " said Freckles; "if I take off my wading-boots I can. "

"Then take them off, " said the Angel, "and do hurry! Can't you see thatI am almost crazy to know if this tree is a marked one?"

When they pushed the sapling over, a piece of bark as big as the crownof Freckles' hat fell away. 

"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 hervision. 

Freckles reached the opening, then slid rapidly to the ground. He wasalmost breathless while his eyes were flashing. 

"The bark's been cut clean with a knife, the sap scraped away, and a bigchip taken out deep. The trunk is the twistiest thing you ever saw. It'sfull of eyes as a bird is of feathers!"

The Angel was dancing and shaking his hand. 

"Oh, Freckles, " she cried, "I'm so delighted that you found it!"

"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 kepttalking about it, and turned back. You found it!"

"You'd best be looking after your reputation for truth and veracity, "said the Angel. "You know you saw that sapling first!"

"Yes, after you took me back and set me looking for it, " scoffedFreckles. 

The clear, ringing echo of strongly swung axes came crashing through theLimberlost. 

"'Tis the gang!" shouted Freckles. "They're clearing a place to make thecamp. Let's go help!"

"Hadn't we better mark that tree again?" cautioned the Angel. "It's awayin here. There's such a lot of them, and all so much alike. We'd feelgood and green to find it and then lose it. "

Freckles lifted the sapling to replace it, but the Angel motioned himaway. 

"Use your hatchet, " she said. "I predict this is the most valuable treein the swamp. You found it. I'm going to play that you're my knight. Now, you nail my colors on it. "

She reached up, and pulling a blue bow from her hair, untied and doubledit against the tree. Freckles turned his eyes from her and managed thefastening with shaking fingers. The Angel had called him her knight!Dear Lord, how he loved her! She must not see his face, or surely herquick eyes would read what he was fighting to hide. He did not dare layhis lips on that ribbon then, but that night he would return to it. Whenthey had gone a little distance, they both looked back, and the morningbreeze set the bit of blue waving them a farewell. 

They walked at a rapid pace. 

"I am sorry about scaring the birds, " said the Angel, "but it's almosttime for them to go anyway. I feel dreadfully over having the swampruined, but isn't it a delight to hear the good, honest ring of thoseaxes, instead of straining your ears for stealthy sounds? Isn't itfine to go openly and freely, with nothing worse than a snake or apoison-vine to fear?"

"Ah!" said Freckles, with a long breath, "it's better than you candream, Angel. Nobody will ever be guessing some of the things I've beenthrough trying to keep me promise to the Boss, and to hold out untilthis day. That it's come with only one fresh stump, and the log fromthat 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!"

"He can't forget it, " said the Angel; and in answer to Freckles'startled eyes she added, "because he never had any reason to rememberit. He couldn't have done a whit better himself. My father says so. You're all right, Freckles!"

She reached him her hand, and as two children, they broke into a runwhen they came closer the gang. They left the swamp by the west roadand followed the trail until they found the men. To the Angel it seemedcomplete charm. In the shadiest spot on the west side of the line, atthe edge of the swamp and very close Freckles' room, they werecutting bushes and clearing space for a big tent for the men'ssleeping-quarters, another for a dining-hall, and a board shack for thecook. The teamsters were unloading, the horses were cropping leaves fromthe bushes, while each man was doing his part toward the construction ofthe new Limberlost quarters. 

Freckles helped the Angel climb on a wagonload of canvas in the shade. She removed her leggings, wiped her heated face, and glowed withhappiness and interest. 

The gang had been sifted carefully. McLean now felt that there was not aman in it who was not trustworthy. 

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 thattime, had heard the tale rehearsed in its every aspect around thesmudge-fires at night. Almost all of them knew the Angel by sight fromher trips with the Bird Woman to their leases. They all knew her father, her position, and the luxuries of her home. Whatever course she hadchosen with them they scarcely would have resented it, but the Angelnever had been known to choose a course. Her spirit of friendliness wasinborn and inbred. She loved everyone, so she sympathized with everyone. Her generosity was only limited by what was in her power to give. 

She came down the trail, hand in hand with the red-haired, freckledtimber guard whom she had worn herself past the limit of endurance tosave only a few weeks before, racing in her eagerness to reach them, and laughing her "Good morning, gentlemen, " right and left. When she wasensconced on the wagonload of tenting, she sat on a roll of canvas as aqueen on her throne. There was not a man of the gang who did not respecther. She was a living exponent of universal brotherhood. There was noman among them who needed her exquisite face or dainty clothing to teachhim that the deference due a gentlewoman should be paid her. That thespirit of good fellowship she radiated levied an especial tribute of itsown, and it became their delight to honor and please her. 

As they raced toward the wagon--"Let me tell about the tree, please?"she begged Freckles. 

"Why, sure!" said Freckles. 

He probably would have said the same to anything she suggested. WhenMcLean came, he found the Angel flushed and glowing, sitting on thewagon, her hands already filled. One of the men, who was cutting ascrub-oak, had carried to her a handful of crimson leaves. Another hadgathered 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. 

She held up her treasures and greeted McLean, "Good morning, Mr. Boss ofthe Limberlost!"

The gang shouted, while he bowed profoundly before her. 

"Everyone listen!" cried the Angel, climbing a roll of canvas. "I havesomething to say! Freckles has been guarding here over a year now, andhe presents the Limberlost to you, with every tree in it saved; for goodmeasure he has this morning located the rarest one of them all: the onein from the east line, that Wessner spoke of the first day--nearest theone you took out. All together! Everyone! Hurrah for Freckles!"

With flushing cheeks and gleaming eyes, gaily waving the grass aboveher head, she led in three cheers and a tiger. Freckles slipped into theswamp and hid himself, for fear he could not conceal his pride and hisgreat surging, throbbing love for her. 

The Angel subsided on the canvas and explained to McLean about themaple. The Boss was mightily pleased. He took Freckles and set out tore-locate and examine the tree. The Angel was interested in the makingof the camp, so she preferred to remain with the men. With her sharpeyes she was watching every detail of construction; but when it came tothe stretching of the dining-hall canvas she proceeded to take command. The men were driving the rope-pins, when the Angel arose on the wagonand, leaning forward, spoke to Duncan, who was directing the work. 

"I believe if you will swing that around a few feet farther, you willfind it better, Mr. Duncan, " she said. "That way will let the hot sun inat noon, while the sides will cut off the best breeze. "

"That's a fact, " said Duncan, studying the conditions. 

So, by shifting the pins a little, they obtained comfort for which theyblessed the Angel every day. When they came to the sleeping-tent, theyconsulted her about that. She explained the general direction of thenight breeze and indicated the best position for the tent. Before anyoneknew how it happened, the Angel was standing on the wagon, directingthe location and construction of the cooking-shack, the erection of thecrane for the big boiling-pots, and the building of the store-room. Shesuperintended the laying of the floor of the sleeping-tent lengthwise, So that it would be easier to sweep, and suggested a new arrangement ofthe 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. 

When Freckles returned from the tree to join in the work around thecamp, he caught glimpses of her enthroned on a soapbox, cleaning beans. She called to him that they were invited for dinner, and that they hadaccepted the invitation. 

When the beans were steaming in the pot, the Angel advised the cook tosoak them overnight the next time, so that they would cook more quicklyand not burst. She was sure their cook at home did that way, and theCHEF of the gang thought it would be a good idea. The next Freckles sawof her she was paring potatoes. A little later she arranged the table. 

She swept it with a broom, instead of laying a cloth; took the hatchetand hammered the deepest dents from the tin plates, and nearly skinnedher fingers scouring the tinware with rushes. She set the plates an evendistance apart, and laid the forks and spoons beside them. When the cookthrew away half a dozen fruit-cans, she gathered them up and melted offthe tops, although she almost blistered her face and quite blistered herfingers doing it. Then she neatly covered these improvised vases withthe 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 theend 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 shewas "a born lady. " She laughingly caught up a paper bag and fitted itjauntily to her head in imitation of a cook's cap. Then she ground thecoffee, and beat a couple of eggs to put in, "because there is company, "she gravely explained to the cook. She asked that delighted individualif 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 washer case exactly--she never had, either; she was not allowed anythingstronger than milk. Then they laughed together. 

She told the cook about camping with her father, and explained thathe made his coffee that way. When the steam began to rise from the bigboiler, she stuffed the spout tightly with clean marshgrass, to keep thearoma in, placed the boiler where it would only simmer, and explainedwhy. The influence of the Angel's visit lingered with the cook throughthe remainder of his life, while the men prayed for her frequent return. 

She was having a happy time, when McLean came back jubilant, from histrip to the tree. How jubilant he told only the Angel, for he had beenobliged to lose faith in some trusted men of late, and had learneddiscretion by what he suffered. He planned to begin clearing out a roadto the tree that same afternoon, and to set two guards every night, forit promised to be a rare treasure, so he was eager to see it on the wayto the mills. 

"I am coming to see it felled, " cried the Angel. "I feel a sort ofmotherly interest in that tree. "

McLean was highly amused. He would have staked his life on the honestyof either the Angel or Freckles; yet their versions of the finding ofthe tree differed widely. 

"Tell me, Angel, " the Boss said jestingly. "I think I have a right toknow. Who really did locate that tree?"

"Freckles, " she answered promptly and emphatically. 

"But he says quite as positively that it was you. I don't understand. "

The Angel's legal look flashed into her face. Her eyes grew tense withearnestness. She glanced around, and seeing no towel or basin, held outher hand for Sears to pour water over them. Then, using the skirt of herdress to dry them, she climbed on the wagon. 

"I'll tell you, word for word, how it happened, " she said, "and then youshall decide, and Freckles and I will agree with you. "

When she had finished her version, "Tell us, 'oh, most learned judge!'"she laughingly quoted, "which of us located that tree?"

"Blest if I know who located it!" exclaimed McLean. "But I have a fairlyaccurate idea as to who put the blue ribbon on it. "

The Boss smiled significantly at Freckles, who just had come, for theyhad planned that they would instruct the company to reserve enough ofthe veneer from that very tree to make the most beautiful dressing tablethey could design for the Angel's share of the discovery. 

"What will you have for yours?" McLean had asked of Freckles. 

"If it's all the same to you, I'll be taking mine out in musiclessons--begging your pardon--voice culture, " said Freckles with agrimace. 

McLean laughed, for Freckles needed to see or hear only once to absorblearning as the thirsty earth sucks up water. 

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, andstraightened until they felt unfamiliar with themselves and each other, filled the sides. That imposed a slight constraint. Then, too, the menwere afraid of the flowers, the polished tableware, and above all, ofthe dainty grace of the Angel. Nowhere do men so display lack of goodbreeding and culture as in dining. To sprawl on the table, scoopwith their knives, chew loudly, gulp coffee, and duck their heads assnapping-turtles for every bite, had not been noticed by them until theAngel, sitting straightly, suddenly made them remember that they, too, were possessed of spines. Instinctively every man at the tablestraightened. 

CHAPTER XVII

Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body

To reach the tree was a more difficult task than McLean had supposed. The gang could approach nearest on the outside toward the east, butafter they reached the end of the east entrance there was yet a mileof most impenetrable thicket, trees big and little, and bushes of everyvariety and stage of growth. In many places the muck had to be filled togive the horses and wagons a solid foundation over which to haul heavyloads. It was several days before they completed a road to the noble, big tree and were ready to fell it. 

When the sawing began, Freckles was watching down the road where it metthe trail leading from Little Chicken's tree. He had gone to the treeahead of the gang to remove the blue ribbon. Carefully folded, it nowlay over his heart. He was promising himself much comfort with thatribbon, when he would leave for the city next month to begin his studiesand 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 hemeant to home that precious bit of blue. It should be his good-lucktoken, and he would wear it always to keep bright in memory the day onwhich the Angel had called him her knight. 

How he would study, and oh, how he would sing! If only he could fulfillMcLean's expectations, and make the Angel proud of him! If only he couldbe a real knight!

He could not understand why the Angel had failed to come. She had wantedto see their tree felled. She would be too late if she did not arrivesoon. He had told her it would be ready that morning, and she had saidshe surely would be there. Why, of all mornings, was she late on this?

McLean had ridden to town. If he had been there, Freckles would haveasked that they delay the felling, but he scarcely liked to ask thegang. He really had no authority, although he thought the men wouldwait; but some way he found such embarrassment in framing the requestthat 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 Bossrode in. 

His first word was to inquire for the Angel. When Freckles said shehad not yet come, the Boss at once gave orders to stop work on the treeuntil she arrived; for he felt that she virtually had located it, andif she desired to see it felled, she should. As the men stepped back, a stiff morning breeze caught the top, that towered high above itsfellows. There was an ominous grinding at the base, a shiver of themighty trunk, then directly in line of its fall the bushes swung apartand the laughing face of the Angel looked on them. 

A groan of horror burst from the dry throats of the men, and reading theagony in their faces, she stopped short, glanced up, and understood. 

"South!" shouted McLean. "Run south!"

The Angel was helpless. It was apparent that she did not know which waysouth was. There was another slow shiver of the big tree. The remainderof the gang stood motionless, but Freckles sprang past the trunk andwent leaping in big bounds. He caught up the Angel and dashed throughthe thicket for safety. The swaying trunk was half over when, for aninstant, a near-by tree stayed its fall. They saw Freckles' foot catch, and with the Angel he plunged headlong. 

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. Springingafter, in an attempt to cover her body with his own, he whirled to seeif they were yet in danger, and with outstretched arms braced himselffor the shock. The branches shut them from sight, and the awful crashrocked the earth. 

McLean and Duncan ran with axes and saws. The remainder of the gangfollowed, and they worked desperately. It seemed a long time before theycaught 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 underneathher with his hands. In a few seconds he dragged her out, choking andstunned, but surely not fatally hurt. 

Freckles lay a little farther under the tree, a big limb pinning himdown. His eyes were wide open. He was perfectly conscious. Duncan beganmining beneath him, but Freckles stopped him. 

"You can't be moving me, " he said. "You must cut off the limb and liftit. I know. "

Two men ran for the big saw. A number of them laid hold of the limb andbore up. In a short time it was removed, and Freckles lay free. 

The men bent over to lift him, but he motioned them away. 

"Don't be touching me until I rest a bit, " he pleaded. 

Then he twisted his head until he saw the Angel, who was wiping muckfrom her eyes and face on the skirt of her dress. 

"Try to get up, " he begged. 

McLean laid hold of the Angel and helped her to her feet. 

"Do you think any bones are broken?" gasped Freckles. 

The Angel shook her head and wiped muck. 

"You see if you can find any, sir, " Freckles commanded. 

The Angel yielded herself to McLean's touch, and he assured Frecklesthat she was not seriously injured. 

Freckles settled back, a smile of ineffable tenderness on his face. 

"Thank the Lord!" he hoarsely whispered. 

The Angel leaned toward him. 

"Now, Freckles, you!" she cried. "It's your turn. Please get up!"

A pitiful spasm swept Freckles' face. The sight of it washed everyvestige of color from the Angel's. She took hold of his hands. 

"Freckles, get up!" It was half command, half entreaty. 

"Easy, Angel, easy! Let me rest a bit first!" implored Freckles. 

She knelt beside him. He reached his arm around her and drew herclosely. He looked at McLean in an agony of entreaty that brought theBoss to his knees on the other side. 

"Oh, Freckles!" McLean cried. "Not that! Surely we can do something! Wemust! Let me see!"

He tried to unfasten Freckles' neckband, but his fingers shook soclumsily that the Angel pushed them away and herself laid Freckles'chest bare. With one hasty glance she gathered the clothing togetherand slipped her arm under his head. Freckles lifted his eyes of agony tohers. 

"You see?" he said. 

The Angel nodded dumbly. 

Freckles turned to McLean. 

"Thank you for everything, " he panted. "Where are the boys?"

"They are all here, " said the Boss, "except a couple who have gone fordoctors, Mrs. Duncan and the Bird Woman. "

"It's no use trying to do anything, " said Freckles. "You won't forgetthe muff and the Christmas box. The muff especial?"

There was a movement above them so pronounced that it attractedFreckles' attention, even in that extreme hour. He looked up, and apleased smile flickered on his drawn face. 

"Why, if it ain't me Little Chicken!" he cried hoarsely. "He must bemaking his very first trip from the log. Now Duncan can have his bigwatering-trough. "

"It was Little Chicken that made me late, " faltered the Angel. "I wasso anxious to get here early I forgot to bring his breakfast from thecarriage. He must have been hungry, for when I passed the log he startedafter me. He was so wabbly, and so slow flying from tree to tree andthrough the bushes, I just had to wait on him, for I couldn't drive himback. "

"Of course you couldn't! Me bird has too amazing good sinse to go backwhen he could be following you, " exulted Freckles, exactly as if he didnot realize what the delay had cost him. Then he lay silently thinking, but presently he asked slowly: "And so 'twas me Little Chicken that wasmaking you late, Angel?"

"Yes, " said the Angel. 

A spasm of fierce pain shook Freckles, and a look of uncertainty crossedhis face. 

"All summer I've been thanking God for the falling of the feather andall the delights it's brought me, " he muttered, "but this looks asif----"

He stopped short and raised questioning eyes to McLean. 

"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?"

"No, dear lad, " said McLean, stroking the brilliant hair. "The choicelay with you. You could have stood a rooted dolt like all the remainderof us. It was through your great love and your high courage that youmade the sacrifice. "

"Don't you be so naming it, sir!" cried Freckles. "It's just thereverse. If I could be giving me body the hundred times over to savehers from this, I'd be doing it and take joy with every pain. "

He turned with a smile of adoring tenderness to the Angel. She wasghastly white, and her eyes were dull and glazed. She scarcely seemed tohear or understand what was coming, but she bravely tried to answer thatsmile. 

"Is my forehead covered with dirt?" he asked. 

She shook her head. 

"You did once, " he gasped. 

Instantly she laid her lips on his forehead, then on each cheek, andthen in a long kiss on his lips. 

McLean bent over him. 

"Freckles, " he said brokenly, "you will never know how I love you. Youwon't go without saying good-bye to me?"

That word stung the Angel to quick comprehension. She started as ifarousing from sleep. 

"Good-bye?" she cried sharply, her eyes widening and the color rushinginto her white face. "Good-bye! Why, what do you mean? Who's sayinggood-bye? Where could Freckles go, when he is hurt like this, save tothe hospital? You needn't say good-bye for that. Of course, we will allgo with him! You call up the men. We must start right away. "

"It's no use, Angel, " said Freckles. "I'm thinking ivry bone in mebreast is smashed. You'll have to be letting me go!"

"I will not, " said the Angel flatly. "It's no use wasting precious timetalking about it. You are alive. You are breathing; and no matter howbadly your bones are broken, what are great surgeons for but to fix youup and make you well again? You promise me that you'll just grit yourteeth and hang on when we hurt you, for we must start with you asquickly as it can be done. I don't know what has been the matter withme. Here's good time wasted already. "

"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!"

"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 deepand 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 Imust save you, so you might as well promise. "

She bent over him, trying to smile encouragement with her fear-stiffenedlips. 

"You will promise, Freckles?"

Big drops of cold sweat ran together on Freckles' temples. 

"Angel, darlin' Angel, " he pleaded, taking her hand in his. "You ain'tunderstanding, and I can't for the life of me be telling you, butindade, it's best to be letting me go. This is my chance. Please saygood-bye, and let me slip off quick!"

He appealed to McLean. 

"Dear Boss, you know! You be telling her that, for me, living is farworse pain than dying. Tell her you know death is the best thing thatcould ever be happening to me!"

"Merciful Heaven!" burst in the Angel. "I can't endure this delay!"

She caught Freckles' hand to her breast, and bending over him, lookeddeeply into his stricken eyes. 

"'Angel, I give you my word of honor that I will keep right onbreathing. ' That's what you are going to promise me, " she said. "Do yousay it?"

Freckles hesitated. 

"Freckles!" imploringly commanded the Angel, "YOU DO SAY IT!"

"Yis, " gasped Freckles. 

The Angel sprang to her feet. 

"Then that's all right, " she said, with a tinge of her old-timebriskness. "You just keep breathing away like a steam engine, and I willdo all the remainder. "

The eager men gathered around her. 

"It's going to be a tough pull to get Freckles out, " she said, "but it'sour only chance, so listen closely and don't for the lives of you failme in doing quickly what I tell you. There's no time to spend fallingdown over each other; we must have some system. You four there get onthose 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 tosave time. If you meet any other men of the gang, send them here to helpcarry the cot. We won't risk the jolt of driving with him. The othersclear a path out to the road; and Mr. McLean, you take Nellie and rideto town. Tell my father how Freckles is hurt and that he risked it tosave me. Tell him I'm going to take Freckles to Chicago on the noontrain, 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 Pittsburghat Fort Wayne, so we can go straight through. You needn't mind leavingus. The Bird Woman will be here soon. We will rest awhile. "

She dropped into the muck beside Freckles and began stroking his hairand hand. He lay with his face of agony turned to hers, and fought tosmother the groans that would tell her what he was suffering. 

When they stood ready to lift him, the Angel bent over him in a passionof tenderness. 

"Dear old Limberlost guard, we're going to lift you now, " she said. "Isuspect you will faint from the pain of it, but we will be as easy asever we can, and don't you dare forget your promise!"

A whimsical half-smile touched Freckles' quivering lips. 

"Angel, can a man be remembering a promise when he ain't knowing?" heasked. 

"You can, " said the Angel stoutly, "because a promise means so much moreto you than it does to most men. "

A look of strength flashed into Freckles' face at her words. 

"I am ready, " he said. 

With the first touch his eyes closed, a mighty groan was wrenched fromhim, and he lay senseless. The Angel gave Duncan one panic-strickenlook. Then she set her lips and gathered her forces again. 

"I guess that's a good thing, " she said. "Maybe he won't feel how we arehurting him. Oh boys, are you being quick and gentle?"

She stepped to the side of the cot and bathed Freckles' face. Taking hishand in hers, she gave the word to start. She told the men to ask everyable-bodied man they met to join them so that they could change carriersoften and make good time. 

The Bird Woman insisted upon taking the Angel into the carriage andfollowing the cot, but she refused to leave Freckles, and suggestedthat the Bird Woman drive ahead, pack them some clothing, and be at thestation ready to accompany them to Chicago. All the way the Angel walkedbeside the cot, shading Freckles' face with a branch, and holding hishand. At every pause to change carriers she moistened his face and lipsand watched each breath with heart-breaking anxiety. 

She scarcely knew when her father joined them, and taking the branchfrom her, slipped an arm around her waist and almost carried her. To thecity streets and the swarm of curious, staring faces she paid no moreattention than she had to the trees of the Limberlost. When the traincame and the gang placed Freckles aboard, big Duncan made a place forthe Angel beside the cot. 

With the best physician to be found, and with the Bird Woman andMcLean in attendance, the four-hours' run to Chicago began. The Angelconstantly 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 McLeanregarded her in amazement. There seemed to be no end to her resourcesand courage. The only time she spoke was to ask McLean if he were surethe special would be ready on the Pittsburgh road. He replied that itwas made up and waiting. 

At five o'clock Freckles lay stretched on the operating-table of LakeView Hospital, while three of the greatest surgeons in Chicago bent overhim. At their command, McLean picked up the unwilling Angel and carriedher to the nurses to be bathed, have her bruises attended, and to be putto bed. 

In a place where it is difficult to surprise people, they wereastonished women as they removed the Angel's dainty stained and tornclothing, drew off hose muck-baked to her limbs, soaked the dried loamfrom her silken hair, and washed the beautiful scratched, bruised, dirt-covered body. The Angel fell fast asleep long before they hadfinished, and lay deeply unconscious, while the fight for Freckles' lifewas being waged. 

Three days later she was the same Angel as of old, except that Freckleswas constantly in her thoughts. The anxiety and responsibility thatshe felt for his condition had bred in her a touch of womanliness andauthority that was new. That morning she arose early and hovered nearFreckles' door. She had been allowed to remain with him constantly, forthe nurses and surgeons had learned, with his returning consciousness, that for her alone would the active, highly strung, pain-racked suffererbe quiet and obey orders. When she was dropping from loss of sleep, thethreat that she would fall ill had to be used to send her to bed. Thenby telling Freckles that the Angel was asleep and they would waken herthe moment he moved, they were able to control him for a short time. 

The surgeon was with Freckles. The Angel had been told that the wordhe brought that morning would be final, so she curled in a window seat, dropped the curtains behind her, and in dire anxiety, waited the openingof the door. 

Just as it unclosed, McLean came hurrying down the hall and to thesurgeon, 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 tocome forward. The men faced each other. The Angel, with parted lips andfrightened eyes, bent forward in tense anxiety. 

"I--I thought he was doing nicely?" faltered McLean. 

"He bore the operation well, " replied the surgeon, "and his wounds arenot necessarily fatal. I told you that yesterday, but I did not tell youthat something else probably would kill him; and it will. He need notdie from the accident, but he will not live the day out. "

"But why? What is it?" asked McLean hurriedly. "We all dearly love theboy. We have millions among us to do anything that money can accomplish. Why must he die, if those broken bones are not the cause?"

"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 isdying as fast as his splendid physical condition will permit, and it isbecause he so evidently prefers death to life. If he were full of hopeand ambition to live, my work would be easy. If all of you love him asyou prove you do, and there is unlimited means to give him anything hewants, why should he desire death?"

"Is he dying?" demanded McLean. 

"He is, " said the surgeon. "He will not live this day out, unless somestrong reaction sets in at once. He is so low, that preferring death tolife, nature cannot overcome his inertia. If he is to live, he must bemade to desire life. Now he undoubtedly wishes for death, and that itcome quickly. "

"Then he must die, " said McLean. 

His broad shoulders shook convulsively. His strong hands opened andclosed mechanically. 

"Does that mean that you know what he desires and cannot, or will not, supply it?"

McLean groaned in misery. 

"It means, " he said desperately, "that I know what he wants, but it isas far removed from my power to help him as it would be to give him astar. The thing for which he will die, he can never have. "

"Then you must prepare for the end very shortly" said the surgeon, turning abruptly away. 

McLean caught his arm roughly. 

"You look here!" he cried in desperation. "You say that as if I could dosomething 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 repeatedlycommented on the young girl with me. It is that child that he wants! Heworships 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?"

"Barring that missing hand, I never examined a finer man, " said thesurgeon, "and she seemed perfectly devoted to him; why cannot he haveher?"

"Why?" echoed McLean. "Why? Well, for many reasons! I told you he was myson. You probably knew that he was not. A little over a year ago I neverhad seen him. He joined one of my lumber gangs from the road. He is astray, 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 ranaway and landed in one of my lumber camps. He has no name or knowledgeof legal birth. The Angel--we have talked of her. You see what she is, physically and mentally. She has ancestors reaching back to PlymouthRock, and across the sea for generations before that. She is anidolized, petted only child, and there is great wealth. Life holdseverything for her, nothing for him. He sees it more plainly than anyoneelse could. There is nothing for the boy but death, if it is the Angelthat is required to save him. "

The Angel stood between them. 

"Well, I just guess not!" she cried. "If Freckles wants me, all he hasto do is to say so, and he can have me!"

The amazed men stepped back, staring at her. 

"That he will never say, " said McLean at last, "and you don'tunderstand, Angel. I don't know how you came here. I wouldn't have hadyou hear that for the world, but since you have, dear girl, you must betold that it isn't your friendship or your kindness Freckles wants; itis your love. "

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. 

"Well, I do love him, " she said simply. 

McLean's arms dropped helplessly. 

"You don't understand, " he reiterated patiently. "It isn't the love ofa friend, or a comrade, or a sister, that Freckles wants from you; itis the love of a sweetheart. And if to save the life he has offeredfor you, you are thinking of being generous and impulsive enough tosacrifice your future--in the absence of your father, it will becomemy plain duty, as the protector in whose hands he has placed you, toprevent such rashness. The very words you speak, and the manner in whichyou say them, prove that you are a mere child, and have not dreamed whatlove is. "

Then the Angel grew splendid. A rosy flush swept the pallor of fearfrom her face. Her big eyes widened and dilated with intense lights. Sheseemed to leap to the height and the dignity of superb womanhood beforetheir wondering gaze. 

"I never have had to dream of love, " she said proudly. "I never haveknown anything else, in all my life, but to love everyone and to haveeveryone 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 dolove Freckles, just as I say I do. I don't know anything about the loveof sweethearts, but I love him with all the love in my heart, and Ithink that will satisfy him. "

"Surely it should!" muttered the man of knives and lancets. 

McLean reached to take hold of the Angel, but she saw the movement andswiftly stepped back. 

"As for my father, " she continued, "he at once told me what he learnedfrom you about Freckles. I've known all you know for several weeks. Thatknowledge didn't change your love for him a particle. I think the BirdWoman loved him more. Why should you two have all the fine perceptionsthere are? Can't I see how brave, trustworthy, and splendid he is? Can'tI see how his soul vibrates with his music, his love of beautiful thingsand the pangs of loneliness and heart hunger? Must you two love himwith all the love there is, and I give him none? My father is neverunreasonable. He won't expect me not to love Freckles, or not to tellhim so, if the telling will save him. "

She darted past McLean into Freckles' room, closed the door, and turnedthe key. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, andthe Angel Goes in Quest of it

Freckles lay on a flat pillow, his body immovable in a plaster cast, hismaimed arm, as always, hidden. His greedy gaze fastened at once on theAngel's face. She crossed to him with light step and bent over him withinfinite tenderness. Her heart ached at the change in his appearance. Heseemed so weak, heart hungry, so utterly hopeless, so alone. She couldsee that the night had been one long terror. 

For the first time she tried putting herself in Freckles' place. Whatwould it mean to have no parents, no home, no name? No name! That wasthe worst of all. That was to be lost--indeed--utterly and hopelesslylost. The Angel lifted her hands to her dazed head and reeled, as shetried to face that proposition. She dropped on her knees beside the bed, slipped her arm under the pillow, and leaning over Freckles, set herlips on his forehead. He smiled faintly, but his wistful face appearedworse for it. It hurt the Angel to the heart. 

"Dear Freckles, " she said, "there is a story in your eyes this morning, tell me?"

Freckles drew a long, wavering breath. 

"Angel, " he begged, "be generous! Be thinking of me a little. I'm sohomesick and worn out, dear Angel, be giving me back me promise. Let mego?"

"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. Ithink you are the very finest person I ever knew. I have our lives allplanned. I want you to be educated and learn all there is to know aboutsinging, just as soon as you are well enough. By the time you havecompleted your education I will have finished college, and then I want, "she choked a second, "I want you to be my real knight, Freckles, andcome to me and tell me that you--like me--a little. I have been countingon you for my sweetheart from the very first, Freckles. I can't give youup, unless you don't like me. But you do like me--just a little--don'tyou, Freckles?"

Freckles lay whiter than the coverlet, his staring eyes on the ceilingand his breath wheezing between dry lips. The Angel awaited his answera second, and when none came, she dropped her crimsoning face beside himon the pillow and whispered in his ear:

"Freckles, I--I'm trying to make love to you. Oh, can't you help me onlya little bit? It's awful hard all alone! I don't know how, when I reallymean it, but Freckles, I love you. I must have you, and now I guess--Iguess maybe I'd better kiss you next. "

She lifted her shamed face and bravely laid her feverish, quivering lipson his. Her breath, like clover-bloom, was in his nostrils, and her hairtouched his face. Then she looked into his eyes with reproach. 

"Freckles, " she panted, "Freckles! I didn't think it was in you to bemean!"

"Mean, Angel! Mean to you?" gasped Freckles. 

"Yes, " said the Angel. "Downright mean. When I kiss you, if you had anymercy at all you'd kiss back, just a little bit. "

Freckles' sinewy fist knotted into the coverlet. His chin pointedceilingward while his head rocked on the pillow. 

"Oh, Jesus!" burst from him in agony. "You ain't the only one that wascrucified!"

The Angel caught Freckles' hand and carried it to her breast. 

"Freckles!" she wailed in terror, "Freckles! It is a mistake? Is it thatyou don't want me?"

Freckles' head rolled on in wordless suffering. 

"Wait a bit, Angel?" he panted at last. "Be giving me a little time!"

The Angel arose with controlled features. She bathed his face, straightened his hair, and held water to his lips. It seemed a long timebefore he reached toward her. Instantly she knelt again, carried hishand to her breast, and leaned her cheek upon it. 

"Tell me, Freckles, " she whispered softly. 

"If I can, " said Freckles in agony. "It's just this. Angels arefrom above. Outcasts are from below. You've a sound body and you'rebeautifulest of all. You have everything that loving, careful raisingand money can give you. I have so much less than nothing that I don'tsuppose I had any right to be born. It's a sure thing--nobody wanted meafterward, so of course, they didn't before. Some of them should havebeen telling you long ago. "

"If that's all you have to say, Freckles, I've known that quite awhile, " said the Angel stoutly. "Mr. McLean told my father, and he toldme. That only makes me love you more, to pay for all you've missed. "

"Then I'm wondering at you, " said Freckles in a voice of awe. "Can't yousee that if you were willing and your father would come and offer youto me, I couldn't be touching the soles of your feet, in love--me, whosepeople brawled over me, cut off me hand, and throwed me away to freezeand to die! Me, who has no name just as much because I've no RIGHT toany, as because I don't know it. When I was little, I planned to find mefather and mother when I grew up. Now I know me mother deserted me, andme father was maybe a thief and surely a liar. The pity for me sufferingand the watching over me have gone to your head, dear Angel, and it's memust be thinking for you. If you could be forgetting me lost hand, whereI was raised, and that I had no name to give you, and if you would betaking me as I am, some day people such as mine must be, might come uponyou. I used to pray ivery night and morning and many times the day tosee me mother. Now I only pray to die quickly and never risk the sightof her. 'Tain't no ways possible, Angel! It's a wildness of your dearhead. Oh, do for mercy sake, kiss me once more and be letting me go!"

"Not for a minute!" cried the Angel. "Not for a minute, if those areall the reasons you have. It's you who are wild in your head, but I canunderstand just how it happened. Being shut in that Home most of yourlife, and seeing children every day whose parents did neglect and desertthem, makes you sure yours did the same; and yet there are so many otherthings that could have happened so much more easily than that. There arethousands of young couples who come to this country and start a familywith none of their relatives here. Chicago is a big, wicked city, andgrown people could disappear in many ways, and who would there ever beto find to whom their little children belonged? The minute my fathertold me how you felt, I began to study this thing over, and I've made upmy mind you are dead wrong. I meant to ask my father or the Bird Womanto talk to you before you went away to school, but as matters are rightnow I guess I'll just do it myself. It's all so plain to me. Oh, if Icould only make you see!"

She buried her face in the pillow and presently lifted it, transfigured. 

"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 whenwe followed it, you know there were places where ugly, prickly thistlesovergrew the path, and you went ahead with your club and bent them backto keep them from stinging through my clothing. Other places there werebig shining pools where lovely, snow-white lilies grew, and you wadedin and gathered them for me. Oh dear heart, don't you see? It's this!Everywhere the wind carried that thistledown, other thistles sprang upand grew prickles; and wherever those lily seeds sank to the mire, thepure white of other lilies bloomed. But, Freckles, there was nevera place anywhere in the Limberlost, or in the whole world, where thethistledown floated and sprang up and blossomed into white lilies!Thistles grow from thistles, and lilies from other lilies. DearFreckles, think hard! You must see it! You are a lily, straight through. You never, never could have drifted from the thistle-patch. 

"Where did you find the courage to go into the Limberlost and face itsterrors? 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 menwould have taken at all? You got it from a plucky mother, you bravestof boys. You attacked single-handed a man almost twice your size, andfought as a demon, merely at the suggestion that you be deceptive anddishonest. Could your mother or your father have been untruthful? Hereyou are, so hungry and starved that you are dying for love. Wheredid you get all that capacity for loving? You didn't inherit it fromhardened, heartless people, who would disfigure you and purposely leaveyou to die, that's one sure thing. You once told me of saving your bigbullfrog from a rattlesnake. You knew you risked a horrible death whenyou did it. Yet you will spend miserable years torturing yourself withthe idea that your own mother might have cut off that hand. Shame onyou, Freckles! Your mother would have done this----"

The Angel deliberately turned back the cover, slipped up the sleeve, andlaid her lips on the scars. 

"Freckles! Wake up!" she cried, almost shaking him. "Come to yoursenses! Be a thinking, reasoning man! You have brooded too much, andbeen all your life too much alone. It's all as plain as plain can be tome. You must see it! Like breeds like in this world! You must be somesort of a reproduction of your parents, and I am not afraid to vouch forthem, not for a minute!

"And then, too, if more proof is needed, here it is: Mr. McLean saysthat you never once have failed in tact and courtesy. He says that youare the most perfect gentleman he ever knew, and he has traveled theworld over. How does it happen, Freckles? No one at that Home taughtyou. 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 isborn in you, and a direct inheritance from a race of men that have beengentlemen for ages, and couldn't be anything else. 

"Then there's your singing. I don't believe there ever was a mortal witha sweeter voice than yours, and while that doesn't prove anything, thereis a point that does. The little training you had from that choirmasterwon't account for the wonderful accent and ease with which you sing. Somewhere in your close blood is a marvelously trained vocalist; weevery one of us believe that, Freckles. 

"Why does my father refer to you constantly as being of fine perceptionsand honor? Because you are, Freckles. Why does the Bird Woman leave herprecious work and come here to help look after you? I never heard of herlosing any time over anyone else. It's because she loves you. And whydoes Mr. McLean turn all of his valuable business over to hired men andwatch you personally? And why is he hunting excuses every day to spendmoney 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 becausehe finds you worthy of it. Worthy of all we all can do and more than weknow how to do, dear heart! Freckles, are you listening to me? Oh! won'tyou see it? Won't you believe it?"

"Oh, Angel!" chattered the bewildered Freckles, "are you truly maningit? Could it be?"

"Of course it could, " flashed the Angel, "because it just is!"

"But you can't prove it, " wailed Freckles. "It ain't giving me a name, or me honor!"

"Freckles, " said the Angel sternly, "you are unreasonable! Why, I didprove every word I said! Everything proves it! You look here! If youknew for sure that I could give you a name and your honor, and proveto you that your mother did love you, why, then, would you just go tobreathing like perpetual motion and hang on for dear life and get well?"

A bright light shone in Freckles' eyes. 

"If I knew that, Angel, " he said solemnly, "you couldn't be killing meif you felled the biggest tree in the Limberlost smash on me!"

"Then you go right to work, " said the Angel, "and before night I'llprove one thing to you: I can show you easily enough how much yourmother loved you. That will be the first step, and then the remainderwill all come. If my father and Mr. McLean are so anxious to spend somemoney, I'll give them a chance. I don't see why we haven't comprehendedhow you felt and so have been at work weeks ago. We've been awfullyselfish. We've all been so comfortable, we never stopped to think whatother people were suffering before our eyes. None of us has understood. I'll hire the finest detective in Chicago, and we'll go to worktogether. This is nothing compared with things people do find out. We'llgo at it, beak and claw, and we'll show you a thing or two. "

Freckles caught her sleeve. 

"Me mother, Angel! Me mother!" he marveled hoarsely. "Did you sayyou could be finding out today if me mother loved me? How? Oh, Angel!Nothing matters, IF ONLY ME MOTHER DIDN'T DO IT!"

"Then you rest easy, " said the Angel, with large confidence. "Yourmother didn't do it! Mothers of sons such as you don't do things likethat. I'll go to work at once and prove it to you. The first thing todo is to go to that Home where you were and get the clothes you wore thenight you were left there. I know that they are required to save thosethings carefully. We can find out almost all there is to know about yourmother from them. Did you ever see them?"

"Yis, " he replied. 

"Freckles! Were they white?" she cried. 

"Maybe they were once. They're all yellow with laying, and brown withblood-stains now" said Freckles, the old note of bitterness creeping in. "You can't be telling anything at all by them, Angel!"

"Well, but I just can!" said the Angel positively. "I can see from thequality what kind of goods your mother could afford to buy. I can seefrom the cut whether she had good taste. I can see from the care shetook in making them how much she loved and wanted you. "

"But how? Angel, tell me how!" implored Freckles with tremblingeagerness. 

"Why, easily enough, " said the Angel. "I thought you'd understand. People that can afford anything at all, always buy white for little newbabies--linen and lace, and the very finest things to be had. There's ayoung woman living near us who cut up her wedding clothes to have finethings for her baby. Mothers who love and want their babies don't buylittle rough, ready-made things, and they don't run up what they make onan old sewing machine. They make fine seams, and tucks, and put on laceand trimming by hand. They sit and stitch, and stitch--little, evenstitches, every one just as careful. Their eyes shine and their facesglow. When they have to quit to do something else, they look sorry, andfold up their work so particularly. There isn't much worth knowing aboutyour mother that those little clothes won't tell. I can see her puttingthe little stitches into them and smiling with shining eyes over yourcoming. Freckles, I'll wager you a dollar those little clothes of yoursare just alive with the dearest, tiny handmade stitches. "

A new light dawned in Freckles' eyes. A tinge of warm color swept intohis face. Renewed strength was noticeable in his grip of her hands. 

"Oh Angel! Will you go now? Will you be hurrying?" he cried. 

"Right away, " said the Angel. "I won't stop for a thing, and I'll hurrywith all my might. "

She smoothed his pillow, straightened the cover, gave him one steadylook in the eyes, and went quietly from the room. 

Outside the door, McLean and the surgeon anxiously awaited her. McLeancaught her shoulders. 

"Angel, what have you done?" he demanded. 

The Angel smiled defiance into his eyes. 

"'What have I done?'" she repeated. "I've tried to save Freckles. "

"What will your father say?" groaned McLean. 

"It strikes me, " said the Angel, "that what Freckles said would be tothe point. "

"Freckles!" exclaimed McLean. "What could he say?"

"He seemed to be able to say several things, " answered the Angelsweetly. "I fancy the one that concerns you most at present was, that ifmy father should offer me to him he would not have me. "

"And no one knows why better than I do, " cried McLean. "Every day hemust astonish me with some new fineness. "

He turned to the surgeon. "Save him!" he commanded. "Save him!" heimplored. "He is too fine to be sacrificed. "

"His salvation lies here, " said the surgeon, stroking the Angel'ssunshiny hair, "and I can read in the face of her that she knows how sheis going to work it out. Don't trouble for the boy. She will save him!"

The Angel laughingly sped down the hall, and into the street, just asshe was. 

"I have come, " she said to the matron of the Home, "to ask if you willallow me to examine, or, better yet, to take with me, the little clothesthat a boy you called Freckles, discharged last fall, wore the night hewas left here. "

The woman looked at her in greater astonishment than the occasiondemanded. 

"Well, I'd be glad to let you see them, " she said at last, "but thefact is we haven't them. I do hope we haven't made some mistake. I wasthoroughly convinced, and so was the superintendent. We let his peopletake those things away yesterday. Who are you, and what do you want withthem?"

The Angel stood dazed and speechless, staring at the matron. 

"There couldn't have been a mistake, " continued the matron, seeing theAngel's distress. "Freckles was here when I took charge, ten years ago. These people had it all proved that he belonged to them. They hadhim traced to where he ran away in Illinois last fall, and there theycompletely lost track of him. I'm sorry you seem so disappointed, but itis all right. The man is his uncle, and as like the boy as he possiblycould be. He is almost killed to go back without him. If you know whereFreckles is, they'd give big money to find out. "

The Angel laid a hand along each cheek to steady her chattering teeth. 

"Who are they?" she stammered. "Where are they going?"

"They are Irish folks, miss, " said the matron. "They have been inChicago and over the country for the past three months, hunting himeverywhere. They have given up, and are starting home today. They----"

"Did they leave an address? Where could I find them?" interrupted theAngel. 

"They left a card, and I notice the morning paper has the man's pictureand is full of them. They've advertised a great deal in the city papers. It's a wonder you haven't seen something. "

"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 mustcatch them!"

The matron hurried to the secretary and came back with a card. 

"Their addresses are there, " she said. "Both in Chicago and at theirhome. They made them full and plain, and I was to cable at once if Igot the least clue of him at any time. If they've left the city, you canstop them in New York. You're sure to catch them before they sail--ifyou hurry. "

The matron caught up a paper and thrust it into the Angel's hand as sheran to the street. 

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 hiseyes. 

"There is a fast-driving limit?" she asked. 

"Yes, miss. "

"Will you crowd it all you can without danger of arrest? I will paywell. I must catch some people!"

Then she smiled at him. The hospital, an Orphans' Home, and theAuditorium seemed a queer combination to that driver, but the Angel wasalways and everywhere the Angel, and her methods were strictly her own. 

"I will take you there as quickly as any man could with a team, " he saidpromptly. 

The Angel clung to the card and paper, and as best she could in thelurching, swaying cab, read the addresses over. 

"O'More, Suite Eleven, Auditorium. "

"'O'More, '" she repeated. "Seems to fit Freckles to a dot. Wonder ifthat could be his name? 'Suite Eleven' means that you are pretty wellfixed. Suites in the Auditorium come high. "

Then she turned the card and read on its reverse, Lord Maxwell O'More, M. P. , Killvany Place, County Clare, Ireland. 

The Angel sat on the edge of the seat, bracing her feet against the oneopposite, as the cab pitched and swung around corners and past vehicles. She mechanically fingered the pasteboard and stared straight ahead. Thenshe drew a deep breath and read the card again. 

"A Lord-man!" she groaned despairingly. "A Lord-man! Bet my hoecake'sscorched! Here I've gone and pledged my word to Freckles I'd find himsome decent relatives, that he could be proud of, and now there isn't achance out of a dozen that he'll have to be ashamed of them after all. It's too mean!"

The tears of vexation rolled down the tired, nerve-racked Angel'scheeks. 

"This isn't going to do, " she said, resolutely wiping her eyes with thepalm of her hand and gulping down the nervous spasm in her throat. "Imust read this paper before I meet Lord O'More. "

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 ofhis lost nephew, and leaves Chicago today for his home in Ireland. "

She read on, and realized every word. The likeness settled any doubt. Itwas Freckles over again, only older and well dressed. 

"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'sflat. You're not his father and he is twenty. Anyway, if the law willgive 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 somethingthat will save him. I guess it will come out all right. At least, Idon't believe you can take him away if I say no. "

"Thank you; and wait, no matter how long, " she said to her driver. 

Catching up the paper, she hurried to the desk and laid down LordO'More's card. 

"Has my uncle started yet?" she asked sweetly. 

The surprised clerk stepped back on a bellboy, and covertly kicked himfor being in the way. 

"His lordship is in his room, " he said, with a low bow. 

"All right, " said the Angel, picking up the card. "I thought he mighthave started. I'll see him. "

The clerk shoved the bellboy toward the Angel. 

"Show her ladyship to the elevator and Lord O'More's suite, " he said, bowing double. 

"Aw, thanks, " said the Angel with a slight nod, as she turned away. 

"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'sprobable he isn't either; and anyway, I just had to do something tocounteract that 'All right. ' How stupid of me!"

At the bellboy's tap, the door swung open and the liveried servantthrust a cardtray before the Angel. The opening of the door created acurrent that swayed a curtain aside, and in an adjoining room, loungingin a big chair, with a paper in his hand, sat a man who was, beyondquestion, of Freckles' blood and race. 

With perfect control the Angel dropped Lord O'More's card in the tray, stepped past his servant, and stood before his lordship. 

"Good morning, " she said with tense politeness. 

Lord O'More said nothing. He carelessly glanced her over with amusedcuriosity, until her color began to deepen and her blood to run hotly. 

"Well, my dear, " he said at last, "how can I serve you?"

Instantly the Angel became indignant. She had been so shielded in themidst of almost entire freedom, owing to the circumstances of her life, that the words and the look appeared to her as almost insulting. Shelifted her head with a proud gesture. 

"I am not your 'dear, '" she said with slow distinctness. "There isn't athing in the world you can do for me. I came here to see if I could dosomething--a very great something--for you; but if I don't like you, Iwon't do it!"

Then Lord O'More did stare. Suddenly he broke into a ringing laugh. Without a change of attitude or expression, the Angel stood lookingsteadily at him. 

There was a silken rustle, then a beautiful woman with cheeks of satinypink, dark hair, and eyes of pure Irish blue, moved to Lord O'More'sside, and catching his arm, shook him impatiently. 

"Terence! Have you lost your senses?" she cried. "Didn't you understandwhat the child said? Look at her face! See what she has!"

Lord O'More opened his eyes widely and sat up. He did look at theAngel's face intently, and suddenly found it so good that it wasdifficult to follow the next injunction. He arose instantly. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said. "The fact is, I am leaving Chicago sorelydisappointed. It makes me bitter and reckless. I thought you one more ofthose queer, useless people who have thrust themselves on me constantly, and I was careless. Forgive me, and tell me why you came. "

"I will if I like you, " said the Angel stoutly, "and if I don't, Iwon't!"

"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. 

The Angel found herself yielding to his voice. He spoke in a soft, mellow, smoothly flowing Irish tone, and although his speech wasperfectly correct, it was so rounded, and accented, and the sentences soturned, that it was Freckles over again. Still, it was a matter of thevery greatest importance, and she must be sure; so she looked into thebeautiful woman's face. 

"Are you his wife?" she asked. 

"Yes, " said the woman, "I am his wife. "

"Well, " said the Angel judicially, "the Bird Woman says no one in thewhole world knows all a man's bignesses and all his littlenesses as hiswife does. What you think of him should do for me. Do you like him?"

The question was so earnestly asked that it met with equal earnestness. The dark head moved caressingly against Lord O'More's sleeve. 

"Better than anyone in the whole world, " said Lady O'More promptly. 

The Angel mused a second, and then her legal tinge came to the foreagain. 

"Yes, but have you anyone you could like better, if he wasn't allright?" she persisted. 

"I have three of his sons, two little daughters, a father, mother, andseveral brothers and sisters, " came the quick reply. 

"And you like him best?" persisted the Angel with finality. 

"I love him so much that I would give up every one of them with dry eyesif by so doing I could save him, " cried Lord O'More's wife. 

"Oh!" cried the Angel. "Oh, my!"

She lifted her clear eyes to Lord O'More's and shook her head. 

"She never, never could do that!" she said. "But it's a mighty big thingto your credit that she THINKS she could. I guess I'll tell you why Icame. "

She laid down the paper, and touched the portrait. 

"When you were only a boy, did people call you Freckles?" she asked. 

"Dozens of good fellows all over Ireland and the Continent are doing ittoday, " answered Lord O'More. 

The Angel's face wore her most beautiful smile. 

"I was sure of it, " she said winningly. "That's what we call him, and heis so like you, I doubt if any one of those three boys of yours aremore so. But it's been twenty years. Seems to me you've been a long timecoming!"

Lord O'More caught the Angel's wrists and his wife slipped her armsaround her. 

"Steady, my girl!" said the man's voice hoarsely. "Don't make me thinkyou've brought word of the boy at this last hour, unless you knowsurely. "

"It's all right, " said the Angel. "We have him, and there's no chanceof a mistake. If I hadn't gone to that Home for his little clothes, andheard of you and been hunting you, and had met you on the street, oranywhere, I would have stopped you and asked you who you were, justbecause you are so like him. It's all right. I can tell you whereFreckles is; but whether you deserve to know--that's another matter!"

Lord O'More did not hear her. He dropped in his chair, and covering hisface, burst into those terrible sobs that shake and rend a strong man. Lady O'More hovered over him, weeping. 

"Umph! Looks pretty fair for Freckles, " muttered the Angel. "Lots ofthings can be explained; now perhaps they can explain this. "

They did explain so satisfactorily that in a few minutes the Angel wason her feet, hurrying Lord and Lady O'More to reach the hospital. "Yousaid Freckles' old nurse knew his mother's picture instantly, " said theAngel. "I want that picture and the bundle of little clothes. "

Lady O'More gave them into her hands. 

The likeness was a large miniature, painted on ivory, with a frame ofbeaten gold. Surrounded by masses of dark hair was a delicately cutface. In the upper part of it there was no trace of Freckles, butthe lips curving in a smile were his very own. The Angel gazed at itsteadily. Then with a quivering breath she laid the portrait aside andreached both hands to Lord O'More. 

"That will save Freckles' life and insure his happiness, " she saidpositively. "Thank you, oh thank you for coming!"

She opened the bundle of yellow and brown linen and gave only a glanceat the texture and work. Then she gathered the little clothes and thepicture to her heart and led the way to the cab. 

Ushering Lord and Lady O'More into the reception room, she said toMcLean, "Please go call up my father and ask him to come on the firsttrain. "

She closed the door after him. 

"These are Freckles' people, " she said to the Bird Woman. "You can findout about each other; I'm going to him. "

CHAPTER XIX

Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart

The nurse left the room quietly, as the Angel entered, carrying thebundle and picture. When they were alone, she turned to Freckles and sawthat the crisis was indeed at hand. 

That she had good word to give him was his salvation, for despite theheavy plaster jacket that held his body immovable, his head was liftedfrom the pillow. Both arms reached for her. His lips and cheeks flamed, while his eyes flashed with excitement. 

"Angel, " he panted. "Oh Angel! Did you find them? Are they white? Arethe little stitches there? OH ANGEL! DID ME MOTHER LOVE ME?"

The words seemed to leap from his burning lips. The Angel dropped thebundle 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 firmgrasp. 

"Yes, dear heart, " she said with fullest assurance. "No little clotheswere ever whiter. I never in all my life saw such dainty, fine, littlestitches; and as for loving you, no boy's mother ever loved him more!"

A nervous trembling seized Freckles. 

"Sure? Are you sure?" he urged with clicking teeth. 

"I know, " said the Angel firmly. "And Freckles, while you rest and beglad, I want to tell you a story. When you feel stronger we will look atthe clothes together. They are here. They are all right. But while Iwas at the Home getting them, I heard of some people that were huntinga lost boy. I went to see them, and what they told me was all so exactlylike what might have happened to you that I must tell you. Then you'llunderstand that things could be very different from what you always havetortured yourself with thinking. Are you strong enough to listen? May Itell you?"

"Maybe 'twasn't me mother! Maybe someone else made those littlestitches!"

"Now, goosie, don't you begin that, " said the Angel, "because I knowthat it was!"

"Know!" cried Freckles, his head springing from the pillow. "Know! Howcan you know?"

The Angel gently soothed him back. 

"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 tellyou about this lost boy and his people, who have hunted for months andcan't find him. "

Freckles lay quietly under her touch, but he did not hear a word thatshe was saying until his roving eyes rested on her face; he immediatelynoticed a remarkable thing. For the first time she was talking to himand avoiding his eyes. That was not like the Angel at all. It was thedelight of hearing her speak that she looked one squarely in the faceand with perfect frankness. There were no side glances and down-droopingeyes when the Angel talked; she was business straight through. InstantlyFreckles' wandering thoughts fastened on her words. 

"--and he was a sour, grumpy, old man, " she was saying. "He always hadbeen spoiled, because he was an only son, so he had a title, and a bigestate. He would have just his way, no matter about his sweet littlewife, or his boys, or anyone. So when his elder son fell in love with abeautiful girl having a title, the very girl of all the world hisfather wanted him to, and added a big adjoining estate to his, why, thatpleased him mightily. 

"Then he went and ordered his younger son to marry a poky kind of agirl, that no one liked, to add another big estate on the other side, and that was different. That was all the world different, because theelder 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 hasthe sweetest way. 

"But that poor younger son, he had been in love with the villagevicar's daughter all his life. That's no wonder either, for she was morebeautiful yet. She could sing as the angels, but she hadn't a cent. Sheloved him to death, too, if he was bony and freckled and red-haired--Idon't mean that! They didn't say what color his hair was, but hisfather's must have been the reddest ever, for when he found out aboutthem, and it wasn't anything so terrible, HE JUST CAVED!

"The old man went to see the girl--the pretty one with no money, ofcourse--and he hurt her feelings until she ran away. She went to Londonand began studying music. Soon she grew to be a fine singer, so shejoined a company and came to this country. 

"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 wouldhave done. He didn't want her to travel with the troupe, so when theyreached Chicago they thought that would be a good place, and theystopped, while he hunted work. It was slow business, because he neverhad been taught to do a useful thing, and he didn't even know how tohunt work, least of all to do it when he found it; so pretty soon thingswere 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'tlike her to sing in public, and he wouldn't allow her when he couldHELP himself; but winter came, it was very cold, and fire was expensive. Rents went up, and they had to move farther out to cheaper andcheaper places; and you were coming--I mean, the boy that is lost wascoming--and they were almost distracted. Then the man wrote and told hisfather all about it; and his father sent the letter back unopened witha line telling him never to write again. When the baby came, there wasvery little left to pawn for food and a doctor, and nothing at all fora nurse; so an old neighbor woman went in and took care of the youngmother and the little baby, because she was so sorry for them. By thattime they were away in the suburbs on the top floor of a little woodenhouse, among a lot of big factories, and it kept growing colder, withless to eat. Then the man grew desperate and he went just to findsomething to eat and the woman was desperate, too. She got up, left theold woman to take care of her baby, and went into the city to sing forsome money. The woman became so cold she put the baby in bed and wenthome. Then a boiler blew up in a big factory beside the little house andset it on fire. A piece of iron was pitched across and broke throughthe roof. It came down smash, and cut just one little hand off the poorbaby. It screamed and screamed; and the fire kept coming closer andcloser. 

"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 shecouldn't stand that; so she worked her way to it. There it was, all hurtand bleeding. Then she was almost scared to death over thinking what itsmother would do to her for going away and leaving it, so she ran to aHome for little friendless babies, that was close, and banged on thedoor. Then she hid across the street until the baby was taken in, andthen she ran back to see if her own house was burning. The big factoryand the little house and a lot of others were all gone. The people theretold her that the beautiful lady came back and ran into the house tofind her baby. She had just gone in when her husband came, and he wentin after her, and the house fell over both of them. "

Freckles lay rigidly, with his eyes on the Angel's face, while shetalked rapidly to the ceiling. 

"Then the old woman was sick about that poor little baby. She was afraidto tell them at the Home, because she knew she never should have leftit, 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 allabout the little baby that she could remember: when it was born, how itwas named for the man's elder brother, that its hand had been cut off inthe fire, and where she had put it to be doctored and taken care of. Shetold them that its mother and father were both burned, and she beggedand implored them to come after it. 

"You'd think that would have melted a heart of ice, but that old manhadn't any heart to melt, for he got that letter and read it. He hid itaway 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 letteralmost the first thing. He dropped everything, and came, with his wife, to hunt that baby, because he always had loved his brother dearly, andwanted him back. He had hunted for him all he dared all these years, butwhen he got here you were gone--I mean the baby was gone, and I had totell you, Freckles, for you see, it might have happened to you like thatjust as easy as to that other lost boy. "

Freckles reached up and turned the Angel's face until he compelled hereyes to meet his. 

"Angel, " he asked quietly, "why don't you look at me when you aretelling about that lost boy?"

"I--I didn't know I wasn't, " faltered the Angel. 

"It seems to me, " said Freckles, his breath beginning to come in sharpwheezes, "that you got us rather mixed, and it ain't like you to bemixing things till one can't be knowing. If they were telling you somuch, did they say which hand was for being off that lost boy?"

The Angel's eyes escaped again. 

"It--it was the same as yours, " she ventured, barely breathing in herfear. 

Still Freckles lay rigid and whiter than the coverlet. 

"Would that boy be as old as me?" he asked. 

"Yes, " said the Angel faintly. 

"Angel, " said Freckles at last, catching her wrist, "are you trying totell me that there is somebody hunting a boy that you're thinking mightbe me? Are you belavin' you've found me relations?"

Then the Angel's eyes came home. The time had come. She pinionedFreckles' arms to his sides and bent above him. 

"How strong are you, dear heart?" she breathed. "How brave are you? Canyou bear it? Dare I tell you that?"

"No!" gasped Freckles. "Not if you're sure! I can't bear it! I'll die ifyou do!"

The day had been one unremitting strain with the Angel. Nerve tensionwas drawn to the finest thread. It snapped suddenly. 

"Die!" she flamed. "Die, if I tell you that! You said this morning thatyou would die if you DIDN'T know your name, and if your people werehonorable. Now I've gone and found you a name that stands for ages ofhonor, a mother who loved you enough to go into the fire and die foryou, and the nicest kind of relatives, and you turn round and say you'lldie over that! YOU JUST TRY DYING AND YOU'LL GET A GOOD SLAP!"

The Angel stood glaring at him. One second Freckles lay paralyzed anddumb with astonishment. The next the Irish in his soul arose aboveeverything. A laugh burst from him. The terrified Angel caught him inher arms and tried to stifle the sound. She implored and commanded. Whenhe was too worn to utter another sound, his eyes laughed silently. 

After a long time, when he was quiet and rested, the Angel commencedtalking to him gently, and this time her big eyes, humid with tendernessand mellow with happiness, seemed as if they could not leave his face. 

"Dear Freckles, " she was saying, "across your knees there is the face ofthe mother who went into the fire for you, and I know the name--old andfull of honor--to which you were born. Dear heart, which will you havefirst?"

Freckles was very tired; the big drops of perspiration ran together onhis temples; but the watching Angel caught the words his lips formed, "Me mother!"

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 theygazed at the picture while the tears slid over their cheeks. 

"Me mother! Oh, me mother! Can you ever be forgiving me? Oh, mebeautiful little mother!" chanted Freckles over and over in exaltedwonder, until he was so completely exhausted that his lips refused toform the question in his weary eyes. 

"Wait!" cried the Angel with inborn refinement, for she could no moreanswer that question than he could ask. "Wait, I will write it!"

She hurried to the table, caught up the nurse's pencil, and on the backof a prescription tablet scrawled it: "Terence Maxwell O'More, DunderryHouse, County Clare, Ireland. "

Before she had finished came Freckles' voice: "Angel, are you hurrying?"

"Yes, " said the Angel; "I am. But there is a good deal of it. I have toput in your house and country, so that you will feel located. "

"Me house?" marveled Freckles. 

"Of course, " said the Angel. "Your uncle says your grandmother left yourfather her dower house and estate, because she knew his father would cuthim off. You get that, and all your share of your grandfather's propertybesides. It is all set off for you and waiting. Lord O'More told me so. I suspect you are richer than McLean, Freckles. "

She closed his fingers over the slip and straightened his hair. 

"Now you are all right, dear Limberlost guard, " she said. "You go tosleep and don't think of a thing but just pure joy, joy, joy! I'll keepyour people until you wake up. You are too tired to see anyone else justnow!"

Freckles caught her skirt as she turned from him. 

"I'll go to sleep in five minutes, " he said, "if you will be doing justone thing more for me. Send for your father! Oh, Angel, send for himquick! How will I ever be waiting until he comes?"

One instant the Angel stood looking at him. The next a crimson wavedarkly stained her lovely face. Her chin began a spasmodic quivering andthe tears sprang into her eyes. Her hands caught at her chest as if shewere stifling. Freckles' grasp on her tightened until he drew her besidehim. He slipped his arm around her and drew her face to his pillow. 

"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. "

The Angel shook her head. 

"That ain't fair, Angel, " said Freckles. "You made me tell you when itwas like tearing the heart raw from me breast. And you was for makingeverything heaven--just heaven and nothing else for me. If I'm so muchmore now than I was an hour ago, maybe I can be thinking of some way tofix things. You will be telling me?" he coaxed, moving his cheek againsther hair. 

The Angel's head moved in negation. Freckles did a moment of intentthinking. 

"Maybe I can be guessing, " he whispered. "Will you be giving me threechances?"

There was the faintest possible assent. 

"You didn't want me to be knowing me name, " guessed Freckles. 

The Angel's head sprang from the pillow and her tear-stained face flamedwith outraged indignation. 

"Why, I did too!" she cried angrily. 

"One gone, " said Freckles calmly. "You didn't want me to have relatives, a home, and money. "

"I did!" exclaimed the Angel. "Didn't I go myself, all alone, into thecity, and find them when I was afraid as death? I did too!"

"Two gone, " said Freckles. "You didn't want the beautifulest girl in theworld to be telling me. ----"

Down went the Angel's face and a heavy sob shook her. Freckles' clasptightened around her shoulders, while his face, in its conflictingemotions, was a study. He was so stunned and bewildered by the miraclethat had been performed in bringing to light his name and relatives thathe had no strength left for elaborate mental processes. Despite allit meant to him to know his name at last, and that he was of honorablebirth--knowledge without which life was an eternal disgrace and burdenthe one thing that was hammering in Freckles' heart and beating in hisbrain, past any attempted expression, was the fact that, while namelessand 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 hisheart over that. But if she regretted it--if it had been a thing doneout of her pity for his condition, or her feeling of responsibility, ifit killed him after all, there was only one thing left to do. Not forMcLean, not for the Bird Woman, not for the Duncans would Freckles havedone it--but for the Angel--if it would make her happy--he would doanything. 

"Angel, " whispered Freckles, with his lips against her hair, "youhaven't learned your history book very well, or else you've forgotten. "

"Forgotten what?" sobbed the Angel. 

"Forgotten about the real knight, Ladybird, " breathed Freckles. "Don'tyou know that, if anything happened that made his lady sorry, a realknight just simply couldn't be remembering it? Angel, darling littleSwamp 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 likebefore or since, when the dear Boss put his arm around me and told methat he loved me; but if you care, Angel, if you don't want it thatway, why, I ain't remembering that anyone else ever did--not in me wholelife. "

The Angel lifted her head and looked into the depths of Freckles' honestgray eyes, and they met hers unwaveringly; but the pain in them waspitiful. 

"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"--theAngel choked on it a second, but she gave a gulp and brought it outbravely--"that she loved you?"

"No!" cried Freckles. "No! I don't remember anything of the kind!"

But all the songbirds of his soul burst into melody over that one littleclause: "When you hadn't asked her. "

"But you will, " said the Angel. "You may live to be an old, old man, andthen you will. "

"I will not!" cried Freckles. "How can you think it, Angel?"

"You won't even LOOK as if you remember?"

"I will not!" persisted Freckles. "I'll be swearing to it if you want meto. If you wasn't too tired to think this thing out straight, you'd beseeing that I couldn't--that I just simply couldn't! I'd rather give itall up now and go into eternity alone, without ever seeing a soul of mesame blood, or me home, or hearing another man call me by the name I wasborn to, than to remember anything that would be hurting you, Angel. Ishould think you'd be understanding that it ain't no ways possible forme to do it. "

The Angel's tear-stained face flashed into dazzling beauty. Ahalf-hysterical little laugh broke from her heart and bubbled over herlips. 

"Oh, Freckles, forgive me!" she cried. "I've been through so much thatI'm scarcely myself, or I wouldn't be here bothering you when you shouldbe sleeping. Of course you couldn't! I knew it all the time! I was justscared! I was forgetting that you were you! You're too good a knightto remember a thing like that. Of course you are! And when you don'tremember, why, then it's the same as if it never happened. I was almostkilled because I'd gone and spoiled everything, but now it will be allright. Now you can go on and do things like other men, and I can havesome flowers, and letters, and my sweetheart coming, and when you areSURE, why, then YOU can tell ME things, can't you? Oh, Freckles, I'mso 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 ifI did not. Oh, I should like to know how I'm ever going to make youunderstand how much I love you!"

Pillow and all, she caught him to her breast one long second; then shewas gone. 

Freckles lay dazed with astonishment. At last his amazed eyes searchedthe room for something approaching the human to which he could appeal, and falling on his mother's portrait, he set it before him. 

"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 cometrue this minute? Did you hear it?"

He shook the frame in his impatience at receiving no answer. 

"You are only a pictured face, " he said at last, "and of course youcan't talk; but the soul of you must be somewhere, and surely in thishour you are close enough to be hearing. Tell me, did you hear that? Ican't ever be telling a living soul; but darling little mother, whogave your life for mine, I can always be talking of it to you! Every daywe'll talk it over and try to understand the miracle of it. Tell me, areall women like that? Were you like me Swamp Angel? If you were, then I'munderstanding why me father followed across the ocean and went into thefire. "

CHAPTER XX

Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails forIreland Without Him

Freckles' voice ceased, his eyes closed, and his head rolled back fromexhaustion. 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 gaveall of his friends a terrible fright. 

The next morning, the Man of Affairs, with a heart filled withmisgivings, undertook the interview on which Freckles insisted. Hisfears were without cause. Freckles was the soul of honor and simplicity. 

"Have they been telling you what's come to me?" he asked without evenwaiting for a greeting. 

"Yes, " said the Angel's father. 

"Do you think you have the very worst of it clear to yourunderstanding?"

Under Freckles' earnest eyes the Man of Affairs answered soberly: "Ithink I have, Mr. O'More. "

That was the first time Freckles heard his name from the lips ofanother. One second he lay overcome; the next, tears filled his eyes, and he reached out his hand. Then the Angel's father understood, and heclasped that hand and held it in a strong, firm grasp. 

"Terence, my boy, " he said, "let me do the talking. I came here withthe understanding that you wanted to ask me for my only child. I shouldlike, at the proper time, to regard her marriage, if she has found theman she desires to marry, not as losing all I have, but as gaining a manon whom I can depend to love as a son and to take charge of my affairsfor her when I retire from business. Bend all of your energies towardrapid recovery, and from this hour understand that my daughter and myhome are yours. "

"You're not forgetting this?"

Freckles lifted his right arm. 

"Terence, I'm sorrier than I have words to express about that, " saidthe Man of Affairs. "It's a damnable pity! But if it's for me to choosewhether I give all I have left in this world to a man lacking a hand, orto one of these gambling, tippling, immoral spendthrifts of today, withboth hands and feet off their souls, and a rotten spot in the core, Ichoose you; and it seems that my daughter does the same. Put what isleft you of that right arm to the best uses you can in this world, andnever again mention or feel that it is defective so long as you live. Good day, sir!"

"One minute more, " said Freckles. "Yesterday the Angel was telling methat there was money coming to me from two sources. She said that megrandmother had left me father all of her fortune and her house, becauseshe knew that his father would be cutting him off, and also that meuncle had set aside for me what would be me father's interest in hisfather's estate. 

"Whatever the sum is that me grandmother left me father, because sheloved him and wanted him to be having it, that I'll be taking. 'Twashers from her father, and she had the right to be giving it as shechose. Anything from the man that knowingly left me father and me motherto go cold and hungry, and into the fire in misery, when just a littlewould have made life so beautiful to them, and saved me this crippledbody--money that he willed from me when he knew I was living, of hisblood 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 beearning enough to fix things for the Angel----"

"We are not discussing money!" burst in the Man of Affairs. "We don'twant any blood-money! We have all we need without it. If you don't feelright and easy over it, don't you touch a cent of any of it. "

"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 ofme grandfather's money!"

"Now, " said the Angel, "we are all going home. We have done all we canfor Freckles. His people are here. He should know them. They are veryanxious to become acquainted with him. We'll resign him to them. When heis well, why, then he will be perfectly free to go to Ireland or come tothe Limberlost, just as he chooses. We will go at once. "

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 thatfor the past year his heart had been circling the Limberlost withFreckles. He began to wish that he had not left him. Perhaps theboy--his boy by first right, after all--was being neglected. If theBoss had been a nervous old woman, he scarcely could have imagined morethings that might be going wrong. 

He started for Chicago, loaded with a big box of goldenrod, asters, fringed gentians, and crimson leaves, that the Angel carefully hadgathered from Freckles' room, and a little, long slender package. Hetraveled with biting, stinging jealousy in his heart. He would notadmit it even to himself, but he was unable to remain longer away fromFreckles and leave him to the care of Lord O'More. 

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, andhis desire to visit the Limberlost with Freckles before they sailed;he expressed the hope that he could prevail upon the Angel's father toplace 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 asthe most promising girl they knew, and one who could be fitted to fillthe high position in which Freckles would place her. 

Every word he uttered was pungent with bitterness to McLean. The swamphad lost its flavor without Freckles; and yet, as Lord O'More talked, McLean fervently wished himself in the heart of it. As he enteredFreckles' room he almost lost his breath. Everything was changed. 

Freckles lay beside a window where he could follow Lake Michigan'sblue until the horizon dipped into it. He could see big soft clouds, white-capped waves, shimmering sails, and puffing steamers trailingbillowing banners of lavender and gray across the sky. Gulls and curlewswheeled over the water and dipped their wings in the foam. The room wasfilled with every luxury that taste and money could introduce. 

All the tan and sunburn had been washed from Freckles' face in sweatsof 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 couldnot guess, but it was the most beautiful that he ever had seen. Fine asfloss, bright in color, waving and crisp, it fell around the white face. 

They had gotten his arms into and his chest covered with a finelyembroidered, pale-blue silk shirt, with soft, white tie at the throat. Among the many changes that had taken place during his absence, thefact that Freckles was most attractive and barely escaped being handsomeremained almost unnoticed by the Boss, so great was his astonishment atseeing both cuffs turned back and the right arm in view. Freckles wasusing the maimed arm that previously he always had hidden. 

"Oh Lord, sir, but I'm glad to see you!" cried Freckles, almost rollingfrom the bed as he reached toward McLean. "Tell me quick, is the Angelwell and happy? Can me Little Chicken spread six feet of wing andsail to his mother? How's me new father, the Bird Woman, Duncans, andNellie--darling little high-stepping Nelie? Me Aunt Alice is going tochoose 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 beenthinking 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 sameblood 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 isfinished and they sent it to keep me company. See? It's an emerald--justme color, Lord O'More says. "

Freckles flourished his hand. 

"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 alittle shamrock leaf cut on it, so every time I saw it I'd be thinkingof the 'love, truth, and valor' of that song she was teaching me. Ain'tthat a beautiful song? Some of these days I'm going to make it echo. I'ma little afraid to be doing it with me voice yet, but me heart's tuningaway on it every blessed hour. Will you be looking at these now?"

Freckles tilted a tray of unset stones from Peacock's that would haveransomed several valuable kings. He held them toward McLean, stirringthem with his right arm. 

"I tell you I'm glad to see you, sir" he said. "I tried to tell me unclewhat I wanted, but this ain't for him to be mixed up in, anyway, and Idon't think I made it clear to him. I couldn't seem to say the words Iwanted. I can be telling you, sir. "

McLean's heart began to thump as a lover's. 

"Go on, Freckles, " he said assuringly. 

"It's this, " said Freckles. "I told him that I would pay only threehundred dollars for the Angel's stone. I'm thinking that with what hehas 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 begiving much more, but I feel as if I just had to be buying that stonewith money I earned meself; and that is all I have saved of me wages. Idon't mind paying for the muff, or the drexing table, or Mrs. Duncan'sthings, from that other money, and later the Angel can have every lastcent 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 inthe bank? I'm feeling that I couldn't do any other way, and don't youthink the Angel would rather have the best stone I can buy with themoney I earned meself than a finer one paid for with other money?"

"In other words, Freckles, " said the Boss in a husky voice, "you don'twant to buy the Angel's ring with money. You want to give for ityour first awful fear of the swamp. You want to pay for it with theloneliness and heart hunger you have suffered there, with last winter'sfreezing on the line and this summer's burning in the sun. You want itto stand to her for every hour in which you risked your life to fulfillyour contract honorably. You want the price of that stone to be thefears that have chilled your heart--the sweat and blood of your body. "

Freckles' eyes were filled with tears and his face quivering withfeeling. 

"Dear Mr. McLean, " he said, reaching with a caress over the Boss's blackhair and his cheek. "Dear Boss, that's why I've wanted you so. I knewyou would know. Now you will be looking at these? I don't want emeralds, because that's what she gave me. "

He pushed the green stones into a little heap of rejected ones. Then hesingled out all the pearls. 

"Ain't they pretty things?" he said. "I'll be getting her some of thoselater. They are like lily faces, turtle-head flowers, dewdrops in theshade or moonlight; but they haven't the life in them that I want in thestone I give to the Angel right now. "

Freckles heaped the pearls with the emeralds. He studied the diamonds along time. 

"These things are so fascinating like they almost tempt one, though theyain't quite the proper thing, " he said. "I've always dearly loved to bewatching yours, sir. I must get her some of these big ones, too, someday. 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 seeof the whole world look like fire and ice; but fire and ice ain't likethe Angel. "

The diamonds joined the emeralds and pearls. There was left a little redheap, and Freckles' fingers touched it with a new tenderness. His eyeswere flashing. 

"I'm thinking here's me Angel's stone, " he exulted. "The Limberlost, andme with it, grew in mine; but it's going to bloom, and her with it, inthis! There's the red of the wild poppies, the cardinal-flowers, and thelittle bunch of crushed foxfire that we found where she put it to saveme. There's the light of the campfire, and the sun setting over SleepySnake Creek. There's the red of the blood we were willing to give foreach other. It's like her lips, and like the drops that dried on herbeautiful arm that first day, and I'm thinking it must be like thebrave, tender, clean, red heart of her. "

Freckles lifted the ruby to his lips and handed it to McLean. 

"I'll be signing me cheque and you have it set, " he said. "I want you todraw me money and pay for it with those very same dollars, sir. "

Again the heart of McLean took hope. 

"Freckles, may I ask you something?" he said. 

"Why, sure, " said Freckles. "There's nothing you would be asking that itwouldn't be giving me joy to be telling you. "

McLean's eyes traveled to Freckles' right arm with which he was movingthe jewels. 

"Oh, that!" cried Freckles with a laugh. "You're wanting to know whereall 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 thebeginning to make today come true. The wound had always been raw, butthe Angel was healing it. If she doesn't care, I don't. Me dear newfather doesn't, nor me aunt and uncle, and you never did. Why should Ibe 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 ofit I catch meself sticking it out on display a bit. "

Freckles looked the Boss in the eyes and began to laugh. 

"Well thank heaven!" said McLean. 

"Now it's me turn, " said Freckles. "I don't know as I ought to be askingyou, and yet I can't see a reason good enough to keep me from it. It'sa thing I've had on me mind every hour since I've had time to straightenthings out a little. May I be asking you a question?"

McLean reached over and took Freckles' hand. His voice was shaken withfeeling as he replied: "Freckles, you almost hurt me. Will you neverlearn how much you are to me--how happy you make me in coming to me withanything, no matter what?"

"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 meantfor me to do?"

"Why, Freckles, " answered McLean, "I'm scarcely prepared to statedefinitely. My ideas were rather hazy. I thought we would make abeginning and see which way things went. I figured on taking you toGrand Rapids first, and putting you in the care of my mother. I had anidea it would be best to secure a private tutor to coach you for ayear or two, until you were ready to enter Ann Arbor or the ChicagoUniversity in good shape. Then I thought we'd finish in this country atYale or Harvard, and end with Oxford, to get a good, all-round flavor. "

"Is that all?" asked Freckles. 

"No; that's leaving the music out, " said McLean. "I intended to haveyour voice tested by some master, and if you really were endowed for acareer as a great musician, and had inclinations that way, I wished tohave 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 thecircle together. "

"And then what?" queried Freckles breathlessly. 

"Why, then, " said McLean, "you know that my heart is hopelessly in thewoods. I never will quit the timber business while there is timber tohandle and breath in my body. I thought if you didn't make a professionof music, and had any inclination my way, we would stretch thepartnership one more and take you into the firm, placing your work withme. Those plans may sound jumbled in the telling, but they have grownsteadily on me, Freckles, as you have grown dear to me. "

Freckles lifted anxious and eager eyes to McLean. 

"You told me once on the trail, and again when we thought that I wasdying, that you loved me. Do these things that have come to me make anydifference in any way with your feeing toward me?"

"None, " said McLean. "How could they, Freckles? Nothing could make melove you more, and you never will do anything that will make me love youless. "

"Glory be to God!" cried Freckles. "Glory to the Almighty! Hurry andbe telling your mother I'm coming! Just as soon as I can get on me feetI'll be taking that ring to me Angel, and then I'll go to Grand Rapidsand be making me start just as you planned, only that I can be paying meown 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 houseand me relations and be taking that trip. When we get back, we'll addO'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?"

"Nothing, nothing!" boomed McLean's deep bass; "nothing at all!"

He abruptly turned, and hurried to the window. 

"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 itsshore. But, Freckles, what is Lord O'More going to say to this?"

"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 tome by the hour of me father and mother and me grandmother. She's madethem 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. Fromhere to the Limberlost is all I can be bearing peaceable. I want theeducation, and then I want to work and live here in the country where Iwas born, and where the ashes of me father and mother rest. 

"I'll be glad to see Ireland, and glad especial to see those littlepeople who are my kin, but I ain't ever staying long. All me heartis the Angel's, and the Limberlost is calling every minute. You'rethinking, sir, that when I look from that window I see the beautifulwater, ain't you? I'm not. 

"I see soft, slow clouds oozing across the blue, me big black chickenshanging up there, and a great feather softly sliding down. I see mightytrees, swinging vines, bright flowers, and always masses of the wildroses, with the wild rose face of me Ladybird looking through. I see theswale 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; andwhether it's the things that I loved or the things that I feared, it'sall a part of the day. 

"Me heart's all me Swamp Angel's, and me love is all hers, and I haveher 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 leavesand pink and red flowers; and when I look at the Limberlost I see a pinkface with blue eyes, gold hair, and red lips, and, it's the truth, sir, they're mixed till they're one to me!

"I'm afraid it will be hurting some, but I have the feeing that I can bemaking my dear people understand, so that they will be willing to letme come back home. Send Lady O'More to put these flowers God made in theplace of these glass-house ilegancies, and please be cutting the stringof this little package the Angel's sent me. "

As Freckles held up the package, the lights of the Limberlost flashedfrom the emerald on his finger. On the cover was printed: "To theLimberlost Guard!" Under it was a big, crisp, iridescent black feather.