Freckles................................................................................................................................................................1

Gene StrattonPorter...............................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I. Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is Hired..............................2

CHAPTER II. Wherein Freckles Proves His Mettle and Finds Friends .................................................7

CHAPTER III. Wherein a Feather Falls and a Soul Is Born................................................................12

Experiences ............................................................................................................................................21

CHAPTER V. Wherein an Angel Materializes and a Man Worships..................................................35

CHAPTER VI. Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight..................................................43

CHAPTER VII. Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail ............................49

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter ....53

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

Rescue ....................................................................................................................................................60

CHAPTER X. Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards Him...................63

CHAPTER XI. Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman.........67

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack .......................72

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

Her ..........................................................................................................................................................80

CHAPTER XIV. Wherein Freckles Nurses a Heartache and Black Jack Drops Out ...........................86

CHAPTER XV. Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken

Furnishes the Subject.............................................................................................................................92

CHAPTER XVI. Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the Gang ..........................97

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body...........102

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth,

and the Angel Goes in Quest of it ........................................................................................................110

CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart ................120

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland

Without Him........................................................................................................................................126

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

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

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

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

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

Freckles came down the corduroy that crosses the lower end of the Limberlost. At a glance he might have

been mistaken for a tramp, but he was truly seeking work. He was intensely eager to belong somewhere and

to be attached to almost any enterprise that would furnish him food and clothing.

Long before he came in sight of the camp of the Grand Rapids Lumber Company, he could hear the cheery

voices of the men, the neighing of the horses, and could scent the tempting odors of cooking food. A feeling

of homeless friendlessness swept over him in a sickening wave. Without stopping to think, he turned into the

newly made road and followed it to the camp, where the gang was making ready for supper and bed.

The scene was intensely attractive. The thickness of the swamp made a dark, massive background below,

while above towered gigantic trees. The men were calling jovially back and forth as they unharnessed tired

horses that fell into attitudes of rest and crunched, in deep content, the grain given them. Duncan, the brawny

Scotch headteamster, lovingly wiped the flanks of his big bays with handfuls of pawpaw leaves, as he softly

whistled, "O wha will be my dearie, O!" and a cricket beneath the leaves at his feet accompanied him. The

green wood fire hissed and crackled merrily. Wreathing tongues of flame wrapped around the big black

kettles, and when the cook lifted the lids to plunge in his testingfork, gusts of savory odors escaped.

The color flooded Freckles' face, but he said simply: "If you will be having the goodness to point him out, we

With a shrug of astonishment, the cook led the way to a rough board table where a broad, squareshouldered

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

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

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

The flush on Freckles' face burned deeper. His lips thinned to a mere line. He lifted his shoulders, took a step

forward, and thrust out his right arm, from which the sleeve dangled empty at the wrist.

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

He turned to his work, while the cook hurried to the fires. Freckles stood one instant as he had braced himself

to meet the eyes of the manager; then his arm dropped and a wave of whiteness swept him. The Boss had not

even turned his head. He had used the possessive. When he said "my man," the hungry heart of Freckles went

The boy drew a quivering breath. Then he whipped off his old hat and beat the dust from it carefully. With

his left hand he caught the right sleeve, wiped his sweaty face, and tried to straighten his hair with his fingers.

He broke a spray of ironwort beside him and used the purple bloom to beat the dust from his shoulders and

limbs. The Boss, busy over his report, was, nevertheless, vaguely alive to the toilet being made behind him,

McLean was a Scotchman. It was his habit to work slowly and methodically. The men of his camps never had

known him to be in a hurry or to lose his temper. Discipline was inflexible, but the Boss was always kind. His

habits were simple. He shared camp life with his gangs. The only visible signs of wealth consisted of a big,

shimmering diamond stone of ice and fire that glittered and burned on one of his fingers, and the dainty,

beautiful thoroughbred mare he rode between camps and across the country on business.

No man of McLean's gangs could honestly say that he ever had been overdriven or underpaid. The Boss

never had exacted any deference from his men, yet so intense was his personality that no man of them ever

had attempted a familiarity. They all knew him to be a thorough gentleman, and that in the great timber city

He was the only son of that McLean who had sent out the finest ships ever built in Scotland. That his son

should carry on this business after the father's death had been his ambition. He had sent the boy through the

universities of Oxford and Edinburgh, and allowed him several years' travel before he should attempt his first

Then he was ordered to southern Canada and Michigan to purchase a consignment of tall, straight timber for

masts, and south to Indiana for oak beams. The young man entered these mighty forests, parts of which lay

untouched since the dawn of the morning of time. The clear, cool, pungent atmosphere was intoxicating. The

intense silence, like that of a great empty cathedral, fascinated him. He gradually learned that, to the shy

wood creatures that darted across his path or peeped inquiringly from leafy ambush, he was brother. He found

himself approaching, with a feeling of reverence, those majestic trees that had stood through ages of sun,

wind, and snow. Soon it became difficult to fell them. When he had filled his order and returned home, he

was amazed to learn that in the swamps and forests he had lost his heart and it was callingforever calling

When he inherited his father's property, he promptly disposed of it, and, with his mother, founded a home in a

splendid residence in the outskirts of Grand Rapids. With three partners, he organized a lumber company. His

work was to purchase, fell, and ship the timber to the mills. Marshall managed the milling process and passed

the lumber to the factory. From the lumber, Barthol made beautiful and useful furniture, which Uptegrove

scattered all over the world from a big wholesale house. Of the thousands who saw their faces reflected on

the polished surfaces of that furniture and found comfort in its use, few there were to whom it suggested

mighty forests and trackless swamps, and the man, big of soul and body, who cut his way through them, and

with the eye of experience doomed the proud trees that were now entering the homes of civilization for

When McLean turned from his finished report, he faced a young man, yet under twenty, tall, spare, heavily

framed, closely freckled, and redhaired, with a homely Irish face, but in the steady gray eyes, straightly

meeting his searching ones of blue, there was unswerving candor and the appearance of longing not to be

ignored. He was dressed in the roughest of farm clothing, and seemed tired to the point of falling.

"I am very sorry," said the Boss with genuine sympathy in his every tone, "but there is only one man I want at

presenta hardy, big fellow with a stout heart and a strong body. I hoped that you would do, but I am afraid

The Boss could scarcely repress a start. Somewhere before accident and poverty there had been an ancestor

who used cultivated English, even with an accent. The boy spoke in a mellow Irish voice, sweet and pure. It

was scarcely definite enough to be called brogue, yet there was a trick in the turning of the sentence, the

wrong sound of a letter here and there, that was almost irresistible to McLean, and presaged a misuse of

infinitives and possessives with which he was very familiar and which touched him nearly. He was of foreign

birth, and despite years of alienation, in times of strong feeling he committed inherited sins of accent and

"It's no child's job," answered McLean. "I am the field manager of a big lumber company. We have just

leased two thousand acres of the Limberlost. Many of these trees are of great value. We can't leave our camp,

six miles south, for almost a year yet; so we have blazed a trail and strung barbed wires securely around this

lease. Before we return to our work, I must put this property in the hands of a reliable, brave, strong man who

will guard it every hour of the day, and sleep with one eye open at night. I shall require the entire length of

the trail to be walked at least twice each day, to make sure that our lines are up and that no one has been

Freckles was leaning forward, absorbing every word with such intense eagerness that he was beguiling the

"But why wouldn't that be the finest job in the world for me?" he pleaded. "I am never sick. I could walk the

"It's because you are scarcely more than a boy, and this will be a trying job for a workhardened man,"

answered McLean. "You see, in the first place, you would be afraid. In stretching our lines, we killed six

rattlesnakes almost as long as your body and as thick as your arm. It's the price of your life to start through

the marshgrass surrounding the swamp unless you are covered with heavy leather above your knees.

"You should be able to swim in case high water undermines the temporary bridge we have built where Sleepy

Snake Creek enters the swamp. The fall and winter changes of weather are abrupt and severe, while I would

want strict watch kept every day. You would always be alone, and I don't guarantee what is in the Limberlost.

It is lying here as it has lain since the beginning of time, and it is alive with forms and voices. I don't pretend

to say what all of them come from; but from a few slinking shapes I've seen, and hairraising yells I've heard,

"Worst of all, any man who will enter the swamp to mark and steal timber is desperate. One of my employees

at the south camp, John Carter, compelled me to discharge him for a number of serious reasons. He came

here, entered the swamp alone, and succeeded in locating and marking a number of valuable trees that he was

endeavoring to sell to a rival company when we secured the lease. He has sworn to have these trees if he has

to die or to kill others to get them; and he is a man that the strongest would not care to meet."

"But if he came to steal trees, wouldn't he bring teams and men enough: that all anyone could do would be to

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

"Why, by George, you could!" exclaimed McLean. "I don't know as the size of a man would be half so

important as his grit and faithfulness, come to think of it. Sit on that log there and we will talk it over. What is

Freckles shook his head at the proffer of a seat, and folding his arms, stood straight as the trees around him.

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

"I was thinking from the voice and the face of you that you wouldn't," said Freckles slowly. "I've spent more

time on it than I ever did on anything else in all me life, and I don't understand. Does it seem to you that

anyone would take a newborn baby and row over it, until it was bruised black, cut off its hand, and leave it

out in a bitter night on the steps of a charity home, to the care of strangers? That's what somebody did to me."

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

"The Home people took me in, and I was there the full legal age and several years over. For the most part we

were a lot of little Irishmen together. They could always find homes for the other children, but nobody would

"I don't know," answered Freckles. The reply sounded so hopeless, even to his own ears, that he hastened to

qualify it by adding: "You see, it's like this, sir. Kindnesses that people are paid to lay off in job lots and that

belong equally to several hundred others, ain't going to be soaking into any one fellow so much."

"There's nothing worth the taking of your time to tell," replied Freckles. "The Home was in Chicago, and I

was there all me life until three months ago. When I was too old for the training they gave to the little

children, they sent me to the closest ward school as long as the law would let them; but I was never like any

of the other children, and they all knew it. I'd to go and come like a prisoner, and be working around the

Home early and late for me board and clothes. I always wanted to learn mighty bad, but I was glad when that

"Every few days, all me life, I'd to be called up, looked over, and refused a home and love, on account of me

hand and ugly face; but it was all the home I'd ever known, and I didn't seem to belong to any place else.

"Then a new superintendent was put in. He wasn't for being like any of the others, and he swore he'd weed

me out the first thing he did. He made a plan to send me down the State to a man he said he knew who

needed a boy. He wasn't for remembering to tell that man that I was a hand short, and he knocked me down

the minute he found I was the boy who had been sent him. Between noon and that evening, he and his son

close my age had me in pretty much the same shape in which I was found in the beginning, so I lay awake

that night and ran away. I'd like to have squared me account with that boy before I left, but I didn't dare for

fear of waking the old man, and I knew I couldn't handle the two of them; but I'm hoping to meet him alone

McLean tugged at his mustache to hide the smile on his lips, but he liked the boy all the better for this

"I didn't even have to steal clothes to get rid of starting in me Home ones," Freckles continued, "for they had

already taken all me clean, neat things for the boy and put me into his rags, and that went almost as sore as

the beatings, for where I was we were always kept tidy and sweetsmelling, anyway. I hustled clear into this

State before I learned that man couldn't have kept me if he'd wanted to. When I thought I was good and away

from him, I commenced hunting work, but it is with everybody else just as it is with you, sir. Big, strong,

"I have been studying over this matter," answered McLean. "I am not so sure but that a man no older than you

and similar in every way could do this work very well, if he were not a coward, and had it in him to be

"If you will give me a job where I can earn me food, clothes, and a place to sleep," he said, "if I can have a

Boss to work for like other men, and a place I feel I've a right to, I will do precisely what you tell me or die

He spoke so convincingly that McLean believed, although in his heart he knew that to employ a stranger

"Very well," the Boss found himself answering, "I will enter you on my pay rolls. We'll have supper, and

then I will provide you with clean clothing, wadingboots, the wiremending apparatus, and a revolver. The

first thing in the morning, I will take you the length of the trail myself and explain fully what I want done. All

I ask of you is to come to me at once at the south camp and tell me as a man if you find this job too hard for

you. It will not surprise me. It is work that few men would perform faithfully. What name shall I put down?"

Freckles' gaze never left McLean's face, and the Boss saw the swift spasm of pain that swept his lonely,

"I haven't any name," he said stubbornly, "no more than one somebody clapped on to me when they put me

on the Home books, with not the thought or care they'd name a house cat. I've seen how they enter those poor

little abandoned devils often enough to know. What they called me is no more my name than it is yours. I

don't know what mine is, and I never will; but I am going to be your man and do your work, and I'll be glad

to answer to any name you choose to call me. Won't you please be giving me a name, Mr. McLean?"

The Boss wheeled abruptly and began stacking his books. What he was thinking was probably what any other

gentleman would have thought in the circumstances. With his eyes still downcast, and in a voice harsh with

"I will tell you what we will do, my lad," he said. "My father was my ideal man, and I loved him better than

any other I have ever known. He went out five years ago, but that he would have been proud to leave you his

name I firmly believe. If I give to you the name of my nearest kin and the man I loved bestwill that do?"

Freckles' rigid attitude relaxed suddenly. His head dropped, and big tears splashed on the soiled calico shirt.

McLean was not surprised at the silence, for he found that talking came none too easily just then.

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

"You do," said McLean. "Until someone armed with every right comes to claim you, you are mine. Now,

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

Next morning found Freckles in clean, whole clothing, fed, and rested. Then McLean outfitted him and gave

him careful instruction in the use of his weapon. The Boss showed him around the timberline, and engaged

him a place to board with the family of his head teamster, Duncan, whom he had brought from Scotland with

him, and who lived in a small clearing he was working out between the swamp and the corduroy. When the

gang was started for the south camp, Freckles was left to guard a fortune in the Limberlost. That he was

Each hour was torture to the boy. The restricted life of a great city orphanage was the other extreme of the

world compared with the Limberlost. He was afraid for his life every minute. The heat was intense. The

heavy wadingboots rubbed his feet until they bled. He was sore and stiff from his long tramp and outdoor

exposure. The seven miles of trail was agony at every step. He practiced at night, under the direction of

Duncan, until he grew sure in the use of his revolver. He cut a stout hickory cudgel, with a knot on the end as

big as his fist; this never left his hand. What he thought in those first days he himself could not recall clearly

His heart stood still every time he saw the beautiful marshgrass begin a sinuous waving AGAINST the play

of the wind, as McLean had told him it would. He bolted half a mile with the first boom of the bittern, and his

hat lifted with every yelp of the sheitpoke. Once he saw a lean, shadowy form following him, and fired his

revolver. Then he was frightened worse than ever for fear it might have been Duncan's collie.

The first afternoon that he found his wires down, and he was compelled to plunge knee deep into the black

swampmuck to restring them, he became so ill from fear and nervousness that he scarcely could control his

shaking hand to do the work. With every step, he felt that he would miss secure footing and be swallowed in

that clinging sea of blackness. In dumb agony he plunged forward, clinging to the posts and trees until he had

finished restringing and testing the wire. He had consumed much time. Night closed in. The Limberlost

There seemed to be a great owl hooting from every hollow tree, and a little one screeching from every

knothole. The bellowing of big bullfrogs was not sufficiently deafening to shut out the wailing of

whippoorwills that seemed to come from every bush. Nighthawks swept past him with their shivering cry,

and bats struck his face. A prowling wildcat missed its catch and screamed with rage. A straying fox bayed

The hair on the back of Freckles' neck arose as bristles, and his knees wavered beneath him. He could not see

whether the dreaded snakes were on the trail, or, in the pandemonium, hear the rattle for which McLean had

cautioned him to listen. He stood motionless in an agony of fear. His breath whistled between his teeth. The

Something big, black, and heavy came crashing through the swamp close to him, and with a yell of utter

panic Freckles ranhow far he did not know; but at last he gained control over himself and retraced his

steps. His jaws set stiffly and the sweat dried on his body. When he reached the place from which he had

started to run, he turned and with measured steps made his way down the line. After a time he realized that he

was only walking, so he faced that sea of horrors again. When he came toward the corduroy, the cudgel fell to

Sounds that curdled his blood seemed to encompass him, and shapes of terror to draw closer and closer. Fear

had so gained the mastery that he did not dare look behind him; and just when he felt that he would fall dead

before he ever reached the clearing, came Duncan's rolling call: "Freckles! Freckles!" A shuddering sob burst

in the boy's dry throat; but he only told Duncan that finding the wire down had caused the delay.

The next morning he started on time. Day after day, with his heart pounding, he ducked, dodged, ran when he

could, and fought when he was brought to bay. If he ever had an idea of giving up, no one knew it; for he

clung to his job without the shadow of wavering. All these things, in so far as he guessed them, Duncan, who

had been set to watch the first weeks of Freckles' work, carried to the Boss at the south camp; but the

innermost, exquisite torture of the thing the big Scotchman never guessed, and McLean, with his finer

After a few weeks, when Freckles learned that he was still living, that he had a home, and the very first

money he ever had possessed was safe in his pockets, he began to grow proud. He yet side stepped, dodged,

and hurried to avoid being late again, but he was gradually developing the fearlessness that men ever acquire

His heart seemed to be leaping when his first rattler disputed the trail with him, but he mustered courage to

attack it with his club. After its head had been crushed, he mastered an Irishman's inborn repugnance for

snakes sufficiently to cut off its rattles to show Duncan. With this victory, his greatest fear of them was gone.

Then he began to realize that with the abundance of food in the swamp, fleshhunters would not come on the

trail and attack him, and he had his revolver for defence if they did. He soon learned to laugh at the big,

floppy birds that made horrible noises. One day, watching behind a tree, he saw a crane solemnly performing

a few measures of a belated nuptial songanddance with his mate. Realizing that it was intended in

tenderness, no matter how it appeared, the lonely, starved heart of the boy sympathized with them.

Before the first month passed, he was fairly easy about his job; by the next he rather liked it. Nature can be

trusted to work her own miracle in the heart of any man whose daily task keeps him alone among her sights,

When day after day the only thing that relieved his utter loneliness was the companionship of the birds and

beasts of the swamp, it was the most natural thing in the world that Freckles should turn to them for

friendship. He began by instinctively protecting the weak and helpless. He was astonished at the quickness

with which they became accustomed to him and the disregard they showed for his movements, when they

learned that he was not a hunter, while the club he carried was used more frequently for their benefit than his

From the effort to protect the birds and animals, it was only a short step to the possessive feeling, and with

that sprang the impulse to caress and provide. Through fall, when brooding was finished and the upland birds

sought the swamp in swarms to feast on its seeds and berries, Freckles was content with watching them and

speculating about them. Outside of half a dozen of the very commonest they were strangers to him. The

When black frost began stripping the Limberlost, cutting the ferns, shearing the vines from the trees, mowing

the succulent green things of the swale, and setting the leaves swirling down, he watched the departing troops

of his friends with dismay. He began to realize that he would be left alone. He made especial efforts toward

friendliness with the hope that he could induce some of them to stay. It was then that he conceived the idea of

carrying food to the birds; for he saw that they were leaving for lack of it; but he could not stop them. Day

after day, flocks gathered and departed: by the time the first snow whitened his trail around the Limberlost,

there were left only the little blackandwhite juncos, the sapsuckers, yellowhammers, a few patriarchs

Then Freckles began his wizard work. He cleared a space of swale, and twice a day he spread a birds'

banquet. By the middle of December the strong winds of winter had beaten most of the seed from the grass

and bushes. The snow fell, covering the swamp, and food was very scarce and difficult to find. The birds

scarcely waited until Freckles' back was turned to attack his provisions. In a few weeks they flew toward the

clearing to meet him. During the bitter weather of January they came halfway to the cabin every morning,

and fluttered around him as doves all the way to the feedingground. Before February they were so

accustomed to him, and so hungerdriven, that they would perch on his head and shoulders, and the saucy

Then Freckles added to wheat and crumbs, every scrap of refuse food he could find at the cabin. He carried to

his pets the parings of apples, turnips, potatoes, stray cabbageleaves, and carrots, and tied to the bushes

meatbones having scraps of fat and gristle. One morning, coming to his feedingground unusually early, he

found a gorgeous cardinal and a rabbit side by side sociably nibbling a cabbageleaf, and that instantly gave

to him the idea of cracking nuts, from the store he had gathered for Duncan's children, for the squirrels, in the

effort to add them to his family. Soon he had them comingred, gray, and black; then he became filled with

So the winter passed. Every week McLean rode to the Limberlost; never on the same day or at the same hour.

Always he found Freckles at his work, faithful and brave, no matter how severe the weather.

The boy's earnings constituted his first money; and when the Boss explained to him that he could leave them

safe at a bank and carry away a scrap of paper that represented the amount, he went straight on every payday

and made his deposit, keeping out barely what was necessary for his board and clothing. What he wanted to

do with his money he did not know, but it gave to him a sense of freedom and power to feel that it was

thereit was his and he could have it when he chose. In imitation of McLean, he bought a small pocket

accountbook, in which he carefully set down every dollar he earned and every penny he spent. As his

expenses were small and the Boss paid him generously, it was astonishing how his little hoard grew.

That winter held the first hours of real happiness in Freckles' life. He was free. He was doing a man's work

faithfully, through every rigor of rain, snow, and blizzard. He was gathering a wonderful strength of body,

paying his way, and saving money. Every man of the gang and of that locality knew that he was under the

protection of McLean, who was a power, this had the effect of smoothing Freckles' path in many directions.

Mrs. Duncan showed him that individual kindness for which his hungry heart was longing. She had a hot

drink ready for him when he came from a freezing day on the trail. She knit him a heavy mitten for his left

hand, and devised a way to sew and pad the right sleeve that protected the maimed arm in bitter weather. She

patched his clothingfrequently torn by the wireand saved kitchen scraps for his birds, not because she

either knew or cared anything about them, but because she herself was close enough to the swamp to be

touched by its utter loneliness. When Duncan laughed at her for this, she retorted: "My God, mannie, if

Freckles hadna the birds and the beasts he would be always alone. It was never meant for a human being to

be so solitary. He'd get touched in the head if he hadna them to think for and to talk to."

"He gets the answer that keeps the eye bright, the heart happy, and the feet walking faithful the rough path

Duncan walked away appearing very thoughtful. The next morning he gave an ear from the corn he was

shelling for his chickens to Freckles, and told him to carry it to his wild chickens in the Limberlost. Freckles

"Me chickens!" he said. "Why didn't I ever think of that before? Of course they are! They are just little,

brightly colored cocks and hens! But `wild' is no good. What would you say to me `wild chickens' being a

"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 on believin' things," said Duncan. "Ye

"Take ye!" said Duncan. "If ye make juist ane bird licht on your heid or eat frae your hand, ye are free to help

"I'll come next Sabbath," said Duncan. "And I'll believe the birds of the Limberlost are tame as barnyard fowl

After that Freckles always spoke of the birds as his chickens, and the Duncans followed his example. The

very next Sabbath, Duncan, with his wife and children, followed Freckles to the swamp. They saw a sight so

wonderful it will keep them talking all the remainder of their lives, and make them unfailing friends of all the

Freckles' chickens were awaiting him at the edge of the clearing. They cut the frosty air around his head into

curves and circles of crimson, blue, and black. They chased each other from Freckles, and swept so closely

At their feedingground Freckles set down his old pail of scraps and swept the snow from a small level space

with a broom improvised of twigs. As soon as his back was turned, the birds clustered over the food,

snatching scraps to carry to the nearest bushes. Several of the boldest, a big crow and a couple of jays, settled

on the rim and feasted at leisure, while a cardinal, that hesitated to venture, fumed and scolded from a twig

Then Freckles scattered his store. At once the ground resembled the spread mantle of Montezuma, except that

this mass of gaily colored feathers was on the backs of living birds. While they feasted, Duncan gripped his

wife's arm and stared in astonishment; for from the bushes and dry grass, with gentle cheeping and queer,

throaty chatter, as if to encourage each other, came flocks of quail. Before anyone saw it arrive, a big gray

Lastly Freckles removed his cap. He began filling it with handfuls of wheat from his pockets. In a swarm the

graineaters arose around him as a flock of tame pigeons. They perched on his arms and the cap, and in the

stress of hunger, forgetting all caution, a brilliant cock cardinal and an equally gaudy jay fought for a

"Weel, I'm beat," muttered Duncan, forgetting the silence imposed on his wife. "I'll hae to give in. `Seein' is

believin'. A man wad hae to see that to believe it. We mauna let the Boss miss that sight, for it's a chance will

no likely come twice in a life. Everything is snowed under and thae craturs near starved, but trustin' Freckles

that complete they are tamer than our chickens. Look hard, bairns!" he whispered. "Ye winna see the like o'

yon again, while God lets ye live. Notice their color against the ice and snow, and the pretty skippin' ways of

Freckles emptied his cap, turned his pockets and scattered his last grain. Then he waved his watching friends

A week later, Duncan and Freckles arose from breakfast to face the bitterest morning of the winter. When

Freckles, warmly capped and gloved, stepped to the corner of the kitchen for his scrappail, he found a big

pan of steaming boiled wheat on the top of it. He wheeled to Mrs. Duncan with a shining face.

"It's for yours, Freckles," she said. "I was afeared this cold weather they wadna lay good without a warm bite

Duncan laughed as he stepped to the other room for his pipe; but Freckles faced Mrs. Duncan with a trace of

every pang of starved motherhunger he ever had suffered written large on his homely, splotched, narrow

"Lord love the lad!" she exclaimed. "Why, Freckles, are ye no bright enough to learn without being taught by

a woman that I am your mither? If a great man like yoursel' dinna ken that, learn it now and ne'er forget it.

Ance a woman is the wife of any man, she becomes wife to all men for having had the wifely experience she

kens! Ance a manchild has beaten his way to life under the heart of a woman, she is mither to all men, for

the hearts of mithers are everywhere the same. Bless ye, laddie, I am your mither!"

She tucked the coarse scarf she had knit for him closer over his chest and pulled his cap lower over his ears,

but Freckles, whipping it off and holding it under his arm, caught her rough, reddened hand and pressed it to

his lips in a long kiss. Then he hurried away to hide the happy, embarrassing tears that were coming straight

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

"Oh, the puir lad!" she wailed. "Oh, the puir mitherhungry lad! He breaks my heart!"

Duncan's arms closed convulsively around his wife. With a big, brown hand he lovingly stroked her rough,

"Sarah, you're a guid woman!" he said. "You're a michty guid woman! Ye hae a way o' speakin' out at times

that's like the inspired prophets of the Lord. If that had been put to me, now, I'd `a' felt all I kent how to and

been keen enough to say the richt thing; but dang it, I'd `a' stuttered and stammered and got naething out that

would ha' done onybody a mite o' good. But ye, Sarah! Did ye see his face, woman? Ye sent him off lookin'

leke a white light of holiness had passed ower and settled on him. Ye sent the lad away too happy for mortal

words, Sarah. And ye made me that proud o' ye! I wouldna trade ye an' my share o' the Limberlost with ony

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

Sarah Duncan stood alone in the middle of her tworoomed log cabin and lifted a bony, clawlike pair of

hands, reddened by frequent immersion in hot water, cracked and chafed by exposure to cold, blacklined by

constant battle with swamploam, calloused with burns, and stared at them wonderingly.

"Prettylookin' things ye are!" she whispered. "But ye hae juist been kissed. And by such a man! Fine as God

ever made at His verra best. Duncan wouldna trade wi' a king! Na! Nor I wadna trade with a queen wi' a

palace, an' velvet gowns, an' diamonds big as hazelnuts, an' a hundred visitors a day into the bargain. Ye've

been that honored I'm blest if I can bear to souse ye in dishwater. Still, that kiss winna come off! Naething

can take it from me, for it's mine till I dee. Lord, if I amna proud! Kisses on these old claws! Weel, I be

So Freckles fared through the bitter winter. He was very happy. He had hungered for freedom, love, and

appreciation so long! He had been unspeakably lonely at the Home; and the utter loneliness of a great desert

or forest is not so difficult to endure as the loneliness of being constantly surrounded by crowds of people

All through the winter Freckles' entire energy was given to keeping up his lines and his "chickens" from

freezing or starving. When the first breath of spring touched the Limberlost, and the snow receded before it;

when the catkins began to bloom; when there came a hint of green to the trees, bushes, and swale; when the

rushes lifted their heads, and the pulse of the newly resurrected season beat strongly in the heart of nature,

Nature always levies her tribute. Now she laid a powerful hand on the soul of Freckles, to which the boy's

whole being responded, though he had not the least idea what was troubling him. Duncan accepted his wife's

theory that it was a touch of spring fever, but Freckles knew better. He never had been so well. Clean, hot,

and steady the blood pulsed in his veins. He was always hungry, and his most difficult work tired him not at

all. For long months, without a single intermission, he had tramped those seven miles of trail twice each day,

through every conceivable state of weather. With the heavy club he gave his wires a sure test, and between

sections, first in play, afterward to keep his circulation going, he had acquired the skill of an expert drum

major. In his work there was exercise for every muscle of his body each hour of the day, at night a bath,

wholesome food, and sound sleep in a room that never knew fire. He had gained flesh and color, and

Nor did the Limberlost contain last year's terrors. He had been with her in her hour of desolation, when

stripped bare and deserted, she had stood shivering, as if herself afraid. He had made excursions into the

interior until he was familiar with every path and road that ever had been cut. He had sounded the depths of

her deepest pools, and had learned why the trees grew so magnificently. He had found that places of swamp

and swale were few compared with miles of solid timberland, concealed by summer's luxuriant

The sounds that at first had struck cold fear into his soul he now knew had left on wing and silent foot at the

approach of winter. As flock after flock of the birds returned and he recognized the old echoes reawakening,

he found to his surprise that he had been lonely for them and was hailing their return with great joy. All his

fears were forgotten. Instead, he was possessed of an overpowering desire to know what they were, to learn

where they had been, and whether they would make friends with him as the winter birds had done; and if they

did, would they be as fickle? For, with the running sap, creeping worm, and winging bug, most of Freckles'

"chickens" had deserted him, entered the swamp, and feasted to such a state of plethora on its store that they

cared little for his supply, so that in the strenuous days of mating and nestbuilding the boy was deserted.

He chafed at the birds' ingratitude, but he found speedy consolation in watching and befriending the

newcomers. He surely would have been proud and highly pleased if he had known that many of the former

inhabitants of the interior swamp now grouped their nests beside the timberline solely for the sake of his

The yearly resurrection of the Limberlost is a mighty revival. Freckles stood back and watched with awe and

envy the gradual reclothing and repopulation of the swamp. Keeneyed and alert through danger and

loneliness, he noted every stage of development, from the first piping frog and unsheathing bud, to full

The knowledge of his complete loneliness and utter insignificance was hourly thrust upon him. He brooded

and fretted until he was in a fever; yet he never guessed the cause. He was filled with a vast impatience, a

It was June by the zodiac, June by the Limberlost, and by every delight of a newly resurrected season it

should have been June in the hearts of all men. Yet Freckles scowled darkly as he came down the trail, and

the running TAP, TAP that tested the sagging wire and telegraphed word of his coming to his furred and

feathered friends of the swamp, this morning carried the story of his discontent a mile ahead of him.

Freckles' special pet, a dainty, yellowcoated, blacksleeved, cock goldfinch, had remained on the wire for

several days past the bravest of all; and Freckles, absorbed with the cunning and beauty of the tiny fellow,

never guessed that he was being duped. For the goldfinch was skipping, flirting, and swinging for the express

purpose of so holding his attention that he would not look up and see a small cradle of thistledown and wool

perilously near his head. In the beginning of brooding, the spunky little homesteader had clung heroically to

the wire when he was almost paralyzed with fright. When day after day passed and brought only softly

whistled repetitions of his call, a handful of crumbs on the top of a locust linepost, and gently worded

coaxings, he grew in confidence. Of late he had sung and swung during the passing of Freckles, who, not

dreaming of the nest and the solemneyed little hen so close above, thought himself unusually gifted in his

power to attract the birds. This morning the goldfinch scarcely could believe his ears, and clung to the wire

until an unusually vicious rap sent him spinning a foot in air, and his "PTSEET" came with a squall of utter

The wires were ringing with a story the birds could not translate, and Freckles was quite as ignorant of the

A peculiar movement beneath a small walnut tree caught his attention. He stopped to investigate. There was

an unusually large Luna cocoon, and the moth was bursting the upper end in its struggles to reach light and

"There's something in there trying to get out," he muttered. "Wonder if I could help it? Guess I best not be

trying. If I hadn't happened along, there wouldn't have been anyone to do anything, and maybe I'd only be

Freckles gasped with surprise. The moth cleared the opening, and with many wabblings and contortions

climbed up the tree. He stared speechless with amazement as the moth crept around a limb and clung to the

under side. There was a big pursy body, almost as large as his thumb, and of the very snowiest white that

Freckles ever had seen. There was a band of delicate lavender across its forehead, and its feet were of the

same colour; there were antlers, like tiny, strawcolored 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,

The minutes passed. Freckles' steady gaze never wavered. Without realizing it, he was trembling with

eagerness and anxiety. As he saw what was taking place, "It's going to fly," he breathed in hushed wonder.

The morning sun fell on the moth and dried its velvet down, while the warm air made it fluffy. The rapidly

growing wings began to show the most delicate green, with lavender foreribs, transparent, eyeshaped

Freckles was whispering to himself for fear of disturbing the moth. It began a systematic exercise of raising

and lowering its exquisite wings to dry them and to establish circulation. The boy realized that soon it would

be able to spread them and sail away. His longcoming soul sent up its first shivering cry.

"I don't know what it is! Oh, I wish I knew! How I wish I knew! It must be something grand! It can't be a

butterfly! It's away too big. Oh, I wish there was someone to tell me what it is!"

He climbed on the locust post, and balancing himself with the wire, held a finger in the line of the moth's

advance up the twig. It unhesitatingly climbed on, so he stepped to the path, holding it to the light and

examining it closely. Then he held it in the shade and turned it, gloating over its markings and beautiful

coloring. When he held the moth to the limb, it climbed on, still waving those magnificent wings.

"My, but I'd like to be staying with you!" he said. "But if I was to stand here all day you couldn't grow any

prettier than you are right now, and I wouldn't grow smart enough to tell what you are. I suppose there's

someone who knows. Of course there is! Mr. McLean said there were people who knew every leaf, bird, and

flower in the Limberlost. Oh Lord! How I wish You'd be telling me just this one thing!"

The goldfinch had ventured back to the wire, for there was his mate, only a few inches above the

mancreature's head; and indeed, he simply must not be allowed to look up, so the brave little fellow rocked

"See you! Of course I see you," growled Freckles. "I see you day after day, and what good is it doing me? I

might see you every morning for a year, and then not be able to be telling anyone about it. `Seen a bird with

black silk wingslittle, and yellow as any canary.' That's as far as I'd get. What you doing here, anyway?

Have you a mate? What's your name? `See you?' I reckon I see you; but I might as well be blind, for any

Freckles impatiently struck the wire. With a screech of fear, the goldfinch fled precipitately. His mate arose

"Oho!" he cried. "So THAT'S what you are doing here! You have a wife. And so close my head I have

Freckles laughed at his own jest, while in better humor he climbed to examine the neat, tiny cradle and its

contents. The hen darted at him in a frenzy. "Now, where do you come in?" he demanded, when he saw that

"You be clearing out of here! This is none of your fry. This is the nest of me little, yellow friend of the wire,

and you shan't be touching it. Don't blame you for wanting to see, though. My, but it's a fine nest and beauties

Freckles dropped to the trail. The hen darted to the nest and settled on it with a tender, coddling movement.

He of the yellow coat flew to the edge to make sure that everything was right. It would have been plain to the

"Well, I'll be switched!" muttered Freckles. "If that ain't both their nest! And he's yellow and she's green, or

she's yellow and he's green. Of course, I don't know, and I haven't any way to find out, but it's plain as the

nose on your face that they are both ready to be fighting for that nest, so, of course, they belong. Doesn't that

beat you? Say, that's what's been sticking me all of this week on that grass nest in the thorn tree down the

line. One day a blue bird is setting, so I think it is hers. The next day a brown bird is on, and I chase it off

because the nest is blue's. Next day the brown bird is on again, and I let her be, because I think it must be

hers. Next day, be golly, blue's on, and off I send her because it's brown's; and now, I bet my hat, it's both

their nest and I've only been bothering them and making a big fool of mesilf. Pretty specimen I am,

pretending to be a friend to the birds, and so blamed ignorant I don't know which ones go in pairs, and blue

and brown are a pair, of course, if yellow and green areand there's the red birds! I never thought of them!

He's red and she's grayand now I want to be knowing, are they all different? Why no! Of course, they ain't!

The tide of Freckles' discontent welled until he almost choked with anger and chagrin. He plodded down the

trail, scowling blackly and viciously spanging the wire. At the finches' nest he left the line and peered into the

thorn tree. There was no bird brooding. He pressed closer to take a peep at the snowy, spotless little eggs he

had found so beautiful, when at the slight noise up raised four tiny baby heads with wideopen mouths,

uttering hunger cries. Freckles stepped back. The brown bird alighted on the edge and closed one cavity with

a wiggling green worm, while not two minutes later the blue filled another with a white. That settled it. The

blue and brown were mates. Once again Freckles repeated his "How I wish I knew!"

Around the bridge spanning Sleepy Snake Creek the swale spread widely, the timber was scattering, and

willows, rushes, marsh grass, and splendid wild flowers grew abundantly. Here lazy, big, black water

snakes, for which the creek was named, sunned on the bushes, wild ducks and grebe chattered, cranes and

herons fished, and muskrats plowed the bank in queer, rolling furrows. It was always a place full of interest,

so Freckles loved to linger on the bridge, watching the marsh and water people. He also transacted affairs of

importance with the wild flowers and sweet marshgrass. He enjoyed splashing through the shallow pools on

Then, too, where the creek entered the swamp was a place of unusual beauty. The water spread in darksome,

mossy, green pools. Waterplants and lilies grew luxuriantly, throwing up large, rank, green leaves. Nowhere

else in the Limberlost could be found frogmusic to equal that of the mouth of the creek. The drumming and

piping rolled in neverending orchestral effect, while the full chorus rang to its accompaniment throughout

Freckles slowly followed the path leading from the bridge to the line. It was the one spot at which he might

relax his vigilance. The boldest timber thief the swamp ever had known would not have attempted to enter it

by the mouth of the creek, on account of the water and because there was no protection from surrounding

trees. He was bending the rank grass with his cudgel, and thinking of the shade the denser swamp afforded,

when he suddenly dodged sidewise; the cudgel whistled sharply through the air and Freckles sprang back.

From the clear sky above him, first level with his face, then skimming, dipping, tilting, whirling until it

struck, quill down, in the path in front of him, came a glossy, iridescent, big black feather. As it touched the

ground, Freckles snatched it up with almost a continuous movement facing the sky. There was not a tree of

any size in a large open space. There was no wind to carry it. From the clear sky it had fallen, and Freckles,

gazing eagerly into the arch of June blue with a few lazy clouds floating high in the sea of ether, had neither

mind nor knowledge to dream of a bird hanging as if frozen there. He turned the big quill questioningly, and

"A feather dropped from Heaven!" he breathed reverently. "Are the holy angels moulting? But no; if they

were, it would be white. Maybe all the angels are not for being white. What if the angels of God are white

and those of the devil are black? But a black one has no business up there. Maybe some poor black angel is so

tired of being punished it's for slipping to the gates, beating its wings trying to make the Master hear!"

Again and again Freckles searched the sky, but there was no answering gleam of golden gates, no form of

sailing bird; then he went slowly on his way, turning the feather and wondering about it. It was a wing quill,

eighteen inches in length, with a heavy spine, gray at the base, shading to jet black at the tip, and it caught the

play of the sun's rays in slanting gleams of green and bronze. Again Freckles' "old man of the sea" sat sullen

and heavy on his shoulders and weighted him down until his step lagged and his heart ached.

"Where did it come from? What is it? Oh, how I wish I knew!" he kept repeating as he turned and studied the

Before him spread a large, green pool, filled with rotting logs and leaves, bordered with delicate ferns and

grasses among which lifted the creamy spikes of the arrowhead, the blue of waterhyacinth, and the delicate

yellow of the jewelflower. As Freckles leaned, handling the feather and staring at it, then into the depths of

Straight across from him, couched in the mosses of a soggy old log, a big green bullfrog, with palpitant throat

and batting eyes, lifted his head and bellowed in answer. "FIN' DOUT! FIN' DOUT!"

"Whawhat's that?" stammered Freckles, almost too much bewildered to speak. "II know you are only a

bullfrog, but, be jabbers, that sounded mightily like speech. Wouldn't you please to be saying it over?"

The bullfrog cuddled contentedly in the ooze. Then suddenly he lifted his voice, and, as an imperative

Freckles had the answer. Something seemed to snap in his brain. There was a wavering flame before his eyes.

Then his mind cleared. His head lifted in a new poise, his shoulders squared, while his spine straightened.

"Before God, I will!" He uttered the oath so impressively that the recording angel never winced as he posted

Freckles set his hat over the top of one of the locust posts used between trees to hold up the wire while he

fastened the feather securely in the band. Then he started down the line, talking to himself as men who have

"What a fool I have been!" he muttered. "Of course that's what I have to do! There wouldn't likely anybody

be doing it for me. Of course I can! What am I a man for? If I was a fourfooted thing of the swamp, maybe I

couldn't; but a man can do anything if he's the grit to work hard enough and stick at it, Mr. McLean is always

saying, and here's the way I am to do it. He said, too, that there were people that knew everything in the

swamp. Of course they have written books! The thing for me to be doing is to quit moping and be buying

some. Never bought a book in me life, or anything else of much account, for that matter. Oh, ain't I glad I

Freckles sat on a log, took his pencil and accountbook, and figured on a back page. He had walked the

timberline ten months. His pay was thirty dollars a month, and his board cost him eight. That left

twentytwo dollars a month, and his clothing had cost him very little. At the least he had two hundred dollars

"I'll be having a book about all the birds, trees, flowers, butterflies, andYes, by gummy! I'll be having

He put away the accountbook, that was his most cherished possession, caught up his stick, and started down

the line. The even tap, tap, and the cheery, gladsome whistle carried far ahead of him the message that

He fell into a rapid pace, for he had lost time that morning; when he rounded the last curve he was almost

Then, wavering, flickering, darting here and there over the sweet marshgrass, came a large black shadow,

sweeping so closely before him that for the second time that morning Freckles dodged and sprang back. He

had seen some owls and hawks of the swamp that he thought might be classed as large birds, but never

anything like this, for six feet it spread its big, shining wings. Its strong feet could be seen drawn among its

feathers. The sun glinted on its sharp, hooked beak. Its eyes glowed, caught the light, and seemed able to

pierce the ground at his feet. It cared no more for Freckles than if he had not been there; for it perched on a

low tree, while a second later it awkwardly hopped to the trunk of a lightningriven elm, turned its back, and

Freckles looked just in time to see a second shadow sweep the grass; and another bird, a trifle smaller and not

quite so brilliant in the light, slowly sailed down to perch beside the first. Evidently they were mates, for with

a queer, rolling hop the firstcomer shivered his bronze wings, sidled to the new arrival, and gave her a silly

little peck on her wing. Then he coquettishly drew away and ogled her. He lifted his head, waddled from her

a few steps, awkwardly ambled back, and gave her such a simple sort of kiss on her beak that Freckles burst

The lover ducked and sidestepped a few feet. He spread his wings and slowly and softly waved them

precisely as if he were fanning his charmer, which was indeed the result he accomplished. Then a wave of

uncontrollable tenderness moved him so he hobbled to his bombardment once more. He faced her squarely

this time, and turned his head from side to side with queer little jerks and indiscriminate peckings at her

wings and head, and smirkings that really should have been irresistible. She yawned and shuffled away

indifferently. Freckles reached up, pulled the quill from his hat, and looking from it to the birds, nodded in

"So you're me black angels, ye spalpeens! No wonder you didn't get in! But I'll back you to come closer it

than any other birds ever did. You fly higher than I can see. Have you picked the Limberlost for a good thing

and come to try it? Well, you can be me chickens if you want to, but I'm blest if you ain't cool for new ones.

Freckles broke into an unrestrained laugh, for the birdlover was keen about his courting, while evidently his

mate was diffident. When he approached too boisterously, she relieved him of a goodly tuft of feathers and

sent him backward in a series of squirmy little jumps that gave the boy an idea of what had happened upsky

With a ravishing swagger, halflifted wings, and deep, guttural hissing, the lover approached again. He

suddenly lifted his body, but she coolly rocked forward on the limb, glided gracefully beneath him, and

slowly sailed into the Limberlost. He recovered himself and gazed after her in astonishment.

Freckles hurried down the trail, shaking with laughter. When he neared the path to the clearing and saw the

Boss sitting motionless on the mare that was the pride of his heart, the boy broke into a run.

"Oh, Mr. McLean!" he cried. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting very long! And the sun is getting hot! I have

been so slow this morning! I could have gone faster, only there were that many things to keep me, and I didn't

know you would be here. I'll hurry after this. I've never had to be giving excuses before. The line wasn't

down, and there wasn't a sign of trouble; it was other things that were making me late."

McLean, smiling on the boy, immediately noticed the difference in him. This flushed, panting, talkative lad

was not the same creature who had sought him in despair and bitterness. He watched in wonder as Freckles

mopped the perspiration from his forehead and began to laugh. Then, forgetting all his customary reserve

with the Boss, the pentup boyishness in the lad broke forth. With an eloquence of which he never dreamed

he told his story. He talked with such enthusiasm that McLean never took his eyes from his face or shifted in

the saddle until he described the strange birdlover, and then the Boss suddenly bent over the pommel and

Freckles decorated his story with keen appreciation and rare touches of Irish wit and drollery that made it

most interesting as well as very funny. It was a first attempt at descriptive narration. With an inborn gift for

striking the vital point, a naturalist's dawning enthusiasm for the wonders of the Limberlost, and the welling

joy of his newly found happiness, he made McLean see the struggles of the moth and its freshly painted

wings, the dainty, brilliant birdmates of different colors, the feather sliding through the clear air, the

palpitant throat and batting eyes of the frog; while his version of the big bird's courtship won for the Boss the

"They're in the middle of a swamp now" said Freckles. "Do you suppose there is any chance of them staying

with me chickens? If they do, they'll be about the queerest I have; but I tell you, sir, I am finding some plum

good ones. There's a new kind over at the mouth of the creek that uses its wings like feet and walks on all

fours. It travels like a thrashing machine. There's another, tall as me waist, with a bill a foot long, a neck near

two, not the thickness of me wrist and an elegant color. He's some blue and gray, touched up with black,

white, and brown. The voice of him is such that if he'd be going up and standing beside a tree and crying at it

a few times he could be sawing it square off. I don't know but it would be a good idea to try him on the gang,

McLean laughed. "Those must be blue herons, Freckles," he said. "And it doesn't seem possible, but your

description of the big black birds sounds like genuine black vultures. They are common enough in the South.

I've seen them numerous around the lumber camps of Georgia, but I never before heard of any this far north.

They must be strays. You have described perfectly our nearest equivalent to a branch of these birds called in

Europe Pharaoh's Chickens, but if they are coming to the Limberlost they will have to drop Pharaoh and

become Freckles' Chickens, like the remainder of the birds; won't they? Or are they too odd and ugly to

"Oh, not at all, at all!" cried Freckles, bursting into pure brogue in his haste. "I don't know as I'd be calling

them exactly pretty, and they do move like a rockinghorse loping, but they are so big and fearless. They

have a fine color for black birds, and their feet and beaks seem so strong. You never saw anything so keen as

their eyes! And fly? Why, just think, sir, they must be flying miles straight up, for they were out of sight

completely when the feather fell. I don't suppose I've a chicken in the swamp that can go as close heaven as

"He was loving her so," answered Freckles in a hushed voice. "I know it looked awful funny, and I laughed

and told on him, but if I'd taken time to think I don't believe I'd have done it. You see, I've seen such a little

bit of loving in me life. You easily can be understanding that at the Home it was every day the old story of

neglect and desertion. Always people that didn't even care enough for their children to keep them, so you see,

sir, I had to like him for trying so hard to make her know how he loved her. Of course, they're only birds, but

if they are caring for each other like that, why, it's just the same as people, ain't it?"

"If anybody loved me like that, Mr. McLean, I wouldn't be spending any time on how they looked or moved.

All I'd be thinking of would be how they felt toward me. If they will stay, I'll be caring as much for them as

The face of McLean was a study; but the honest eyes of the boy were so compelling that he found himself

answering: "You are right, Freckles. He's a gentleman, isn't he? And the only real chicken you have. Of

course he'll remain! The Limberlost will be paradise for his family. And now, Freckles, what has been the

trouble all spring? You have done your work as faithfully as anyone could ask, but I can't help seeing that

"I love it," answered Freckles. "It will almost break me heart when the gang comes and begins tearing up the

"I think, sir, it's been books," answered Freckles. "You see, I didn't realize it meself until the bullfrog told me

this morning. I hadn't ever even heard about a place like this. Anyway, I wasn't understanding how it would

be, if I had. Being among these beautiful things every day, I got so anxious like to be knowing and naming

them, that it got to eating into me and went and made me near sick, when I was well as I could be. Of course,

I learned to read, write, and figure some at school, but there was nothing there, or in any of the city that I ever

got to see, that would make a fellow even be dreaming of such interesting things as there are here. I've seen

the parksbut good Lord, they ain't even beginning to be in it with the Limberlost! It's all new and strange to

me. I don't know a thing about any of it. The bullfrog told me to `find out,' plain as day, and books are the

"Of course," said McLean, astonished at himself for his heartfelt relief. He had not guessed until that minute

what it would have meant to him to have Freckles give up. "You know enough to study out what you want

"I am pretty sure I do," said Freckles. "I learned all I'd the chance at in the Home, and me schooling was good

as far as it went. Wouldn't let you go past fourteen, you know. I always did me sums perfect, and loved me

history books. I had them almost by heart. I never could get me grammar to suit them. They said it was just

born in me to go wrong talking, and if it hadn't been I suppose I would have picked it up from the other

children; but I'd the best voice of any of them in the Home or at school. I could knock them all out singing. I

was always leader in the Home, and once one of the superintendents gave me carfare and let me go into the

city and sing in a boys' choir. The master said I'd the swatest voice of them all until it got rough like, and then

he made me quit for awhile, but he said it would be coming back by now, and I'm railly thinking it is, sir, for

I've tried on the line a bit of late and it seems to go smooth again and lots stronger. That and me chickens

have been all the company I've been having, and it will be all I'll want if I can have some books and learn the

real names of things, where they come from, and why they do such interesting things. It's been fretting me

more than I knew to be shut up here among all these wonders and not knowing a thing. I wanted to ask you

what some books would cost me, and if you'd be having the goodness to get me the right ones. I think I have

"You needn't touch your account, Freckles," he said. "Ten dollars from this month's pay will provide you

everything you need to start on. I will write a friend in Grand Rapids today to select you the very best and

"Never owned a book in me life!" he said. "Even me schoolbooks were never mine. Lord! How I used to wish

I could have just one of them for me very own! Won't it be fun to see me sawbird and me little yellow fellow

looking at me from the pages of a book, and their real names and all about them printed alongside? How long

"Ten days should do it nicely," said McLean. Then, seeing Freckles' lengthening face, he added: "I'll have

Duncan bring you a tenbushel storebox the next time he goes to town. He can haul it to the west entrance

and set it up wherever you want it. You can put in your spare time filling it with the specimens you find until

the books come, and then you can study out what you have. I suspect you could collect specimens that I could

send to naturalists in the city and sell for you; things like that winged creature, this morning. I don't know

much in that line, but it must have been a moth, and it might have been rare. I've seen them by the thousand

in museums, and in all nature I don't remember rarer coloring than their wings. I'll order you a butterflynet

and box and show you how scientists pin specimens. Possibly you can make a fine collection of these swamp

beauties. It will be all right for you to take a pair of different moths and butterflies, but I don't want to hear of

McLean rode away leaving Freckles staring aghast. Then he saw the point and smiled. Standing on the trail,

"Well, if life ain't getting to be worth living!" he said wonderingly. "Biggest streak of luck I ever had! `Bout

time something was coming my way, but I wouldn't ever thought anybody could strike such magnificent

On Duncan's return from his next trip to town there was a big storebox loaded on the back of his wagon. He

drove to the west entrance of the swamp, set the box on a stump that Freckles had selected in a beautiful,

"It seems most a pity to nail into that tree," said Duncan. "I haena the time to examine into the grain of it, but

it looks as if it might be a rare ane. Anyhow, the nailin' winna hurt it deep, and havin' the case by it will make

"Ay," said Duncan. "It looks like it might be ane of thae finegrained white anes that mak' such grand

When the body of the case was secure, Duncan made a door from the lid and fastened it with hinges. He

drove a staple, screwed on a latch, and gave Freckles a small padlockso that he might fasten in his

treasures safely. He made a shelf at the top for his books, and last of all covered the case with oilcloth.

It was the first time in Freckles' life that anyone ever had done that much for his pleasure, and it warmed his

heart with pure joy. If the interior of the box already had been covered with the rarest treasures of the

When the big teamster stood back to look at his work he laughingly quoted, "`Neat, but no' gaudy,' as

McLean says. All we're, needing now is a coat of paint to make a cupboard that would turn Sarah green with

"Mr. Duncan," said Freckles, "I don't know why you are being so mighty good to me; but if you have any

jobs at the cabin that I could do for you or Mrs. Duncan, hours off the line, it would make me mighty happy."

Duncan laughed. "Ye needna feel ye are obliged to me, lad. Ye mauna think I could take a halfday off in the

best hauling season and go to town for boxes to rig up, and spend of my little for fixtures."

"I knew Mr. McLean sent you," said Freckles, his eyes wide and bright with happiness. "It's so good of him.

"Why, Freckles," said Duncan, as he knelt and began collecting his tools, "I canna see that it will hurt ye to

be told that ye are doing every day a thing that pleases the Boss as much as anything ye could do. Ye're being

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 21

uncommon faithful, lad, and honest as old Father Time. McLean is trusting ye as he would his own flesh and

"Why I know," answered Duncan. "I wadna venture to say so else. In those first days he cautioned me na to

tell ye, but now he wadna care. D'ye ken, Freckles, that some of the single trees ye are guarding are worth a

"Ye see," said Duncan, "that's why they maun be watched so closely. They tak', say, for instance, a burl

maplebird's eye they call it in the factory, because it's full o' wee knots and twists that look like the eve of

a bird. They saw it out in sheets no muckle thicker than writin' paper. Then they make up the funiture out of

cheaper wood and cover it with the mapleveneer, they call it. When it's all done and polished ye never saw

onythin' grander. Gang into a retail shop the next time ye are in town and see some. By sawin' it thin that way

they get finish for thousands of dollars' worth of furniture from a single tree. If ye dinna watch faithful, and

Black Jack gets out a few he has marked, it means the loss of more money than ye ever dreamed of, lad. The

other night, down at camp, some son of Balaam was suggestin' that ye might be sellin' the Boss out to Jack

and lettin' him tak' the trees secretly, and nobody wad ever ken till the gang gets here."

"And the Boss," continued Duncan, coolly ignoring Freckles' anger, "he lays back just as cool as cowcumbers

an' says: `I'll give a thousand dollars to ony man that will show me a fresh stump when we reach the

Limberlost,' says he. Some of the men just snapped him op that they'd find some. So you see bow the Boss is

"I am gladder than I can ever expriss," said Freckles. "And now will I be walking double time to keep some

"Mither o' Moses!" howled Duncan. "Ye can trust the Scotch to bungle things a'thegither. McLean was only

meanin' to show ye all confidence and honor. He's gone and set a high price for some dirty whelp to ruin ye. I

was just tryin' to show ye how he felt toward ye, and I've gone an' give ye that worry to bear. Damn the

"No!" growled Duncan. "Headin' the list! He'd nae business to set a price on ye, lad, for that's about the

amount of it, an' I'd nae right to tell ye. We've both done ye ill, an' both meanin' the verra best. Juist what I'm

"I am mighty proud of what you have been telling me, Duncan," said Freckles. "I need the warning, sure. For

with the books coming I might be timpted to neglect me work when double watching is needed. Thank you

more than I can say for putting me on to it. What you've told me may be the saving of me. I won't stop for

dinner now. I'll be getting along the east line, and when I come around about three, maybe Mother Duncan

"Ye see now!" cried Duncan in disgust. "Ye'll start on that sevenmile tramp with na bite to stay your

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 22

"You told me that the Scotch had the hardest heads and the softest hearts of any people that's living,"

Freckles picked up his club and started down the line, whistling cheerily, for he had an unusually long

Duncan went straight to the lower camp, and calling McLean aside, repeated the conversation verbatim,

ending: "And nae matter what happens now or ever, dinna ye dare let onythin' make ye believe that Freckles

Freckles was whistling merrily. He kept one eye religiously on the line. The other he divided between the

path, his friends of the wire, and a search of the sky for his latest arrivals. Every day since their coming he

had seen them, either hanging as small, black clouds above the swamp or bobbing over logs and trees with

their queer, tilting walk. Whenever he could spare time, he entered the swamp and tried to make friends with

them, for they were the tamest of all his unnumbered subjects. They ducked, dodged, and ambled around him,

For two weeks he had found them circling over the Limberlost regularly, but one morning the female was

missing and only the big black chicken hung sentinel above the swamp. His mate did not reappear in the

following days, and Freckles grew very anxious. He spoke of it to Mrs. Duncan, and she quieted his fears by

"Why, Freckles, if it's the henbird ye are missing, it's ten to one she's safe," she said. "She's laid, and is

setting, ye silly! Watch him and mark whaur he lichts. Then follow and find the nest. Some Sabbath we'll all

Accepting this theory, Freckles began searching for the nest. Because these "chickens" were large, as the

hawks, he looked among the treetops until he almost sprained the back of his neck. He had half the crow and

hawk nests in the swamp located. He searched for this nest instead of collecting subjects for his case. He

found the pair the middle of one forenoon on the elm where he had watched their lovemaking. The big black

chicken was feeding his mate; so it was proved that they were a pair, they were both alive, and undoubtedly

she was brooding. After that Freckles' nesthunting continued with renewed zeal, but as he had no idea where

to look and Duncan could offer no helpful suggestion, the nest was no nearer to being found.

Coming from a long day on the trail, Freckles saw Duncan's children awaiting him much closer the swale

than they usually ventured, and from their wild gestures he knew that something had happened. He began to

How they hurried! Freckles lifted the youngest to his shoulder, the second took his club and dinner pail, and

when they reached Mrs. Duncan they found her at work on a big box. She had loosened the lid, and then she

"Ye canna have a peep in here until ye have washed and eaten supper," she said. "It's all ready on the table.

Ance ye begin on this, ye'll no be willin' to tak' your nose o' it till bedtime, and I willna get my work done the

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 23

It was difficult work, but Freckles smiled bravely. He made himself neat, swallowed a few bites, then came

so eagerly that Mrs. Duncan yielded, although she said she very well knew all the time that his supper would

Lifting the lid, they removed the packing and found in that box books on birds, trees, flowers, moths, and

butterflies. There was also one containing Freckles' bullfrog, true to life. Besides these were a butterflynet, a

naturalist's tin specimenbox, a bottle of cyanide, a box of cotton, a paper of long, steel specimenpins, and a

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

The eldest boy turned a somersault for every extra, while the baby, trying to follow his example, bunched

over in a sidewise sprawl and cut his foot on the axe with which his mother had prized up the boxlid. That

sobered them, they carried the books indoors. Mrs. Duncan had a top shelf in her closet cleared for them, far

When Freckles started for the trail next morning, the shining new specimenbox flashed on his back. The

black "chicken," a mere speck in the blue, caught the gleam of it. The folded net hung beside the boy's

hatchet, and the bird book was in the box. He walked the line and tested each section scrupulously, watching

every foot of the trail, for he was determined not to slight his work; but if ever a boy "made haste slowly" in a

hurry, it was Freckles that morning. When at last he reached the space he had cleared and planted around his

case, his heart swelled with the pride of possessing even so much that he could call his own, while his quick

He had made a large room with the door of the case set even with one side of it. On three sides, fine big

bushes of wild rose climbed to the lower branches of the trees. Part of his walls were mallow, part alder,

thorn, willow, and dogwood. Below there filled in a solid mass of pale pink sheeplaurel, and yellow St.

John's wort, while the amber threads of the dodder interlaced everywhere. At one side the swamp came close,

here cattails grew in profusion. In front of them he had planted a row of waterhyacinths without disturbing

in the least the state of their azure bloom, and where the ground arose higher for his floor, a row of foxfire,

To the left he had discovered a queer natural arrangement of the trees, that grew to giant size and were set in

a gradually narrowing space so that a long, open vista stretched away until lost in the dim recesses of the

swamp. A little trimming of underbush, rolling of dead logs, levelling of floor and carpeting with moss, made

it easy to understand why Freckles had named this the "cathedral"; yet he never had been taught that "the

On either side of the trees that constituted the first arch of this dim vista of the swamp he planted ferns that

grew waisthigh thus early in the season, and so skilfully the work had been done that not a frond drooped

because of the change. Opposite, he cleared a space and made a flower bed. He filled one end with every

delicate, lacy vine and fern he could transplant successfully. The body of the bed was a riot of color. Here he

set growing dainty blueeyedMarys and blueeyed grass side by side. He planted harebells; violets, blue,

white, and yellow; wild geranium, cardinalflower, columbine, pink snake's mouth, buttercups, painted

trilliums, and orchis. Here were bloodroot, moccasinflower, hepatica, pitcherplant, Jackinthepulpit,

and every other flower of the Limberlost that was in bloom or bore a bud presaging a flower. Every day saw

the addition of new specimens. The place would have driven a botanist wild with envy.

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 24

On the line side he left the bushes thick for concealment, entering by a narrow path he and Duncan had

cleared in setting up the case. He called this the front door, though he used every precaution to hide it. He

built rustic seats between several of the trees, leveled the floor, and thickly carpeted it with rank, heavy,

woollydog moss. Around the case he planted wild clematis, bittersweet, and wildgrapevines, and trained

them over it until it was almost covered. Every day he planted new flowers, cut back rough bushes, and

coaxed out graceful ones. His pride in his room was very great, but he had no idea how surprisingly beautiful

This morning Freckles walked straight to his case, unlocked it, and set his apparatus and dinner inside. He

planted a new specimen he had found close the trail, and, bringing his old scrapbucket from the corner in

which it was hidden, from a nearby pool he dipped water to pour over his carpet and flowers.

Then he took out the bird book, settled comfortably on a bench, and with a deep sigh of satisfaction turned to

the section headed. "V." Past "veery" and "vireo" he went, down the line until his finger, trembling with

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

"`Common in the South. Sometimes called Jim Crow. Nearest equivalent to Cathartes

"`the Pharaoh's Chickens of European species. Sometimes stray north as far as Virginia and

"And sometimes farther," interpolated Freckles, "'cos I got them right here in Indiana so like these pictures I

"`big as a common turkey's, but shaped like a hen's, heavily splotched with chocolate'"

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 25

"Oh, hagginy! Wasn't I barking up the wrong tree, though? Ought to been looking close the ground all this

time. Now it's all to do over, and I suspect the sooner I start the sooner I'll be likely to find them."

Freckles put away his book, dampened the smudgefire, without which the mosquitoes made the swamp

almost unbearable, took his cudgel and lunch, and went to the line. He sat on a log, ate at dinnertime and

drank his last drop of water. The heat of June was growing intense. Even on the west of the swamp, where

one had full benefit of the breeze from the upland, it was beginning to be unpleasant in the middle of the day.

He brushed the crumbs from his knees and sat resting awhile and watching the sky to see if his big chicken

were hanging up there. But he came to the earth abruptly, for there were steps coming down the trail that

were neither McLean's nor Duncan'sand there never had been others. Freckles' heart leaped hotly. He ran a

quick hand over his belt to feel if his revolver and hatchet were there, caught up his cudgel and laid it across

his kneesthen sat quietly, waiting. Was it Black Jack, or someone even worse? Forced to do something to

brace his nerves, he puckered his stiffening lips and began whistling a tune he had led in his clear tenor every

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

Through the bushes he caught a glimpse of the oncoming figure. His heart flooded with joy, for it was a man

from the gang. Wessner had been his bunkmate the night he came down the corduroy. He knew him as well

as any of McLean's men. This was no timberthief. No doubt the Boss had sent him with a message. Freckles

"Well, it's good telling if you're glad to see me," said Wessner, with something very like a breath of relief.

"We been hearing down at the camp you were so mighty touchy you didn't allow a man within a rod of the

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

"Yes, I am," said Wessner. "So would every man of the gang if they wasn't too big cowards to say anything,

unless maybe that other slobbering old Scotchman, Duncan. Grinding the lives out of us! Working us like

dogs, and paying us starvation wages, while he rolls up his millions and lives like a prince!"

"Wessner," he said impressively, "you'd make a fine pattern for the father of liars! Every man on that gang is

strong and hilthy, paid all he earns, and treated with the courtesy of a gentleman! As for the Boss living like a

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

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

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 26

"Humph!" said Freckles. "Have you been up to Chicago and cornered wheat, and are you offering me a

"Freckles, old fellow," he said, "if you let me give you a pointer, I can put you on to making a cool five

"You needn't be afraid of speaking up," he said. "There isn't a soul in the Limberlost save the birds and the

beasts, unless some of your sort's come along and's crowding the privileges of the legal tinints."

"None of my friends along," said Wessner. "Nobody knew I came but Black, II mean a friend of mine. If

you want to hear sense and act with reason, he can see you later, but it ain't necessary. We can make all the

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

Wessner was impervious. "You just bet it is! Why, only think, Freckles, slavin' away at a measly little thirty

dollars a month, and here is a chance to clear five hundred in a day! You surely won't be the fool to miss it!"

"And how was you proposing for me to stale it?" inquired Freckles. "Or am I just to find it laying in me path

"That's it, Freckles," blustered the Dutchman, "you're just to find it. You needn't do a thing. You needn't

know a thing. You name a morning when you will walk up the west side of the swamp and then turn round

and walk back down the same side again and the money is yours. Couldn't anything be easier than that, could

"Depinds entirely on the man," said Freckles. The lilt of a lark hanging above the swale beside them was not

sweeter than the sweetness of his voice. "To some it would seem to come aisy as breathing; and to some,

wringin' the last drop of their heart's blood couldn't force thim! I'm not the man that goes into a scheme like

that with the blindfold over me eyes, for, you see, it manes to break trust with the Boss; and I've served him

faithful as I knew. You'll have to be making the thing very clear to me understanding."

"It's so dead easy," repeated Wessner, "it makes me tired of the simpleness of it. You see there's a few trees in

the swamp that's real gold mines. There's three especial. Two are back in, but one's square on the line. Why,

your pottering old Scotch fool of a Boss nailed the wire to it with his own hands! He never noticed where the

bark had been peeled, or saw what it was. If you will stay on this side of the trail just one day we can have it

cut, loaded, and ready to drive out at night. Next morning you can find it, report, and be the busiest man in

the search for us. We know where to fix it all safe and easy. Then McLean has a bet up with a couple of the

gang that there can't be a raw stump found in the Limberlost. There's plenty of witnesses to swear to it, and I

know three that will. There's a cool thousand, and this tree is worth all of that, raw. Say, it's a gold mine, I tell

you, and just five hundred of it is yours. There's no danger on earth to you, for you've got McLean that

bamboozled you could sell out the whole swamp and he'd never mistrust you. What do you say?"

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 27

"No, it ain't," said Wessner. "If you really want to brace up and be a man and go into the thing for keeps, you

can make five times that in a week. My friend knows a dozen others we could get out in a few days, and all

you'd have to do would be to keep out of sight. Then you could take your money and skip some night, and

"'Twould be a rare joke on the Boss," he said, "to be stalin' from him the very thing he's trusted me to guard,

and be getting me wages all winter throwed in free. And you're making the pay awful high. Me to be getting

five hundred for such a simple little thing as that. You're trating me most royal indade! It's away beyond all

I'd be expecting. Sivinteen cints would be a big price for that job. It must be looked into thorough. Just you

wait here until I do a minute's turn in the swamp, and then I'll be eschorting you out of the clearing and giving

Freckles lifted the overhanging bushes and hurried to the case. He unslung the specimenbox and laid it

inside with his hatchet and revolver. He slipped the key in his pocket and went back to Wessner.

There was iron in his voice, and he was commanding as an outraged general. "Anything, you want to be

"Have the goodness to be calling me Mister McLean," snapped Freckles. "I'm after resarvin' me pet name for

the use of me friends! You may stand with your back to the light or be taking any advantage you want."

"I'm manin'," said Freckles tersely, "to lick a quartersection of hell out of you, and may the Holy Vargin

stay me before I leave you here carrion, for your carcass would turn the stummicks of me chickens!"

At the camp that morning, Wessner's conduct had been so palpable an excuse to force a discharge that

McLean was so troubled that, an hour later, he mounted Nellie and followed Wessner to his home in Wildcat

Hollow, only to find that he had left there shortly before, heading for the Limberlost. McLean rode at top

speed. When Mrs. Duncan told him that a man answering Wessner's description had gone down the west side

of the swamp close noon, he left the mare in her charge and followed on foot. When he heard voices he

entered the swamp and silently crept close just in time to hear Wessner whine: "But I can't fight you,

Freckles. I hain't done nothing to you. I'm away bigger than you, and you've only one hand."

The Boss slid off his coat and crouched among the bushes, ready to spring; but as Freckles' voice reached him

"Don't you be wasting of me good time in the numbering of me hands," cried Freckles. "The stringth of me

cause will make up for the weakness of me mimbers, and the size of a cowardly thief doesn't count. You'll

think all the wildcats of the Limberlost are turned loose on you whin I come against you, and as for me

causeI slept with you, Wessner, the night I came down the corduroy like a dirty, friendless tramp, and

the Boss was for taking me up, washing, clothing, and feeding me, and giving me a home full of love and

tinderness, and a master to look to, and good, wellearned money in the bank. He's trusting me his heartful,

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 28

and here comes you, you spotted toad of the big road, and insults me, as is an honest Irish gintleman, by

hinting that you concaive I'd be willing to shut me eyes and hold fast while you rob him of the thing I was set

and paid to guard, and then act the sneak and liar to him, and ruin and eternally blacken the soul of me. You

damned rascal," raved Freckles, "be fighting before I forget the laws of a gintlemin's game and split your

"Oh, don't you!" raged the boy, now fairly frothing. "Well, you ain't resembling me none, for I'm itching like

He danced up, and as Wessner lunged in selfdefense, ducked under his arm as a bantam and punched him in

the pit of the stomach so that he doubled with a groan. Before Wessner could straighten himself, Freckles was

on him, fighting like the wildest fury that ever left the beautiful island. The Dutchman dealt thundering blows

that sometimes landed and sent Freckles reeling, and sometimes missed, while he went plunging into the

swale with the impetus of them. Freckles could not strike with half Wessner's force, but he could land three

blows to the Dutchman's one. It was here that the boy's days of alert watching on the line, the perpetual

swinging of the heavy cudgel, and the endurance of all weather stood him in good stead; for he was tough,

and agile. He skipped, ducked, and dodged. For the first five minutes he endured fearful punishment. Then

Wessner's breath commenced to whistle between his teeth, when Freckles only had begun fighting. He sprang

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

"And would you be pleased to tune up a little livelier?" he gasped, and clipped his ear as he sprang back.

Wessner lunged at him in blind fury. Freckles, seeing an opening, forgot the laws of a gentleman's game and

drove the toe of his heavy wadingboot in Wessner's middle until he doubled and fell heavily. In a flash

Freckles was on him. For a time McLean could not see what was happening. "Go! Go to him now!" he

commanded himself, but so intense was his desire to see the boy win alone that he did not stir.

At last Freckles sprang up and backed away. "Time!" he yelled as a fury. "Be getting up, Mr. Wessner, and

don't be afraid of hurting me. I'll let you throw in an extra hand and lick you to me complate satisfaction all

As Wessner struggled to his feet, he resembled a battlefield, for his clothing was in ribbons and his face and

"Oh, you do?" roared Freckles. "Well this ain't your say. You come on to me ground, lying about me Boss

and intimatin' I'd stale from his very pockets. Now will you be standing up and taking your medicine like a

man, or getting it poured down the throat of you like a baby? I ain't got enough! This is only just the

He sprang against Wessner and sent him rolling. He attacked the unresisting figure and fought him until he

lay limp and quiet and Freckles had no strength left to lift an arm. Then he arose and stepped back, gasping

for breath. With his first lungful of air he shouted: "Time!" But the figure of Wessner lay motionless.

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 29

Freckles watched him with regardful eye and saw at last that he was completely exhausted. He bent over him,

and catching him by the back of the neck, jerked him to his knees. Wessner lifted the face of a whipped cur,

and fearing further punishment, burst into shivering sobs, while the tears washed tiny rivulets through the

blood and muck. Freckles stepped back, glaring at Wessner, but suddenly the scowl of anger and the ugly

disfiguring red faded from the boy's face. He dabbed at a cut on his temple from which issued a tiny crimson

stream, and jauntily shook back his hair. His face took on the innocent look of a cherub, and his voice rivaled

He glanced vaguely around him until he saw his club, seized and twirled it as a drum major, stuck it upright

in the muck, and marched on tiptoe to Wessner, mechanically, as a puppet worked by a string. Bending over,

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

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

"Come, Freddy, me child," he admonished Wessner, "it's time little boys were going home. I've me work to

do, and can't be entertaining you any more today. Come back tomorrow, if you ain't through yet, and we'll

repate the perfarmance. Don't be staring at me so wild like! I would eat you, but I can't afford it. Me earnings,

being honest, come slow, and I've no money to be squanderin' on the pailful of Dyspeptic's Delight it would

Again an awful wrenching seized McLean. Freckles stepped back as Wessner, tottering and reeling, as a

thoroughly drunken man, came toward the path, appearing indeed as if wildcats had attacked him.

The cudgel spun high in air, and catching it with an expertness acquired by long practice on the line, the boy

twirled it a second, shook back his thick hair bonnily, and stepping into the trail, followed Wessner. Because

Freckles was Irish, it was impossible to do it silently, so presently his clear tenor rang out, though there were

"It was the Dutch. It was the Dutch. Do you think it was the Irish hollered help? Not much! It was the Dutch.

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

Freckles called the Limberlost to witness: "How's that for the ingratitude of a beast? And me troubling mesilf

Then he changed his tone completely and added: "Belike it's this, Freddy. You see, the Boss might come

riding down this trail any minute, and the little mare's so wheedlesome that if she'd come on to you in your

prisint state all of a sudden, she'd stop that short she'd send Mr. McLean out over the ears of her. No

"That's a sample of the thanks a generous act's always for getting," he continued. "Here's me negictin' me

work to eschort you out proper, and you saying such awful words Freddy," he demanded sternly, "do you

want me to soap out your mouth? You don't seem to be realizing it, but if you was to buck into Mr. McLean

in your prisint state, without me there to explain matters the chance is he'd cut the liver out of you; and I

shouldn't think you'd be wanting such a fine gintleman as him to see that it's white!"

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 30

"And now will you be looking at the manners of him?" questioned Freckles plaintively. "Going without even

a `thank you,' right in the face of all the pains I've taken to make it interesting for him!"

Freckles twirled the club and stood as a soldier at attention until Wessner left the clearing, but it was the last

scene of that performance. When the boy turned, there was deathly illness on his face, while his legs wavered

beneath his weight. He staggered to the case, and opening it he took out a piece of cloth. He dipped it into the

water, and sitting on a bench, he wiped the blood and grime from his face, while his breath sucked between

his clenched teeth. He was shivering with pain and excitement in spite of himself. He unbuttoned the band of

his right sleeve, and turning it back, exposed the bluelined, calloused whiteness of his maimed arm, now

vividly streaked with contusions, while in a series of circular dots the blood oozed slowly. Here Wessner had

succeeded in setting his teeth. When Freckles saw what it was he forgave himself the kick in the pit of

McLean pushed him carefully to the seat, and bending over him, opened a pocketcase that he carried as

regularly as his revolver and watch, for cuts and bruises were of daily occurrence among the gang.

Taking the hurt arm, he turned back the sleeve and bathed and bound the wounds. He examined Freckles'

head and body and convinced himself that there was no permanent injury, although the cruelty of the

punishment the boy had borne set the Boss shuddering. Then he closed the case, shoved it into his pocket,

and sat beside Freckles. All the indescribable beauty of the place was strong around him, but he saw only the

bruised face of the suffering boy, who had hedged for the information he wanted as a diplomat, argued as a

When the pain lessened and breath reieved Freckles' pounding heart, he watched the Boss covertly. How had

McLean gotten there and how long had he been there? Freckles did not dare ask. At last he arose, and going

to the case, took out his revolver and the wire mending apparatus and locked the door. Then he turned to

"Yes," said McLean, "I have, and you are to follow them to the letter. Turn over that apparatus to me and go

straight home. Soak yourself in the hottest bath your skin will bear and go to bed at once. Now hurry."

"Mr. McLean," said Freckles, "it's sorry I am to be telling you, but the afternoon's walking of the line ain't

done. You see, I was just for getting to me feet to start, and I was on time, when up came a gintleman, and we

got into a little heated argument. It's either settled, or it's just begun, but between us, I'm that late I haven't

started for the afternoon yet. I must be going at once, for there's a tree I must find before the day's over."

"You plucky little idiot," growled McLean. "You can't walk the line! I doubt if you can reach Duncan's. Don't

"Niver!" protested Freckles. "I was just a little done up for the prisint, a minute ago. I'm all right now.

Ridingboots are far too low. The day's hot and the walk a good seven miles, sir. Niver!"

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 31

As he reached for the outfit he pitched forward and his eyes closed. McLean stretched him on the moss and

applied restoratives. When Freckles returned to consciousness, McLean ran to the cabin to tell Mrs. Duncan

to have a hot bath ready, and to bring Nellie. That worthy woman promptly filled the washboiler, starting a

roaring fire under it. She pushed the horsetrough from its base and rolled it to the kitchen.

By the time McLean came again, leading Nelie and holding Freckles on her back, Mrs. Duncan was ready for

business. She and the Boss laid Freckles in the trough and poured on hot water until he squirmed. They

soaked and massaged him. Then they drew off the hot water and closed his pores with cold. Lastly they

stretched him on the floor and chafed, rubbed, and kneaded him until he cried out for mercy. As they rolled

"I don't know exact" sir; but it's on the east line, and the wire is fastened to it. He bragged that you nailed it

yourself, sir. You'll know it by the bark having been laid open to the grain somewhere low down. Five

Freckles' head rolled over and his eyes dropped shut. McLean towered above the lad. His bright hair waved

on the pillow. His face was swollen, and purple with bruises. His left arm, with the hand battered almost out

of shape, stretched beside him, and the right, with no hand at all, lay across a chest that was a mass of purple

welts. McLean's mind traveled to the night, almost a year before, when he had engaged Freckles, a stranger.

The Boss bent, covering the hurt arm with one hand and laying the other with a caress on the boy's forehead.

Freckles stirred at his touch, and whispered as softly as the swallows under the eaves: "If you're coming this

Then he went out and told Mrs. Duncan to keep close watch on Freckles, also to send Duncan to him at the

swamp the minute he came home. Following the trail to the line and back to the scent of the fight, the Boss

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

How had the boy conceived it? What a picture he had wrought in living colors! He had the heart of a painter.

He had the soul of a poet. The Boss stepped carefully over the velvet carpet to touch the walls of crisp

verdure with gentle fingers. He stood long beside the flower bed, and gazed at the banked wall of bright

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

He had reached the door of the cathedral. That which Freckles had attempted would have been patent to

anyone. What had been in the heart of the shy, silent boy when he had found that long, dim stretch of forest,

decorated its entrance, cleared and smoothed its aisle, and carpeted its altar? What veriest work of God was in

these mighty living pillars and the arched dome of green! How similar to stained cathedral windows were the

long openings between the trees, filled with rifts of blue, rays of gold, and the shifting emerald of leaves!

Where could be found mosaics to match this aisle paved with living color and glowing light? Was Freckles a

devout Christian, and did he worship here? Or was he an untaught heathen, and down this vista of entrancing

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 32

Who can fathom the heart of a boy? McLean had been thinking of Freckles as a creature of unswerving

honesty, courage, and faithfulness. Here was evidence of a heart aching for beauty, art, companionship,

worship. It was writ large all over the floor, walls, and furnishing of that little Limberlost clearing.

When Duncan came, McLean told him the story of the fight, and they laughed until they cried. Then they

"I hope not," answered McLean. "You never in all your life saw a cur whipped so completely. He won't come

back for the repetition of the chorus. We surely can find the tree. If we can't, Freckles can. I will bring

enough of the gang to take it out at once. That will insure peace for a time, at least, and I am hoping that in a

month more the whole gang may be moved here. It soon will be fall, and then, if he will go, I intend to send

Freckles to my mother to be educated. With his quickness of mind and body and a few years' good help he

can do anything. Why, Duncan, I'd give a hundred dollar bill if you could have been here and seen for

"Yes, and I'd `a' done murder," muttered the big teamster. "I hope, sir, ye will make good your plans for

Freckles, though I'd as soon see ony born child o' my ain taken from our home. We love the lad, me and

Locating the tree was easy, because it was so well identified. When the rumble of the big lumber wagons

passing the cabin on the way to the swamp wakened Freckles next morning, he sprang up and was soon

following them. He was so sore and stiff that every movement was torture at first, but he grew easier, and

shortly did not suffer so much. McLean scolded him for coming, yet in his heart triumphed over every new

The tree was a giant maple, and so precious that they almost dug it out by the roots. When it was down, cut in

lengths, and loaded, there was yet an empty wagon. As they were gathering up their tools to go, Duncan said:

"There's a big hollow tree somewhere mighty close here that I've been wanting for a wateringtrough for my

stock; the one I have is so small. The Portland company cut this for elm butts last year, and it's six feet

diameter and hollow for forty feet. It was a buster! While the men are here and there is an empty wagon, why

McLean said he was very willing, ordered the driver to break line and load the log, detailing men to assist. He

told Freckles to ride on a section of the maple with him, but now the boy asked to enter the swamp with

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

"It's me chickens," whispered Freckles in distress. "You see, I was just after finding yesterday, from me new

book, how they do be nesting in hollow trees, and there ain't any too many in the swamp. There's just a

"Go ahead," said McLean. "That's a different story. If they happen to be there, why tell Duncan he must give

Then he climbed on a wagon and was driven away. Freckles hurried into the swamp. He was a little behind,

yet he could see the men. Before he overtook them, they had turned from the west road and had entered the

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 33

They stopped at the trunk of a monstrous prostrate log. It had been cut three feet from the ground, over

threefourths of the way through, and had fallen toward the east, the body of the log still resting on the

stump. The underbrush was almost impenetrable, but Duncan plunged in and with a crowbar began tapping

along the trunk to decide how far it was hollow, so that they would know where to cut. As they waited his

decision, there came from the mouth of iton wingsa large black bird that swept over their heads.

Freckles danced wildly. "It's me chickens! Oh, it's me chickens!" he shouted. "Oh, Duncan, come quick!

Duncan hurried to the mouth of the log, but Freckles was before him. He crashed through poisonvines and

underbrush regardless of any danger, and climbed on the stump. When Duncan came he was shouting like a

"It's hatched!" he yelled. "Oh, me big chicken has hatched out me little chicken, and there's another egg. I can

see it plain, and oh, the funny little white baby! Oh, Duncan, can you see me little white chicken?"

Duncan could easily see it; so could everyone else. Freckles crept into the log and tenderly carried the

hissing, blinking little bird to the light in a leaflined hat. The men found it sufficiently wonderful to satisfy

even Freckles, who had forgotten he was ever sore or stiff, and coddled over it with every blarneying term of

Duncan gathered his tools. "Deal's off, boys!" he said cheerfully. "This log mauna be touched until Freckles'

chaukies have finished with it. We might as weel gang. Better put it back, Freckles. It's just out, and it may

Freckles crept into the log and carefully deposited the baby beside the egg. When he came back, he said: "I

made a big mistake not to be bringing the egg out with the baby, but I was fearing to touch it. It's shaped like

a hen's egg, and it's big as a turkey's, and the beautifulest bluejust splattered with big brown splotches, like

me book said, precise. Bet you never saw such a sight as it made on the yellow of the rotten wood beside that

"Tell you what, Freckles," said one of the teamsters. "Have you ever heard of this Bird Woman who goes all

over the country with a camera and makes pictures? She made some on my brother Jim's place last summer,

and Jim's so wild about them he quits plowing and goes after her about every nest he finds. He helps her all

he can to take them, and then she gives him a picture. Jim's so proud of what he has he keeps them in the

Bible. He shows them to everybody that comes, and brags about how he helped. If you're smart, you'll send

for her and she'll come and make a picture just like life. If you help her, she will give you one. It would be

uncommon pretty to keep, after your birds are gone. I dunno what they are. I never see their like before. They

"Well," said the teamster, "failing to get this log lets me off till noon, and I'm going to town. I go right past

her place. I've a big notion to stop and tell her. If she drives straight back in the swamp on the west road, and

turns east at this big sycamore, she can't miss finding the tree, even if Freckles ain't here to show her. Jim

says her work is a credit to the State she lives in, and any man is a measly creature who isn't willing to help

her all he can. My old daddy used to say that all there was to religion was doing to the other fellow what

you'd want him to do to you, and if I was making a living taking bird pictures, seems to me I'd be mighty glad

for a chance to take one like that. So I'll just stop and tell her, and by gummy! maybe she will give me a

CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences 34

"Government land! No!" said the teamster. "She's dead down on anybody that shoots a bird or tears up a nest.

Why, she's half killing herself in all kinds of places and weather to teach people to love and protect the birds.

She's that plum careful of them that Jim's wife says she has Jim a standin' like a big fool holding an ombrelly

over them when they are young and tender until she gets a focus, whatever that is. Jim says there ain't a bird

on his place that don't actually seem to like having her around after she has wheedled them a few days, and

Duncan slept at home that night. He heard Freckles slipping out early the next morning, but he was too sleepy

to wonder why, until he came to do his morning chores. When he found that none of his stock was at all

thirsty, and saw the watertrough brimming, he knew that the boy was trying to make up to him for the loss

"Bless his fool little hot heart!" said Duncan. "And him so sore it is tearing him to move for anything. Nae

Freckles was moving briskly, and his heart was so happy that he forgot all about the bruises. He hurried

around the trail, and on his way down the east side he went to see the chickens. The mother bird was on the

nest. He was afraid the other egg might be hatching, so he did not venture to disturb her. He made the round

and reached his study early. He ate his lunch, but did not need to start on the second trip until the middle of

the afternoon. He would have long hours to work on his flower bed, improve his study, and learn about his

chickens. Lovingly he set his room in order and watered the flowers and carpet. He had chosen for his

restingplace the coolest spot on the west side, where there was almost always a breeze; but today the heat

"I'm mighty glad there's nothing calling me inside!" he said. "There's no bit of air stirring, and it will just be

steaming. Oh, but it's luck Duncan found the nest before it got so unbearing hot! I might have missed it

altogether. Wouldn't it have been a shame to lose that sight? The cunning little divil! When he gets to

toddling down that log to meet me, won't he be a circus? Wonder if he'll be as graceful a performer afoot as

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

Perhaps there was a breath of soundFreckles never afterward could rememberbut for some reason he

lifted his head as the bushes parted and the face of an angel looked between. Saints, nymphs, and fairies had

floated down his cathedral aisle for him many times, with forms and voices of exquisite beauty.

Parting the wild roses at the entrance was beauty of which Freckles never had dreamed. Was it real or would

it vanish as the other dreams? He dropped his book, and rising to his feet, went a step closer, gazing intently.

This was real flesh and blood. It was in every way kin to the Limberlost, for no bird of its branches swung

with easier grace than this dainty young thing rocked on the bit of morass on which she stood. A sapling

beside her was not straighter or rounder than her slender form. Her soft, waving hair clung around her face

from the heat, and curled over her shoulders. It was all of one piece with the gold of the sun that filtered

between the branches. Her eyes were the deepest blue of the iris, her lips the reddest red of the foxfire, while

her cheeks were exactly of the same satin as the wild rose petals caressing them. She was smiling at Freckles

The wildly leaping heart of Freckles burst from his body and fell in the black swampmuck at her feet with

such a thud that he did not understand how she could avoid hearing. He really felt that if she looked down she

"I hoped I might find you," said the Angel. "You see, I didn't do as I was told, and I'm lost. The Bird Woman

said I should wait in the carriage until she came back. She's been gone hours. It's a perfect Turkish bath in

there, and I'm all lumpy with mosquito bites. Just when I thought that I couldn't bear it another minute, along

came the biggest Papilio Ajax you ever saw. I knew how pleased she'd be, so I ran after it. It flew so slow and

so low that I thought a dozen times I had it. Then all at once it went from sight above the trees, and I couldn't

find my way back to save me. I think I've walked more than an hour. I have been mired to my knees. A thorn

She parted the bushes farther. Freckles saw that her blue cotton frock clung to her, limp with perspiration. It

was torn across the breast. One sleeve hung open from shoulder to elbow. A thorn had torn her arm until it

was covered with blood, and the gnats and mosquitoes were clustering around it. Her feet were in lace hose

and low shoes. Freckles gasped. In the Limberlost in low shoes! He caught an armful of moss from his carpet

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

"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 about snakes, I believe. The Bird Woman

put on leather leggings, and a nice, parboiled time she must be having! Worst dose I ever endured, and I'd

"Maybe if I'd be telling you I killed a rattler curled upon that same place you're standing, as long as me body

and the thickness of me arm, you'd be moving where I can see your footing," he urged insistently.

"What a perfectly delightful little brogue you speak," she said. "My father is Irish, and half should be enough

to entitle me to that much. `Maybeif I'dbe telling you,'" she imitated, rounding and accenting each word

Freckles was beginning to feel a wildness in his head. He had derided Wessner at that same hour yesterday.

"If you killed one snake here, it's probably all there is near; and anyway, the Bird Woman says a rattlesnake

is a gentleman and always gives warning before he strikes. I don't hear any rattling. Do you?"

"`Would I be knowing it?'" she mocked. "You should see the swamps of Michigan where they dump rattlers

Freckles stood astounded. She did know. She was not in the least afraid. She was depending on a rattlesnake

to live up to his share of the contract and rattle in time for her to move. The one characteristic an Irishman

admires in a woman, above all others, is courage. Freckles worshiped anew. He changed his tactics.

"I'd be pleased to be receiving you at me front door," he said, "but as you have arrived at the back, will you

As she moved across his room, Freckles had difficult work to keep from falling on his knees; for they were

"Someone must come with a big canvas and copy each side of it," she said. "I never saw anything so

beautiful! How I wish I might remain here with you! I will, some day, if you will let me; but now, if you can

spare the time, will you help me find the carriage? If the Bird Woman comes back and I am gone, she will be

"I think so," she said. "The man who told the Bird Woman said that was the only place the wires were down.

We drove away in, and it was dreadfulover stumps and logs, and we mired to the hubs. I suppose you

know, though. I should have stayed in the carriage, but I was so tired. I never dreamed of getting lost. I

suspect I will be scolded finely. I go with the Bird Woman half the time during the summer vacations. My

father says I learn a lot more than I do at school, and get it straight. I never came within a smell of being lost

before. I thought, at first, it was going to be horrid; but since I've found you, maybe it will be good fun after

Freckles was amazed to hear himself excusing: "It was so hot in there. You couldn't be expected to bear it for

hours and not be moving. I can take you around the trail almost to where you were. Then you can sit in the

"You'll be killed if you do! When she stays this long, it means that she has a focus on something. You see,

when she has a focus, and lies in the weeds and water for hours, and the sun bakes her, and things crawl over

her, and then someone comes along and scares her bird away just as she has it coaxed upwhy, she kills

them. If I melt, you won't go after her. She's probably blistered and half eaten up; but she never will quit until

"That's what he said. And that you would do anything you could for us; and that we could trust you with our

lives. But I would have trusted you anyway, if I hadn't known a thing about you. Say, your father is

"Well, call on me if you want reliable information. He's so proud of you he is all swelled up like the toad in

AEsop's Fables. If you have ever had an arm hurt like this, and can do anything, why, for pity sake, do it!"

She turned back her sleeve, holding toward Freckles an arm of palest cameo, shaped so exquisitely that no

Freckles unlocked his case, and taking out some cotton cloth, he tore it in strips. Then he brought a bucket of

the cleanest water he could find. She yielded herself to his touch as a baby, and he bathed away the blood and

bandaged the ugly, ragged wound. He finished his surgery by lapping the torn sleeve over the cloth and

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

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

"It's cut cruel deep. It might be making a scar," faltered Freckles, his eyes on the ground. "'Twould'twould

"I noticed you didn't," said Freckles softly. "I don't know much about it, 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 glorious eyes full to his, and the smile that swept her sweet, young face was the loveliest

"Don't let's bother about it," she proposed, with the faintest hint of a confiding gesture toward him. "It won't

The velvety touch of her warm arm was tingling in Freckles' fingertips. Dainty lace and fine white ribbon

peeped through her torn dress. There were beautiful rings on her fingers. Every article she wore was of the

finest material and in excellent taste. There was the trembling Limberlost guard in his coarse clothing, with

his cotton rags and his old pail of swamp water. Freckles was sufficiently accustomed to contrasts to notice

He lifted his eyes with a shadowy pain in them to hers, and found them of serene, unconscious purity. What

she had said was straight from a kind, untainted, young heart. She meant every word of it. Freckles' soul

In instant alarm for her, Freckles sprang up, grasped the cudgel, and led the way, sharply watching every step.

He went as close the log as he felt that he dared, and with a little searching found the carriage. He cleared a

path for the Angel, and with a sigh of relief saw her enter it safely. The heat was intense. She pushed the

"Oh yes I shall!" said the Angel. "The Bird Woman says that these birds remain over a month in the nest and

she would like to make a picture every few days for seven or eight weeks, perhaps."

"Then don't you ever be torturing yourself and your horse to be coming in here again," he said. "I'll show you

a way to drive almost to the nest on the east trail, and then you can come around to my room and stay while

the Bird Woman works. It's nearly always cool there, and there's comfortable seats, and water."

"Oh! did you have drinkingwater there?" she cried. "I was never so thirsty or so hungry in my life, but I

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

"Please wait a minute," called the Angel. "What's your name? I want to think about you while you are gone."

It was Freckles' turn to laugh. He whipped off his big, floppy straw hat, stood uncovered before her, and said,

in the sweetest of all the sweet tones of his voice: "There's nothing you could be but the Swamp Angel."

Once out of her sight, Freckles ran every step of the way to the cabin. Mrs. Duncan gave him a small bucket

of water, cool from the well. He carried it in the crook of his right arm, and a basket filled with bread and

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

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

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

"Angels don't go by looks," laughed the girl. "Your father told us you had been scrapping. But he told us

why. I'd gladly wear all your cuts and bruises if I could do anything that would make my father look as

peacocky as yours did. He strutted about proper. I never saw anyone look prouder."

"He didn't need to," answered the Angel. "He was radiating pride from every pore. Now, have you brought

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

The Angel sat on a big camera, spread the lunch on the carriage seat, and divided it in halves. The daintiest

parts she could select she carefully put back into the basket. The remainder she ate. Again Freckles found her

of the swamp, for though she was almost ravenous, she managed her food as gracefully as his little yellow

fellow, and her every movement was easy and charming. As he watched her with famished eyes, Freckles

told her of his birds, flowers, and books, and never realized what he was doing.

He led the horse to a deep pool that he knew of, and the tortured creature drank greedily, and lovingly rubbed

him with its nose as he wiped down its welted body with grass. Suddenly the Angel cried: "There comes the

Freckles had intended leaving before she came, but now he was glad indeed to be there, for a warmer, more

worn, and worse bitten creature he never had seen. She was staggering under a load of cameras and

paraphernalia. Freckles ran to her aid. He took all he could carry of her load, stowed it in the back of the

carriage, and helped her in. The Angel gave her water, knelt and unfastened the leggings, bathed her face, and

Freckles brought the horse. He was not sure about the harness, but the Angel knew, and soon they left the

swamp. Then he showed them how to reach the chicken tree from the outside, indicated a cooler place for the

horse, and told them how, the next time they came, the Angel could find his room while she waited.

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

"Why do you call the baby vulture `Little Chicken'?" she asked, leaning toward Freckles in an interested

"'Twas Duncan began it," said Freckles. "You see, through the fierce cold of winter the birds of the swamp

were almost starving. It is mighty lonely here, and they were all the company I was having. I got to carrying

scraps and grain down to them. Duncan was that ginerous he was giving me of his wheat and corn from his

chickens' feed, and he called the birds me swamp chickens. Then when these big black fellows came, Mr.

McLean said they were our nearest kind to some in the old world that they called `Pharaoh's Chickens,' and

"Good enough!" cried the Bird Woman, her splotched purple face lighting with interest. "You must shoot

something for them occasionally, and I'll bring more food when I come. If you will help me keep them until I

"I wonder if that other egg is going to hatch?" mused the Bird Woman. "I am afraid not. It should have

pipped today. Isn't it a beauty! I never before saw either an egg or the young. They are rare this far north."

Before they drove away, the Bird Woman thanked him for his kindness to the Angel and to her. She gave him

her hand at parting, and Freckles joyfully realized that this was going to be another person for him to love. He

could not remember, after they had driven away, that they even had noticed his missing hand, and for the first

When the Bird Woman and the Angel were on the home road, she told of the little corner of paradise into

which she had strayed and of her new name. The Bird Woman looked at the girl and guessed its

"Did you know Mr. McLean had a son?" asked the Angel. "Isn't the little accent he has, and the way he twists

a sentence, too dear? And isn't it too oldfashioned and funny to hear him call his father `mister'?"

"It sounds too good to be true," said the Bird Woman, answering the last question first. "I am so tired of these

presentday young men who patronizingly call their fathers `Dad,' `Governor,' `Old Man" and `Old Chap,'

that the boy's attitude of respect and deference appealed to me as being fine as silk. There must be something

She did not find it necessary to tell the Angel that for several years she had known the man who so proudly

proclaimed himself Freckles' father to be a bachelor and a Scotchman. The Bird Woman had a fine way of

Freckles turned to the trail, but he stopped at every wild brier to study the pink satin of the petals. She was

not of his world, and better than any other he knew it; but she might be his Angel, and he was dreaming of

naught but blind, silent worship. He finished the happiest day of his life, and that night he returned to the

swamp as if drawn by invisible force. That Wessner would try for his revenge, he knew. That he would be

abetted by Black Jack was almost certain, but fear had fled the happy heart of Freckles. He had kept his trust.

He had won the respect of the Boss. No one ever could wipe from his heart the flood of holy adoration that

had welled with the coming of his Angel. He would do his best, and trust for strength to meet the dark day of

reckoning that he knew would come sooner or later. He swung round the trail, briskly tapping the wire, and

At the edge of the clearing he came into the bright moonlight and there sat McLean on his mare. Freckles

"That's what I wanted to ask you," said the Boss. "I stopped at the cabin to see you a minute, before I turned

in, and they said you had come down here. You must not do it, Freckles. The swamp is none too healthful at

Freckles stood combing his fingers through Nellie's mane, while the dainty creature was twisting her head for

his caresses. He pushed back his hat and looked into McLean's face. "It's come to the `sleep with one eye

open,' sir. I'm not looking for anything to be happening for a week or two, but it's bound to come, and soon. If

I'm to keep me trust as I've promised you and meself, I've to live here mostly until the gang comes. You must

"I'm afraid it's true, Freckles," said McLean. "And I've decided to double the guard until we come. It will be

only a few weeks, now; and I'm so anxious for you that you must not be left alone further. If anything should

happen to you, Freckles, it would spoil one of the very dearest plans of my life."

"Oh! no, no, Mr. McLean," he cried. "Not for the world! I wouldn't be having a stranger around, scaring me

birds and tramping up me study, and disturbing all me ways, for any money! I am all the guard you need! I

will be faithful! I will turn over the lease with no tree missingon me life, I will! Oh, don't be sending

another man to set them saying I turned coward and asked for help. It will just kill the honor of me heart if

you do it. The only thing I want is another gun. If it railly comes to trouble, six cartridges ain't many, and you

know I am slowlike about reloading." McLean reached into his hip pocket and handed a shining big

"Freckles," he said at last, "we never know the timber of a man's soul until something cuts into him deeply

and brings the grain out strong. You've the making of a mighty fine piece of furniture, my boy, and you shall

have your own way these few weeks yet. Then, if you will go, I intend to take you to the city and educate

Freckles lifted his hat and faced the sky. The harvest moon looked down, sheeting the swamp in silver glory.

The Limberlost sang her night song. The swale softly rustled in the wind. Winged things of night brushed his

face; and still Freckles gazed upward, trying to fathom these things that had come to him. There was no help

from the sky. It seemed far away, cold, and blue. The earth, where flowers blossomed, angels walked, and

love could be found, was better. But to One, above, he must make acknowledgment for these miracles. His

"Thank You for each separate good thing that has come to me," he said, "and above all for the falling of the

feather. For if it didn't really fall from an angel, its falling brought an Angel, and if it's in the great heart of

you to exercise yourself any further about me, oh, do please to be taking good care of her!"

The following morning Freckles, inexpressibly happy, circled the Limberlost. He kept snatches of song

ringing, as well as the wires. His heart was so full that tears of joy glistened in his eyes. He rigorously strove

to divide his thought evenly between McLean and the Angel. He realized to the fullest the debt he already

owed the Boss and the magnitude of last night's declaration and promises. He was hourly planning to deliver

his trust and then enter with equal zeal on whatever task his beloved Boss saw fit to set him next. He wanted

to be ready to meet every device that Wessner and Black Jack could think of to outwit him. He recognized

their double leverage, for if they succeeded in felling even one tree McLean became liable for his wager.

Freckles' brow wrinkled in his effort to think deeply and strongly, but from every swaying wild rose the

Angel beckoned to him. When he crossed Sleepy Snake Creek and the goldfinch, waiting as ever, challenged:

"SEE ME?" Freckles saw the dainty swaying grace of the Angel instead. What is a man to do with an Angel

who dismembers herself and scatters over a whole swamp, thrusting a vivid reminder upon him at every turn?

Freckles counted the days. This first one he could do little but test his wires, sing broken snatches, and dream;

but before the week would bring her again he could do many things. He would carry all his books to the

swamp to show to her. He would complete his flower bed, arrange every detail he had planned for his room,

and make of it a bower fairies might envy. He must devise a way to keep water cool. He would ask Mrs.

Duncan for a double lunch and an especially nice one the day of her next coming, so that if the Bird Woman

happened to be late, the Angel might not suffer from thirst and hunger. He would tell her to bring heavy

leather leggings, so that he might take her on a trip around the trail. She should make friends with all of his

"You needn't be thinking," he said to the goldfinch, "that because I'm coming down this line alone day after

day, it's always to be so. Some of these times you'll be swinging on this wire, and you'll see me coming, and

you'll swing, skip, and flirt yourself around, and chip up right spunky: `SEE ME?' I'll be saying `See you?

Oh, Lord! See her!' You'll look, and there she'll stand. The sunshine won't look gold any more, or the roses

pink, or the sky blue, because she'll be the pinkest, bluest, goldest thing of all. You'll be yelling yourself

hoarse with the jealousy of her. The sawbird will stretch his neck out of joint, and she'll turn the heads of all

the flowers. Wherever she goes, I can go back afterward and see the things she's seen, walk the path she's

walked, hear the grasses whispering over all she's said; and if there's a place too swampy for her bits of feet;

Holy Mother! Maybemaybe she'd be putting the beautiful arms of her around me neck and letting me carry

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

"You damned presumptuous fool!" he cried. "The thing for you to be thinking of would be to stretch in the

muck for the feet of her to be walking over, and then you could hold yourself holy to be even of that service

"Maybe she'll be wanting the cup me blueandbrown chickens raised their babies in. Perhaps she'd like to

stop at the pool and see me bullfrog that had the goodness to take on human speech to show me the way out

of me trouble. If there's any feathers falling that day, why, it's from the wings of me chickensit's sure to be,

for the only Angel outside the gates will be walking this timberline, and every step of the way I'll be holding

me breath and praying that she don't unfold wings and sail away before the hungry eyes of me."

So Freckles dreamed his dreams, made his plans, and watched his line. He counted not only the days, but the

hours of each day. As he told them off, every one bringing her closer, he grew happier in the prospect of her

coming. He managed daily to leave some offering at the big elm log for his black chickens. He slipped under

the line at every passing, and went to make sure that nothing was molesting them. Though it was a long trip,

he paid them several extra visits a day for fear a snake, hawk, or fox might have found the baby. For now his

chickens not only represented all his former interest in them, but they furnished the inducement that was

Possibly he could find other subjects that the Bird Woman wanted. The teamster had said that his brother

went after her every time he found a nest. He never had counted the nests that he knew of, and it might be

The feathered folk of the Limberlost were practically undisturbed save by their natural enemies. It was very

probable that among his chickens others as odd as the big black ones could be found. If she wanted pictures

of halfgrown birds, he could pick up fifty in one morning's trip around the line, for he had fed, handled, and

He had gathered bugs and worms all spring as he noticed them on the grass and bushes, and dropped them

into the first little open mouth he had found. The babies gladly had accepted this queer triparent addition to

When the week had passed, Freckles had his room crisp and glowing with fresh living things that represented

every color of the swamp. He carried bark and filled all the muckiest places of the trail.

It was middle July. The heat of the past few days had dried the water around and through the Limberlost, so

that it was possible to cross it on foot in almost any directionif one had an idea of direction and did not

become completely lost in its rank tangle of vegetation and bushes. The brighterhued flowers were opening.

The trumpetcreepers were flaunting their gorgeous horns of red and gold sweetness from the tops of lordly

The heat was doing one other thing that was bound to make Freckles, as a good Irishman, shiver. As the

swale dried, its inhabitants were seeking the cooler depths of the swamp. They liked neither the heat nor

leaving the field mice, moles, and young rabbits of their chosen location. He saw them crossing the trail every

day as the heat grew intense. The rattlers were sadly forgetting their manners, for they struck on no

provocation whatever, and did not even remember to rattle afterward. Daily Freckles was compelled to drive

big black snakes and blue racers from the nests of his chickens. Often the terrified squalls of the parent birds

He saw the Angel when the carriage turned from the corduroy into the clearing. They stopped at the west

entrance to the swamp, waiting for him to precede them down the trail, as he had told them it was safest for

the horse that he should do. They followed the east line to a point opposite the big chickens' tree, and

Freckles carried in the cameras and showed the Bird Woman a path he had cleared to the log. He explained to

her the effect the heat was having on the snakes, and creeping back to Little Chicken, brought him to the

light. As she worked at setting up her camera, he told her of the birds of the line, while she stared at him,

They arranged that Freckles should drive the carriage into the east entrance in the shade and then take the

horse toward the north to a better place he knew. Then he was to entertain the Angel at his study or on the

"This will take only a little time," she said. "I know where to set the camera now, and Little Chicken is big

enough to be good and too small to run away or to act very ugly, so I will be coming soon to see about those

nests. I have ten plates along, and I surely won't use more than two on him; so perhaps I can get some nests or

Freckles almost flew, for his dream had come true so soon. He was walking the timberline and the Angel

was following him. He asked to be excused for going first, because he wanted to be sure the trail was safe for

her. She laughed at his fears, telling him that it was the polite thing for him to do, anyway.

"Oh!" said Freckles, "so you was after knowing that? Well, I didn't s'pose you did, and I was afraid you'd

The astonished Angel looked at him, caught the irrepressible gleam of Irish fun in his eyes, so they stood and

Freckles did not realize how he was talking that morning. He showed her many of the beautiful nests and

eggs of the line. She could identify a number of them, but of some she was ignorant, so they made notes of

the number and color of the eggs, material, and construction of nest, color, size, and shape of the birds, and

At his room, when Freckles had lifted the overhanging bushes and stepped back for her to enter, his heart was

all out of time and place. The study was vastly more beautiful than a week previous. The Angel drew a deep

breath and stood gazing first at one side, then at another, then far down the cathedral aisle. "It's just

fairyland!" she cried ecstatically. Then she turned and stared at Freckles as she had at his handiwork.

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

The Angel studied him closely. "Well, maybe you are going to be a great scholar," she said, "but you don't

look it. Your face isn't right for that, but it's got something big in itsomething really great. I must find out

what it is and then you must work on it. Your father is expecting you to do something. One can tell by the

way he talks. You should begin right away. You've wasted too much time already."

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

The Angel, studying him intently, read the thought in his face. "Oh, I don't mean that!" she cried, with the

frank dismay of sixteen. "Of course, you're not lazy! No one ever would think that from your appearance. It's

this I mean: there is something fine, strong, and full of power in your face. There is something you are to do

in this world, and no matter how you work at all these other things, or how successfully you do them, it is all

wasted until you find the ONE THING that you can do best. If you hadn't a thing in the world to keep you,

and could go anywhere you please and do anything you want, what would you do?" persisted the Angel.

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

The Angel dropped on a seatthe hat she had removed and held in her fingers rolled to her feet. "There!"

she exclaimed vehemently. "You can see what I'm going to be. Nothing! Absolutely nothing! You can sing?

"Anyone with half wit could have seen he could sing, without having to be told," she thought. "It's in the

slenderness of his fingers and his quick nervous touch. It is in the brightness of his hair, the fire of his eyes,

the breadth of his chest, the muscles of his throat and neck; and above all, it's in every tone of his voice, for

even as he speak it's the sweetest sound I ever heard from the throat of a mortal."

"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

"Good! That's business!" said the Angel. "You go over there and stand before that hedge and sing something.

Freckles faced the Angel from his banked wall of brown, blue, and crimson, with its background of solid

green, and lifting his face to the sky, he sang the first thing that came into his mind. It was a children's song

that he had led for the little folks at the Home many times, recalled to his mind by the Angel's exclamation:

"To fairyland we go, With a song of joy, heigho. 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

Oh, tra, la, la, oh, ha, ha, ha! We're happy now as we can be, Our welcome song we will prolong, and greet

No song could have given the intense sweetness and rollicking quality of Freckles' voice better scope. He

forgot everything but pride in his work. He was singing the chorus, and the Angel was shivering in ecstasy,

when clip! clip! came the sharply beating feet of a swiftly ridden horse down the trail from the north. They

"Is there a way you can cut across the swamp and reach the chicken tree in a few minutes, and with little

"Then go flying," said the Bird Woman. "Give the Angel a lift behind me, and we will ride the horse back

where you left him and wait for you. I finished Little Chicken in no time and put him back. His mother came

so close, I felt sure she would enter the log. The light was fine, so I set and focused the camera and covered it

with branches, attached the long hose, and went away over a hundred feet and hid in some bushes to wait. A

short, stout man and a tall, dark one passed me so closely I almost could have reached out and touched them.

They carried a big saw on their shoulders. They said they could work until near noon, and then they must lay

off until you passed and then try to load and get out at night. They went onnot entirely from sightand

began cutting a tree. Mr. McLean told me the other day what would probably happen here, and if they fell

that tree he loses his wager on you. Keep to the east and north and hustle. We'll meet you at the carriage. I

always am armed. Give Angel one of your revolvers, and you keep the other. We will separate and creep

toward them from different sides and give them a fusillade that will send them flying. You hurry, now!"

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

Freckles wheeled and ran. He worked his way with much care, dodging limbs and bushes with noiseless

tread, and cutting as closely where he thought the men were as he felt that he dared if he were to remain

unseen. As he ran he tried to think. It was Wessner, burning for his revenge, aided by the bully of the locality,

that he was going to meet. He was accustomed to that thought but not to the complication of having two

women on his hands who undoubtedly would have to be taken care of in spite of the Bird Woman's offer to

help him. His heart was jarring as it never had before with running. He must follow the Bird Woman's plan

and meet them at the carriage, but if they really did intend to try to help him, he must not allow it. Allow the

Angel to try to handle a revolver in his defence? Never! Not for all the trees in the Limberlost! She might

shoot herself. She might forget to watch sharply and run across a snake that was not particularly well behaved

When he reached the carriage, the Bird Woman and the Angel had the horse hitched, the outfit packed, and

were calmly waiting. The Bird Woman held a revolver in her hand. She wore dark clothing. They had pinned

"Give Angel one of your revolvers, quick!" said the Bird Woman. "We will creep up until we are in fair

range. The underbrush is so thick and they are so busy that they will never notice us, if we don't make a

noise. You fire first, then I will pop in from my direction, and then you, Angel, and shoot quite high, or else

very low. We mustn't really hit them. We'll go close enough to the cowards to make it interesting, and keep it

The Bird Woman reached over, and, taking the smaller revolver from his belt, handed it to the Angel. "Keep

your nerve steady, dear; watch where you step, and shoot high," she said. "Go straight at them from where

you are. Wait until you hear Freckles' first shot, then follow me as closely as you can, to let them know that

we outnumber them. If you want to save McLean's wager on you, now you go!" she commanded Freckles,

The Bird Woman chose the middle distance, and for a last time cautioned the Angel as she moved away to lie

Through the underbrush the Bird Woman crept even more closely than she had intended, found a clear range,

and waited for Freckles' shot. There was one long minute of sickening suspense. The men straightened for

breath. Work was difficult with a handsaw in the heat of the swamp. As they rested, the big dark fellow took

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

Again they bent to their work. Freckles' revolver spat fire. Lead spanged on steel. The sawhandle flew from

Wessner's hand and he reeled from the jar of the shock. Black Jack straightened, uttering a fearful oath. The

hat sailed from his head from the far northeast. The Angel had not waited for the Bird Woman, and her shot

scarcely could have been called high. At almost the same instant the third shot whistled from the east. Black

Jack sprang into the air with a yell of complete panic, for it ripped a heel from his boot. Freckles emptied his

second chamber, and the earth spattered over Wessner. Shots poured in rapidly. Without even reaching for a

weapon, both men ran toward the east road in great leaping bounds, while leaden slugs sung and hissed

Freckles was trimming his corners as closely as he dared, but if the Angel did not really intend to hit, she was

When the men reached the trail, Freckles yelled at the top of his voice: "Head them off on the south, boys!

As he had hoped, Jack and Wessner instantly plunged into the swale. A spattering of lead followed them.

They crossed the swale, running low, with not even one backward glance, and entered the woods beyond the

"I'd better fix this saw so they can't be using it if they come back," said Freckles, taking out his hatchet and

"Now we must leave here without being seen," said the Bird Woman to the Angel. "It won't do for me to

"You can do it by driving straight north on this road," said Freckles. "I will go ahead and cut the wires for

you. The swale is almost dry. You will only be sinking a little. In a few rods you will strike a cornfield. I will

take down the fence and let you into that. Follow the furrows and drive straight across it until you come to the

other side. Be following the fence south until you come to a road through the woods east of it. Then take that

road and follow east until you reach the pike. You will come out on your way back to town, and two miles

north of anywhere they are likely to be. Don't for your lives ever let it out that you did this," he earnestly

Freckles clipped the wires and they drove through. The Angel leaned from the carriage and held out his

revolver. Freckles looked at her in surprise. Her eyes were black, while her face was a deeper rose than usual.

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

Freckles winced. Did the child know how close she had gone? Surely she could not! Or was it possible that

"I will send the first reliable man I meet for McLean," said the Bird Woman, gathering up the lines. "If I don't

meet one when we reach town, we will send a messenger. If it wasn't for having the gang see me, I would go

myself; but I will promise you that you will have help in a little over two hours. You keep well hidden. They

must think some of the gang is with you now. There isn't a chance that they will be back, but don't run any

risks. Remain under cover. If they should come, it probably would be for their saw." She laughed as at a fine

Roundeyed, Freckles watched the Bird Woman and the Angel drive away. After they were from sight and

he was safely hidden among the branches of a small tree, he remembered that he neither had thanked them

nor said goodbye. Considering what they had been through, they never would come again. His heart sank

Stretching the length of the limb, he thought deeply, though he was not thinking of Black Jack or Wessner.

Would the Bird Woman and the Angel come again? No other woman whom he ever had known would. But

did they resemble any other women he ever had known? He thought of the Bird Woman's unruffled face and

the Angel's revolver practice, and presently he was not so sure that they would not return.

What were the people in the big world like? His knowledge was so very limited. There had been people at the

Home, who exchanged a stilted, perfunctory kindness for their salaries. The visitors who called on receiving

days he had divided into three classes: the psalmsinging kind, who came with a tear in the eye and

hypocrisy in every feature of their faces; the kind who dressed in silks and jewels, and handed to those poor

little motherhungry souls worn toys that their children no longer cared for, in exactly the same spirit in

which they pitched biscuits to the monkeys at the zoo, and for the same reasonto see how they would take

them and be amused by what they would do; and the third class, whom he considered real people. They made

him feel they cared that he was there, and that they would have been glad to see him elsewhere.

Now here was another class, that had all they needed of the world's best and were engaged in doing work that

counted. They had things worth while to be proud of; and they had met him as a son and brother. With them

he could, for the only time in his life, forget the lost hand that every day tortured him with a new pang. What

kind of people were they and where did they belong among the classes he knew? He failed to decide, because

In the world where he was going soon, were the majority like them, or were they of the hypocrite and

He had forgotten the excitement of the morning and the passing of time when distant voices aroused him, and

he gently lifted his head. Nearer and nearer they came, and as the heavy wagons rumbled down the east trail

he could hear them plainly. The gang were shouting themselves hoarse for the Limberlost guard. Freckles did

not feel that he deserved it. He would have given much to he able to go to the men and explain, but to

At the sight of Freckles the men threw up their hats and cheered. McLean shook hands with him warmly, but

big Duncan gathered him into his arms and hugged him as a bear and choked over a few words of praise. The

gang drove in and finished felling the tree. McLean was angry beyond measure at this attempt on his

property, for in their haste to fell the tree the thieves had cut too high and wasted a foot and a half of valuable

When the last wagon rolled away, McLean sat on the stump and Freckles told the story he was aching to tell.

"I have been almost praying all the way over, Freckles," he said, "that you would have some evidence by

which we could arrest those fellows and get them out of our way, but this will never do. We can't mix up

those women in it. They have helped you save me the tree and my wager as well. Going across the country as

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

"I know her father well," said McLean at last, "and I have often seen her. You are right; she is a beautiful

young girl, and she appears to be utterly free from the least particle of false pride or foolishness. I do not

"He's daring it because she is a jewel, sir," said Freckles, eagerly. "Why, she's trusting a rattlesnake to rattle

before it strikes her, and of course, she thinks she can trust mankind as well. The man isn't made who

wouldn't lay down the life of him for her. She doesn't need any care. Her face and the pretty ways of her are

"She scared all the breath out of me body," admitted Freckles. "Seems that her father has taught her to shoot.

The Bird Woman told her distinctly to lie low and blaze away high, just to help scare them. The spunky little

thing followed them right out into the west road, spitting lead like hail, and clipping all around the heads and

heels of them; and I'm damned, sir, if I believe she'd cared a rap if she'd hit. I never saw much shooting, but if

that wasn't the nearest to miss I ever want to see! Scared the life near out of me body with the fear that she'd

drop one of them. As long as I'd no one to help me but a couple of women that didn't dare be mixed up in it,

"Of course!" said Freckles. "They're not going to be taking that. You could stake your life on it, they'll be

coming back. At least, Black Jack will. Wessner may not have the pluck, unless he is half drunk. Then he'd

"Then the only thing for me to do is to double the guard and bring the gang here the first minute possible. As

soon as I feel that we have the rarest of the stuff out below, we will come. The fact is, in many cases, until it

is felled it's difficult to tell what a tree will prove to be. It won't do to leave you here longer alone. Jack has

been shooting twenty years to your one, and it stands to reason that you are no match for him. Who of the

"No one, sir," said Freckles emphatically. "Next time is where I run. I won't try to fight them alone. I'll just be

getting wind of them, and then make tracks for you. I'll need to come like lightning, and Duncan has no extra

horse, so I'm thinking you'd best get me oneor perhaps a wheel would be better. I used to do extra work for

the Home doctor, and he would let me take his bicycle to ride around the place. And at times the head nurse

would loan me his for an hour. A wheel would cost less and be faster than a horse, and would take less care. I

believe, if you are going to town soon, you had best pick up any kind of an old one at some secondhand

store, for if I'm ever called to use it in a hurry there won't be the handlebars left after crossing the corduroy."

"Yes," said McLean; "and if you didn't have a firstclass wheel, you never could cross the corduroy on it at

As they walked to the cabin, McLean insisted on another guard, but Freckles was stubbornly set on fighting

his battle alone. He made one mental condition. If the Bird Woman was going to give up the Little Chicken

series, he would yield to the second guard, solely for the sake of her work and the presence of the Angel in

the Limberlost. He did not propose to have a second man unless it were absolutely necessary, for he had been

alone so long that he loved the solitude, his chickens, and flowers. The thought of having a stranger to all his

ways come and meddle with his arrangements, frighten his pets, pull his flowers, and interrupt him when he

With McLean it was a case of letting his sober, better judgment be overridden by the boy he was growing so

to love that he could not endure to oppose him, and to have Freckles keep his trust and win alone meant more

The following morning McLean brought the wheel, and Freckles took it to the trail to test it. It was new,

chainless, with as little as possible to catch in hurried riding, and in every way the best of its kind. Freckles

went skimming around the trail on it on a preliminary trip before he locked it in his case and started his

minute examination of his line on foot. He glanced around his room as he left it, and then stood staring.

On the moss before his prettiest seat lay the Angel's hat. In the excitement of yesterday all of them had

forgotten it. He went and picked it up, oh! so carefully, gazing at it with hungry eyes, but touching it only to

carry it to his case, where he hung it on the shining handlebar of the new wheel and locked it among his

treasures. Then he went to the trail, with a new expression on his face and a strange throbbing in his heart. He

was not in the least afraid of anything that morning. He felt he was the veriest Daniel, but all his lions seemed

What Black Jack's next move would be he could not imagine, but that there would be a move of some kind

was certain. The big bully was not a man to give up his purpose, or to have the hat swept from his head with a

bullet and bear it meekly. Moreover, Wessner would cling to his revenge with a Dutchman's singleness of

Freckles tried to think connectedly, but there were too many places on the trail where the Angel's footprints

were vet visible. She had stepped in one mucky spot and left a sharp impression. The afternoon sun had

baked it hard, and the horses' hoofs had not obliterated any part of it, as they had in so many places. Freckles

stood fascinated, gazing at it. He measured it lovingly with his eye. He would not have ventured a caress on

her hat any more than on her person, but this was different. Surely a footprint on a trail might belong to

anyone who found and wanted it. He stooped under the wires and entered the swamp. With a little searching,

he found a big piece of thick bark loose on a log and carefully peeling it, carried it out and covered the print

When he reached his room, he tenderly laid the hat upon his bookshelf, and to wear off his awkwardness,

mounted his wheel and went spinning on trail again. It was like flying, for the path was worn smooth with his

feet and baked hard with the sun almost all the way. When he came to the bark, he veered far to one side and

smiled at it in passing. Suddenly he was off the wheel, kneeling beside it. He removed his hat, carefully lifted

"I wonder what she was going to say of me voice," he whispered. "She never got it said, but from the face of

her, I believe she was liking it fairly well. Perhaps she was going to say that singing was the big thing I was

to be doing. That's what they all thought at the Home. Well, if it is, I'll just shut me eyes, think of me little

room, the face of her watching, and the heart of her beating, and I'll raise them. Damn them, if singing will do

With this dire threat, Freckles knelt, as at a wayside spring, and deliberately laid his lips on the footprint.

Then he arose, appearing as if he had been drinking at the fountain of gladness.

"I've been thinking this long time that ye or Duncan would see that sunbonnets werena braw enough for a

She turned it around, examining the weave of the straw and the foliage trimmings, passing her rough fingers

over the satin ties delightedly. As she held it up, admiring it, Freckles' astonished eyes saw a new side of

Sarah Duncan. She was jesting, but under the jest the fact loomed strong that, though poor, overworked, and

with none but Godgiven refinement, there was something in her soul crying after that bit of feminine finery,

and it made his heart ache for her. He resolved that when he reached the city he would send her a hat, if it

"It's unco guid of ye to think of me," she said lightly, "but I maun question your taste a wee. D'ye no think ye

had best return this and get a woman with half her hair gray a little plainer headdress? Seems like that's far

ower gay for me. I'm no' saying that it's no' exactly what I'd like to hae, but I mauna mak mysel' ridiculous.

Ye'd best give this to somebody young and pretty, say about sixteen. Where did ye come by it, Freckles? If

The morning breeze waved the ribbons gracefully, binding one around Freckles' sleeve and the other across

"Yes," said Sarah Duncan. "It's verra plain and simple, but it juist makes ye feel that it's all of the finest stuff.

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

Freckles smiled. He had a clear idea about the hat being the only one the Angel had. However, there was a

"Of course ye must," said Mrs. Duncan. "And without another hour's delay. It's been here two days noo, and

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter 53

"Nonsense!" interrupted Sarah Duncan. "Ye've watched that timberline until ye're grown fast to it, lad. Give

me your boots and club and I'll gae walk the south end and watch doon the east and west sides until ye come

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

"I am afraid of snakes," said Mrs. Duncan, "but likely they've gone into the swamp this hot weather. I'll juist

stay on the trail and watch, and ye might hurry the least bit. The day's so bright it feels like storm. I can put

the bairns on the woodpile to play until I get back. Ye gang awa and take the blessed little angel her beautiful

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

"Na," said Mrs. Duncan; "I dinna. If ye and me agree that a thing ought to be done, and I watch in your place,

why, it's bound to be all right with McLean. Let me pin the hat in a paper, and ye jump on your wheel and

Freckles shook his head. He knew what he should do, but there was no use in taking time to try to explain it

to Mrs. Duncan while he was so hurried. He exchanged his wadingboots for shoes, gave her his club, and

went spinning toward town. He knew very well where the Angel lived. He had seen her home many times,

and he passed it again without even raising his eyes from the street, steering straight for her father's place of

Carrying the hat, Freckles passed a long line of clerks, and at the door of the private office asked to see the

proprietor. When he had waited a moment, a tall, spare, keeneyed man faced him, and in brisk, nervous

Freckles handed him the package and answered, "By delivering to your daughter this hat, which she was after

leaving at me place the other day, when she went away in a hurry. And by saying to her and the Bird Woman

that I'm more thankful than I'll be having words to express for the brave things they was doing for me. I'm

Freckles' clear gray eyes met those of the Angel's father squarely, and he asked: "If you were in my place,

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

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter 54

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

"One minute," said the Angel's father. "Suppose I give you permission to return this hat in person and make

Freckles stood one moment thinking intently, and then he lifted those eyes of unswerving truth and asked:

"Why should you, sir? You are kind, indade, to mention it, and it's thanking you I am for your good

intintions, but my wanting to go or your being willing to have me ain't proving that your daughter would be

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

"There's one other thing I meant to say," said Freckles. "Every day I see something, and at times a lot of

things, that I think the Bird Woman would be wanting pictures of badly, if she knew. You might be speaking

of it to her, and if she'd want me to, I can send her word when I find things she wouldn't likely get

"If that's the case," said the Angel's father, "and you feel under obligations for her assistance the other day,

you can discharge them in that way. She is spending all her time in the fields and woods searching for

subjects. If you run across things, perhaps rarer than she may find, about your work, it would save her the

time she spends searching for subjects, and she could work in security under your protection. By all means let

her know if you find subjects you think she could use, and we will do anything we can for you, if you will

"It's hungry for human beings I am," said Freckles, "and it's like Heaven to me to have them come. Of course,

I'll be telling or sending her word every time me work can spare me. Anything I can do it would make me

uncommon happy, but"again truth had to be told, because it was Freckles who was speaking"when it

comes to protecting them, I'd risk me life, to be sure, but even that mightn't do any good in some cases. There

are many dangers to be reckoned with in the swamp, sir, that call for every person to look sharp. If there

wasn't really thieving to guard against, why, McLean wouldn't need be paying out good money for a guard.

I'd love them to be coming, and I'll do all I can, but you must be told that there's danger of them running into

"Yes," said the Angel's father, "and I suppose there's danger of the earth opening up and swallowing the town

any day, but I'm damned if I quit business for fear it will, and the Bird Woman won't, either. Everyone knows

her and her work, and there is no danger in the world of anyone in any way molesting her, even if he were

stealing a few of McLean's goldplated trees. She's as safe in the Limberlost as she is at home, so far as

timber thieves are concerned. All I am ever uneasy about are the snakes, poison vines, and insects; and

those are risks she must run anywhere. You need not hesitate a minute about that. I shall be glad to tell them

There was no way in which Freckles could know it, but by following his best instincts and being what he

conceived a gentleman should be, he surprised the Man of Affairs into thinking of him and seeing his face

over his books many times that morning; whereas, if he had gone to the Angel as he had longed to do, her

On the street he drew a deep breath. How had he acquitted himself? He only knew that he had lived up to his

best impulse, and that is all anyone can do. He glanced over his wheel to see that it was all right, and just as

he stepped to the curb to mount he heard a voice that thrilled him through and through: "Freckles! Oh

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter 55

The Angel separated from a group of laughing, sweetfaced girls and came hurrying to him. She was in

snowy whitea quaint little frock, with a marvel of soft lace around her throat and wrists. Through the sheer

sleeves of it her beautiful, rounded arms showed distinctly, and it was cut just to the base of her perfect neck.

On her head was a pure white creation of fancy braid, with folds on folds of tulle, soft and silken as cobwebs,

lining the brim; while a mass of white roses clustered against the gold of her hair, crept around the crown,

and fell in a riot to her shoulders at the back. There were gleams of gold with settings of blue on her fingers,

and altogether she was the daintiest, sweetest sight he ever had seen. Freckles, standing on the curb, forgot

himself in his cotton shirt, corduroys, and his belt to which his wirecutter and pliers were hanging, and

gazed as a man gazes when first he sees the woman he adores with all her charms enhanced by appropriate

"Oh Freckles," she cried as she came to him. "I was wondering about you the other day. Do you know I never

saw you in town before. You watch that old line so closely! Why did you come? Is there any trouble? Are

"I came to bring your hat," said Freckles. "You forgot it in the rush the other day. I have left it with your

father, and a message trying to ixpriss the gratitude of me for how you and the Bird Woman were for helping

The Angel nodded gravely, then Freckles saw that he had done the proper thing in going to her father. His

heart bounded until it jarred his body, for she was saying that she scarcely could wait for the time to come for

the next picture of the Little Chicken series. "I want to hear the remainder of that song, and I hadn't even

begun seeing your room yet," she complained. "As for singing, if you can sing like that every day, I never can

get enough of it. I wonder if I couldn't bring my banjo and some of the songs I like best. I'll play and you

Freckles stood on the curb with drooped eyes, for he felt that if he lifted them the tumult of tender adoration

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

"Oh, I just enjoyed that," she cried. "Those hateful, stealing old things! I had a big notion to pink one of them,

but I thought maybe someway it would be best for you that I shouldn't. They needed it. That didn't scare me;

and as for the Bird Woman, she's accustomed to finding snakes, tramps, cross dogs, sheep, cattle, and

goodness knows what! You can't frighten her when she's after a picture. Did they come back?"

"No," said Freckles. "The gang got there a little after noon and took out the tree, but I must tell you, and you

must tell the Bird Woman, that there's no doubt but they will be coming back, and they will have to make it

"Oh, what a shame!" cried the Angel. "They'll clear out roads, cut down the beautiful trees, and tear up

everything. They'll drive away the birds and spoil the cathedral. When they have done their worst, then all

these mills close here will follow in and take out the cheap timber. Then the landowners will dig a few

ditches, build some fires, and in two summers more the Limberlost will be in corn and potatoes."

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter 56

"Yes," said the Angel, "I love it. Your room is a little piece right out of the heart of fairyland, and the

cathedral is God's work, not yours. You only found it and opened the door after He had it completed. The

birds, flowers, and vines are all so lovely. The Bird Woman says it is really a fact that the mallows, foxfire,

iris, and lilies are larger and of richer coloring there than in the remainder of the country. She says it's

because of the rich loam and muck. I hate seeing the swamp torn up, and to you it will be like losing your

"Something like," said Freckles. "Still, I've the Limberlost in me heart so that all of it will be real to me while

I live, no matter what they do to it. I'm glad past telling if you will be coming a few more times, at least until

"I couldn't possibly," said Freckles. "I left Mrs. Duncan on the trail, and she's terribly afraid of a lot of things.

"It won't take but a minute, and you can ride fast enough to make up for it. Please. I want to think of

something fine for you, to make up a little for what you did for me that first day."

Freckles looked in sheer wonderment into the beautiful face of the Angel. Did she truly mean it? Would she

walk down that street with him, crippled, homely, in mean clothing, with the tools of his occupation on him,

and share with him the treat she was offering? He could not believe it, even of the Angel. Still, in justice to

the candor of her pure, sweet face, he would not think that she would make the offer and not mean it. She

really did mean just what she said, but when it came to carrying out her offer and he saw the stares of her

friends, the sneers of her enemiesif such as she could have enemiesand heard the whispered jeers of the

curious, then she would see her mistake and be sorry. It would be only a manly thing for him to think this out,

"I railly must be off," said Freckles earnestly, "but I'm thanking you more than you'll ever know for your

kindness. I'll just be drinking bowls of icy things all me way home in the thoughts of it."

Down came the Angel's foot. Her eyes flashed indignantly. "There's no sense in that," she said. "How do you

think you would have felt when you knew I was warm and thirsty and you went and brought me a drink and I

wouldn't take it becausebecause goodness knows why! You can ride faster to make up for the time. I've

She stepped to his side and deliberately slipped her hand under his armthat right arm that ended in an

Freckles could not have told how he felt, neither could anyone else. His blood rioted and his head swam, but

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter 57

"It's this," he persisted. "If your father met me on the street, in my station and dress, with you on me arm, he'd

have every right to be caning me before the people, and not a finger would I lift to stay him."

The Angel's eyes snapped. "If you think my father cares about my doing anything that is right and kind, and

that makes me happy to dowhy, then you completely failed in reading my father, and I'll ask him and just

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

Her father stood in a big window fronting the street, a bundle of papers in his hand, interestedly watching the

little scene, with eyes that comprehended quite as thoroughly as if he had heard every word. The Angel

caught his glance and made a despairing little gesture toward Freckles. The Man of Affairs answered her with

a look of infinite tenderness. He nodded his head and waved the papers in the direction she had indicated, and

A sudden trembling seized Freckles. At sight of the Angel's father he had stepped back as far from her as he

She was highly strung and not accustomed to being thwarted. "Did You see that?" she demanded. "Now are

Freckles went. There was nothing else to do. Guiding his wheel, he walked down the street beside her. On

every hand she was kept busy giving and receiving the cheeriest greetings. She walked into the parlors

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

"Please not," said the Angel. "I've taken this man unawares, when he's in a rush. I'm afraid if we sit down

She walked to the fountain, and a long row of people stared with all the varying degrees of insolence and

curiosity that Freckles had felt they would. He glanced at the Angel. NOW would she see?

She laid down her sunshade and gloves. She walked to the end of the counter and turned the full battery of

The whiteaproned individual stepped back and gave delighted assent. The Angel stepped beside him, and

selecting a tall, flaring glass, of almost paper thinness, she stooped and rolled it in a tray of cracked ice.

"I want to mix a drink for my friend," she said. "He has a long, hot ride before him, and I don't want him

started off with one of those old palateteasing sweetnesses that you mix just on purpose to drive a man back

"I want a clear, cool, sparkling drink that has a tang of acid in it. Where's the cherry phosphate? That, not at

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter 58

The attendant did think. He pointed out the different taps, and the Angel compounded the drink, while

Freckles, standing so erect he almost leaned backward, gazed at her and paid no attention to anyone else.

When she had the glass brimming, she tilted a little of its contents into a second glass and tasted it.

She poured out half the mixture, and refilling the glass, tasted it a second time. She submitted that result to

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

The Angel carried the brimming, frosty glass to Freckles. He removed his hat, and lifting the icy liquid even

with her eyes and looking straight into them, he said in the mellowest of all the mellow tones of his voice:

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

When the screendoor swung behind them, one of the men at the counter asked of the attendant: "Now, what

"Exactly what you saw," replied he, rather curtly. "We're accustomed to it here. Hardly a day passes, this hot

weather, but she's picking up some poor, godforsaken mortal and bringing him in. Then she comes behind

the counter herself and fixes up a drink to suit the occasion. She's all sorts of fancies about what's what for all

kinds of times and conditions, and you bet she can just hit the spot! Ain't a clerk here can put up a drink to

touch her. She's a sort of knack at it. Every once in a while, when the Boss sees her, he calls out to her to mix

"Well, I guess! But first she goes back and sees how long it is since he's had a drink. What he drank last. How

warm he is. When he ate last. Then she comes here and mixes a glass of fizz with a little touch of acid, and a

bit of cherry, lemon, grape, pineapple, or something sour and cooling, and it hits the spot just as no spot was

ever hit before. I honestly believe that the INTEREST she takes in it is half the trick, for I watch her closely

and I can't come within gunshot of her concoctions. She has a running bill here. Her father settles once a

month. She gives ninetenths of it away. Hardly ever touches it herself, but when she does she makes me mix

it. She's just old persimmons. Even the scrubboy of this establishment would fight for her. It lasts the year

round, for in winter it's some poor, frozen cuss that she's warming up on hot coffee or chocolate."

"Mighty queer specimen she had this time," volunteered another. "Irish, hand off, straight as a ramrod, and

something worth while in his face. Notice that hat peel off, and the eyes of him? There's a case of `fight for

"I think," said a third, "that he's McLean's Limberlost guard, and I suspect she's gone to the swamp with the

Bird Woman for pictures and knows him that way. I've heard that he is a master hand with the birds, and that

On the street the Angel walked beside Freckles to the first crossing and there she stopped. "Now, will you

promise to ride fast enough to make up for the five minutes that took?" she asked. "I am a little uneasy about

CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter 59

Freckles turned his wheel into the street. It seemed to him he had poured that delicious icy liquid into every

"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. She laughed gleefully.

"I wouldn't this, if I had known your father and been understanding you better. Do you really think the Bird

The Angel jeered. "Wild horses couldn't drag her away," she cried. "She will have hard work to wait the week

"Wild horses me, too," she laughed, "couldn't keep me away either! I dearly love to come, and the next time I

am going to bring my banjo, and I'll play, and you sing for me some of the songs I like best; won't you?"

"It's beginning to act stormy," she said. "If you hurry you will just about make it. Now, goodbye."

Freckles was halfway to the Limberlost when he dismounted. He could ride no farther, because he could not

see the road. He sat under a tree, and, leaning against it, sobs shook, twisted, and rent him. If they would

remind him of his position, speak condescendingly, or notice his hand, he could endure it, but thisit surely

would kill him! His hot, pulsing Irish blood was stirred deeply. What did they mean? Why did they do it?

It could not be, for he knew that the Bird Woman and the Angel's father must know that he was not really

McLean's son, and it did not matter to them in the least. In spite of accident and poverty, they evidently

expected him to do something worth while in the world. That must be his remedy. He must work on his

education. He must get away. He must find and do the great thing of which the Angel talked. For the first

time, his thoughts turned anxiously toward the city and the beginning of his studies. McLean and the

Duncans spoke of him as "the boy," but he was a man. He must face life bravely and act a man's part. The

Angel was a mere child. He must not allow her to torture him past endurance with her frank comradeship that

meant to him high heaven, earth's richness, and all that lay between, and NOTHING to her.

There was an ominous growl of thunder, and amazed at himself, Freckles snatched up his wheel and raced

toward the swamp. He was worried to find his boots lying at the cabin door; the children playing on the

woodpile told him that "mither" said they were so heavy she couldn't walk in them, and she had come back

and taken them off. Thoroughly frightened, he stopped only long enough to slip them on, and then sped with

all his strength for the Limberlost. To the west, the long, black, hardbeaten trail lay clear; but far up the east

side, straight across the path, he could see what was certainly a limp, brown figure. Freckles spun with all his

CHAPTER IX. Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes to the Rescue 60

Face down, Sarah Duncan lay across the trail. When Freckles turned her over, his blood chilled at the look of

horror settled on her face. There was a low humming and something spatted against him. Glancing around,

Freckles shivered in terror, for there was a swarm of wild bees settled on a scrubthorn only a few yards

away. The air was filled with excited, unsettled bees making ready to lead farther in search of a suitable

location. Then he thought he understood, and with a prayer of thankfulness in his heart that she had escaped,

even so narrowly, he caught her up and hurried down the trail until they were well out of danger. He laid her

in the shade, and carrying water from the swamp in the crown of his hat, he bathed her face and hands; but

She had found Freckles' boots so large and heavy that she had gone back and taken them off, although she

was mortally afraid to approach the swamp without them. The thought of it made her nervous, and the fact

that she never had been there alone added to her fears. She had not followed the trail many rods when her

trouble began. She was not Freckles, so not a bird of the line was going to be fooled into thinking she was.

They began jumping from their nests and darting from unexpected places around her head and feet, with

quick whirs, that kept her starting and dodging. Before Freckles was halfway to the town, poor Mrs. Duncan

But there was trouble brewing. It was quiet and intensely hot, with that stifling stillness that precedes a

summer storm, and feathers and fur were tense and nervous. The birds were singing only a few broken

snatches, and flying around, seeking places of shelter. One moment everything seemed devoid of life, the

next there was an unexpected whir, buzz, and sharp cry. Inside, a pandemonium of growling, spatting,

The swale bent flat before heavy gusts of wind, and the big black chicken swept lower and lower above the

swamp. Patches of clouds gathered, shutting out the sun and making it very dark, and the next moment were

swept away. The sun poured with fierce, burning brightness, and everything was quiet. It was at the first

growl of thunder that Freckles really had noticed the weather, and putting his own troubles aside resolutely,

Sarah Duncan paused on the line. "Weel, I wouldna stay in this place for a million a month," she said aloud,

and the sound of her voice brought no comfort, for it was so little like she had thought it that she glanced

hastily around to see if it had really been she that spoke. She tremblingly wiped the perspiration from her face

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

Her chin was quivering as a terrified child's. She lifted her bonnet to replace it and brushed against a bush

beside her. WHIRR, almost into her face, went a nighthawk stretched along a limb for its daytime nap. Mrs.

Duncan cried out and sprang down the trail, alighting on a frog that was hopping across. The horrible croak it

gave as she crushed it sickened her. She screamed wildly and jumped to one side. That carried her into the

swale, where the grasses reached almost to her waist, and her horror of snakes returning, she made a flying

leap for an old log lying beside the line. She alighted squarely, but it was so damp and rotten that she sank

straight through it to her knees. She caught at the wire as she went down, and missing, raked her wrist across

a barb until she tore a bleeding gash. Her fingers closed convulsively around the second strand. She was too

frightened to scream now. Her tongue stiffened. She clung frantically to the sagging wire, and finally

managed to grasp it with the other hand. Then she could reach the top wire, and so she drew herself up and

found solid footing. She picked up the club that she had dropped in order to extricate herself. Leaning heavily

on it, she managed to return to the trail, but she was trembling so that she scarcely could walk. Going a few

CHAPTER IX. Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes to the Rescue 61

She sat bolt upright and very still, trying to collect her thoughts and reason away her terror. A squirrel above

her dropped a nut, and as it came rattling down, bouncing from branch to branch, every nerve in her tugged

The wind arose higher, the changes from light to darkness were more abrupt, while the thunder came closer

and louder at every peal. In swarms the blackbirds arose from the swale and came flocking to the interior,

with a clamoring cry: "T'CHECK, T'CHECK." Grackles marshaled to the tribal call: "TRALLAHEE,

TRALLAHEE." Redwinged blackbirds swept low, calling to belated mates: "FOLLOWME,

FOLLOWME." Big, jetty crows gathered close to her, crying, as if warning her to flee before it was

everlastingly too late. A heron, fishing the nearby pool for Freckles' "findout" frog, fell into trouble with a

muskrat and uttered a rasping note that sent Mrs. Duncan a rod down the line without realizing that she had

moved. She was too shaken to run far. She stopped and looked around her fearfully.

Several bees struck her and were angrily buzzing before she noticed them. Then the humming swelled on all

sides. A convulsive sob shook her, and she ran into the bushes, now into the swale, anywhere to avoid the

swarming bees, ducking, dodging, fighting for her very life. Presently the humming seemed to become a little

fainter. She found the trail again, and ran with all her might from a few of her angry pursuers.

As she ran, straining every muscle, she suddenly became aware that, crossing the trail before her, was a big,

round, black body, with brown markings on its back, like painted geometrical patterns. She tried to stop, but

the louder buzzing behind warned her she dared not. Gathering her skirts higher, with hair flying around her

face and her eyes almost bursting from their sockets, she ran straight toward it. The sound of her feet and the

humming of the bees alarmed the rattler, so it stopped across the trail, lifting its head above the grasses of the

Straight toward it went the panicstricken woman, running wildly and uncontrollably. She took one leap,

clearing its body on the path, then flew ahead with winged feet. The snake, coiled to strike, missed Mrs.

Duncan and landed among the bees instead. They settled over and around it, and realizing that it had found

trouble, it sank among the grasses and went threshing toward its den in the deep willowfringed low ground.

The swale appeared as if a reaper were cutting a wide swath. The mass of enraged bees darted angrily around,

searching for it, and striking the scrubthorn, began a temporary settling there to discover whether it were a

suitable place. Completely exhausted, Mrs. Duncan staggered on a few steps farther, fell facing the path,

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

When she saw him bending above her, she closed them tightly, and gripping him, struggled to her feet. He

helped her, and with his arm around and half carrying her, they made their way to the clearing. She clung to

him with all her remaining strength, but open her eyes she would not until her children came clustering

around her. Then, brawny, big Scotswoman though she was, she quietly keeled over again. The children

This time he was so close the cabin that he could carry her into the house and lay her on the bed. He sent the

oldest boy scudding down the corduroy for the nearest neighbor, and between them they undressed Mrs.

Duncan and discovered that she was not bitten. They bathed and bound the bleeding wrist and coaxed her

back to consciousness. She lay sobbing and shuddering. The first intelligent word she said was: "Freckles,

CHAPTER IX. Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes to the Rescue 62

Several days passed before she could give Duncan and Freckles any detailed account of what had happened

to her, even then she could not do it without crying as the least of her babies. Freckles was almost

heartbroken, and nursed her as well as any woman could have done; while big Duncan, with a heart full for

them both, worked early and late to chink every crack of the cabin and examine every spot that possibly

could harbor a snake. The effects of her morning on the trail kept her shivering half the time. She could not

rest until she sent for McLean and begged him to save Freckles from further risk, in that place of horrors. The

Freckles stood and laughed at him. "Why, Mr. McLean, don't you let a woman's nervous system set you

worrying about me," he said. "I'm not denying how she felt, because I've been through it meself, but that's all

over and gone. It's the height of me glory to fight it out with the old swamp, and all that's in it, or will be

coming to it, and then to turn it over to you as I promised you and meself I'd do, sir. You couldn't break the

heart of me entire quicker than to be taking it from me now, when I'm just on the homestretch. It won't be

over three or four weeks yet, and when I've gone it almost a year, why, what's that to me, sir? You mustn't let

a woman get mixed up with business, for I've always heard about how it's bringing trouble."

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

The Bird Woman and the Angel did not seem to count in the common run, for they arrived on time for the

third of the series and found McLean on the line talking to Freckles. The Boss was filled with enthusiasm

over a marsh article of the Bird Woman's that he just had read. He begged to be allowed to accompany her

into the swamp and watch the method by which she secured an illustration in such a location.

The Bird Woman explained to him that it was an easy matter with the subject she then had in hand; and as

Little Chicken was too small to be frightened by him, and big enough to be growing troublesome, she was

glad for his company. They went to the chicken log together, leaving to the happy Freckles the care of the

Angel, who had brought her banjo and a roll of songs that she wanted to hear him sing. The Bird Woman told

them that they might practice in Freckles' room until she finished with Little Chicken, and then she and

It was almost three hours before they finished and came down the west trail for their rest and lunch. McLean

walked ahead, keeping sharp watch on the trail and clearing it of fallen limbs from overhanging trees. He sent

a big piece of bark flying into the swale, and then stopped short and stared at the trail.

The Bird Woman bent forward. Together they studied that imprint of the Angel's foot. At last their eyes met,

the Bird Woman's filled with astonishment, and McLean's humid with pity. Neither said a word, but they

knew. McLean entered the swale and hunted up the bark. He replaced it, and the Bird Woman carefully

stepped over. As they reached the bushes at the entrance, the voice of the Angel stopped them, for it was

"Freckles James Ross McLean!" she was saying. "You fill me with darkblue despair! You're singing as if

your voice were glass and might break at any minute. Why don't you sing as you did a week ago? Answer me

Freckles smiled confusedly at the Angel, who sat on one of his fancy seats, playing his accompaniment on

"You are a fraud," she said. "Here you went last week and led me to think that there was the making of a

great singer in you, and now you are singingdo you know how badly you are singing?"

"Yis," said Freckles meekly. "I'm thinking I'm too happy to be singing well today. The music don't come right

only when I'm lonesome and sad. The world's for being all sunshine at prisint, for among you and Mr.

McLean and the Bird Woman I'm after being THAT happy that I can't keep me thoughts on me notes. It's

more than sorry I am to be disappointing you. Play it over, and I'll be beginning again, and this time I'll hold

"Well," said the Angel disgustedly, "it seems to me that if I had all the things to be proud of that you have, I'd

"Why, a whole worldful of things," cried the Angel explosively. "For one thing, you can be good and proud

over the way you've kept the timber thieves out of this lease, and the trust your father has in you. You can be

proud that you've never even once disappointed him or failed in what he believed you could do. You can be

proud over the way everyone speaks of you with trust and honor, and about how brave of heart and strong of

body you are I heard a big man say a few days ago that the Limberlost was full of disagreeable

thingspositive dangers, unhealthful as it could be, and that since the memory of the first settlers it has been

a rendezvous for runaways, thieves, and murderers. This swamp is named for a man that was lost here and

wandered around `til he starved. That man I was talking with said he wouldn't take your job for a thousand

dollars a monthin fact, he said he wouldn't have it for any money, and you've never missed a day or lost a

tree. Proud! Why, I should think you would just parade around about proper over that!

"And you can always be proud that you are born an Irishman. My father is Irish, and if you want to see him

get up and strut give him a teeny opening to enlarge on his race. He says that if the Irish had decent territory

they'd lead the world. He says they've always been handicapped by lack of space and of fertile soil. He says if

Ireland had been as big and fertile as Indiana, why, England wouldn't ever have had the upper hand. She'd

only be an appendage. Fancy England an appendage! He says Ireland has the finest orators and the keenest

statesmen in Europe today, and when England wants to fight, with whom does she fill her trenches? Irishmen,

of course! Ireland has the greenest grass and trees, the finest stones and lakes, and they've jauntingcars. I

don't know just exactly what they are, but Ireland has all there are, anyway. They've a lot of great actors, and

a few singers, and there never was a sweeter poet than one of theirs. You should hear my father recite `Dear

The Angel arose, made an elaborate oldtime bow, and holding up the banjo, recited in clipping feet and

"The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long" [She muted the strings with her rosy palm];

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

"And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song" [She crashed into the notes of the accompaniment she

"That's what you want to be thinking of!" she cried. "Not darkness, and lonesomeness, and sadness, but `light,

freedom, and song.' I can't begin to think offhand of all the big, splendid things an Irishman has to be proud

of; but whatever they are, they are all yours, and you are a part of them. I just despise that `saddest

whenIsing' business. You can sing! Now you go over there and do it! Ireland has had her statesmen,

warriors, actors, and poets; now you be her voice! You stand right out there before the cathedral door, and I'm

going to come down the aisle playing that accompaniment, and when I stop in front of youyou sing!"

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

She parted the bushes and disappeared. Freckles, straight and tense, stood waiting. Presently, before he saw

she was there, she was coming down the aisle toward him, playing compellingly, and rifts of light were

The cathedral was majestically beautiful, from arched dome of frescoed gold, green, and blue in

neverending shades and harmonies, to the mosaic aisle she trod, richly inlaid in choicest colors, and gigantic

pillars that were God's handiwork fashioned and perfected through ages of sunshine and rain. But the fair

young face and divinely molded form of the Angel were His most perfect work of all. Never had she

appeared so surpassingly beautiful. She was smiling encouragingly now, and as she came toward him, she

The heart of poor Freckles almost burst with dull pain and his great love for her. In his desire to fulfill her

expectations he forgot everything else, and when she reached his initial chord he was ready. He literally burst

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

The Angel's eyes widened curiously and her lips parted. A deep color swept into her cheeks. She had

intended to arouse him. She had more than succeeded. She was too young to know that in the effort to rouse a

man, women frequently kindle fires that they neither can quench nor control. Freckles was looking over her

head now and singing that song, as it never had been sung before, for her alone; and instead of her helping

him, as she had intended, he was carrying her with him on the waves of his voice, away, away into another

world. When he struck into the chorus, wideeyed and panting, she was swaying toward him and playing

At the last note, Freckles' voice ceased and he looked at the Angel. He had given his best and his all. He fell

on his knees and folded his arms across his breast. The Angel, as if magnetized, walked straight down the

aisle to him, and running her fingers into the crisp masses of his red hair, tilted his head back and laid her lips

Then she stepped back and faced him. "Good boy!" she said, in a voice that wavered from the throbbing of

her shaken heart. "Dear boy! I knew you could do it! I knew it was in you! Freckles, when you go into the

world, if you can face a big audience and sing like that, just once, you will be immortal, and anything you

Freckles arose, muttered something, and catching up his old bucket, plunged into the swamp blindly on a

pretence of bringing water. The Angel walked slowly across the study, sat on the rustic bench, and, through

The Bird Woman stared across the gently waving swale. "I don't see how I am going to blame her," she said

"He was born a gentleman," conceded the Bird Woman. "He took no advantage. He never even offered to

touch her. Whatever that kiss meant to him, he recognized that it was the loving impulse of a child under

stress of strong emotion. He was fine and manly as any man ever could have been."

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

It was her first visit. Before she left she sent for her cameras and made studies of each side of it and of the

cathedral. She was entranced with the delicate beauty of the place, while her eyes kept following Freckles as

That was a happy day. The Bird Woman had brought a lunch, and they spread it, with Freckles' dinner, on the

study floor and sat, resting and enjoying themselves. But the Angel put her banjo into its case, silently

The Bird Woman left McLean and the Angel to clear away the lunch, and with Freckles examined the walls

of his room and told him all she knew about his shrubs and flowers. She analyzed a cardinalflower and

showed him what he had wanted to know all summerwhy the bees buzzed ineffectually around it while the

hummingbirds found in it an everready feast. Some of his specimens were so rare that she was unfamiliar

with them, and with the flower book between them they knelt, studying the different varieties. She wandered

the length of the cathedral aisle with him, and it was at her suggestion that he lighted his altar with a row of

As Freckles came to the cabin from his long day at the swamp he saw Mrs. Chicken sweeping to the south

and wondered where she was going. He stepped into the bright, cosy little kitchen, and as he reached down

So warm a wave swept her heart that a halfflush mantled her face. She straightened her shoulders and

"Lord, na! Freckles," she cried. "At least, the anes ye get from people ye love dinna. They dinna stay on the

outside. They strike in until they find the center of your heart and make their stoppingplace there, and

naething can take them from yeI doubt if even deathNa, lad, ye can be reet sure kisses dinna wash

Freckles set the basin down and muttered as he plunged his hot, tired face into the water, "I needn't be afraid

"I wish," said Freckles at breakfast one morning, "that I had some way to be sending a message to the Bird

Woman. I've something at the swamp that I'm believing never happened before, and surely she'll be wanting

"Why, the oddest thing you ever heard of," said Freckles; "the whole insect tribe gone on a spree. I'm

supposing it's my doings, but it all happened by accident, like. You see, on the swale side of the line, right

against me trail, there's one of these scrub wild crabtrees. Where the grass grows thick around it, is the finest

place you ever conceived of for snakes. Having women about has set me trying to clean out those fellows a

bit, and yesterday I noticed that tree in passing. It struck me that it would be a good idea to be taking it out.

First I thought I'd take me hatchet and cut it down, for it ain't thicker than me upper arm. Then I remembered

how it was blooming in the spring and filling all the air with sweetness. The coloring of the blossoms is

beautiful, and I hated to be killing it. I just cut the grass short all around it. Then I started at the ground,

trimmed up the trunk near the height of me shoulder, and left the top spreading. That made it look so truly

ornamental that, idle like, I chips off the rough places neat, and this morning, on me soul, it's a sight! You

see, cutting off the limbs and trimming up the trunk sets the sap running. In this hot sun it ferments in a few

hours. There isn't much room for more things to crowd on that tree than there are, and to get drunker isn't

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

"Why, just an army of black ants. Some of them are sucking away like old topers. Some of them are setting

up on their tails and hind legs, fiddling with their forefeet and wiping their eyes. Some are rolling around on

the ground, contented. There are quantities of big bluebottle flies over the bark and hanging on the grasses

around, too drunk to steer a course flying; so they just buzz away like flying, and all the time sitting still. The

snakefeeders are too full to feed anythingeven more sap to themselves. There's a lot of hardbacked

bugsbeetles, I guesscolored like the brown, blue, and black of a peacock's tail. They hang on until the

legs of them are so wake they can't stick a minute longer, and then they break away and fall to the ground.

They just lay there on their backs, fably clawing air. When it wears off a bit, up they get, and go crawling

back for more, and they so full they bump into each other and roll over. Sometimes they can't climb the tree

until they wait to sober up a little. There's a lot of big blackandgold bumblebees, done for entire, stumbling

over the bark and rolling on the ground. They just lay there on their backs, rocking from side to side, singing

to themselves like fat, happy babies. The wild bees keep up a steady buzzing with the beating of their wings.

CHAPTER XI. Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman 67

"The butterflies are the worst old topers of them all. They're just a circus! You never saw the like of the

beauties! They come every color you could be naming, and every shape you could be thinking up. They drink

and drink until, if I'm driving them away, they stagger as they fly and turn somersaults in the air. If I lave

them alone, they cling to the grasses, shivering happy like; and I'm blest, Mother Duncan, if the best of them

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

"Na," said Mrs. Duncan. "Ye can be pretty sure there didna. The Bird Woman must have word in some way,

if ye walk the line and I walk to town and tell her. If ye think ye can wait until after supper, I am most sure ye

can gang yoursel', for Duncan is coming home and he'd be glad to watch for ye. If he does na come, and na

ane passes that I can send word with today, I really will gang early in the morning and tell her mysel'."

Freckles took his lunch and went to the swamp. He walked and watched eagerly. He could find no trace of

anything, yet he felt a tense nervousness, as if trouble might be brooding. He examined every section of the

wire, and kept watchful eyes on the grasses of the swale, in an effort to discover if anyone had passed through

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

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

He reached his room and cautiously scanned the entrance before he stepped in. Then he pushed the bushes

apart with his right arm and entered, his left hand on the butt of his favorite revolver. Instantly he knew that

someone had been there. He stepped to the center of the room, closely scanning each wall and the floor. He

could find no trace of a clue to confirm his belief, yet so intimate was he with the spirit of the place that he

How he knew he could not have told, yet he did know that someone had entered his room, sat on his benches,

and walked over his floor. He was surest around the case. Nothing was disturbed, yet it seemed to Freckles

that he could see where prying fingers had tried the lock. He stepped behind the case, carefully examining the

ground all around it, and close beside the tree to which it was nailed he found a deep, fresh footprint in the

spongy soila long, narrow print, that was never made by the foot of Wessner. His heart tugged in his breast

as he mentally measured the print, but he did not linger, for now the feeling arose that he was being watched.

It seemed to him that he could feel the eyes of some intruder at his back. He knew he was examining things

too closely: if anyone were watching, he did not want him to know that he felt it.

He took the most open way, and carried water for his flowers and moss as usual; but he put himself into no

position in which he was fully exposed, and his hand was close his revolver constantly. Growing restive at

last under the strain, he plunged boldly into the swamp and searched minutely all around his room, but he

could not discover the least thing to give him further cause for alarm. He unlocked his case, took out his

wheel, and for the remainder of the day he rode and watched as he never had before. Several times he locked

the wheel and crossed the swamp on foot, zigzagging to cover all the space possible. Every rod he traveled he

used the caution that sprang from knowledge of danger and the direction from which it probably would come.

Several times he thought of sending for McLean, but for his life he could not make up his mind to do it with

CHAPTER XI. Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman 68

He waited until he was sure Duncan would be at home, if he were coming for the night, before he went to

supper. The first thing he saw as he crossed the swale was the big bays in the yard.

There had been no one passing that day, and Duncan readily agreed to watch until Freckles rode to town. He

told Duncan of the footprint, and urged him to guard closely. Duncan said he might rest easy, and filling his

Freckles made himself clean and neat, and raced to town, but it was night and the stars were shining before he

reached the home of the Bird Woman. From afar he could see that the house was ablaze with lights. The lawn

and veranda were strung with fancy lanterns and alive with people. He thought his errand important, so to

turn back never occurred to Freckles. This was all the time or opportunity he would have. He must see the

Bird Woman, and see her at once. He leaned his wheel inside the fence and walked up the broad front

entrance. As he neared the steps, he saw that the place was swarming with young people, and the Angel, with

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

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

"Yes," said the Angel. "I had to help with the preparations, and I couldn't find time to drive out; but I wrote

you a letter, and told you that the Bird Woman was giving a party for me, and we wanted you to come,

"Then that's likely where it is at present," said Freckles. "Duncan comes to town only once a week, and at

times not that. He's home tonight for the first in a week. He's watching an hour for me until I come to the Bird

Woman with a bit of work I thought she'd be caring to hear about bad. Is she where I can see her?"

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

Freckles glanced from his wadingboots to the patent leathers of some of the Angel's friends, and smiled

"I am afraid I do," she said ruefully. "It's too bad! But there is a thing I want for you more than to come to my

party, and that is to hang on and win with your work. I think of you every day, and I just pray that those

She was so lovely a picture as she stood before him, ardent in his cause, that Freckles could not take his eyes

from her to notice what her friends were thinking. If she did not mind, why should he? Anyway, if they really

were the Angel's friends, probably they were better accustomed to her ways than he.

CHAPTER XI. Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman 69

Her face and bared neck and arms were like the wild rose bloom. Her soft frock of white tulle lifted and

stirred around her with the gentle evening air. The beautiful golden hair, that crept around her temples and

ears as if it loved to cling there, was caught back and bound with broad blue satin ribbon. There was a sash of

The Angel went away, but returned to say that the Bird Woman was telling a story to those inside and she

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

"Then," said the Angel, "we mustn't go through the house, because it would disturb the story; but I want you

to come the outside way to the conservatory and have some of my birthday lunch and some cake to take to

The Angel gave him a big glass, brimming with some icy, sparkling liquid that struck his palate as it never

had been touched before, because a combination of frosty fruit juices had not been a frequent beverage with

him. The night was warm, and the Angel most beautiful and kind. A triple delirium of spirit, mind, and body

seized upon him and developed a boldness all unnatural. He slightly parted the heavy curtains that separated

the conservatory from the company and looked between. He almost stopped breathing. He had read of things

The open space seemed to stretch through half a dozen rooms, all ablaze with lights, perfumed with flowers,

and filled with elegantly dressed people. There were glimpses of polished floors, sparkling glass, and fine

furnishings. From somewhere, the voice of his beloved Bird Woman arose and fell.

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

"Well then," said Freckles, "it's only that I feel all over as if I belonged there. I could wear fine clothes, and

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

CHAPTER XI. Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman 70

"And you ask me where the laugh comes in, looking me in the face after that," 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, knows that you are never guilty of a discourtesy, and you move with twice the

grace of any man here. Why shouldn't you feel as if you belonged where people are graceful and courteous?"

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

The curtains parted and a woman came toward them. Her silks and laces trailed across the polished floors.

The lights gleamed on her neck and arms, and flashed from rare jewels. She was smiling brightly; and until

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

The Bird Woman laughed. Then he told her why he had come, but she scarcely could believe him. She could

not say exactly when she would go, but she would make it as soon as possible, for she was most anxious for

While they talked, the Angel was busy packing a box of sandwiches, cake, fruit, and flowers. She gave him a

last frosty glass, thanked him repeatedly for bringing news of new material; then Freckles went into the night.

He rode toward the Limberlost with his eyes on the stars. Presently he removed his hat, hung it to his belt,

and ruffled his hair to the sweep of the night wind. He filled the air all the way with snatches of oratorios,

gospel hymns, and dialect and coon songs, in a startlingly varied programme. The one thing Freckles knew

that he could do was to sing. The Duncans heard him coming a mile up the corduroy and could not believe

their senses. Freckles unfastened the box from his belt, and gave Mrs. Duncan and the children all the

eatables it contained, except one big piece of cake that he carried to the sweetloving Duncan. He put the

flowers back in the box and set it among his books. He did not say anything, but they understood it was not to

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

Freckles' face slowly flushed as he took Duncan's cake and started toward the swamp. While Duncan ate,

Freckles told him something about the evening, as well as he could find words to express himself, and the big

Then Freckles mounted his wheel and began a spin that terminated only when the biggest Plymouth Rock in

Duncan's coop saluted a new day, and long lines of light reddened the east. As he rode he sang, while he sang

he worshiped, but the god he tried to glorify was a dim and faraway mystery. The Angel was warm flesh and

Every time he passed the little barkcovered imprint on the trail he dismounted, removed his hat, solemnly

knelt and laid his lips on the impression. Because he kept no account himself, only the laughingfaced old

man of the moon knew how often it happened; and as from the beginning, to the follies of earth that

With the near approach of dawn Freckles tuned his last note. Wearied almost to falling, he turned from the

CHAPTER XI. Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman 71

As Freckles left the trail, from the swale close the south entrance, four large muscular men arose and swiftly

and carefully entered the swamp by the wagon road. Two of them carried a big saw, the third, coils of rope

and wire, and all of them were heavily armed. They left one man on guard at the entrance. The other three

made their way through the darkness as best they could, and were soon at Freckles' room. He had left the

swamp on his wheel from the west trail. They counted on his returning on the wheel and circling the east line

A little below the west entrance to Freckles' room, Black Jack stepped into the swale, and binding a wire

tightly around a scrub oak, carried it below the waving grasses, stretched it taut across the trail, and fastened

it to a tree in the swamp. Then he obliterated all signs of his work, and arranged the grass over the wire until

it was so completely covered that only minute examination would reveal it. They entered Freckles' room with

coarse oaths and jests. In a few moments, his specimen case with its precious contents was rolled into the

The first report from the man on watch was that Duncan had driven to the South camp; the second, that

Freckles was coming. The man watching was sent to see on which side the boy turned into the path; as they

had expected, he took the east. He was a little tired and his head was rather stupid, for he had not been able to

sleep as he had hoped, but he was very happy. Although he watched until his eyes ached, he could see no sign

He called a cheery greeting to all his chickens. At Sleepy Snake Creek he almost fell from his wheel with

surprise: the sawbird was surrounded by four lanky youngsters clamoring for breakfast. The father was

"No use to expect the Bird Woman today," said Freckles; "but now wouldn't she be jumping for a chance at

As soon as Freckles was far down the east line, the watch was posted below the room on the west to report

his coming. It was only a few moments before the signal came. Then the saw stopped, and the rope was

brought out and uncoiled close to a sapling. Wessner and Black Jack crowded to the very edge of the swamp

They heard Freckles before they saw him. He came gliding down the line swiftly, and as he rode he was

He got no farther. The sharply driven wheel struck the tense wire and bounded back. Freckles shot over the

handlebar and coasted down the trail on his chest. As he struck, Black Jack and Wessner were upon him.

Wessner caught off an old felt hat and clapped it over Freckles' mouth, while Black Jack twisted the boy's

arms behind him and they rushed him into his room. Almost before he realized that anything had happened,

Then three of the men resumed work on the tree. The other followed the path Freckles had worn to Little

Chicken's tree, and presently he reported that the wires were down and two teams with the loading apparatus

coming to take out the timber. All the time the saw was slowly eating, eating into the big tree.

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 72

Wessner went to the trail and removed the wire. He picked up Freckles' wheel, that did not seem to be

injured, and leaned it against the bushes so that if anyone did pass on the trail he would not see it doubled in

Then he came and stood in front of Freckles and laughed in devilish hate. To his own amazement, Freckles

found himself looking fear in the face, and marveled that he was not afraid. Four to one! The tree halfway

eaten through, the wagons coming up the inside roadhe, bound and gagged! The men with Black Jack and

Wessner had belonged to McLean's gang when last he had heard of them, but who those coming with the

If they secured that tree, McLean lost its value, lost his wager, and lost his faith in him. The words of the

When the tree was down and loaded, what would they do? Pull out, and leave him there to report them? It

was not to be hoped for. The place always had been lawless. It could mean but one thing.

A mist swept before his eyes, while his head swam. Was it only last night that he had worshiped the Angel in

a delirium of happiness? And now, what? Wessner, released from a turn at the saw, walked to the flower bed,

and tearing up a handful of rare ferns by the roots, started toward Freckles. His intention was obvious. Black

"You see here, Dutchy," he bawled, "mebby you think you'll wash his face with that, but you won't. A

contract's a contract. We agreed to take out these trees and leave him for you to dispose of whatever way you

please, provided you shut him up eternally on this deal. But I'll not see a tied man tormented by a fellow that

he can lick up the ground with, loose, and that's flat. It raises my gorge to think what he'll get when we're

gone, but you needn't think you're free to begin before. Don't you lay a hand on him while I'm here! What do

"I say yes," growled one of McLean's latest deserters. "What's more, we're a pack of fools to risk the dirty

work of silencing him. You had him face down and you on his back; why the hell didn't you cover his head

and roll him into the bushes until we were gone? When I went into this, I didn't understand that he was to see

all of us and that there was murder on the ticket. I'm not up to it. I don't mind lifting trees we came for, but

"Well, you ain't going to get it," bellowed Jack. "You fellows only contracted to help me get out my marked

"Yes, and if Wessner finishes him safely, we are practically in for murder as well as stealing the trees; and if

he don't, all hell's to pay. I think you've made a damnable bungle of this thing; that's what I think!"

"Then keep your thoughts to yourself," cried Jack. "We're doing this, and it's all planned safe and sure. As for

killing that buckcome to think of it, killing is what he needs. He's away too good for this world of woe,

anyhow. I tell you, it's all safe enough. His dropping out won't be the only secret the old Limberlost has never

told. It's too dead easy to make it look like he helped take the timber and then cut. Why, he's played right into

our hands. He was here at the swamp all last night, and back again in an hour or so. When we get our plan

worked out, even old fool Duncan won't lift a finger to look for his carcass. We couldn't have him going in

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 73

"You just bet," said Wessner. "I owe him all he'll get, and be damned to you, but I'll pay!" he snarled at

So it was killing, then. They were not only after this one tree, but many, and with his body it was their plan to

kill his honor. To brand him a thief, with them, before the Angel, the Bird Woman, the dear Boss, and the

Then he gathered his forces and thought swiftly. There was no hope of McLean's coming. They had chosen a

day when they knew he had a big contract at the South camp. The Boss could not come before tomorrow by

any possibility, and there would be no tomorrow for the boy. Duncan was on his way to the South camp, and

the Bird Woman had said she would come as soon as she could. After the fatigue of the party, it was useless

to expect her and the Angel today, and God save them from coming! The Angel's father had said they would

The sweat broke on Freckles' forehead. He tugged at the ropes whenever he felt that he dared, but they were

passed around the tree and his body several times, and knotted on his chest. He was helpless. There was no

hope, no help. And after they had conspired to make him appear a runaway thief to his loved ones, what was

Whatever it was, Freckles lifted his head and resolved that he would bear in mind what he had once heard the

Bird Woman say. He would go out bonnily. Never would he let them see, if he grew afraid. After all, what

did it matter what they did to his body if by some scheme of the devil they could encompass his disgrace?

Then hope suddenly rose high in Freckles' breast. They could not do that! The Angel would not believe.

Neither would McLean. He would keep up his courage. Kill him they could; dishonor him they could not.

Yet, summon all the fortitude he might, that saw eating into the tree rasped his nerves worse and worse. With

whirling brain he gazed into the Limberlost, searching for something, he knew not what, and in blank horror

found his eyes focusing on the Angel. She was quite a distance away, but he could see her white lips and

Last week he had taken her and the Bird Woman across the swamp over the path he followed in going from

his room to the chicken tree. He had told them the night before, that the butterfly tree was on the line close to

this path. In figuring on their not coming that day, he failed to reckon with the enthusiasm of the Bird

Woman. They must be there for the study, and the Angel had risked crossing the swamp in search of him. Or

was there something in his room they needed? The blood surged in his ears as the roar of the Limberlost in

He looked again, and it had been a dream. She was not there. Had she been? For his life, Freckles could not

tell whether he really had seen the Angel, or whether his strained senses had played him the most cruel trick

of all. Or was it not the kindest? Now he could go with the vision of her lovely face fresh with him.

"Thank You for that, oh God!" whispered Freckles." `Twas more than kind of You and I don't s'pose I ought

to be wanting anything else; but if You can, oh, I wish I could know before this ends, if `twas me

mother"Freckles could not even whisper the words, for he hesitated a second and ended"IF `TWAS ME

"Freckles! Freckles! Oh, Freckles!" the voice of the Angel came calling. Freckles swayed forward and

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 74

"It's the girl the Bird Woman takes with her," whispered Freckles through dry, swollen lips.

"They ain't due here for five days yet," said Wessner. "We got on to that last week."

"Yes," said Freckles, "but I found a tree covered with butterflies and things along the east line yesterday that I

thought the Bird Woman would want extra, and I went to town to tell her last night. She said she'd come

soon, but she didn't say when. They must be here. I take care of the girl while the Bird Woman works. Untie

me quick until she is gone. I'll try to send her back, and then you can go on with your dirty work."

"He ain't lying," volunteered Wessner. "I saw that tree covered with butterflies and him watching around it

"No, he leaves lying to your sort," snapped Black Jack, as he undid the rope and pitched it across the room.

"I must be answering," said Freckles, and Jack nodded. "Right here!" he called, and to the men: "You go on

with your work, and remember one thing yourselves. The work of the Bird Woman is known all over the

world. This girl's father is a rich man, and she is all he has. If you offer hurt of any kind to either of them, this

world has no place far enough away or dark enough for you to be hiding in. Hell will be easy to what any

Soulsick with fear for her, Freckles went toward her and parted the bushes that she might enter. She came

through without apparently giving him a glance, and the first words she said were: "Why have the gang come

so soon? I didn't know you expected them for three weeks yet. Or is this some especial tree that Mr. McLean

Freckles hesitated. Would a man dare lie to save himself? No. But to save the Angelsurely that was

different. He opened his lips, but the Angel was capable of saving herself. She walked among them, exactly

"Why, your specimen case!" she cried. "Look! Haven't you noticed that it's tipped over? Set it straight,

"There! That's better," she said. "Freckles, I'm surprised at your being so careless. It would be a shame to

break those lovely butterflies for one old tree! Is that a valuable tree? Why didn't you tell us last night you

were going to take out a tree this morning? Oh, say, did you put your case there to protect that tree from that

stealing old Black Jack and his gang? I bet you did! Well, if that wasn't bright! What kind of a tree is it?"

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 75

"My! How interesting!" she cried. "I don't know a thing about timber, but my father wants me to learn just

everything I can. I am going to ask him to let me come here and watch you until I know enough to boss a

gang myself. Do you like to cut trees, gentlemen?" she asked with angelic sweetness of the men.

Then the Angel's eyes turned full on Black Jack, and she gave the most natural little start of astonishment.

"Oh! I almost thought that you were a ghost!" she cried. "But I see now that you are really and truly. Were

"I see you aren't the same man," said the Angel. "You know, we were in Colorado last year, and there was a

cowboy who was the handsomest man anywhere around. He'd come riding into town every night, and all we

girls just adored him! Oh, but he was a beauty! I thought at first glance you were really he, but I see now he

The men began to laugh while Jack flushed crimson. The Angel joined in the laugh.

"Well, I'll leave it to you! Isn't he handsome?" she challenged. "As for that cowboy's face, it couldn't be

compared with yours. The only trouble with you is that your clothes are spoiling you. It's the dress those

cowboys wear that makes half their attraction. If you were properly clothed, you could break the heart of the

With one accord the other men looked at Black Jack, and for the first time realized that he was a superb

specimen of manhood, for he stood six feet tall, was broad, wellrounded, and had dark, even skin, big black

"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed the Angel. "I'd just love to see you on horseback. Nothing sets a handsome

"Yes," said Jack, and his eyes were burning on the Angel as if he would fathom 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 a blue flannel shirt a little open at the throat, a red tie, and a broadbrimmed felt hat,

and ride past my house of evenings. I'm always at home then, and almost always on the veranda, and, oh! but

I would like to see you! Will you do that for me?" It is impossible to describe the art with which the Angel

asked the question. She was looking straight into Jack's face, coarse and hardened with sin and careless

living, which was now taking on a wholly different expression. The evil lines of it were softening and fading

under her clear gaze. A dull red flamed into his bronze cheeks, while his eyes were growing brightly tender.

"Yes," he said, and the glance he gave the men was of such a nature that no one saw fit even to change

"Oh, goody!" she cried, tilting on her toes. "I'll ask all the girls to come see, but they needn't stick in! We can

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 76

Jack leaned toward her. He was the charmed fluttering bird, while the Angel was the snake.

"My, but you're tall!" she commented. "Do you suppose I ever will grow to reach your shoulders?"

She stood on tiptoe and measured the distance with her eyes. Then she developed timid confusion, while her

"Lariat Bill used always to have a bunch of red flowers in his shirt pocket. The red lit up his dark eyes and

Freckles stared as he wheezed for breath. He wished the earth would open and swallow him. Was he dead or

alive? Since his Angel had seen Black Jack she never had glanced his way. Was she completely bewitched?

Would she throw herself at the man's feet before them all? Couldn't she give him even one thought? Hadn't

she seen that he was gagged and bound? Did she truly think that these were McLean's men? Why, she could

not! It was only a few days ago that she had been close enough to this man and angry enough with him to

peel the hat from his head with a shot! Suddenly a thing she had said jestingly to him one day came back with

startling force: "You must take Angels on trust." Of course you must! She was his Angel. She must have

seen! His life, and what was far more, her own, was in her hands. There was nothing he could do but trust

The Angel knelt beside his flower bed and recklessly tore up by the roots 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

As she reached for the knife, her back was for one second toward the men. She looked into his eyes and

She severed the stems, tossed the knife to Freckles, and walking to Jack, laid the flowers over his heart.

Freckles broke into a sweat of agony. He had said she would be safe in a herd of howling savages. Would

she? If Black Jack even made a motion toward touching her, Freckles knew that from somewhere he would

muster the strength to kill him. He mentally measured the distance to where his club lay and set his muscles

for a spring. But noby the splendor of God! The big fellow was baring his head with a hand that was

unsteady. The Angel pulled one of the long silver pins from her hat and fastened her flowers securely.

Freckles was quaking. What was to come next? What was she planning, and oh! did she understand the

As the Angel stepped from Jack, she turned her head to one side and peered at him, quite as Freckles had seen

the little yellow fellow do on the line a hundred times, and said: "Well, that does the trick! Isn't that fine? See

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 77

how it sets him off, boys? Don't you forget the tie is to be red, and the first ride soon. I can't wait very long.

Now I must go. The Bird Woman will be ready to start, and she will come here hunting me next, for she is

She glanced inquiringly around, and several of the men laughed. Oh, the delight of it! She had forgotten her

errand for him! Jack had a second increase in height. The Angel glanced helplessly as if seeking a clue. Then

her eyes fell, as if by accident, on Freckles, and she cried, "Oh, I know now! It was those magazines the Bird

Woman promised you. I came to tell you that we put them under the box where we hide things, at the

entrance to the swamp as we came in. I knew I would need my hands crossing the swamp, so I hid them

"It's mighty risky for you to be crossing the swamp alone," he said. "I'm surprised that the Bird Woman

would be letting you try it. I know it's a little farther, but it's begging you I am to be going back by the trail.

"Oh stop your nonsense!" she cried. "I'm not afraid! Not in the least! The Bird Woman didn't want me to try

following a path that I'd been over only once, but I was sure I could do it, and I'm rather proud of the

"No," said Freckles gently, "I know you're not; but that has nothing to do with the fact that your friends are

afraid for you. On the trail you can see your way a bit ahead, and you've all the world a better chance if you

The implication of this statement was so gratifying to Black Jack that he seemed again to expand and take on

"You bet!" exclaimed Jack. And to the Angel: "You better take Freckles' word for it, miss. He knows the old

swamp better than any of us, except me, and if he says `go by the trail,' you'd best do it."

The Angel hesitated. She wanted to recross the swamp and try to reach the horse. She knew Freckles would

brave any danger to save her crossing the swamp alone, but she really was not afraid, while the trail added

over a mile to the walk. She knew the path. She intended to run for dear life the instant she felt herself from

their sight, and tucked in the folds of her blouse was a fine little 32caliber revolver that her father had

presented her for her share in what he was pleased to call her military exploit. One last glance at Freckles

showed her the agony in his eyes, and immediately she imagined he had some other reason. She would follow

"All right," she said, giving Jack a thrilling glance. "If you say so, I'll return by the trail to please you.

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 78

"You damned fool! Stop her!" growled Wessner. "Keep her till we're loaded, anyhow. You're playing hell!

Can't you see that when this thing is found out, there she'll be to ruin all of us. If you let her go, every man of

Jack sprang forward. Freckles' heart muffled in his throat. The Angel seemed to divine Jack's coming. She

was humming a little song. She deliberately stopped and began pulling the heads of the curious grasses that

grew all around her. When she straightened, she took a step backward and called: "Ho! Freckles, the Bird

Woman wants that natural history pamphlet returned. It belongs to a set she is going to have bound. That's

one of the reasons we put it under the box. You be sure to get them as you go home tonight, for fear it rains or

"All right," said Freckles, but it was in a voice that he never had heard before.

Then the Angel turned and sent a parting glance at Jack. She was overpoweringly human and bewitchingly

"You won't forget that ride and the red tie," she half asserted, half questioned.

Jack succumbed. Freckles was his captive, but he was the Angel's, soul and body. His face wore the holiest

look it ever had known as he softly reechoed Freckles' "All right." With her head held well up, the Angel

"Drop your damned staring and saw wood," he shouted. "Don't you know anything at all about how to treat a

lady?" It might have been a question which of the cronies that crouched over green wood fires in the cabins

of Wildcat Hollow, eternally sucking a corncob pipe and stirring the endless kettles of stewing coon and

The men muttered and threatened among themselves, but they began working desperately. Someone

suggested that a man be sent to follow the Angel and to watch her and the Bird Woman leave the swamp.

Freckles' heart sank within him, but Jack was in a delirium and past all caution.

"Yes," he sneered. "Mebby all of you had better give over on the saw and run after the girl. I guess not!

Seems to me I got the favors. I didn't see no bouquets on the rest of you! If anybody follows her, I do, and I'm

needed here among such a pack of idiots. There's no danger in that baby face. She wouldn't give me away!

You double and work like forty, while me and Wessner will take the axes and begin to cut in on the other

"No difference about the noise," answered Jack. "She took us to be from McLean's gang, slick as grease.

Freckles sat on one of his benches and waited. In their haste to fell the tree and load it, so that the teamsters

could start, and leave them free to attack another, they had forgotten to rebind him.

The Angel was on the trail and safely started. The cold perspiration made Freckles' temples clammy and ran

in little streams down his chest. It would take her more time to follow the trail, but her safety was Freckles'

sole thought in urging her to go that way. He tried to figure on how long it would require to walk to the

carriage. He wondered if the Bird Woman had unhitched. He followed the Angel every step of the way. He

CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack 79

figured on when she would cross the path of the clearing, pass the deep pool where his "findout" frog lived,

He wondered what she would say to the Bird Woman, and how long it would take them to pack and start. He

knew now that they would understand, and the Angel would try to get the Boss there in time to save his

wager. She could never do it, for the saw was over half through, and Jack and Wessner cutting into the

opposite side of the tree. It appeared as if they could fell at least that tree, before McLean could come, and if

When it was down, would they rebind him and leave him for Wessner to wreak his insane vengeance on, or

would they take him along to the next tree and dispose of him when they had stolen all the timber they could?

Jack had said that he should not be touched until he left. Surely he would not run all that risk for one tree,

when he had many others of far greater value marked. Freckles felt that he had some hope to cling to now,

Once Jack came to Freckles and asked if he had any water. Freckles arose and showed him where he kept his

drinkingwater. Jack drank in great gulps, and as he passed back the bucket, he said: "When a man's got a

chance of catching a fine girl like that, he ought not be mixed up in any dirty business. I wish to God I was

"Blest if I blame you," he said. "But you had your chance! We offered you a fair thing and you gave Wessner

"You're six to one," answered Freckles. "It will be easy enough for you to be killing the body of me, but,

When the mighty tree fell, the Limberlost shivered and screamed with the echo. Freckles groaned in despair,

but the gang took heart. That was so much accomplished. They knew where to dispose of it safely, with no

questions asked. Before the day was over, they could remove three others, all suitable for veneer and worth

far more than this. Then they would leave Freckles to Wessner and scatter for safety, with more money than

On the line, the Angel gave one backward glance at Black Jack, to see that he had returned to his work. Then

she gathered her skirts above her knees and leaped forward on the run. In the first three yards she passed

Freckles' wheel. Instantly she imagined that was why he had insisted on her coming by the trail. She seized it

and sprang on. The saddle was too high, but she was an expert rider and could catch the pedals as they came

up. She stopped at Duncan's cabin long enough to remedy this, telling Mrs. Duncan while working what was

happening, and for her to follow the east trail until she found the Bird Woman, and told her that she had gone

CHAPTER XIII. Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her 80

Even with her fear for Freckles to spur her, Sarah Duncan blanched and began shivering at the idea of facing

"No matter how afraid you are, you have to go," she said. "If you don't the Bird Woman will go to Freckles'

room, hunting me, and they will have trouble with her. If she isn't told to leave at once, they may follow me,

and, finding I'm gone, do some terrible thing to Freckles. I can't gothat's flatfor if they caught me, then

there'd be no one to go for help. You don't suppose they are going to take out the trees they're after and then

leave Freckles to run and tell? They are going to murder the boy; that's what they are going to do. You run,

Those awful miles of corduroy! Would they never end? She did not dare use the wheel too roughly, for if it

broke she never could arrive on time afoot. Where her way was impassable for the wheel, she jumped off,

and pushing it beside her or carrying it, she ran as fast as she could. The day was fearfully warm. The sun

poured with the fierce baking heat of August. The bushes claimed her hat, and she did not stop for it.

Where it was at all possible, the Angel mounted and pounded over the corduroy again. She was panting for

breath and almost worn out when she reached the level pike. She had no idea how long she had beenand

only two miles covered. She leaned over the bars, almost standing on the pedals, racing with all the strength

in her body. The blood surged in her ears while her head swam, but she kept a straight course, and rode and

rode. It seemed to her that she was standing still, while the trees and houses were racing past her.

Once a farmer's big dog rushed angrily into the road and she swerved until she almost fell, but she regained

her balance, and setting her muscles, pedaled as fast as she could. At last she lifted her head. Surely it could

not be over a mile more. She had covered two of corduroy and at least three of gravel, and it was only six in

She was reeling in the saddle, but she gripped the bars with new energy, and raced desperately. The sun beat

on her bare head and hands. Just when she was choking with dust, and almost prostrate with heat and

exhaustioncrash, she ran into a broken bottle. Snap! went the tire; the wheel swerved and pitched over. The

From afar, Duncan began to notice a strange, dustcovered object in the road, as he headed toward town with

He chirruped to the bays and hurried them all he could. As he neared the Angel, he saw it was a woman and a

broken wheel. He was beside her in an instant. He carried her to a shaded fencecorner, stretched her on the

grass, and wiped the dust from the lovely face all dirtstreaked, crimson, and bearing a startling whiteness

Wheels were common enough. Many of the farmers' daughters owned and rode them, but he knew these

same farmers' daughters; this face was a stranger's. He glanced at the Angel's tumbled clothing, the silkiness

of her hair, with its pale satin ribbon, and noticed that she had lost her hat. Her lips tightened in an ominous

quiver. He left her and picked up the wheel: as he had surmised, he knew it. This, then, was Freckles' Swamp

Angel. There was trouble in the Limberlost, and she had broken down racing to McLean. Duncan turned the

bays into a fencecorner, tied one of them, unharnessed the other, fastened up the trace chains, and hurried to

the nearest farmhouse to send help to the Angel. He found a woman, who took a bottle of camphor, a jug of

CHAPTER XIII. Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her 81

The Angel, left alone, lay still for a second, then she shivered and opened her eyes. She saw that she was on

the grass and the broken wheel beside her. Instantly she realized that someone had carried her there and gone

after help. She sat up and looked around. She noticed the load of logs and the one horse. Someone was riding

"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 caught the hames, stretched along the horse's neck, and, for the first time, the fine, big

fellow felt on his back the quality of the lash that Duncan was accustomed to crack over him. He was

The Angel passed a wildly waving, screaming woman on the road, and a little later a man riding as if he, too,

were in great haste. The man called to her, but she only lay lower and used the whip. Soon the feet of the

At the South camp they were loading a second wagon, when the Angel appeared riding one of Duncan's bays,

lathered and dripping, and cried: "Everybody go to Freckles! There are thieves stealing trees, and they had

She wheeled the horse toward the Limberlost. The alarm sounded through camp. The gang were not

unprepared. McLean sprang to Nellie's back and raced after the Angel. As they passed Duncan, he wheeled

and followed. Soon the pike was an irregular procession of barebacked riders, wildly driving flying horses

The Boss rode neckandneck with the Angel. He repeatedly commanded her to stop and fall out of line,

until he remembered that he would need her to lead him to Freckles. Then he gave up and rode beside her, for

she was sending the bay at as sharp a pace as the other horses could keep and hold out. He could see that she

was not hearing him. He glanced back and saw that Duncan was close. There was something terrifying in the

appearance of the big man, and the manner in which he sat his beast and rode. It would be a sad day for the

man on whom Duncan's wrath broke. There were four others close behind him, and the pike filling with the

remainder of the gang; so McLean took heart and raced beside the Angel. Over and over he asked her where

the trouble was, but she only gripped the hames, leaned along the bay's neck, and slashed away with the

blacksnake. The steaming horse, with crimson nostrils and heaving sides, stretched out and ran for home with

When they passed the cabin, the Bird Woman's carriage was there and Mrs. Duncan in the door wringing her

hands, but the Bird Woman was nowhere to be seen. The Angel sent the bay along the path and turned into

the west trail, while the men bunched and followed her. When she reached the entrance to Freckles' room,

there were four men with her, and two more very close behind. She slid from the horse, and snatching the

little revolver from her pocket, darted toward the bushes. McLean caught them back, and with drawn weapon,

The Bird Woman blocked the entrance. Over a small limb lay her revolver. It was trained at short range on

Freckles, with the blood trickling down his face, from an ugly cut in his temple, was gagged and bound to the

tree again; the remainder of the men were gone. Black Jack was raving as a maniac, and when they looked

closer it was only the left arm that he raised. His right, with the hand shattered, hung helpless at his side,

while his revolver lay at Freckles' feet. Wessner's weapon was in his belt, and beside him Freckles' club.

CHAPTER XIII. Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her 82

Freckles' face was white, with colorless lips, but in his eyes was the strength of undying courage. McLean

At that instant the Angel rushed past. She tore the gag from Freckles, and seizing the rope knotted on his

chest, she tugged at it desperately. Under her fingers it gave way, and she hurled it to McLean. The men were

crowding in, and Duncan seized Wessner. As the Angel saw Freckles stand out, free, she reached her arms to

him and pitched forward. A fearful oath burst from the lips of Black Jack. To have saved his life, Freckles

could not have avoided the glance of triumph he gave Jack, when folding the Angel in his arms and stretching

The Bird Woman cried out sharply for water as she ran to them. Someone sprang to bring that, and another to

break open the case for brandy. As McLean arose from binding Wessner, there was a cry that Jack was

He was already far in the swamp, running for its densest part in leaping bounds. Every man who could be

Other members of the gang arriving, were sent to follow the tracks of the wagons. The teamsters had driven

from the west entrance, and crossing the swale, had taken the same route the Bird Woman and the Angel had

before them. There had been ample time for the drivers to reach the road; after that they could take any one of

four directions. Traffic was heavy, and lumber wagons were passing almost constantly, so the men turned

back and joined the more exciting hunt for a man. The remainder of the gang joined them, also farmers of the

Watchers were set along the trail at short intervals. They patrolled the line and roads through the swamp that

night, with lighted torches, and the next day McLean headed as thorough a search as he felt could be made of

one side, while Duncan covered the other; but Black Jack could not be found. Spies were set around his

home, in Wildcat Hollow, to ascertain if he reached there or aid was being sent in any direction to him; but it

was soon clear that his relatives were ignorant of his hidingplace, and were searching for him.

Great is the elasticity of youth. A hot bath and a sound night's sleep renewed Freckles' strength, and it needed

but little more to work the same result with the Angel. Freckles was on the trail early the next morning.

Besides a crowd of people anxious to witness Jack's capture, he found four stalwart guards, one at each turn.

In his heart he was compelled to admit that he was glad to have them there. Close noon, McLean placed his

men in charge of Duncan, and taking Freckles, drove to town to see how the Angel fared. McLean visited a

greenhouse and bought an armload of its finest products; but Freckles would have none of them. He would

The Bird Woman received them, and in answer to their eager inquiries, said that the Angel was in no way

seriously injured, only so bruised and shaken that their doctor had ordered her to lie quietly for the day.

Though she was sore and stiff, they were having work to keep her in bed. Her callers sent up their flowers

with their grateful regards, and the Angel promptly returned word that she wanted to see them.

She reached both hands to McLean. "What if one old tree is gone? You don't care, sir? You feel that Freckles

has kept his trust as nobody ever did before, don't you? You won't forget all those long first days of fright that

you told us of, the fearful cold of winter, the rain, heat, and lonesomeness, and the brave days, and lately,

nights, too, and let him feel that his trust is broken? Oh, Mr. McLean," she begged, "say something to him!

Do something to make him feel that it isn't for nothing he has watched and suffered it out with that old

Limberlost. Make him see how great and fine it is, and how far, far better he has done than you or any of us

CHAPTER XIII. Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her 83

"I was thinking before you came. Those other men were rank big cowards. They were scared for their lives. If

they were the drivers, I wager you gloves against gloves they never took those logs out to the pike. My

coming upset them. Before you feel bad any more, you go look and see if they didn't lose courage the minute

they left Wessner and Black Jack, dump that timber and run. I don't believe they ever had the grit to drive out

with it in daylight. Go see if they didn't figure on leaving the way we did the other morning, and you'll find

the logs before you reach the road. They never risked taking them into the open, when they got away and had

"And, then, another thing. You haven't lost your wager! It never will be claimed, because you made it with a

stout, dark, redfaced man who drives a bay and a gray. He was right back of you, Mr. McLean, when I came

yesterday. He went deathly white and shook on his feet when he saw those men probably would be caught.

Some one of them was something to him, and you can just spot him for one of the men at the bottom of your

troubles, and urging those younger fellows to steal from you. I suppose he'd promised to divide. You settle

She turned to Freckles. "And you be the happiest man alive, because you have kept your trust. Go look where

I tell you and you'll find the logs. I can see just about where they are. When they go up that steep little hill,

into the next woods after the cornfield, why, they could unloose the chains and the logs would roll from the

wagons themselves. Now, you go look; and Mr. McLean, you do feel that Freckles has been brave and

The Angel's nerve gave way and she began to cry. Freckles could not endure it. He almost ran from the room,

with the tears in his eyes; but McLean took the Angel from the Bird Woman's arms, and kissed her brave

As they drove to the swamp, McLean so earnestly seconded all that the Angel had said that he soon had the

"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,

"It's altogether right you are, sir," affirmed Freckles heartily. Presently he added, "There's no question but the

"Don't think it!" answered McLean. "The Bird Woman is working for success, and success along any line is

not won by being scared out. She will be back on the usual day, and ten to one, the Angel will be with her.

They are made of pretty stern stuff, and they don't scare worth a cent. Before I left, I told the Bird Woman it

would be safe; and it will. You may do your usual walking, but those four guards are there to remain. They

are under your orders absolutely. They are prohibited from firing on any bird or molesting anything that you

want to protect, but there they remain, and this time it is useless for you to say one word. I have listened to

your pride too long. You are too precious to me, and that voice of yours is too precious to the world to run

"I am sorry to have anything spoil the series," said Freckles, "and I'd love them to be coming, the Angel

especial, but it can't be. You'll have to tell them so. You see, Jack would have been ready to stake his life she

meant what she said and did to him. When the teams pulled out, Wessner seized me; then he and Jack went to

quarreling over whether they should finish me then or take me to the next tree they were for felling. Between

them they were pulling me around and hurting me bad. Wessner wanted to get at me right then, and Jack said

CHAPTER XIII. Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her 84

he shouldn't be touching me till the last tree was out and all the rest of them gone. I'm belaying Jack really

hated to see me done for in the beginning; and I think, too, he was afraid if Wessner finished me then he'd

lose his nerve and cut, and they couldn't be managing the felling without him; anyway, they were hauling me

round like I was already past all feeling, and they tied me up again. To keep me courage up, I twits Wessner

about having to tie me and needing another man to help handle me. I told him what I'd do to him if I was free,

and he grabs up me own club and lays open me head with it. When the blood came streaming, it set Jack

raving, and he cursed and damned Wessner for a coward and a softy. Then Wessner turned on Jack and gives

it to him for letting the Angel make a fool of him. Tells him she was just playing with him, and beyond all

manner of doubt she'd gone after you, and there was nothing to do on account of his foolishness but finish

me, get out, and let the rest of the timber go, for likely you was on the way right then. That drove Jack plum

"I don't think he was for having a doubt of the Angel before, but then he just raved. He grabbed out his gun

and turned on Wessner. Spang! It went out of his fist, and the order comes: `Hands up!' Wessner reached for

kingdom come like he was expecting to grab hold and pull himself up. Jack puts up what he has left. Then he

leans over to me and tells me what he'll do to me if he ever gets out of there alive. Then, just like a snake

hissing, he spits out what he'll do to her for playing him. He did get away, and with his strength, that wound

in his hand won't be bothering him long. He'll do to me just what he said, and when he hears it really was she

"He's lived in the swamp all his life, sir, and everybody says it's always been the home of cutthroats, outlaws,

and runaways. He knows its most secret places as none of the others. He's alive. He's in there now, sir. Some

way he'll keep alive. If you'd seen his face, all scarlet with passion, twisted with pain, and black with hate,

and heard him swearing that oath, you'd know it was a sure thing. I ain't done with him yet, and I've brought

"And I haven't begun with him yet," said McLean, setting his teeth. "I've been away too slow and too easy,

believing there'd be no greater harm than the loss of a tree. I've sent for a couple of firstclass detectives. We

will put them on his track, and rout him out and rid the country of him. I don't propose for him to stop either

our work or our pleasure. As for his being in the swamp now, I don't believe it. He'd find a way out last night,

in spite of us. Don't you worry! I am at the helm now, and I'll see to that gentleman in my own way."

They entered the swamp, taking the route followed by the Bird Woman and the Angel. They really did find

the logs, almost where the Angel had predicted they would be. McLean went to the South camp and had an

interview with Crowen that completely convinced him that the Angel was correct there also. But he had no

proof, so all he could do was to discharge the man, although his guilt was so apparent that he offered to

Then McLean sent for a pack of bloodhounds and put them on the trail of Black Jack. They clung to it, on

and on, into the depths of the swamp, leading their followers through what had been considered impassable

and impenetrable ways, and finally, around near the west entrance and into the swale. Here the dogs

bellowed, raved, and fell over each other in their excitement. They raced back and forth from swamp to

swale, but follow the scent farther they would not, even though cruelly driven. At last their owner attributed

their actions to snakes, and as they were very valuable dogs, abandoned the effort to urge them on. So that all

they really established was the fact that Black Jack had eluded their vigilance and crossed the trail some time

in the night. He had escaped to the swale; from there he probably crossed the corduroy, and reaching the

lower end of the swamp, had found friends. It was a great relief to feel that he was not in the swamp, and it

raised the spirits of every man on the line, though many of them expressed regrets that he who was

undoubtedly most to blame should escape, while Wessner, who in the beginning was only his tool, should be

CHAPTER XIII. Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her 85

But for Freckles, with Jack's fearful oath ringing in his ears, there was neither rest nor peace. He was almost

ill when the day for the next study of the series arrived and he saw the Bird Woman and the Angel coming

down the corduroy. The guards of the east line he left at their customary places, but those of the west he

brought over and placed, one near Little Chicken's tree, and the other at the carriage. He was firm about the

Angel's remaining in the carriage, that he did not offer to have unhitched. He went with the Bird Woman to

secure the picture, which was the easiest matter it had been at any time yet, for the simple reason that the

placing of the guards and the unusual movement around the swamp had made Mr. and Mrs. Chicken timid,

and they had not carried Little Chicken the customary amount of food. Freckles, in the anxiety of the past few

days, had neglected him, and he had been so hungry, much of the time, that when the Bird Woman held up a

sweetbread, although he had started toward the recesses of the log at her coming, he stopped; with slightly

opened beak, he waited anxiously for the treat, and gave a study of great value, showing every point of his

When the Bird Woman proposed to look for other subjects close about the line, Freckles went so far as to tell

her that Jack had made fearful threats against the Angel. He implored her to take the Angel home and keep

her under unceasing guard until Jack was located. He wanted to tell her all about it, but he knew how dear the

Angel was to her, and he dreaded to burden her with his fears when they might prove groundless. He allowed

"McLean," said Mrs. Duncan, as the Boss paused to greet her in passing the cabin, "do you know that

Freckles hasna been in bed the past five nights and all he's eaten in that many days ye could pack into a pint

"Why, what does the boy mean?" demanded McLean. "There's no necessity for him being on guard, with the

"He's no there," said Mrs. Duncan. "He goes somewhere else. He leaves on his wheel juist after we're abed

and rides in close cockcrow or a little earlier, and he's looking like death and nothing short of it."

"I'm no given to bearing tales out of school," said Sarah Duncan, "but in this case I'd tell ye if I could. What

the trouble is I dinna ken. If it is no' stopped, he's in for dreadful sickness, and I thought ye could find out and

At last he said: "I suspect I understand. At any rate, I think I can find out. Thank you for telling me."

"Ye'll no need telling, once ye clap your eyes on him," prophesied Mrs. Duncan. "His face is all a glist'ny

McLean rode to the Limberlost, and stopping in the shade, sat waiting for Freckles, whose hour for passing

Along the north line came Freckles, fairly staggering. When he turned east and reached Sleepy Snake Creek,

sliding through the swale as the long black snake for which it was named, he sat on the bridge and closed his

burning eyes, but they would not remain shut. As if pulled by wires, the heavy lids flew open, while the

He bent forward and idly watched the limpid little stream flowing beneath his feet. Stretching into the swale,

it came creeping between an impenetrable wall of magnificent wild flowers, vines, and ferns. Milkweed,

goldenrod, ironwort, fringed gentians, cardinalflowers, and turtlehead stood on the very edge of the creek,

and every flower of them had a double in the water. Wild clematis crowned with snow the heads of trees

From afar the creek appeared to be murky, dirty water. Really it was clear and sparkling. The tinge of

blackness was gained from its bed of muck showing through the transparent current. He could see small and

wonderfully marked fish. What became of them when the creek spread into the swamp? For one thing, they

would make mighty fine eating for the family of that selfsatisfied old blue heron.

Freckles sat so quietly that soon the brim of his hat was covered with snakefeeders, rasping their crisp wings

and singing while they rested. Some of them settled on the club, and one on his shoulder. He was so

motionless; feathers, fur, and gauze were so accustomed to him, that all through the swale they continued

The heron family were wading the mouth of the creek. Freckles idly wondered whether the nerveracking

rasps they occasionally emitted indicated domestic felicity or a raging quarrel. He could not decide. A

sheitpoke, with flaring crest, went stalking across a bare space close to the creek's mouth. A stately brown

bittern waded into the clearflowing water, lifting his feet high at every step, and setting them down

carefully, as if he dreaded wetting them, and with slightly parted beak, stood eagerly watching around him for

worms. Behind him were some mighty trees of the swamp above, and below the bank glowed a solid wall of

No wonder the ancients had chosen yellow as the color to represent victory, for the fierce, conquering hue of

the sun was in it. They had done well, too, in selecting purple as the emblem of royalty. It was a dignified,

It was the Limberlost's hour to proclaim her sovereignty and triumph. Everywhere she flaunted her yellow

banner and trailed the purple of her mantle, that was paler in the thistleheads, took on strength in the first

He gazed into her damp, mossy recesses where highpiled riven trees decayed under coats of living green,

where dainty vines swayed and clambered, and here and there a yellow leaf, fluttering down, presaged the

coming of winter. His love of the swamp laid hold of him and shook him with its force.

Compellingly beautiful was the Limberlost, but cruel withal; for inside bleached the uncoffined bones of her

He shifted restlessly; the movement sent the snakefeeders skimming. The hum of life swelled and roared in

his strained ears. Small turtles, that had climbed on a log to sun, splashed clumsily into the water. Somewhere

in the timber of the bridge a bloodthirsty little frog cried sharply. "KEEL'IM! KEEL'IM!"

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 nose riffling the water into a shining

Then, below the turtlelog, a dripping silvergray head, with shining eyes, was cautiously lifted, and

Freckles' hand slid to his revolver. Higher and higher came the head, a long, heavy, furcoated body arose,

now half, now threefourths from the water. Freckles looked at his shaking hand and doubted, but he

gathered his forces, the shot rang, and the otter lay quiet. He hurried down and tried to lift it. He scarcely

could muster strength to carry it to the bridge. The consciousness that he really could go no farther with it

made Freckles realize the fact that he was close the limit of human endurance. He could bear it little, if any,

longer. Every hour the dear face of the Angel wavered before him, and behind it the awful distorted image of

Black Jack, as he had sworn to the punishment he would mete out to her. He must either see McLean, or else

make a trip to town and find her father. Which should he do? He was almost a stranger, so the Angel's father

might not be impressed with what he said as he would if McLean went to him. Then he remembered that

McLean had said he would come that morning. Freckles never had forgotten before. He hurried on the east

He stopped when he came to the first guard, and telling him of his luck, asked him to get the otter and carry it

Freckles passed the second guard without seeing him, and hurried to the Boss. He took off his hat, wiped his

The Boss was dumbfounded. Mrs. Duncan had led him to expect that he would find a change in Freckles, but

this was almost deathly. The fact was apparent that the boy scarcely knew what he was doing. His eyes had a

glazed, farsighted appearance, that wrung the heart of the man who loved him. Without a thought of

"My poor lad!" he said. "My poor, dear lad! tell me, and we will try to right it!"

Freckles had twisted his fingers in Nellie's mane. At the kind words his face dropped on McLean's thigh and

When the guard came with the otter, McLean without a word motioned him to lay it down and leave them.

"Freckles," said McLean at last, "will you tell me, or must I set to work in the dark and try to find the

"Oh, I want to tell you! I must tell you, sir," shuddered Freckles. "I cannot be bearing it the day out alone. I

He lifted his face and gazed across the swale, with his jaws set firmly a minute, as if gathering his forces.

Instinctively McLean's grip on him tightened, and Freckles looked into the Boss's face in wonder.

"I tried, the other day," said Freckles, "and I couldn't seem to make you see. It's only that there hasn't been an

hour, waking or sleeping, since the day she parted the bushes and looked into me room, that the face of her

hasn't been before me in all the tinderness, beauty, and mischief of it. She talked to me friendly like. She

trusted me entirely to take right care of her. She helped me with things about me books. She traited me like I

was born a gintleman, and shared with me as if I were of her own blood. She walked the streets of the town

with me before her friends with all the pride of a queen. She forgot herself and didn't mind the Bird Woman,

and run big risks to help me out that first day, sir. This last time she walked into that gang of murderers, took

their leader, and twisted him to the will of her. She outdone him and raced the life almost out of her trying to

"Since I can remimber, whatever the thing was that happened to me in the beginning has been me curse. I've

been bitter, hard, and smarting under it hopelessly. She came by, and found me voice, and put hope of life

"Look at it, sir!" he said. "A thousand times I've cursed it, hanging there helpless. She took it on the street,

before all the people, just as if she didn't see that it was a thing to hide and shrink from. Again and again I've

had the feeling with her, if I didn't entirely forget it, that she didn't see it was gone and I must he pointing it

out to her. Her touch on it was so sacredlike, at times since I've caught meself looking at the awful thing

near like I was proud of it, sir. If I had been born your son she couldn't be traiting me more as her equal, and

she can't help knowing you ain't truly me father. Nobody can know the homeliness or the ignorance of me

better than I do, and all me lack of birth, relatives, and money, and what's it all to her?"

Freckles stepped back, squared his shoulders, and with a royal lift of his head looked straight into the Boss's

"You saw her in the beautiful little room of her, and you can't be forgetting how she begged and plead with

you for me. She touched me body, and `twas sanctified. She laid her lips on my brow, and `twas sacrament.

Nobody knows the height of her better than me. Nobody's studied my depths closer. There's no bridge for the

great distance between us, sir, and clearest of all, I'm for realizing it: but she risked terrible things when she

came to me among that gang of thieves. She wore herself past bearing to save me from such an easy thing as

death! Now, here's me, a man, a big, strong man, and letting her live under that fearful oath, so worse than

any death `twould be for her, and lifting not a finger to save her. I cannot hear it, sir. It's killing me by inches!

Black Jack's hand may not have been hurt so bad. Any hour he may be creeping up behind her! Any minute

the awful revenge he swore to be taking may in some way fall on her, and I haven't even warned her father. I

can't stay here doing nothing another hour. The five nights gone I've watched under her windows, but there's

the whole of the day. She's her own horse and little cart, and's free to be driving through the town and country

as she pleases. If any evil comes to her through Black Jack, it comes from her angellike goodness to me.

Somewhere he's hiding! Somewhere he is waiting his chance! Somewhere he is reaching out for her! I tell

"Freckles, be quiet!" said McLean, his eyes humid and his voice quivering with the pity of it all. "Believe me,

I did not understand. I know the Angel's father well. I will go to him at once. I have transacted business with

him for the past three years. I will make him see! I am only beginning to realize your agony, and the real

danger there is for the Angel. Believe me, I will see that she is fully protected every hour of the day and night

until Jack is located and disposed of. And I promise you further, that if I fail to move her father or make him

understand the danger, I will maintain a guard over her until Jack is caught. Now will you go bathe, drink

some milk, go to bed, and sleep for hours, and then be my brave, bright old boy again?"

"What was it the guard brought there?" McLean asked in an effort to distract Freckles' thoughts.

"Oh!" Freckles said, glancing where the Boss pointed, "I forgot it! `Tis an otter, and fine past believing, for

this warm weather. I shot it at the creek this morning. `Twas a good shot, considering. I expected to miss."

Freckles picked up the animal and started toward McLean with it, but Nellie pricked up her dainty little ears,

danced into the swale, and snorted with fright. Freckles dropped the otter and ran to her head.

"For pity's sake, get her on the trail, sir," he begged. "She's just about where the old king rattler crosses to go

into the swampthe old buster Duncan and I have been telling you of. I haven't a doubt but it was the one

Mother Duncan met. 'Twas down the trail there, just a little farther on, that I found her, and it's sure to be

McLean slid from Nellie's back, led her into the trail farther down the line, and tied her to a bush. Then he

went to examine the otter. It was a rare, big specimen, with exquisitely fine, long, silky hair.

"What do you want to do with it, Freckles?" asked McLean, as he stroked the soft fur lingeringly. "Do you

"I was for almost praying so, sir," said Freckles. "As I saw it coming up the bank I thought this: Once

somewhere in a book there was a picture of a young girl, and she was just a breath like the beautifulness of

the Angel. Her hands were in a muff as big as her body, and I thought it was so pretty. I think she was some

queen, or the like. Do you suppose I could have this skin tanned and made into such a muff as that?an

"Of course you can," said McLean. "That's a fine idea and it's easy enough. We must box and express the

otter, cold storage, by the first train. You stand guard a minute and I'll tell Hall to carry it to the cabin. I'll put

Nellie to Duncan's rig, and we'll drive to town and call on the Angel's father. Then we'll start the otter while it

is fresh, and I'll write your instructions later. It would be a mighty fine thing for you to give to the Angel as a

little reminder of the Limberlost before it is despoiled, and as a souvenir of her trip for you."

Freckles lifted a face with a glow of happy color creeping into it and eyes lighting with a former brightness.

Throwing his arms around McLean, he cried: "Oh, how I love you! Oh, I wish I could make you know how I

"God bless you, Freckles," he said. "I do know! We're going to have some good old times out of this world

together, and we can't begin too soon. Would you rather sleep first, or have a bite of lunch, take the drive

with me, and then rest? I don't know but sleep will come sooner and deeper to take the ride and have your

"Suppose I do," said Freckles, with a glimmer of the old light in his eyes and newly found strength to

"They've been hanging round out there for several days past," said Freckles. "I'll tell you what I think it

means. I think the old rattler has killed something too big for him to swallow, and he's keeping guard and

won't let me chickens have it. I'm just sure, from the way the birds have acted out there all summer, that it is

the rattler's den. You watch them now. See the way they dip and then rise, frightened like!"

He dropped the otter, caught up his club, and plunged into the swale. Reaching for his revolver, McLean

followed. The chickens circled higher at their coming, and the big snake lifted his head and rattled angrily. It

sank in sinuous coils at the report of McLean's revolver, and together he and Freckles stood beside Black

"Come," said the Boss at last. "We don't dare touch him. We will get a sheet from Mrs. Duncan and tuck over

him, to keep these swarms of insects away, and set Hall on guard, while we find the officers."

Freckles' lips closed resolutely. He deliberately thrust his club under Black Jack's body, and, raising him,

rested it on his knee. He pulled a long silver pin from the front of the dead man's shirt and sent it spinning

into the swale. Then he gathered up a few crumpled bright flowers and dropped them into the pool far away.

"My soul is sick with the horror of this thing," said McLean, as he and Freckles drove toward town. "I can't

understand how Jack dared risk creeping through the swale, even in desperation. No one knew its dangers

better than he. And why did he choose the rankest, muckiest place to cross the swamp?"

"Don't you think, sir, it was because it was on a line with the Limberlost south of the corduroy? The grass

was tallest there, and he counted on those willows to screen him. Once he got among them, he would have

been safe to walk by stooping. If he'd made it past that place, he'd been sure to get out."

"Well, I'm as sorry for Jack as I know how to be," said McLean, "but I can't help feeling relieved that our

troubles are over, for now they are. With so dreadful a punishment for Jack, Wessner under arrest, and

warrants for the others, we can count on their going away and remaining. As for anyone else, I don't think

they will care to attempt stealing my timber after the experience of these men. There is no other man here

"Did you ever hear of anyone who ever tried to locate any trees excepting him?" asked Freckles.

"No, I never did," said McLean. "I am sure there was no one besides him. You see, it was only with the

arrival of our company that the other fellows scented good stuff in the Limberlost, and tried to work in. Jack

knew the swamp better than anyone here. When he found there were two companies trying to lease, he

wanted to stand in with the one from which he could realize the most. Even then he had trees marked that he

was trying to dispose of. I think his sole intention in forcing me to discharge him from my gang was to come

here and try to steal timber. We had no idea, when we took the lease, what a gold mine it was."

"That's exactly what Wessner said that first day," said Freckles eagerly. "That 'twas a `gold mine'! He said he

didn't know where the marked trees were, but he knew a man who did, and if I would hold off and let them

"That's what he said, sira dozen. He said they couldn't tell how the grain of all of them would work up, of

course, but they were all worth taking out, and five or six were real gold mines. This makes three they've

tried, so there must be nine more marked, and several of them for being just fine."

"Well, I wish I knew which they are," said McLean, "so I could get them out first."

"I have been thinking," said Freckles. "I believe if you will leave one of the guards on the linesay

Hallthat I will begin on the swamp, at the north end, and lay it off in sections, and try to hunt out the

marked trees. I suppose they are all marked something like that first maple on the line was. Wessner

mentioned another good one not so far from that. He said it was best of all. I'd be having the swelled head if I

could find that. Of course, I don't know a thing about the trees, but I could hunt for the marks. Jack was so

good at it he could tell some of them by the bark, but all he wanted to take that we've found so far have just

had a deep chip cut out, rather low down, and where the bushes were thick over it. I believe I could be finding

"Good head!" said McLean. "We will do that. You may begin as soon as you are rested. And about things

you come across in the swamp, Frecklesthe most trifling little thing that you think the Bird Woman would

want, take your wheel and go after her at any time. I'll leave two men on the line, so that you will have one on

either side, and you can come and go as you please. Have you stopped to think of all we owe her, my boy?"

"Yis; and the Angelwe owe her a lot, too," said Freckles. "I owe her me life and honor. It's lying awake

"I don't exactly see how it comes to be in such splendid fur in summer. Their coats are always thick in cold

weather, but this scarcely could be improved. I'll wire Cooper to be watching for it. They must have it fresh.

When it's tanned we won't spare any expense in making it up. It should be a royal thing, and some way I think

it will exactly suit the Angel. I can't think of anything that would be more appropriate for her."

"Neither can I," agreed Freckles heartily. "When I reach the city there's one other thing, if I've the money

He told McLean of Mrs. Duncan's desire for a hat similar to the Angel's. He hesitated a little in the telling,

keeping sharp watch on McLean's face. When he saw the Boss's eyes were full of comprehension and

sympathy, he loved him anew, for, as ever, McLean was quick to understand. Instead of laughing, he said: "I

think you'll have to let me in on that, too. You mustn't be selfish, you know. I'll tell you what we'll do. Send it

for Christmas. I'll be home then, and we can fill a box. You get the hat. I'll add a dress and wrap. You buy

Duncan a hat and gloves. I'll send him a big overcoat, and we'll put in a lot of little stuff for the babies. Won't

"That would be away too serious for fun," he said. "That would be heavenly. How long will it be?"

He began counting the time, and McLean deliberately set himself to encourage Freckles and keep his

thoughts from the trouble of the past few days, for he had been overwrought and needed quiet and rest.

A week later everything at the Limberlost was precisely as it had been before the tragedy, except the case in

Freckles' room now rested on the stump of the newly felled tree. Enough of the vines were left to cover it

prettily, and every vestige of the havoc of a few days before was gone. New guards were patrolling the trail.

CHAPTER XV. Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject 92

Freckles was roughly laying off the swamp in sections and searching for marked trees. In that time he had

found one deeply chipped and the chip cunningly replaced and tacked in. It promised to be quite rare, so he

was jubilant. He also found so many subjects for the Bird Woman that her coming was of almost daily

occurrence, and the hours he spent with her and the Angel were nothing less than golden.

The Limberlost was now arrayed as the Queen of Sheba in all her glory. The first frosts of autumn had

bejewelled her crown in flashing topaz, ruby, and emerald. Around her feet trailed the purple of her garments,

while in her hand was her golden scepter. Everything was at full tide. It seemed as if nothing could grow

lovelier, and it was all standing still a few weeks, waiting coming destruction.

The swamp was palpitant with life. Every pair of birds that had flocked to it in the spring was now multiplied

by from two to ten. The young were tame from Freckles' triparenthood, and so plump and sleek that they

were quite as beautiful as their elders, even if in many cases they lacked their brilliant plumage. It was the

same story of increase everywhere. There were chubby little groundhogs scudding on the trail. There were

cunning baby coons and opossums peeping from hollow logs and trees. Young muskrats followed their

If you could come upon a family of foxes that had not yet disbanded, and see the young playing with a wild

duck's carcass that their mother had brought, and note the pride and satisfaction in her eyes as she lay at one

side guarding them, it would be a picture not to be forgotten. Freckles never tired of studying the devotion of

a fox mother to her babies. To him, whose early life had been so embittered by continual proof of neglect and

cruelty in human parents toward their children, the love of these furred and feathered folk of the Limberlost

The Angel liked the baby rabbits and squirrels. Earlier in the season, when the young were yet very small, it

so happened that at times Freckles could give into her hands one of these little ones. Then it was pure joy to

stand back and watch her heaving breast, flushed cheek, and shining eyes. Hers were such lovely eyes.

Freckles had discovered lately that they were not so dark as he had thought them at first, but that the length

and thickness of lash, by which they were shaded, made them appear darker than they really were. They were

forever changing. Now sparkling and darkling with wit, now humid with sympathy, now burning with the fire

of courage, now taking on strength of color with ambition, now flashing indignantly at the abuse of any

She had carried several of the squirrel and bunny babies home, and had littered the conservatory with them.

Her care of them was perfect. She was learning her natural history from nature, and having much healthful

exercise. To her, they were the most interesting of all, but the Bird Woman preferred the birds, with a close

Brown butterfly time had come. The edge of the swale was filled with milkweed, and other plants beloved of

them, and the air was golden with the flashing satin wings of the monarch, viceroy, and argynnis. They

Among the birds it really seemed as if the little yellow fellows were in the preponderance. At least, they were

until the redwinged blackbirds and bobolinks, that had nested on the upland, suddenly saw in the swamp the

garden of the Lord and came swarming by hundreds to feast and adventure upon it these last few weeks

before migration. Never was there a finer feast spread for the birds. The grasses were filled with seeds: so,

too, were weeds of every variety. Fall berries were ripe. Wild grapes and black haws were ready. Bugs were

creeping everywhere. The muck was yeasty with worms. Insects filled the air. Nature made glorious pause for

holiday before her next change, and by none of the frequenters of the swamp was this more appreciated than

CHAPTER XV. Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject 93

They seemed to feel the new reign of peace and fullness most of all. As for food, they did not even have to

hunt for themselves these days, for the feasts now being spread before Little Chicken were more than he

He was a fine, big, overgrown fellow, and his wings, with quills of jetty black, gleaming with bronze, were so

strong they almost lifted his body. He had three inches of tail, and his beak and claws were sharp. His

muscles began to clamor for exercise. He raced the forty feet of his home back and forth many times every

hour of the day. After a few days of that, he began lifting and spreading his wings, and flopping them until

the down on his back was filled with elm fiber. Then he commenced jumping. The funny little hops, springs,

and sidewise bounds he gave set Freckles and the Angel, hidden in the swamp, watching him, into smothered

Sometimes he fell to coquetting with himself; and that was the funniest thing of all, for he turned his head up,

down, from side to side, and drew in his chin with prinky little jerks and tilts. He would stretch his neck,

throw up his head, turn it to one side and smirkactually smirk, the most complacent and selfsatisfied

smirk that anyone ever saw on the face of a bird. It was so comical that Freckles and the Angel told the Bird

When she finished her work on Little Chicken, she left them the camera ready for use, telling them they

might hide in the bushes and watch. If Little Chicken came out and truly smirked, and they could squeeze the

Freckles and the Angel quietly curled beside a big log, and with eager eyes and softest breathing they

patiently waited; but Little Chicken had feasted before they told of his latest accomplishment. He was tired

They were becoming anxious, for the light soon would be gone, and they had so wanted to try for the picture.

At last Little Chicken lifted his head, opened his beak, and gaped widely. He dozed a minute or two more.

The Angel said that was his beauty sleep. Then he lazily gaped again and stood up, stretching and yawning.

He ambled leisurely toward the gateway, and the Angel said: "Now, we may have a chance, at last."

With one accord they arose to their knees and trained their eyes on the mouth of the log. The light was full

and strong. Little Chicken prospected again with no results. He dressed his plumage, polished his beak, and

when he felt fine and in full toilet he began to flirt with himself. Freckles' eyes snapped and his breath sucked

"He's going to do it!" whispered the Angel. "That will come next. You'll best give me that bulb!"

"Yis," assented Freckles, but he was looking at the log and he made no move to relinquish the bulb.

Little Chicken nodded daintily and ruffled his feathers. He gave his head sundry little sidewise jerks and

rapidly shifted his point of vision. Once there was the fleeting little ghost of a smirk.

Freckles leaned toward the bird. Tensely he waited. Unconsciously the hand of the Angel clasped his. He

scarcely knew it was there. Suddenly Little Chicken sprang straight in the air and landed with a thud. The

Angel started slightly, but Freckles was immovable. Then, as if in approval of his last performance, the big,

overgrown baby wheeled until he was more than threequarters, almost full side, toward the camera,

CHAPTER XV. Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject 94

straightened on his legs, squared his shoulders, stretched his neck full height, drew in his chin and smirked

Freckles' fingers closed on the bulb convulsively, and the Angel's closed on his at the instant. Then she

heaved a great sigh of relief and lifted her hands to push back the damp, clustering hair from her face.

For the first time the Angel looked at him. He was on his knees, leaning forward, his eyes directed toward the

bird, the perspiration running in little streams down his red, mosquitobitten face. His hat was awry, his

bright hair rampant, his breast heaving with excitement, while he yet gripped the bulb with every ounce of

"Well, if that ain't the hardest work I ever did in me life!" he exclaimed. "It's no wonder the Bird Woman's for

coming out of the swamp looking as if she's been through a fire, a flood, and a famine, if that's what she goes

through day after day. But if you think we got it, why, it's worth all it took, and I'm glad as ever you are,

They put the holders in the case, carefully closed the camera, set it in also, and carried it to the road.

"Now, let's be telling the Bird Woman about it!" he shouted, wildly dancing and swinging his hat.

Hand in hand they ran to the north end of the swamp, yelling "We got it!" like young Comanches, and never

gave a thought to what they might do until a big bluegray bird, with long neck and trailing legs, arose on

The Angel became white to the lips and gripped Freckles with both hands. He gulped with mortification and

To frighten her subject away carelessly! It was the head crime in the Bird Woman's category. She extended

her hands as she arose, baked, blistered, and dripping, and exclaimed: "Bless you, my children! Bless you!"

"You must be for blaming it every bit on me. I was thinking we got Little Chicken's picture real good. I was

so drunk with the joy of it I lost all me senses and, `Let's run tell the Bird Woman,' says I. Like a fool I was

"Oh Freckles!" expostulated the Angel. "Are you loony? Of course, it was all my fault! I've been with her

hundreds of times. I knew perfectly well that I wasn't to let anythingNOT ANYTHINGscare her bird

CHAPTER XV. Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject 95

away! I was so crazy I forgot. The blame is all mine, and she'll never forgive me."

"She will, too!" cried Freckles. "Wasn't you for telling me that very first day that when people scared her

birds away she just killed them! It's all me foolishness, and I'll never forgive meself!"

The Bird Woman plunged into the swale at the mouth of Sleepy Snake Creek, and came wading toward them,

"If you will permit me a word, my infants," she said, "I will explain to you that I have had three shots at that

"Two of them," continued the Bird Woman, "in the rushesone facing, crest lowered; one light on back,

crest flared; and the last on wing, when you came up. I simply had been praying for something to make him

arise from that side, so that he would fly toward the camera, for he had waded around until in my position I

couldn't do it myself. See? Behold in yourselves the answer to the prayers of the longsuffering!"

"Are you really meaning that?" he asked wonderingly. "Only think, Angel, we did the right thing! She won't

lose her picture through the carelessness of us, when she's waited and soaked nearly two hours. She's not

"Never was in a sweeter temper in my life," said the Bird Woman, busily cleaning and packing the cameras.

Freckles removed his hat and solemnly held out his hand. With equal solemnity the Angel grasped it. The

Bird Woman laughed alone, for to them the situation had been too serious to develop any of the elements of

Then they loaded the carriage, and the Bird Woman and the Angel started for their homes. It had been a

difficult time for all of them, so they were very tired, but they were joyful. Freckles was so happy it seemed

to him that life could hold little more. As the Bird Woman was ready to drive away he laid his hand on the

"Do you suppose we got it?" he asked, so eagerly that she would have given much to be able to say yes with

"Why, my dear, I don't know," she said. "I've no way to judge. If you made the exposure just before you came

to me, there was yet a fine light. If you waited until Little Chicken was close the entrance, you should have

something good, even if you didn't catch just the fleeting expression for which you hoped. Of course, I can't

say surely, but I think there is every reason to believe that you have it all right. I will develop the plate

tonight, make you a proof from it early in the morning, and bring it when we come. It's only a question of a

day or two now until the gang arrives. I want to work in all the studies I can before that time, for they are

bound to disturb the birds. Mr. McLean will need you then, and I scarcely see how we are to do without you."

Moved by an impulse she never afterward regretted, she bent and laid her lips on Freckles' forehead, kissing

him gently and thanking him for his many kindnesses to her in her loved work. Freckles started away so

happy that he felt inclined to keep watching behind to see if the trail were not curling up and rolling down the

CHAPTER XV. Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject 96

From afar Freckles saw them coming. The Angel was standing, waving her hat. He sprang on his wheel and

raced, jolting and pounding, down the corduroy to meet them. The Bird Woman stopped the horse and the

Angel gave him the bit of print paper. Freckles leaned the wheel against a tree and took the proof with eager

fingers. He never before had seen a study from any of his chickens. He stood staring. When he turned his face

"You see!" he exclaimed, and began gazing again. "Oh, me Little Chicken!" he cried. "Oh me ilegant Little

Then he thought of the Angel's muff and Mrs. Duncan's hat, and added, "or at least, all but what I'm needing

bad for something else. Would you mind stopping at the cabin a minute and showing this to Mother

She folded the outer edges of the proof so that it would fit into the book, explaining as she did so its

perishable nature in that state. Freckles went hurrying ahead, and they arrived in time to see Mrs. Duncan

Freckles and the Angel helped the Bird Woman to establish herself for a long day at the mouth of Sleepy

"Now, what shall we do?" inquired the Angel, who was a bundle of nerves and energy.

"If you don't care to very much, I'd rather not," said the Angel. "I'll tell you. Let's go help Mrs. Duncan with

They started toward the cabin. Every few minutes they stopped to investigate something or to chatter over

some natural history wonder. The Angel had quick eyes; she seemed to see everything, but Freckles' were

even quicker; for life itself had depended on their sharpness ever since the beginning of his work at the

"Someone has been making a flagpole," said the Angel, running the toe of her shoe around the stump,

evidently made that season. "Freckles, what would anyone cut a tree as small as that for?"

"Well, but I want to know!" said the Angel. "No one came away here and cut it for fun. They've taken it

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 that big maple."

"Yes, and leaning there has killed a patch of dried bark," said the Angel. "See how dried it appears?"

"Course it is!" cried the Angel. "No one would cut that sapling and carry it away there and lean it up for

nothing. I'll tell you! This is one of Jack's marked trees. He's climbed up there above anyone's head, peeled

the bark, and cut into the grain enough to be sure. Then he's laid the bark back and fastened it with that pole

to mark it. You see, there're a lot of other big maples close around it. Can you climb to that place?"

"Then take them off," said the Angel, "and do hurry! Can't you see that I am almost crazy to know if this tree

When they pushed the sapling over, a piece of bark as big as the crown of Freckles' hat fell away.

"I believe it looks kind of nubby," encouraged the Angel, backing away, with her face all screwed into a twist

Freckles reached the opening, then slid rapidly to the ground. He was almost breathless while his eyes were

"The bark's been cut clean with a knife, the sap scraped away, and a big chip taken out deep. The trunk is the

"But I didn't," said the astonished Freckles. "That tree isn't my find; it's yours. I forgot it and was going on;

you wouldn't give up, and kept talking about it, and turned back. You found it!"

"You'd best be looking after your reputation for truth and veracity," said the Angel. "You know you saw that

The clear, ringing echo of strongly swung axes came crashing through the Limberlost.

"'Tis the gang!" shouted Freckles. "They're clearing a place to make the camp. Let's go help!"

"Hadn't we better mark that tree again?" cautioned the Angel. "It's away in here. There's such a lot of them,

"Use your hatchet," she said. "I predict this is the most valuable tree in the swamp. You found it. I'm going to

She reached up, and pulling a blue bow from her hair, untied and doubled it against the tree. Freckles turned

his eyes from her and managed the fastening with shaking fingers. The Angel had called him her knight! Dear

Lord, how he loved her! She must not see his face, or surely her quick eyes would read what he was fighting

to hide. He did not dare lay his lips on that ribbon then, but that night he would return to it. When they had

gone a little distance, they both looked back, and the morning breeze set the bit of blue waving them a

"I am sorry about scaring the birds," said the Angel, "but it's almost time for them to go anyway. I feel

dreadfully over having the swamp ruined, but isn't it a delight to hear the good, honest ring of those axes,

instead of straining your ears for stealthy sounds? Isn't it fine to go openly and freely, with nothing worse

"Ah!" said Freckles, with a long breath, "it's better than you can dream, Angel. Nobody will ever be guessing

some of the things I've been through trying to keep me promise to the Boss, and to hold out until this day.

That it's come with only one fresh stump, and the log from that saved, and this new tree to report, isn't it

grand? Maybe Mr. McLean will be forgetting that stump when he sees this tree, Angel!"

"He can't forget it," said the Angel; and in answer to Freckles' startled eyes she added, "because he never had

any reason to remember it. He couldn't have done a whit better himself. My father says so. You're all right,

She reached him her hand, and as two children, they broke into a run when they came closer the gang. They

left the swamp by the west road and followed the trail until they found the men. To the Angel it seemed

complete charm. In the shadiest spot on the west side of the line, at the edge of the swamp and very close

Freckles' room, they were cutting bushes and clearing space for a big tent for the men's sleepingquarters,

another for a dininghall, and a board shack for the cook. The teamsters were unloading, the horses were

cropping leaves from the bushes, while each man was doing his part toward the construction of the new

Freckles helped the Angel climb on a wagonload of canvas in the shade. She removed her leggings, wiped

The gang had been sifted carefully. McLean now felt that there was not a man 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 that time, had heard the tale rehearsed in its every aspect around the smudgefires at

night. Almost all of them knew the Angel by sight from her trips with the Bird Woman to their leases. They

all knew her father, her position, and the luxuries of her home. Whatever course she had chosen with them

they scarcely would have resented it, but the Angel never had been known to choose a course. Her spirit of

friendliness was inborn and inbred. She loved everyone, so she sympathized with everyone. Her generosity

She came down the trail, hand in hand with the redhaired, freckled timber guard whom she had worn herself

past the limit of endurance to save only a few weeks before, racing in her eagerness to reach them, and

laughing her "Good morning, gentlemen," right and left. When she was ensconced on the wagonload of

tenting, she sat on a roll of canvas as a queen on her throne. There was not a man of the gang who did not

respect her. She was a living exponent of universal brotherhood. There was no man among them who needed

her exquisite face or dainty clothing to teach him that the deference due a gentlewoman should be paid her.

That the spirit of good fellowship she radiated levied an especial tribute of its own, and it became their

As they raced toward the wagon"Let me tell about the tree, please?" she begged Freckles.

He probably would have said the same to anything she suggested. When McLean came, he found the Angel

flushed and glowing, sitting on the wagon, her hands already filled. One of the men, who was cutting a

scruboak, had carried to her a handful of crimson leaves. Another had gathered a bunch of delicate

marshgrass heads for her. Someone else, in taking out a bush, had found a daintily built and lined little nest,

She held up her treasures and greeted McLean, "Good morning, Mr. Boss of the Limberlost!"

"Everyone listen!" cried the Angel, climbing a roll of canvas. "I have something to say! Freckles has been

guarding here over a year now, and he presents the Limberlost to you, with every tree in it saved; for good

measure he has this morning located the rarest one of them all: the one in from the east line, that Wessner

spoke of the first daynearest the one you took out. All together! Everyone! Hurrah for Freckles!"

With flushing cheeks and gleaming eyes, gaily waving the grass above her head, she led in three cheers and a

tiger. Freckles slipped into the swamp and hid himself, for fear he could not conceal his pride and his great

The Angel subsided on the canvas and explained to McLean about the maple. The Boss was mightily pleased.

He took Freckles and set out to relocate and examine the tree. The Angel was interested in the making of the

camp, so she preferred to remain with the men. With her sharp eyes she was watching every detail of

construction; but when it came to the stretching of the dininghall canvas she proceeded to take command.

The men were driving the ropepins, when the Angel arose on the wagon and, leaning forward, spoke to

"I believe if you will swing that around a few feet farther, you will find it better, Mr. Duncan," she said. "That

way will let the hot sun in at noon, while the sides will cut off the best breeze."

So, by shifting the pins a little, they obtained comfort for which they blessed the Angel every day. When they

came to the sleepingtent, they consulted her about that. She explained the general direction of the night

breeze and indicated the best position for the tent. Before anyone knew how it happened, the Angel was

standing on the wagon, directing the location and construction of the cookingshack, the erection of the crane

for the big boilingpots, and the building of the storeroom. She superintended the laying of the floor of the

sleepingtent lengthwise, So that it would be easier to sweep, and suggested a new arrangement of the cots

that would afford all the men an equal share of night breeze. She left the wagon, and climbing on the newly

erected diningtable, advised with the cook in placing his stove, table, and kitchen utensils.

When Freckles returned from the tree to join in the work around the camp, he caught glimpses of her

enthroned on a soapbox, cleaning beans. She called to him that they were invited for dinner, and that they had

When the beans were steaming in the pot, the Angel advised the cook to soak them overnight the next time,

so that they would cook more quickly and not burst. She was sure their cook at home did that way, and the

CHEF of the gang thought it would be a good idea. The next Freckles saw of her she was paring potatoes. A

She swept it with a broom, instead of laying a cloth; took the hatchet and hammered the deepest dents from

the tin plates, and nearly skinned her fingers scouring the tinware with rushes. She set the plates an even

distance apart, and laid the forks and spoons beside them. When the cook threw away half a dozen fruitcans,

she gathered them up and melted off the tops, although she almost blistered her face and quite blistered her

fingers doing it. Then she neatly covered these improvised vases with the Manila paper from the groceries,

tying it with wisps of marshgrass. These she filled with fringed gentians, blazingstar, asters, goldenrod, and

ferns, placing them the length of the diningtable. In one of the end cans she arranged her red leaves, and in

the other the fancy grass. Two men, watching her, went away proud of themselves and said that she was "a

born lady." She laughingly caught up a paper bag and fitted it jauntily to her head in imitation of a cook's cap.

Then she ground the coffee, and beat a couple of eggs to put in, "because there is company," she gravely

explained to the cook. She asked that delighted individual if he did not like it best that way, and he said he

did not know, because he never had a chance to taste it. The Angel said that was her case exactlyshe never

had, either; she was not allowed anything stronger than milk. Then they laughed together.

She told the cook about camping with her father, and explained that he made his coffee that way. When the

steam began to rise from the big boiler, she stuffed the spout tightly with clean marshgrass, to keep the aroma

in, placed the boiler where it would only simmer, and explained why. The influence of the Angel's visit

lingered with the cook through the remainder of his life, while the men prayed for her frequent return.

She was having a happy time, when McLean came back jubilant, from his trip to the tree. How jubilant he

told only the Angel, for he had been obliged to lose faith in some trusted men of late, and had learned

discretion by what he suffered. He planned to begin clearing out a road to the tree that same afternoon, and to

set two guards every night, for it promised to be a rare treasure, so he was eager to see it on the way to the

"I am coming to see it felled," cried the Angel. "I feel a sort of motherly interest in that tree."

McLean was highly amused. He would have staked his life on the honesty of either the Angel or Freckles; yet

"Tell me, Angel," the Boss said jestingly. "I think I have a right to know. Who really did locate that tree?"

The Angel's legal look flashed into her face. Her eyes grew tense with earnestness. She glanced around, and

seeing no towel or basin, held out her hand for Sears to pour water over them. Then, using the skirt of her

"I'll tell you, word for word, how it happened," she said, "and then you shall decide, and Freckles and I will

When she had finished her version, "Tell us, `oh, most learned judge!'" she laughingly quoted, "which of us

"Blest if I know who located it!" exclaimed McLean. "But I have a fairly accurate idea as to who put the blue

The Boss smiled significantly at Freckles, who just had come, for they had planned that they would instruct

the company to reserve enough of the veneer from that very tree to make the most beautiful dressing table

"If it's all the same to you, I'll be taking mine out in music lessons begging your pardonvoice culture,"

McLean laughed, for Freckles needed to see or hear only once to absorb learning as the thirsty earth sucks up

The Angel placed McLean at the head of the table. She took the foot, with Freckles on her right, while the

lumber gang, washed, brushed, and straightened until they felt unfamiliar with themselves and each other,

filled the sides. That imposed a slight constraint. Then, too, the men were afraid of the flowers, the polished

tableware, and above all, of the dainty grace of the Angel. Nowhere do men so display lack of good breeding

and culture as in dining. To sprawl on the table, scoop with their knives, chew loudly, gulp coffee, and duck

their heads as snappingturtles for every bite, had not been noticed by them until the Angel, sitting straightly,

suddenly made them remember that they, too, were possessed of spines. Instinctively every man at the table

To reach the tree was a more difficult task than McLean had supposed. The gang could approach nearest on

the outside toward the east, but after they reached the end of the east entrance there was yet a mile of most

impenetrable thicket, trees big and little, and bushes of every variety and stage of growth. In many places the

muck had to be filled to give the horses and wagons a solid foundation over which to haul heavy loads. It was

several days before they completed a road to the noble, big tree and were ready to fell it.

When the sawing began, Freckles was watching down the road where it met the trail leading from Little

Chicken's tree. He had gone to the tree ahead of the gang to remove the blue ribbon. Carefully folded, it now

lay over his heart. He was promising himself much comfort with that ribbon, when he would leave for the

city next month to begin his studies and dream the summer over again. It would help to make things tangible.

When he was dressed as other men, and at his work, he knew where he meant to home that precious bit of

blue. It should be his goodluck token, and he would wear it always to keep bright in memory the day on

How he would study, and oh, how he would sing! If only he could fulfill McLean's expectations, and make

He could not understand why the Angel had failed to come. She had wanted to see their tree felled. She

would be too late if she did not arrive soon. He had told her it would be ready that morning, and she had said

McLean had ridden to town. If he had been there, Freckles would have asked that they delay the felling, but

he scarcely liked to ask the gang. He really had no authority, although he thought the men would wait; but

some way he found such embarrassment in framing the request that he waited until the work was practically

ended. The saw was out, and the men were cutting into the felling side of the tree when the Boss rode in.

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 102

His first word was to inquire for the Angel. When Freckles said she had not yet come, the Boss at once gave

orders to stop work on the tree until she arrived; for he felt that she virtually had located it, and if she desired

to see it felled, she should. As the men stepped back, a stiff morning breeze caught the top, that towered high

above its fellows. There was an ominous grinding at the base, a shiver of the mighty trunk, then directly in

line of its fall the bushes swung apart and the laughing face of the Angel looked on them.

A groan of horror burst from the dry throats of the men, and reading the agony in their faces, she stopped

The Angel was helpless. It was apparent that she did not know which way south was. There was another slow

shiver of the big tree. The remainder of the gang stood motionless, but Freckles sprang past the trunk and

went leaping in big bounds. He caught up the Angel and dashed through the thicket for safety. The swaying

trunk was half over when, for an instant, a nearby tree stayed its fall. They saw Freckles' foot catch, and

A terrible cry broke from the men, while McLean covered his face. Instantly Freckles was up, with the Angel

in his arms, struggling on. The outer limbs were on them when they saw Freckles hurl the Angel, face down,

in the muck, as far from him as he could send her. Springing after, in an attempt to cover her body with his

own, he whirled to see if they were yet in danger, and with outstretched arms braced himself for the shock.

McLean and Duncan ran with axes and saws. The remainder of the gang followed, and they worked

desperately. It seemed a long time before they caught a glimpse of the Angel's blue dress, but it renewed their

vigor. Duncan fell on his knees beside her and tore the muck from underneath her with his hands. In a few

Freckles lay a little farther under the tree, a big limb pinning him down. His eyes were wide open. He was

"You can't be moving me," he said. "You must cut off the limb and lift it. I know."

Two men ran for the big saw. A number of them laid hold of the limb and bore up. In a short time it was

Then he twisted his head until he saw the Angel, who was wiping muck from her eyes and face on the skirt of

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 103

The Angel yielded herself to McLean's touch, and he assured Freckles that she was not seriously injured.

A pitiful spasm swept Freckles' face. The sight of it washed every vestige of color from the Angel's. She took

She knelt beside him. He reached his arm around her and drew her closely. He looked at McLean in an agony

"Oh, Freckles!" McLean cried. "Not that! Surely we can do something! We must! Let me see!"

He tried to unfasten Freckles' neckband, but his fingers shook so clumsily that the Angel pushed them away

and herself laid Freckles' chest bare. With one hasty glance she gathered the clothing together and slipped her

"They are all here," said the Boss, "except a couple who have gone for doctors, Mrs. Duncan and the Bird

"It's no use trying to do anything," said Freckles. "You won't forget the muff and the Christmas box. The

There was a movement above them so pronounced that it attracted Freckles' attention, even in that extreme

"Why, if it ain't me Little Chicken!" he cried hoarsely. "He must be making his very first trip from the log.

"It was Little Chicken that made me late," faltered the Angel. "I was so anxious to get here early I forgot to

bring his breakfast from the carriage. He must have been hungry, for when I passed the log he started after

me. He was so wabbly, and so slow flying from tree to tree and through the bushes, I just had to wait on him,

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 104

"Of course you couldn't! Me bird has too amazing good sinse to go back when he could be following you,"

exulted Freckles, exactly as if he did not realize what the delay had cost him. Then he lay silently thinking,

but presently he asked slowly: "And so `twas me Little Chicken that was making you late, Angel?"

A spasm of fierce pain shook Freckles, and a look of uncertainty crossed his face.

"All summer I've been thanking God for the falling of the feather and all the delights it's brought me," he

"I can't help being Irish, but I can help being superstitious," he said. "I mustn't be laying it to the Almighty, or

"No, dear lad," said McLean, stroking the brilliant hair. "The choice lay with you. You could have stood a

rooted dolt like all the remainder of us. It was through your great love and your high courage that you made

"Don't you be so naming it, sir!" cried Freckles. "It's just the reverse. If I could be giving me body the

hundred times over to save hers from this, I'd be doing it and take joy with every pain."

He turned with a smile of adoring tenderness to the Angel. She was ghastly white, and her eyes were dull and

glazed. She scarcely seemed to hear or understand what was coming, but she bravely tried to answer that

Instantly she laid her lips on his forehead, then on each cheek, and then in a long kiss on his lips.

"Freckles," he said brokenly, "you will never know how I love you. You won't go without saying goodbye

That word stung the Angel to quick comprehension. She started as if arousing from sleep.

"Goodbye?" she cried sharply, her eyes widening and the color rushing into her white face. "Goodbye!

Why, what do you mean? Who's saying goodbye? Where could Freckles go, when he is hurt like this, save

to the hospital? You needn't say goodbye for that. Of course, we will all go with him! You call up the men.

"It's no use, Angel," said Freckles. "I'm thinking ivry bone in me breast is smashed. You'll have to be letting

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 105

"I will not," said the Angel flatly. "It's no use wasting precious time talking about it. You are alive. You are

breathing; and no matter how badly your bones are broken, what are great surgeons for but to fix you up and

make you well again? You promise me that you'll just grit your teeth and hang on when we hurt you, for we

must start with you as quickly as it can be done. I don't know what has been the matter with me. Here's good

"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

"Of course you will, if you make up your mind to do it," said the Angel. "But if you are determined you

won't, and set yourself to breathing deep and strong, and hang on to me tight, I can get you out. Really you

must, Freckles, no matter how it hurts, for you did this for me, and now I must save you, so you might as well

"Angel, darlin' Angel," he pleaded, taking her hand in his. "You ain't understanding, and I can't for the life of

me be telling you, but indade, it's best to be letting me go. This is my chance. Please say goodbye, and let

"Dear Boss, you know! You be telling her that, for me, living is far worse pain than dying. Tell her you know

She caught Freckles' hand to her breast, and bending over him, looked deeply into his stricken eyes.

"`Angel, I give you my word of honor that I will keep right on breathing.' That's what you are going to

"Then that's all right," she said, with a tinge of her old time briskness. "You just keep breathing away like a

"It's going to be a tough pull to get Freckles out," she said, "but it's our only chance, so listen closely and

don't for the lives of you fail me in doing quickly what I tell you. There's no time to spend falling down over

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 106

each other; we must have some system. You four there get on those wagon horses and ride to the

sleepingtent. Get the stoutest cot, a couple of comforts, and a pillow. Ride back with them some way to save

time. If you meet any other men of the gang, send them here to help carry the cot. We won't risk the jolt of

driving with him. The others clear a path out to the road; and Mr. McLean, you take Nellie and ride to town.

Tell my father how Freckles is hurt and that he risked it to save me. Tell him I'm going to take Freckles to

Chicago on the noon train, and I want him to hold it if we are a little late. If he can't, then have a special ready

at the station and another on the Pittsburgh at Fort Wayne, so we can go straight through. You needn't mind

She dropped into the muck beside Freckles and began stroking his hair and hand. He lay with his face of

agony turned to hers, and fought to smother the groans that would tell her what he was suffering.

When they stood ready to lift him, the Angel bent over him in a passion of tenderness.

"Dear old Limberlost guard, we're going to lift you now," she said. "I suspect you will faint from the pain of

it, but we will be as easy as ever we can, and don't you dare forget your promise!"

"You can," said the Angel stoutly, "because a promise means so much more to you than it does to most men."

With the first touch his eyes closed, a mighty groan was wrenched from him, and he lay senseless. The Angel

gave Duncan one panic stricken look. Then she set her lips and gathered her forces again.

"I guess that's a good thing," she said. "Maybe he won't feel how we are hurting him. Oh boys, are you being

She stepped to the side of the cot and bathed Freckles' face. Taking his hand in hers, she gave the word to

start. She told the men to ask every ablebodied man they met to join them so that they could change carriers

The Bird Woman insisted upon taking the Angel into the carriage and following the cot, but she refused to

leave Freckles, and suggested that the Bird Woman drive ahead, pack them some clothing, and be at the

station ready to accompany them to Chicago. All the way the Angel walked beside the cot, shading Freckles'

face with a branch, and holding his hand. At every pause to change carriers she moistened his face and lips

She scarcely knew when her father joined them, and taking the branch from her, slipped an arm around her

waist and almost carried her. To the city streets and the swarm of curious, staring faces she paid no more

attention than she had to the trees of the Limberlost. When the train came and the gang placed Freckles

With the best physician to be found, and with the Bird Woman and McLean in attendance, the fourhours'

run to Chicago began. The Angel constantly watched over Freckles; bathed his face, stroked his hand, and

gently fanned him. Not for an instant would she yield her place, or allow anyone else to do anything for him.

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 107

The Bird Woman and McLean regarded her in amazement. There seemed to be no end to her resources and

courage. The only time she spoke was to ask McLean if he were sure the special would be ready on the

At five o'clock Freckles lay stretched on the operatingtable of Lake View Hospital, while three of the

greatest surgeons in Chicago bent over him. At their command, McLean picked up the unwilling Angel and

carried her to the nurses to be bathed, have her bruises attended, and to be put to bed.

In a place where it is difficult to surprise people, they were astonished women as they removed the Angel's

dainty stained and torn clothing, drew off hose muckbaked to her limbs, soaked the dried loam from her

silken hair, and washed the beautiful scratched, bruised, dirtcovered body. The Angel fell fast asleep long

before they had finished, and lay deeply unconscious, while the fight for Freckles' life was being waged.

Three days later she was the same Angel as of old, except that Freckles was constantly in her thoughts. The

anxiety and responsibility that she felt for his condition had bred in her a touch of womanliness and authority

that was new. That morning she arose early and hovered near Freckles' door. She had been allowed to remain

with him constantly, for the nurses and surgeons had learned, with his returning consciousness, that for her

alone would the active, highly strung, painracked sufferer be quiet and obey orders. When she was dropping

from loss of sleep, the threat that she would fall ill had to be used to send her to bed. Then by telling Freckles

that the Angel was asleep and they would waken her the moment he moved, they were able to control him for

The surgeon was with Freckles. The Angel had been told that the word he brought that morning would be

final, so she curled in a window seat, dropped the curtains behind her, and in dire anxiety, waited the opening

Just as it unclosed, McLean came hurrying down the hall and to the surgeon, but with one glance at his face

he stepped back in dismay; while the Angel, who had arisen, sank to the seat again, too dazed to come

forward. The men faced each other. The Angel, with parted lips and frightened eyes, bent forward in tense

"He bore the operation well," replied the surgeon, "and his wounds are not necessarily fatal. I told you that

yesterday, but I did not tell you that something else probably would kill him; and it will. He need not die

"But why? What is it?" asked McLean hurriedly. "We all dearly love the boy. We have millions among us to

do anything that money can accomplish. Why must he die, if those broken bones are not the cause?"

"That is what I am going to give you the opportunity to tell me," replied the surgeon. "He need not die from

the accident, yet he is dying as fast as his splendid physical condition will permit, and it is because he so

evidently prefers death to life. If he were full of hope and ambition to live, my work would be easy. If all of

you love him as you prove you do, and there is unlimited means to give him anything he wants, why should

"He is," said the surgeon. "He will not live this day out, unless some strong reaction sets in at once. He is so

low, that preferring death to life, nature cannot overcome his inertia. If he is to live, he must be made to

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 108

His broad shoulders shook convulsively. His strong hands opened and closed mechanically.

"Does that mean that you know what he desires and cannot, or will not, supply it?"

"It means," he said desperately, "that I know what he wants, but it is as far removed from my power to help

him as it would be to give him a star. The thing for which he will die, he can never have."

"Then you must prepare for the end very shortly" said the surgeon, turning abruptly away.

"You look here!" he cried in desperation. "You say that as if I could do something if I would. I tell you the

boy is dear to me past expression. I would do anythingspend any sum. You have noticed and repeatedly

commented on the young girl with me. It is that child that he wants! He worships her to adoration, and

knowing he can never be anything to her, he prefers death to life. In God's name, what can I do about it?"

"Barring that missing hand, I never examined a finer man," said the surgeon, "and she seemed perfectly

"Why?" echoed McLean. "Why? Well, for many reasons! I told you he was my son. You probably knew that

he was not. A little over a year ago I never had seen him. He joined one of my lumber gangs from the road.

He is a stray, left at one of your homes for the friendless here in Chicago. When he grew up the

superintendent bound him to a brutal man. He ran away and landed in one of my lumber camps. He has no

name or knowledge of legal birth. The Angelwe have talked of her. You see what she is, physically and

mentally. She has ancestors reaching back to Plymouth Rock, and across the sea for generations before that.

She is an idolized, petted only child, and there is great wealth. Life holds everything for her, nothing for him.

He sees it more plainly than anyone else could. There is nothing for the boy but death, if it is the Angel that is

"Well, I just guess not!" she cried. "If Freckles wants me, all he has to do is to say so, and he can have me!"

"That he will never say," said McLean at last, "and you don't understand, Angel. I don't know how you came

here. I wouldn't have had you hear that for the world, but since you have, dear girl, you must be told that it

The Angel looked straight into the great surgeon's eyes with her clear, steady orbs of blue, and then into

CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body 109

"You don't understand," he reiterated patiently. "It isn't the love of a friend, or a comrade, or a sister, that

Freckles wants from you; it is the love of a sweetheart. And if to save the life he has offered for you, you are

thinking of being generous and impulsive enough to sacrifice your futurein the absence of your father, it

will become my plain duty, as the protector in whose hands he has placed you, to prevent such rashness. The

very words you speak, and the manner in which you say them, prove that you are a mere child, and have not

Then the Angel grew splendid. A rosy flush swept the pallor of fear from her face. Her big eyes widened and

dilated with intense lights. She seemed to leap to the height and the dignity of superb womanhood before

"I never have had to dream of love," she said proudly. "I never have known anything else, in all my life, but

to love everyone and to have everyone love me. And there never has been anyone so dear as Freckles. If you

will remember, we have been through a good deal together. I do love Freckles, just as I say I do. I don't know

anything about the love of sweethearts, but I love him with all the love in my heart, and I think that will

McLean reached to take hold of the Angel, but she saw the movement and swiftly stepped back.

"As for my father," she continued, "he at once told me what he learned from you about Freckles. I've known

all you know for several weeks. That knowledge didn't change your love for him a particle. I think the Bird

Woman loved him more. Why should you two have all the fine perceptions there are? Can't I see how brave,

trustworthy, and splendid he is? Can't I see how his soul vibrates with his music, his love of beautiful things

and the pangs of loneliness and heart hunger? Must you two love him with all the love there is, and I give

him none? My father is never unreasonable. He won't expect me not to love Freckles, or not to tell him so, if

She darted past McLean into Freckles' room, closed the door, and turned the key.

Freckles lay on a flat pillow, his body immovable in a plaster cast, his maimed arm, as always, hidden. His

greedy gaze fastened at once on the Angel's face. She crossed to him with light step and bent over him with

infinite tenderness. Her heart ached at the change in his appearance. He seemed so weak, heart hungry, so

utterly hopeless, so alone. She could see that the night had been one long terror.

For the first time she tried putting herself in Freckles' place. What would it mean to have no parents, no

home, no name? No name! That was the worst of all. That was to be lostindeedutterly and hopelessly

lost. The Angel lifted her hands to her dazed head and reeled, as she tried to face that proposition. She

dropped on her knees beside the bed, slipped her arm under the pillow, and leaning over Freckles, set her lips

on his forehead. He smiled faintly, but his wistful face appeared worse for it. It hurt the Angel to the heart.

"Dear Freckles," she said, "there is a story in your eyes this morning, tell me?"

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 110

"Angel," he begged, "be generous! Be thinking of me a little. I'm so homesick and worn out, dear Angel, be

"Why Freckles!" faltered the Angel. "You don't know what you are asking. `Let you go!' I cannot! I love you

better than anyone, Freckles. I think you are the very finest person I ever knew. I have our lives all planned. I

want you to be educated and learn all there is to know about singing, just as soon as you are well enough. By

the time you have completed your education I will have finished college, and then I want," she choked a

second, "I want you to be my real knight, Freckles, and come to me and tell me that youlike mea little. I

have been counting on you for my sweetheart from the very first, Freckles. I can't give you up, unless you

Freckles lay whiter than the coverlet, his staring eyes on the ceiling and his breath wheezing between dry lips.

The Angel awaited his answer a second, and when none came, she dropped her crimsoning face beside him

"Freckles, II'm trying to make love to you. Oh, can't you help me only a little bit? It's awful hard all alone!

I don't know how, when I really mean it, but Freckles, I love you. I must have you, and now I guessI guess

She lifted her shamed face and bravely laid her feverish, quivering lips on his. Her breath, like cloverbloom,

was in his nostrils, and her hair touched his face. Then she looked into his eyes with reproach.

"Yes," said the Angel. "Downright mean. When I kiss you, if you had any mercy at all you'd kiss back, just a

Freckles' sinewy fist knotted into the coverlet. His chin pointed ceilingward while his head rocked on the

"Oh, Jesus!" burst from him in agony. "You ain't the only one that was crucified!"

"Freckles!" she wailed in terror, "Freckles! It is a mistake? Is it that you don't want me?"

The Angel arose with controlled features. She bathed his face, straightened his hair, and held water to his lips.

It seemed a long time before he reached toward her. Instantly she knelt again, carried his hand to her breast,

"If I can," said Freckles in agony. "It's just this. Angels are from above. Outcasts are from below. You've a

sound body and you're beautifulest of all. You have everything that loving, careful raising and money can

give you. I have so much less than nothing that I don't suppose I had any right to be born. It's a sure

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 111

thingnobody wanted me afterward, so of course, they didn't before. Some of them should have been telling

"If that's all you have to say, Freckles, I've known that quite a while," said the Angel stoutly. "Mr. McLean

told my father, and he told me. That only makes me love you more, to pay for all you've missed."

"Then I'm wondering at you," said Freckles in a voice of awe. "Can't you see that if you were willing and

your father would come and offer you to me, I couldn't be touching the soles of your feet, in loveme,

whose people brawled over me, cut off me hand, and throwed me away to freeze and to die! Me, who has no

name just as much because I've no RIGHT to any, as because I don't know it. When I was little, I planned to

find me father and mother when I grew up. Now I know me mother deserted me, and me father was maybe a

thief and surely a liar. The pity for me suffering and the watching over me have gone to your head, dear

Angel, and it's me must be thinking for you. If you could be forgetting me lost hand, where I was raised, and

that I had no name to give you, and if you would be taking me as I am, some day people such as mine must

be, might come upon you. I used to pray ivery night and morning and many times the day to see me mother.

Now I only pray to die quickly and never risk the sight of her. 'Tain't no ways possible, Angel! It's a wildness

of your dear head. Oh, do for mercy sake, kiss me once more and be letting me go!"

"Not for a minute!" cried the Angel. "Not for a minute, if those are all the reasons you have. It's you who are

wild in your head, but I can understand just how it happened. Being shut in that Home most of your life, and

seeing children every day whose parents did neglect and desert them, makes you sure yours did the same; and

yet there are so many other things that could have happened so much more easily than that. There are

thousands of young couples who come to this country and start a family with none of their relatives here.

Chicago is a big, wicked city, and grown people could disappear in many ways, and who would there ever be

to find to whom their little children belonged? The minute my father told me how you felt, I began to study

this thing over, and I've made up my mind you are dead wrong. I meant to ask my father or the Bird Woman

to talk to you before you went away to school, but as matters are right now I guess I'll just do it myself. It's all

"Now I have it!" she cried. "Oh, dear heart! I can make it so plain! Freckles, can you imagine you see the old

Limberlost trail? Well when we followed it, you know there were places where ugly, prickly thistles

overgrew the path, and you went ahead with your club and bent them back to keep them from stinging

through my clothing. Other places there were big shining pools where lovely, snowwhite lilies grew, and

you waded in and gathered them for me. Oh dear heart, don't you see? It's this! Everywhere the wind carried

that thistledown, other thistles sprang up and grew prickles; and wherever those lily seeds sank to the mire,

the pure white of other lilies bloomed. But, Freckles, there was never a place anywhere in the Limberlost, or

in the whole world, where the thistledown floated and sprang up and blossomed into white lilies! Thistles

grow from thistles, and lilies from other lilies. Dear Freckles, think hard! You must see it! You are a lily,

"Where did you find the courage to go into the Limberlost and face its terrors? You inherited it from the

blood of a brave father, dear heart. Where did you get the pluck to hold for over a year a job that few men

would have taken at all? You got it from a plucky mother, you bravest of boys. You attacked singlehanded a

man almost twice your size, and fought as a demon, merely at the suggestion that you be deceptive and

dishonest. Could your mother or your father have been untruthful? Here you are, so hungry and starved that

you are dying for love. Where did you get all that capacity for loving? You didn't inherit it from hardened,

heartless people, who would disfigure you and purposely leave you to die, that's one sure thing. You once

told me of saving your big bullfrog from a rattlesnake. You knew you risked a horrible death when you did it.

Yet you will spend miserable years torturing yourself with the idea that your own mother might have cut off

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 112

The Angel deliberately turned back the cover, slipped up the sleeve, and laid her lips on the scars.

"Freckles! Wake up!" she cried, almost shaking him. "Come to your senses! Be a thinking, reasoning man!

You have brooded too much, and been all your life too much alone. It's all as plain as plain can be to me. You

must see it! Like breeds like in this world! You must be some sort of a reproduction of your parents, and I am

"And then, too, if more proof is needed, here it is: Mr. McLean says that you never once have failed in tact

and courtesy. He says that you are the most perfect gentleman he ever knew, and he has traveled the world

over. How does it happen, Freckles? No one at that Home taught you. Hundreds of men couldn't be taught,

even in a school of etiquette; so it must be instinctive with you. If it is, why, that means that it is born in you,

and a direct inheritance from a race of men that have been gentlemen for ages, and couldn't be anything else.

"Then there's your singing. I don't believe there ever was a mortal with a sweeter voice than yours, and while

that doesn't prove anything, there is a point that does. The little training you had from that choirmaster won't

account for the wonderful accent and ease with which you sing. Somewhere in your close blood is a

"Why does my father refer to you constantly as being of fine perceptions and honor? Because you are,

Freckles. Why does the Bird Woman leave her precious work and come here to help look after you? I never

heard of her losing any time over anyone else. It's because she loves you. And why does Mr. McLean turn all

of his valuable business over to hired men and watch you personally? And why is he hunting excuses every

day to spend money on you? My father says McLean is full Scotchclose with a dollar. He is a hardheaded

business man, Freckles, and he is doing it because he finds you worthy of it. Worthy of all we all can do and

more than we know how to do, dear heart! Freckles, are you listening to me? Oh! won't you see it? Won't you

"Oh, Angel!" chattered the bewildered Freckles, "are you truly maning it? Could it be?"

"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 did prove every word I said! Everything

proves it! You look here! If you knew for sure that I could give you a name and your honor, and prove to you

that your mother did love you, why, then, would you just go to breathing like perpetual motion and hang on

"If I knew that, Angel," he said solemnly, "you couldn't be killing me if you felled the biggest tree in the

"Then you go right to work," said the Angel, "and before night I'll prove one thing to you: I can show you

easily enough how much your mother loved you. That will be the first step, and then the remainder will all

come. If my father and Mr. McLean are so anxious to spend some money, I'll give them a chance. I don't see

why we haven't comprehended how you felt and so have been at work weeks ago. We've been awfully

selfish. We've all been so comfortable, we never stopped to think what other people were suffering before our

eyes. None of us has understood. I'll hire the finest detective in Chicago, and we'll go to work together. This

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 113

is nothing compared with things people do find out. We'll go at it, beak and claw, and we'll show you a thing

"Me mother, Angel! Me mother!" he marveled hoarsely. "Did you say you could be finding out today if me

mother loved me? How? Oh, Angel! Nothing matters, IF ONLY ME MOTHER DIDN'T DO IT!"

"Then you rest easy," said the Angel, with large confidence. "Your mother didn't do it! Mothers of sons such

as you don't do things like that. I'll go to work at once and prove it to you. The first thing to do is to go to that

Home where you were and get the clothes you wore the night you were left there. I know that they are

required to save those things carefully. We can find out almost all there is to know about your mother from

"Maybe they were once. They're all yellow with laying, and brown with bloodstains 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 the quality what kind of goods your mother

could afford to buy. I can see from the cut whether she had good taste. I can see from the care she took in

"Why, easily enough," said the Angel. "I thought you'd understand. People that can afford anything at all,

always buy white for little new babieslinen and lace, and the very finest things to be had. There's a young

woman living near us who cut up her wedding clothes to have fine things for her baby. Mothers who love and

want their babies don't buy little rough, readymade things, and they don't run up what they make on an old

sewing machine. They make fine seams, and tucks, and put on lace and trimming by hand. They sit and

stitch, and stitchlittle, even stitches, every one just as careful. Their eyes shine and their faces glow. When

they have to quit to do something else, they look sorry, and fold up their work so particularly. There isn't

much worth knowing about your mother that those little clothes won't tell. I can see her putting the little

stitches into them and smiling with shining eyes over your coming. Freckles, I'll wager you a dollar those

little clothes of yours are just alive with the dearest, tiny handmade stitches."

A new light dawned in Freckles' eyes. A tinge of warm color swept into his face. Renewed strength was

"Right away," said the Angel. "I won't stop for a thing, and I'll hurry with all my might."

She smoothed his pillow, straightened the cover, gave him one steady look in the eyes, and went quietly from

Outside the door, McLean and the surgeon anxiously awaited her. McLean caught her shoulders.

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 114

"It strikes me," said the Angel, "that what Freckles said would be to the point."

"He seemed to be able to say several things," answered the Angel sweetly. "I fancy the one that concerns you

most at present was, that if my father should offer me to him he would not have me."

"And no one knows why better than I do," cried McLean. "Every day he must astonish me with some new

He turned to the surgeon. "Save him!" he commanded. "Save him!" he implored. "He is too fine to be

"His salvation lies here," said the surgeon, stroking the Angel's sunshiny hair, "and I can read in the face of

her that she knows how she is going to work it out. Don't trouble for the boy. She will save him!"

"I have come," she said to the matron of the Home, "to ask if you will allow me to examine, or, better yet, to

take with me, the little clothes that a boy you called Freckles, discharged last fall, wore the night he was left

"Well, I'd be glad to let you see them," she said at last, "but the fact is we haven't them. I do hope we haven't

made some mistake. I was thoroughly convinced, and so was the superintendent. We let his people take those

"There couldn't have been a mistake," continued the matron, seeing the Angel's distress. "Freckles was here

when I took charge, ten years ago. These people had it all proved that he belonged to them. They had him

traced to where he ran away in Illinois last fall, and there they completely lost track of him. I'm sorry you

seem so disappointed, but it is all right. The man is his uncle, and as like the boy as he possibly could be. He

is almost killed to go back without him. If you know where Freckles is, they'd give big money to find out."

"They are Irish folks, miss," said the matron. "They have been in Chicago and over the country for the past

three months, hunting him everywhere. They have given up, and are starting home today. They"

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 115

"They left a card, and I notice the morning paper has the man's picture and is full of them. They've advertised

"Trains don't run right. We never get Chicago papers," said the Angel. "Please give me that card quickly.

"Their addresses are there," she said. "Both in Chicago and at their home. They made them full and plain, and

I was to cable at once if I got the least clue of him at any time. If they've left the city, you can stop them in

The matron caught up a paper and thrust it into the Angel's hand as she ran to the street.

The Angel glanced at the card. The Chicago address was Suite Eleven, Auditorium. She laid her hand on her

"Will you crowd it all you can without danger of arrest? I will pay well. I must catch some people!"

Then she smiled at him. The hospital, an Orphans' Home, and the Auditorium seemed a queer combination to

that driver, but the Angel was always and everywhere the Angel, and her methods were strictly her own.

"I will take you there as quickly as any man could with a team," he said promptly.

The Angel clung to the card and paper, and as best she could in the lurching, swaying cab, read the addresses

"`O'More,'" she repeated. "Seems to fit Freckles to a dot. Wonder if that could be his name? `Suite Eleven'

Then she turned the card and read on its reverse, Lord Maxwell O'More, M. P., Killvany Place, County Clare,

The Angel sat on the edge of the seat, bracing her feet against the one opposite, as the cab pitched and swung

around corners and past vehicles. She mechanically fingered the pasteboard and stared straight ahead. Then

"A Lordman!" she groaned despairingly. "A Lordman! Bet my hoecake's scorched! Here I've gone and

pledged my word to Freckles I'd find him some decent relatives, that he could be proud of, and now there isn't

a chance out of a dozen that he'll have to be ashamed of them after all. It's too mean!"

"This isn't going to do," she said, resolutely wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand and gulping down the

nervous spasm in her throat. "I must read this paper before I meet Lord O'More."

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 116

She blinked back the tears and spreading the paper on her knee, read: "After three months' fruitless search,

Lord O'More gives up the quest of his lost nephew, and leaves Chicago today for his home in Ireland."

She read on, and realized every word. The likeness settled any doubt. It was Freckles over again, only older

"Well, I must catch you if I can," muttered the Angel. "But when I do, if you are a gentleman in name only,

you shan't have Freckles; that's flat. You're not his father and he is twenty. Anyway, if the law will give him

to you for one year, you can't spoil him, because nobody could, and," she added, brightening, "he'll probably

do you a lot of good. Freckles and I both must study years yet, and you should be something that will save

him. I guess it will come out all right. At least, I don't believe you can take him away if I say no."

Catching up the paper, she hurried to the desk and laid down Lord O'More's card.

The surprised clerk stepped back on a bellboy, and covertly kicked him for being in the way.

"All right," said the Angel, picking up the card. "I thought he might have started. I'll see him."

"Show her ladyship to the elevator and Lord O'More's suite," he said, bowing double.

"I'm not sure," she muttered to herself as the elevator sped upward, "whether it's the Irish or the English who

say: `Aw, thanks,' but it's probable he isn't either; and anyway, I just had to do something to counteract that

At the bellboy's tap, the door swung open and the liveried servant thrust a cardtray before the Angel. The

opening of the door created a current that swayed a curtain aside, and in an adjoining room, lounging in a big

chair, with a paper in his hand, sat a man who was, beyond question, of Freckles' blood and race.

With perfect control the Angel dropped Lord O'More's card in the tray, stepped past his servant, and stood

Lord O'More said nothing. He carelessly glanced her over with amused curiosity, until her color began to

Instantly the Angel became indignant. She had been so shielded in the midst of almost entire freedom, owing

to the circumstances of her life, that the words and the look appeared to her as almost insulting. She lifted her

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 117

"I am not your `dear,'" she said with slow distinctness. "There isn't a thing in the world you can do for me. I

came here to see if I could do somethinga very great somethingfor you; but if I don't like you, I won't do

Then Lord O'More did stare. Suddenly he broke into a ringing laugh. Without a change of attitude or

There was a silken rustle, then a beautiful woman with cheeks of satiny pink, dark hair, and eyes of pure Irish

"Terence! Have you lost your senses?" she cried. "Didn't you understand what the child said? Look at her

Lord O'More opened his eyes widely and sat up. He did look at the Angel's face intently, and suddenly found

it so good that it was difficult to follow the next injunction. He arose instantly.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "The fact is, I am leaving Chicago sorely disappointed. It makes me bitter and

reckless. I thought you one more of those queer, useless people who have thrust themselves on me constantly,

"But I began all wrong, and now I don't know how to make you like me," said his lordship, with sincere

The Angel found herself yielding to his voice. He spoke in a soft, mellow, smoothly flowing Irish tone, and

although his speech was perfectly correct, it was so rounded, and accented, and the sentences so turned, that it

was Freckles over again. Still, it was a matter of the very greatest importance, and she must be sure; so she

"Well," said the Angel judicially, "the Bird Woman says no one in the whole world knows all a man's

bignesses and all his littlenesses as his wife does. What you think of him should do for me. Do you like him?"

The question was so earnestly asked that it met with equal earnestness. The dark head moved caressingly

"Yes, but have you anyone you could like better, if he wasn't all right?" she persisted.

"I have three of his sons, two little daughters, a father, mother, and several brothers and sisters," came the

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 118

"I love him so much that I would give up every one of them with dry eyes if by so doing I could save him,"

"She never, never could do that!" she said. "But it's a mighty big thing to your credit that she THINKS she

"Dozens of good fellows all over Ireland and the Continent are doing it today," answered Lord O'More.

"I was sure of it," she said winningly. "That's what we call him, and he is so like you, I doubt if any one of

those three boys of yours are more so. But it's been twenty years. Seems to me you've been a long time

"Steady, my girl!" said the man's voice hoarsely. "Don't make me think you've brought word of the boy at this

"It's all right," said the Angel. "We have him, and there's no chance of a mistake. If I hadn't gone to that

Home for his little clothes, and heard of you and been hunting you, and had met you on the street, or

anywhere, I would have stopped you and asked you who you were, just because you are so like him. It's all

right. I can tell you where Freckles is; but whether you deserve to knowthat's another matter!"

Lord O'More did not hear her. He dropped in his chair, and covering his face, burst into those terrible sobs

"Umph! Looks pretty fair for Freckles," muttered the Angel. "Lots of things can be explained; now perhaps

They did explain so satisfactorily that in a few minutes the Angel was on her feet, hurrying Lord and Lady

O'More to reach the hospital. "You said Freckles' old nurse knew his mother's picture instantly," said the

The likeness was a large miniature, painted on ivory, with a frame of beaten gold. Surrounded by masses of

dark hair was a delicately cut face. In the upper part of it there was no trace of Freckles, but the lips curving

in a smile were his very own. The Angel gazed at it steadily. Then with a quivering breath she laid the

"That will save Freckles' life and insure his happiness," she said positively. "Thank you, oh thank you for

CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it 119

She opened the bundle of yellow and brown linen and gave only a glance at the texture and work. Then she

gathered the little clothes and the picture to her heart and led the way to the cab.

Ushering Lord and Lady O'More into the reception room, she said to McLean, "Please go call up my father

"These are Freckles' people," she said to the Bird Woman. "You can find out about each other; I'm going to

The nurse left the room quietly, as the Angel entered, carrying the bundle and picture. When they were alone,

That she had good word to give him was his salvation, for despite the heavy plaster jacket that held his body

immovable, his head was lifted from the pillow. Both arms reached for her. His lips and cheeks flamed, while

"Angel," he panted. "Oh Angel! Did you find them? Are they white? Are the little stitches there? OH

The words seemed to leap from his burning lips. The Angel dropped the bundle on the bed and laid the

picture face down across his knees. She gently pushed his head to the pillow and caught his arms in a firm

"Yes, dear heart," she said with fullest assurance. "No little clothes were ever whiter. I never in all my life

saw such dainty, fine, little stitches; and as for loving you, no boy's mother ever loved him more!"

"I know," said the Angel firmly. "And Freckles, while you rest and be glad, I want to tell you a story. When

you feel stronger we will look at the clothes together. They are here. They are all right. But while I was at the

Home getting them, I heard of some people that were hunting a lost boy. I went to see them, and what they

told me was all so exactly like what might have happened to you that I must tell you. Then you'll understand

that things could be very different from what you always have tortured yourself with thinking. Are you strong

"Now, goosie, don't you begin that," said the Angel, "because I know that it was!"

"Know!" cried Freckles, his head springing from the pillow. "Know! How can you know?"

CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart 120

"Why, because nobody else would ever sit and do it the way it is done. That's how I know," she said

emphatically. "Now you listen while I tell you about this lost boy and his people, who have hunted for

Freckles lay quietly under her touch, but he did not hear a word that she was saying until his roving eyes

rested on her face; he immediately noticed a remarkable thing. For the first time she was talking to him and

avoiding his eyes. That was not like the Angel at all. It was the delight of hearing her speak that she looked

one squarely in the face and with perfect frankness. There were no side glances and downdrooping eyes

when the Angel talked; she was business straight through. Instantly Freckles' wandering thoughts fastened on

"and he was a sour, grumpy, old man," she was saying. "He always had been spoiled, because he was an

only son, so he had a title, and a big estate. He would have just his way, no matter about his sweet little wife,

or his boys, or anyone. So when his elder son fell in love with a beautiful girl having a title, the very girl of

all the world his father wanted him to, and added a big adjoining estate to his, why, that pleased him mightily.

"Then he went and ordered his younger son to marry a poky kind of a girl, that no one liked, to add another

big estate on the other side, and that was different. That was all the world different, because the elder son had

been in love all his life with the girl he married, and, oh, Freckles, it's no wonder, for I saw her! She's a

"But that poor younger son, he had been in love with the village vicar's daughter all his life. That's no wonder

either, for she was more beautiful yet. She could sing as the angels, but she hadn't a cent. She loved him to

death, too, if he was bony and freckled and redhairedI don't mean that! They didn't say what color his

hair was, but his father's must have been the reddest ever, for when he found out about them, and it wasn't

"The old man went to see the girlthe pretty one with no money, of courseand he hurt her feelings until

she ran away. She went to London and began studying music. Soon she grew to be a fine singer, so she joined

"When the younger son found that she had left London, he followed her. When she got here all alone, and

afraid, and saw him coming to her, why, she was so glad she up and married him, just like anybody else

would have done. He didn't want her to travel with the troupe, so when they reached Chicago they thought

that would be a good place, and they stopped, while he hunted work. It was slow business, because he never

had been taught to do a useful thing, and he didn't even know how to hunt work, least of all to do it when he

found it; so pretty soon things were going wrong. But if he couldn't find work, she could always sing, so she

sang at night, and made little things in the daytime. He didn't like her to sing in public, and he wouldn't allow

her when he could HELP himself; but winter came, it was very cold, and fire was expensive. Rents went up,

and they had to move farther out to cheaper and cheaper places; and you were comingI mean, the boy that

is lost was comingand they were almost distracted. Then the man wrote and told his father all about it; and

his father sent the letter back unopened with a line telling him never to write again. When the baby came,

there was very little left to pawn for food and a doctor, and nothing at all for a nurse; so an old neighbor

woman went in and took care of the young mother and the little baby, because she was so sorry for them. By

that time they were away in the suburbs on the top floor of a little wooden house, among a lot of big factories,

and it kept growing colder, with less to eat. Then the man grew desperate and he went just to find something

to eat and the woman was desperate, too. She got up, left the old woman to take care of her baby, and went

into the city to sing for some money. The woman became so cold she put the baby in bed and went home.

Then a boiler blew up in a big factory beside the little house and set it on fire. A piece of iron was pitched

across and broke through the roof. It came down smash, and cut just one little hand off the poor baby. It

CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart 121

"The old woman ran out with the other people and saw what had happened. She knew there wasn't going to

be time to wait for firemen or anything, so she ran into the building. She could hear the baby screaming, and

she couldn't stand that; so she worked her way to it. There it was, all hurt and bleeding. Then she was almost

scared to death over thinking what its mother would do to her for going away and leaving it, so she ran to a

Home for little friendless babies, that was close, and banged on the door. Then she hid across the street until

the baby was taken in, and then she ran back to see if her own house was burning. The big factory and the

little house and a lot of others were all gone. The people there told her that the beautiful lady came back and

ran into the house to find her baby. She had just gone in when her husband came, and he went in after her,

Freckles lay rigidly, with his eyes on the Angel's face, while she talked rapidly to the ceiling.

"Then the old woman was sick about that poor little baby. She was afraid to tell them at the Home, because

she knew she never should have left it, but she wrote a letter and sent it to where the beautiful woman, when

she was ill, had said her husband's people lived. She told all about the little baby that she could remember:

when it was born, how it was named for the man's elder brother, that its hand had been cut off in the fire, and

where she had put it to be doctored and taken care of. She told them that its mother and father were both

"You'd think that would have melted a heart of ice, but that old man hadn't any heart to melt, for he got that

letter and read it. He hid it away among his papers and never told a soul. A few months ago he died. When

his elder son went to settle his business, he found the letter almost the first thing. He dropped everything, and

came, with his wife, to hunt that baby, because he always had loved his brother dearly, and wanted him back.

He had hunted for him all he dared all these years, but when he got here you were goneI mean the baby

was gone, and I had to tell you, Freckles, for you see, it might have happened to you like that just as easy as

Freckles reached up and turned the Angel's face until he compelled her eyes to meet his.

"Angel," he asked quietly, "why don't you look at me when you are telling about that lost boy?"

"It seems to me," said Freckles, his breath beginning to come in sharp wheezes, "that you got us rather mixed,

and it ain't like you to be mixing things till one can't be knowing. If they were telling you so much, did they

"Angel," said Freckles at last, catching her wrist, "are you trying to tell me that there is somebody hunting a

boy that you're thinking might be me? Are you belavin' you've found me relations?"

CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart 122

Then the Angel's eyes came home. The time had come. She pinioned Freckles' arms to his sides and bent

"How strong are you, dear heart?" she breathed. "How brave are you? Can you bear it? Dare I tell you that?"

"No!" gasped Freckles. "Not if you're sure! I can't bear it! I'll die if you do!"

The day had been one unremitting strain with the Angel. Nerve tension was drawn to the finest thread. It

"Die!" she flamed. "Die, if I tell you that! You said this morning that you would die if you DIDN'T know

your name, and if your people were honorable. Now I've gone and found you a name that stands for ages of

honor, a mother who loved you enough to go into the fire and die for you, and the nicest kind of relatives, and

you turn round and say you'll die over that! YOU JUST TRY DYING AND YOU'LL GET A GOOD SLAP!"

The Angel stood glaring at him. One second Freckles lay paralyzed and dumb with astonishment. The next

the Irish in his soul arose above everything. A laugh burst from him. The terrified Angel caught him in her

arms and tried to stifle the sound. She implored and commanded. When he was too worn to utter another

After a long time, when he was quiet and rested, the Angel commenced talking to him gently, and this time

her big eyes, humid with tenderness and mellow with happiness, seemed as if they could not leave his face.

"Dear Freckles," she was saying, "across your knees there is the face of the mother who went into the fire for

you, and I know the nameold and full of honorto which you were born. Dear heart, which will you have

Freckles was very tired; the big drops of perspiration ran together on his temples; but the watching Angel

She lifted the lovely pictured face and set it in the nook of his arm. Freckles caught her hand and drew her

beside him, and together they gazed at the picture while the tears slid over their cheeks.

"Me mother! Oh, me mother! Can you ever be forgiving me? Oh, me beautiful little mother!" chanted

Freckles over and over in exalted wonder, until he was so completely exhausted that his lips refused to form

"Wait!" cried the Angel with inborn refinement, for she could no more answer that question than he could

She hurried to the table, caught up the nurse's pencil, and on the back of a prescription tablet scrawled it:

"Yes," said the Angel; "I am. But there is a good deal of it. I have to put in your house and country, so that

CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart 123

"Of course," said the Angel. "Your uncle says your grandmother left your father her dower house and estate,

because she knew his father would cut him off. You get that, and all your share of your grandfather's property

besides. It is all set off for you and waiting. Lord O'More told me so. I suspect you are richer than McLean,

"Now you are all right, dear Limberlost guard," she said. "You go to sleep and don't think of a thing but just

pure joy, joy, joy! I'll keep your people until you wake up. You are too tired to see anyone else just now!"

"I'll go to sleep in five minutes," he said, "if you will be doing just one thing more for me. Send for your

father! Oh, Angel, send for him quick! How will I ever be waiting until he comes?"

One instant the Angel stood looking at him. The next a crimson wave darkly stained her lovely face. Her chin

began a spasmodic quivering and the tears sprang into her eyes. Her hands caught at her chest as if she were

stifling. Freckles' grasp on her tightened until he drew her beside him. He slipped his arm around her and

"Don't, Angel; for the love of mercy don't be doing that," he implored. "I can't be bearing it. Tell me. You

"That ain't fair, Angel," said Freckles. "You made me tell you when it was like tearing the heart raw from me

breast. And you was for making everything heavenjust heaven and nothing else for me. If I'm so much

more now than I was an hour ago, maybe I can be thinking of some way to fix things. You will be telling

The Angel's head sprang from the pillow and her tearstained face flamed with outraged indignation.

"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 the city, and find them when I was afraid as

"Two gone," said Freckles. "You didn't want the beautifulest girl in the world to be telling me."

Down went the Angel's face and a heavy sob shook her. Freckles' clasp tightened around her shoulders, while

his face, in its conflicting emotions, was a study. He was so stunned and bewildered by the miracle that had

CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart 124

been performed in bringing to light his name and relatives that he had no strength left for elaborate mental

processes. Despite all it meant to him to know his name at last, and that he was of honorable

birthknowledge without which life was an eternal disgrace and burden the one thing that was hammering

in Freckles' heart and beating in his brain, past any attempted expression, was the fact that, while nameless

and possibly born in shame, the Angel had told him that she loved him. He could find no word with which to

begin to voice the rapture of his heart over that. But if she regretted itif it had been a thing done out of her

pity for his condition, or her feeling of responsibility, if it killed him after all, there was only one thing left to

do. Not for McLean, not for the Bird Woman, not for the Duncans would Freckles have done itbut for the

"Angel," whispered Freckles, with his lips against her hair, "you haven't learned your history book very well,

"Forgotten about the real knight, Ladybird," breathed Freckles. "Don't you know that, if anything happened

that made his lady sorry, a real knight just simply couldn't be remembering it? Angel, darling little Swamp

Angel, you be listening to me. There was one night on the trail, one solemn, grand, white night, that there

wasn't ever any other like before or since, when the dear Boss put his arm around me and told me that he

loved me; but if you care, Angel, if you don't want it that way, why, I ain't remembering that anyone else ever

The Angel lifted her head and looked into the depths of Freckles' honest gray eyes, and they met hers

"Do you mean," she demanded, "that you don't remember that a brazen, forward girl told you, when you

hadn't asked her, that she"the Angel choked on it a second, but she gave a gulp and brought it out

But all the songbirds of his soul burst into melody over that one little clause: "When you hadn't asked her."

"But you will," said the Angel. "You may live to be an old, old man, and then you will."

"I will not!" persisted Freckles. "I'll be swearing to it if you want me to. If you wasn't too tired to think this

thing out straight, you'd be seeing that I couldn'tthat I just simply couldn't! I'd rather give it all up now and

go into eternity alone, without ever seeing a soul of me same blood, or me home, or hearing another man call

me by the name I was born to, than to remember anything that would be hurting you, Angel. I should think

The Angel's tearstained face flashed into dazzling beauty. A halfhysterical little laugh broke from her heart

"Oh, Freckles, forgive me!" she cried. "I've been through so much that I'm scarcely myself, or I wouldn't be

here bothering you when you should be sleeping. Of course you couldn't! I knew it all the time! I was just

scared! I was forgetting that you were you! You're too good a knight to remember a thing like that. Of course

CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart 125

you are! And when you don't remember, why, then it's the same as if it never happened. I was almost killed

because I'd gone and spoiled everything, but now it will be all right. Now you can go on and do things like

other men, and I can have some flowers, and letters, and my sweetheart coming, and when you are SURE,

why, then YOU can tell ME things, can't you? Oh, Freckles, I'm so glad! Oh, I'm so happy! It's dear of you

not to remember, Freckles; perfectly dear! It's no wonder I love you so. The wonder would be if I did not. Oh,

I should like to know how I'm ever going to make you understand how much I love you!"

Pillow and all, she caught him to her breast one long second; then she was gone.

Freckles lay dazed with astonishment. At last his amazed eyes searched the room for something approaching

the human to which he could appeal, and falling on his mother's portrait, he set it before him.

"For the love of life! Me little mother," he panted, "did you hear that? Did you hear it! Tell me, am I living,

"You are only a pictured face," he said at last, "and of course you can't talk; but the soul of you must be

somewhere, and surely in this hour you are close enough to be hearing. Tell me, did you hear that? I can't

ever be telling a living soul; but darling little mother, who gave your life for mine, I can always be talking of

it to you! Every day we'll talk it over and try to understand the miracle of it. Tell me, are all women like that?

Were you like me Swamp Angel? If you were, then I'm understanding why me father followed across the

Freckles' voice ceased, his eyes closed, and his head rolled back from exhaustion. Later in the day he insisted

on seeing Lord and Lady O'More, but he fainted before the resemblance of another man to him, and gave all

The next morning, the Man of Affairs, with a heart filled with misgivings, undertook the interview on which

Freckles insisted. His fears were without cause. Freckles was the soul of honor and simplicity.

"Have they been telling you what's come to me?" he asked without even waiting for a greeting.

Under Freckles' earnest eyes the Man of Affairs answered soberly: "I think I have, Mr. O'More."

That was the first time Freckles heard his name from the lips of another. One second he lay overcome; the

next, tears filled his eyes, and he reached out his hand. Then the Angel's father understood, and he clasped

"Terence, my boy," he said, "let me do the talking. I came here with the understanding that you wanted to ask

me for my only child. I should like, at the proper time, to regard her marriage, if she has found the man she

desires to marry, not as losing all I have, but as gaining a man on whom I can depend to love as a son and to

take charge of my affairs for her when I retire from business. Bend all of your energies toward rapid

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him 126

recovery, and from this hour understand that my daughter and my home are yours."

"Terence, I'm sorrier than I have words to express about that," said the Man of Affairs. "It's a damnable pity!

But if it's for me to choose whether I give all I have left in this world to a man lacking a hand, or to one of

these gambling, tippling, immoral spendthrifts of today, with both hands and feet off their souls, and a rotten

spot in the core, I choose you; and it seems that my daughter does the same. Put what is left you of that right

arm to the best uses you can in this world, and never again mention or feel that it is defective so long as you

"One minute more," said Freckles. "Yesterday the Angel was telling me that there was money coming to me

from two sources. She said that me grandmother had left me father all of her fortune and her house, because

she knew that his father would be cutting him off, and also that me uncle had set aside for me what would be

"Whatever the sum is that me grandmother left me father, because she loved him and wanted him to be

having it, that I'll be taking. 'Twas hers from her father, and she had the right to be giving it as she chose.

Anything from the man that knowingly left me father and me mother to go cold and hungry, and into the fire

in misery, when just a little would have made life so beautiful to them, and saved me this crippled

bodymoney that he willed from me when he knew I was living, of his blood and on charity among

strangers, I don't touch, not if I freeze, starve, and burn too! If there ain't enough besides that, and I can't be

"We are not discussing money!" burst in the Man of Affairs. "We don't want any bloodmoney! We have all

we need without it. If you don't feel right and easy over it, don't you touch a cent of any of it."

"It's right I should have what me grandmother intinded for me father, and I want it," said Freckles, "but I'd die

"Now," said the Angel, "we are all going home. We have done all we can for Freckles. His people are here.

He should know them. They are very anxious to become acquainted with him. We'll resign him to them.

When he is well, why, then he will be perfectly free to go to Ireland or come to the Limberlost, just as he

McLean held out for a week, and then he could endure it no longer. He was heart hungry for Freckles.

Communing with himself in the long, soundful nights of the swamp, he had learned to his astonishment that

for the past year his heart had been circling the Limberlost with Freckles. He began to wish that he had not

left him. Perhaps the boyhis boy by first right, after allwas being neglected. If the Boss had been a

nervous old woman, he scarcely could have imagined more things 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 had gathered from Freckles' room, and a little, long slender package. He traveled with

biting, stinging jealousy in his heart. He would not admit it even to himself, but he was unable to remain

In a few minutes' talk, while McLean awaited admission to Freckles' room, his lordship had chatted genially

of Freckles' rapid recovery, of his delight that he was unspotted by his early surroundings, and his desire to

visit the Limberlost with Freckles before they sailed; he expressed the hope that he could prevail upon the

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him 127

Angel's father to place her in his wife's care and have her education finished in Paris. He said they were

anxious to do all they could to help bind Freckles' arrangements with the Angel, as both he and Lady O'More

regarded her as the most promising girl they knew, and one who could be fitted to fill the high position in

Every word he uttered was pungent with bitterness to McLean. The swamp had lost its flavor without

Freckles; and yet, as Lord O'More talked, McLean fervently wished himself in the heart of it. As he entered

Freckles lay beside a window where he could follow Lake Michigan's blue until the horizon dipped into it.

He could see big soft clouds, whitecapped waves, shimmering sails, and puffing steamers trailing billowing

banners of lavender and gray across the sky. Gulls and curlews wheeled over the water and dipped their

wings in the foam. The room was filled with every luxury that taste and money could introduce.

All the tan and sunburn had been washed from Freckles' face in sweats of agony. It was a smooth, even

white, its brown rift scarcely showing. What the nurses and Lady O'More had done to Freckles' hair McLean

could not guess, but it was the most beautiful that he ever had seen. Fine as floss, bright in color, waving and

They had gotten his arms into and his chest covered with a finely embroidered, paleblue silk shirt, with soft,

white tie at the throat. Among the many changes that had taken place during his absence, the fact that

Freckles was most attractive and barely escaped being handsome remained almost unnoticed by the Boss, so

great was his astonishment at seeing both cuffs turned back and the right arm in view. Freckles was using the

"Oh Lord, sir, but I'm glad to see you!" cried Freckles, almost rolling from the bed as he reached toward

McLean. "Tell me quick, is the Angel well and happy? Can me Little Chicken spread six feet of wing and sail

to his mother? How's me new father, the Bird Woman, Duncans, and Nelliedarling little highstepping

Nelie? Me Aunt Alice is going to choose the hat just as soon as I'm mended enough to be going with her.

How are all the gang? Have they found any more good trees? I've been thinking a lot, sir. I believe I can find

others near that last one. Me Aunt Alice thinks maybe I can, and Uncle Terence says it's likely. Golly, but

they're nice, ilegant people. I tell you I'm proud to be same blood with them! Come closer, quick! I was going

to do this yesterday, and somehow I just felt that you'd surely be coming today and I waited. I'm selecting the

Angel's ring stone. The ring she ordered for me is finished and they sent it to keep me company. See? It's an

"Ain't that fine? Never took so much comfort with anything in me life. Every color of the old swamp is in it. I

asked the Angel to have a little shamrock leaf cut on it, so every time I saw it I'd be thinking of the `love,

truth, and valor' of that song she was teaching me. Ain't that a beautiful song? Some of these days I'm going

to make it echo. I'm a little afraid to be doing it with me voice yet, but me heart's tuning away on it every

Freckles tilted a tray of unset stones from Peacock's that would have ransomed several valuable kings. He

"I tell you I'm glad to see you, sir" he said. "I tried to tell me uncle what I wanted, but this ain't for him to be

mixed up in, anyway, and I don't think I made it clear to him. I couldn't seem to say the words I wanted. I can

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him 128

"It's this," said Freckles. "I told him that I would pay only three hundred dollars for the Angel's stone. I'm

thinking that with what he has laid up for me, and the bigness of things that the Angel did for me, it seems

like a stingy little sum to him. I know he thinks I should be giving much more, but I feel as if I just had to be

buying that stone with money I earned meself; and that is all I have saved of me wages. I don't mind paying

for the muff, or the drexing table, or Mrs. Duncan's things, from that other money, and later the Angel can

have every last cent of me grandmother's, if she'll take it; but just nowoh, sir, can't you see that I have to be

buying this stone with what I have in the bank? I'm feeling that I couldn't do any other way, and don't you

think the Angel would rather have the best stone I can buy with the money I earned meself than a finer one

"In other words, Freckles," said the Boss in a husky voice, "you don't want to buy the Angel's ring with

money. You want to give for it your first awful fear of the swamp. You want to pay for it with the loneliness

and heart hunger you have suffered there, with last winter's freezing on the line and this summer's burning in

the sun. You want it to stand to her for every hour in which you risked your life to fulfill your contract

honorably. You want the price of that stone to be the fears that have chilled your heartthe sweat and blood

"Dear Mr. McLean," he said, reaching with a caress over the Boss's black hair and his cheek. "Dear Boss,

that's why I've wanted you so. I knew you would know. Now you will be looking at these? I don't want

He pushed the green stones into a little heap of rejected ones. Then he singled out all the pearls.

"Ain't they pretty things?" he said. "I'll be getting her some of those later. They are like lily faces, turtlehead

flowers, dewdrops in the shade or moonlight; but they haven't the life in them that I want in the stone I give

Freckles heaped the pearls with the emeralds. He studied the diamonds a long time.

"These things are so fascinating like they almost tempt one, though they ain't quite the proper thing," he said.

"I've always dearly loved to be watching yours, sir. I must get her some of these big ones, too, some day.

They're like the Limberlost in January, when it's all icecoated, and the sun is in the west and shines through

and makes all you can see of the whole world look like fire and ice; but fire and ice ain't like the Angel."

The diamonds joined the emeralds and pearls. There was left a little red heap, and Freckles' fingers touched it

"I'm thinking here's me Angel's stone," he exulted. "The Limberlost, and me with it, grew in mine; but it's

going to bloom, and her with it, in this! There's the red of the wild poppies, the cardinalflowers, and the

little bunch of crushed foxfire that we found where she put it to save me. There's the light of the campfire,

and the sun setting over Sleepy Snake Creek. There's the red of the blood we were willing to give for each

other. It's like her lips, and like the drops that dried on her beautiful arm that first day, and I'm thinking it

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him 129

"I'll be signing me cheque and you have it set," he said. "I want you to draw me money and pay for it with

"Why, sure," said Freckles. "There's nothing you would be asking that it wouldn't be giving me joy to be

McLean's eyes traveled to Freckles' right arm with which he was moving the jewels.

"Oh, that!" cried Freckles with a laugh. "You're wanting to know where all the bitterness is gone? Well sir,

'twas carried from me soul, heart, and body on the lips of an Angel. Seems that hurt was necessary in the

beginning to make today come true. The wound had always been raw, but the Angel was healing it. If she

doesn't care, I don't. Me dear new father doesn't, nor me aunt and uncle, and you never did. Why should I be

fretting all me life about what can't be helped. The real truth is, that since what happened to it last week, I'm

"Now it's me turn," said Freckles. "I don't know as I ought to be asking you, and yet I can't see a reason good

enough to keep me from it. It's a thing I've had on me mind every hour since I've had time to straighten things

McLean reached over and took Freckles' hand. His voice was shaken with feeling as he replied: "Freckles,

you almost hurt me. Will you never learn how much you are to mehow happy you make me in coming to

"Then it's this," said Freckles, gripping the hand of McLean strongly. "If this accident, and all that's come to

me since, had never happened, where was it you had planned to send me to school? What was it you meant

"Why, Freckles," answered McLean, "I'm scarcely prepared to state definitely. My ideas were rather hazy. I

thought we would make a beginning and see which way things went. I figured on taking you to Grand Rapids

first, and putting you in the care of my mother. I had an idea it would be best to secure a private tutor to

coach you for a year or two, until you were ready to enter Ann Arbor or the Chicago University in good

shape. Then I thought we'd finish in this country at Yale or Harvard, and end with Oxford, to get a good,

"No; that's leaving the music out," said McLean. "I intended to have your voice tested by some master, and if

you really were endowed for a career as a great musician, and had inclinations that way, I wished to have you

drop some of the college work and make music your chief study. Finally, I wanted us to take a trip through

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him 130

"Why, then," said McLean, "you know that my heart is hopelessly in the woods. I never will quit the timber

business while there is timber to handle and breath in my body. I thought if you didn't make a profession of

music, and had any inclination my way, we would stretch the partnership one more and take you into the

firm, placing your work with me. Those plans may sound jumbled in the telling, but they have grown steadily

"You told me once on the trail, and again when we thought that I was dying, that you loved me. Do these

things that have come to me make any difference in any way with your feeing toward me?"

"None," said McLean. "How could they, Freckles? Nothing could make me love you more, and you never

"Glory be to God!" cried Freckles. "Glory to the Almighty! Hurry and be telling your mother I'm coming!

Just as soon as I can get on me feet I'll be taking that ring to me Angel, and then I'll go to Grand Rapids and

be making me start just as you planned, only that I can be paying me own way. When I'm educated enough,

we'll allthe Angel and her father, the Bird Woman, you, and meall of us will go together and see me

house and me relations and be taking that trip. When we get back, we'll add O'More to the Lumber Company,

and golly, sir, but we'll make things hum! Good land, sir! Don't do that! Why, Mr. McLean, dear Boss, dear

"This is a mighty fine view," he said. "Lake's beautiful this morning. No wonder Chicago people are so proud

of their city's location on its shore. But, Freckles, what is Lord O'More going to say to this?"

"I don't know," said Freckles. "I am going to be cut deep if he cares, for he's been more than good to me, and

Lady Alice is next to me Angel. He's made me feel me blood and race me own possession. She's talked to me

by the hour of me father and mother and me grandmother. She's made them all that real I can lay claim to

them and feel that they are mine. I'm very sorry to be hurting them, if it will, but it can't be changed. Nobody

ever puts the width of the ocean between me and the Angel. From here to the Limberlost is all I can be

bearing peaceable. I want the education, and then I want to work and live here in the country where I was

"I'll be glad to see Ireland, and glad especial to see those little people who are my kin, but I ain't ever staying

long. All me heart is the Angel's, and the Limberlost is calling every minute. You're thinking, sir, that when I

"I see soft, slow clouds oozing across the blue, me big black chickens hanging up there, and a great feather

softly sliding down. I see mighty trees, swinging vines, bright flowers, and always masses of the wild roses,

with the wild rose face of me Ladybird looking through. I see the swale rocking, smell the sweetness of the

blooming things, and the damp, mucky odor of the swamp; and I hear me birds sing, me squirrels bark, the

rattlers hiss, and the step of Wessner or Black Jack coming; and whether it's the things that I loved or the

"Me heart's all me Swamp Angel's, and me love is all hers, and I have her and the swamp so confused in me

mind I never can be separating them. When I look at her, I see blue sky, the sun rifting through the leaves and

pink and red flowers; and when I look at the Limberlost I see a pink face with blue eyes, gold hair, and red

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him 131

"I'm afraid it will be hurting some, but I have the feeing that I can be making my dear people understand, so

that they will be willing to let me come back home. Send Lady O'More to put these flowers God made in the

place of these glasshouse ilegancies, and please be cutting the string of this little package the Angel's sent

As Freckles held up the package, the lights of the Limberlost flashed from the emerald on his finger. On the

cover was printed: "To the Limberlost Guard!" Under it was a big, crisp, iridescent black feather.

CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him 132

4. CHAPTER I. Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is Hired, page = 5

7. CHAPTER IV. Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New Experiences, page = 24

10. CHAPTER VII. Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail, page = 52

11. CHAPTER VIII. Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the Encounter, page = 56

12. CHAPTER IX. Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes to the Rescue, page = 63

13. CHAPTER X. Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards Him, page = 66

14. CHAPTER XI. Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the Bird Woman, page = 70

15. CHAPTER XII. Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack, page = 75

16. CHAPTER XIII. Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls upon Her, page = 83

17. CHAPTER XIV. Wherein Freckles Nurses a Heartache and Black Jack Drops Out, page = 89

18. CHAPTER XV. Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject, page = 95

19. CHAPTER XVI. Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the Gang, page = 100

20. CHAPTER XVII. Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken Body, page = 105

21. CHAPTER XVIII. Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it, page = 113

22. CHAPTER XIX. Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her Heart, page = 123

23. CHAPTER XX. Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More Sails for Ireland Without Him, page = 129