9745 lines
440 KiB
Plaintext
9745 lines
440 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
FRECKLES, by GENE STRATTON-PORTER.
|
|
|
|
Digitized by Cardinalis Etext Press, C.E.K.
|
|
Posted to Wiretap in July 1993, as freckles.gsp.
|
|
|
|
Italics are indicated as _italics_.
|
|
|
|
This text is in the PUBLIC DOMAIN.
|
|
|
|
FRECKLES
|
|
|
|
Gene Stratton-Porter
|
|
|
|
Grosset & Dunlap
|
|
|
|
NEW YORK
|
|
|
|
Copyright, 1904,1916, by
|
|
|
|
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
|
|
|
|
All rights reserved, including that of
|
|
|
|
translation into foreign languages,
|
|
|
|
including the scandinavian
|
|
|
|
Printed in the United States of America
|
|
|
|
by arrangement with Doubleday & Co., Inc.
|
|
|
|
To
|
|
|
|
all good Irishmen
|
|
|
|
in general
|
|
|
|
and one
|
|
|
|
CHARLES DARWIN PORTER
|
|
|
|
in particular
|
|
|
|
Characters
|
|
|
|
FRECKLES, a plucky Waif Who Guards the Limberlost Timber Leases
|
|
and Dreams of Angels.
|
|
|
|
THE SWAMP ANGEL, in Whom Freckles' Sweetest Dream Materializes.
|
|
|
|
MCLEAN, a Member of a Grand rapids Lumber Company, Who Befriends
|
|
Freckles
|
|
|
|
MRS. DUNCAN, Who Gives Mother-Love and a Home to Freckles.
|
|
|
|
DUNCAN, Head Teamster of McLean's Timber Gang.
|
|
|
|
LORD AND LADY O'MORE, Who Come from Ireland in Quest of a Lost
|
|
Relative.
|
|
|
|
THE MAN OF AFFAIRS, Brusque of Manner, but Big of Heart.
|
|
|
|
WESSNER, a Dutch Timber Thief Who Wants Rascality Made Easy.
|
|
|
|
BLACK JACK, a Villain to Whom Thought of Repentance Comes Too
|
|
Late.
|
|
|
|
SEARS, Camp Cook.
|
|
|
|
Contents
|
|
|
|
I Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is
|
|
Hired
|
|
|
|
II Wherein Freckles Proves His Mettle and Finds Friends
|
|
|
|
III Wherein a Feather Falls and a Soul Is Born
|
|
|
|
IV Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way
|
|
for New Experiences
|
|
|
|
V Wherein an Angel Materializes and a Man Worships
|
|
|
|
VI Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight
|
|
|
|
VII Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the
|
|
Trail
|
|
|
|
VIII Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing
|
|
by the Encounter
|
|
|
|
IX Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles
|
|
Comes to the Rescue
|
|
|
|
X Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel
|
|
Rewards Him
|
|
|
|
XI Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs
|
|
the Bird Woman
|
|
|
|
XII Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures
|
|
Jack
|
|
|
|
XIII Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black
|
|
Jack Falls upon Her
|
|
|
|
XIV Wherein Freckles Nurses a Heartache and Black Jack Drops Out
|
|
|
|
XV Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and
|
|
Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject
|
|
|
|
XVI Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the
|
|
Gang
|
|
|
|
XVII Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a
|
|
Broken Body
|
|
|
|
XVIII Wherein Freckles Refuses Love Without Wnowledge of
|
|
Honorable Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it
|
|
|
|
XIX Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her
|
|
Heart
|
|
|
|
XX Wherein Freckles Returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More
|
|
Sails for Ireland Without Him
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER I
|
|
|
|
Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is Hired
|
|
|
|
FRECKLES came down the corduroy that crosses the lower end of
|
|
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 head-teamster, lovingly wiped the flanks of his
|
|
big bays with handfuls of pawpaw leaves, as he softly whistled,
|
|
"O wha will be my dearie,. O!" and a cricket beneath the leaves
|
|
at his feet accompanied him. The green wood fire hissed and
|
|
crackled merrily. Wreathing tongues of flame wrapped around
|
|
the big black kettles, and when the cook lifted the lids to
|
|
plunge in his testing-fork, gusts of savory odors escaped.
|
|
|
|
Freckles approached him.
|
|
|
|
"I want to speak with the Boss," he said.
|
|
|
|
The cook glanced at him and answered carelessly: "He can't
|
|
use you."
|
|
|
|
The color flooded Freckles' face, but he said simply: "If
|
|
you will be having the goodness to point him out, we will give
|
|
him a chance to do his own talking."
|
|
|
|
With a shrug of astonishment, the cook led the way to a
|
|
rough board table where a broad, square-shouldered man was
|
|
bending over some account-books.
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
The manager turned a page and carefully began a new line.
|
|
|
|
"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 reaching toward him.
|
|
|
|
The boy drew a quivering breath. Then he whipped off his
|
|
old hat and beat the dust from it carefully. With his left hand
|
|
he caught the right sleeve, wiped his sweaty face, and tried to
|
|
straighten his hair with his fingers. He broke a spray of ironwort
|
|
beside him and used the purple bloom to beat the dust from his
|
|
shoulders and limbs. The Boss, busy over his report, was,
|
|
nevertheless, vaguely alive to the toilet being made behind him,
|
|
and scored one for the man.
|
|
|
|
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 several millions stood to his credit.
|
|
|
|
He was the only son of that McLean who had sent out the
|
|
finest ships ever built in Scotland. That his son should carry
|
|
on this business after the father's death had been his ambition.
|
|
He had sent the boy through the universities of Oxford and
|
|
Edinburgh, and allowed him several years' travel before he
|
|
should attempt his first commission for the firm.
|
|
|
|
Then he was ordered to southern Canada and Michigan to
|
|
purchase a consignment of tall, straight timber for masts, and
|
|
south to Indiana for oak beams. The young man entered these
|
|
mighty forests, parts of which lay untouched since the dawn of
|
|
the morning of time. The clear, cool, pungent atmosphere was
|
|
intoxicating. The intense silence, like that of a great empty
|
|
cathedral, fascinated him. He gradually learned that, to the shy
|
|
wood creatures that darted across his path or peeped inquiringly
|
|
from leafy ambush, he was brother. He found himself approaching,
|
|
with a feeling of reverence, those majestic trees that had stood
|
|
through ages of sun, wind, and snow. Soon it became difficult to fell
|
|
them. When he had filled his order and returned home, he was
|
|
amazed to learn that in the swamps and forests he had lost his
|
|
heart and it was calling--forever calling him.
|
|
|
|
When he inherited his father's property, he promptly
|
|
disposed of it, and, with his mother, founded a home in a
|
|
splendid residence in the outskirts of Grand Rapids. With three
|
|
partners, he organized a lumber company. His work was to
|
|
purchase, fell, and ship the timber to the mills. Marshall
|
|
managed the milling process and passed the lumber to the
|
|
factory. From the lumber, Barthol made beautiful and useful
|
|
furniture, which Uptegrove scattered all over the world from a
|
|
big wholesale house. Of the thousands who saw their faces
|
|
reflected on the polished surfaces of that furniture and found
|
|
comfort in its use, few there were to whom it suggested mighty
|
|
forests and trackless swamps, and the man, big of soul and body,
|
|
who cut his way through them, and with the eye of experience
|
|
doomed the proud trees that were now entering the homes of
|
|
civilization for service.
|
|
|
|
When McLean turned from his finished report, he faced a
|
|
young man, yet under twenty, tall, spare, heavily framed,
|
|
closely freckled, and red-haired, with a homely Irish face, but
|
|
in the steady gray eyes, straightly meeting his searcbing 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.
|
|
|
|
"You are looking for work?" questioned McLean.
|
|
|
|
"Yis," answered Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"I am very sorry," said the Boss with genuine sympathy in
|
|
his every tone, "but there is only one man I want at present--a
|
|
hardy, big fellow with a stout heart and a strong body. I hoped
|
|
that you would do, but I am afraid you are too young and
|
|
scarcely strong enough."
|
|
|
|
Freckles stood, hat in hand, watching McLean.
|
|
|
|
"And what was it you thought I might be doing?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
The Boss could scarcely repress a start. Somewhere before
|
|
accident 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 w as very familiar and
|
|
which touched him nearly. He was of foreign birth, and despite
|
|
years of alienation, in times of strong feeling he.committed
|
|
inherited sins of accent and construction.
|
|
|
|
"It's no child's job," answered McLean. "I am the field
|
|
manager of a big lumber company. We have just leased two
|
|
thousand acres of the Limberlost. Many of these trees are of
|
|
great value. We can't leave our camp, six miles south, for
|
|
almost a year yet; so we have blazed a trail and strung barbed
|
|
wires securely around this lease. Before we return to our work,
|
|
I must put this property in the hands of a reliable, brave,
|
|
strong man who will guard it every hour of the day, and sleep
|
|
with one eye open at night. I shall require the entire length of
|
|
the trail to be walked at least twice each day, to make sure
|
|
that our lines are up and that no one has been trespassing."
|
|
|
|
Freckles was leaning forward, absorbing every word with
|
|
such intense eagerness that he was beguiling the Boss into
|
|
explanations he had never intended making..
|
|
|
|
"But why wouldn't that be the finest job in the world for
|
|
me?" he pleaded. "I am never sick. I could walk the trail twice,
|
|
three times every day, and I'd be watching sharp all the while."
|
|
|
|
"It's because you are scarcely more than a boy, and this
|
|
will be a trying job for a work-hardened man," answered McLean.
|
|
"You see, in the first place, you would be afraid. In stretching
|
|
our lines, we killed six rattlesnakes almost as long as your
|
|
body and as thick as your arm. It's the price of your life to
|
|
start through the marshgrass surrounding the swamp unless you
|
|
are covered with heavy leather above your knees.
|
|
|
|
"You should be able to swim in case high water undermines
|
|
the temporary bridge we have built where Sleepy Snake Creek
|
|
enters the swamp. The fall and winter changes of weather are
|
|
abrupt and severe, while I would want strict watch kept every
|
|
day. You would always be alone, and I don't guarantee what is in
|
|
the Limberlost. It is lying here as it has lain since the
|
|
beginning of time, and it is alive with forms and voices. I
|
|
don't pretend to say what all of them come from; but from a few
|
|
slinking shapes I've seen, and hair-raising yells I've heard,
|
|
I'd rather not confront their owners myself; and I am neither
|
|
weak nor fearful.
|
|
|
|
"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 watch and be
|
|
after you?" queried the boy.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," replied McLean.
|
|
|
|
"Then why couldn't I be watching just as closely, and
|
|
coming as fast, as an older, stronger man?" asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Why, by George, you could!" exclaimed McLean. "I don't
|
|
know as the size of a man would be half so important as his grit
|
|
and faithfulness, come to think of it. Sit on that log there and
|
|
we will talk it over. What is your name?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles shook his head at the proffer of a seat, and
|
|
folding his arms, stood straight as the trees around him. He
|
|
grew a shade whiter, but his eyes never faltered.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles!" he said.
|
|
|
|
"Good enough for everyday," laughed McLean, "but I scarcely
|
|
can put `Freckles' on the company's books. Tell me your name."
|
|
|
|
"I haven't any name," replied the boy.
|
|
|
|
"I don't understand," said McLean.
|
|
|
|
"I was thinking from the voice and the face of you that you
|
|
wouldn't," said Freckles slowly. "I've spent more time on it
|
|
than I ever did 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 w as there the full
|
|
legal age and several years over. For the most part we were a
|
|
lot of little Irishmen together. They could always find homes
|
|
for the other children, but nobody would ever be wanting me on
|
|
account of me arm."
|
|
|
|
"Were they kind to you?" McLean regretted the question the
|
|
minute it was asked.
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
"Go on," said McLean, nodding comprehendingly.
|
|
|
|
"There's nothing worth the taking of your time to tell,"
|
|
replied Freckles. "The Home was in Chicago, and I was there all
|
|
me life until three months ago. When I was too old for the
|
|
training they gave to the little children, they sent me to the
|
|
closest ward school as long as the law would let them; but I was
|
|
never like any of the other children, and they all knew it. I'd
|
|
to go and come like a prisoner, and be working around the Home
|
|
early and late for me board and clothes. I always wanted to
|
|
learn mighty bad, but I was glad when that was over.
|
|
|
|
"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 w as the boy who had been sent him.
|
|
Between noon and that evening, he and his son close my age had
|
|
me in pretty much the same shape in which I was found in the
|
|
beginning, so I lay awake that night and ran away. I'd like to
|
|
have squared me account with that boy before I left, but I
|
|
didn't dare for fear of waking the old man, and I knew I
|
|
couldn't handle the two of them; but I'm hoping to meet him
|
|
alone some day before I die."
|
|
|
|
McLean tugged at his mustache to hide the smile on his
|
|
lips, but he liked the boy all the better for this confession.
|
|
|
|
"I didn't even have to steal clothes to get rid of starting
|
|
in me Home ones," Freckles continued, "for they had already
|
|
taken all me clean, neat things for the boy and put me into his
|
|
rags, and that went almost as sore as the beatings, for where I
|
|
was we were always kept tidy and sweet-smelling, anyway. I
|
|
hustled clear into this State before I learned that man couldn't
|
|
have kept me if he'd wanted to. When I thought I was good and
|
|
away from him, I commenced hunting work, but it is with
|
|
everybody else just as it is with you, sir. Big, strong, whole
|
|
men are the only ones for being wanted."
|
|
|
|
"I have been studying over this matter," answered McLean.
|
|
"I am not so sure but that a man no older than you and similar
|
|
in every way could do this work very well, if he were not a
|
|
coward, and had it in him to be trustworthy and industrious."
|
|
|
|
Freckles came forward a step.
|
|
|
|
"If you will give me a job where I can earn me food,
|
|
clothes, and a place to sleep," he said, "if I can have a Boss to
|
|
work for like other men, and a place I feel I've a right to, I will
|
|
do precisely what you tell me or die trying."
|
|
|
|
He spoke so convincingly that McLean believed, although in
|
|
his heart he knew that to employ a stranger would be wretched
|
|
business for a man with the interests he had involved.
|
|
|
|
"Very well," the Boss found himself answering, "I will
|
|
enter you on my pay rolls. We'll have supper, and then I will
|
|
provide you with clean clothing, wading-boots, the wire-mending
|
|
apparatus, and a revolver. The first thing in the morning, I
|
|
will take you the length of the trail myself and explain fully
|
|
what I want done. All I ask of yon 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, sensitive
|
|
features.
|
|
|
|
"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 huskiness, he spoke.
|
|
|
|
"I will tell you what we will do, my lad," he said. "My
|
|
father was my ideal man, and I loved him better than any other
|
|
I have ever known. He went out five years ago, but that he would
|
|
have been proud to leave you his name I firmly believe. If I
|
|
give to you the name of my nearest kin and the man I loved
|
|
best--will that do?"
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
"All right," he said. "I will write it on the roll--James
|
|
Ross McLean."
|
|
|
|
"Thank you mightily," said Freckles. "That makes me feel
|
|
almost as if I belonged, already."
|
|
|
|
"You do," said McLean. "Until Someone armed with every
|
|
right comes to claim you, you are mine. Now, come and take a
|
|
bath, have some supper, and go to bed."
|
|
|
|
As Freckles followed into the lights and sounds of the
|
|
camp, his heart and soul were singing for joy.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER II
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Proves His Mettle and Finds Friends
|
|
|
|
NEXT morning found Freckles in clean, whole clothing, fed, and
|
|
rested. Then McLean outfitted him and gave him careful
|
|
instruction in the use of his weapon. The Boss showed him around
|
|
the timber-line, and engaged him a place to board with the
|
|
family of his head teamster, Duncan, whom he had brought from
|
|
Scotland with him, and who lived in a small clearing he was
|
|
working out between the swamp and the corduroy. When the gang
|
|
was started for the south camp, Freckles was left to guard a
|
|
fortune in the Limberlost. That he was under guard himself those
|
|
first weeks he never knew.
|
|
|
|
Each hour was torture to the boy. The restricted life of a
|
|
great city orphanage was the other extreme of the world compared
|
|
with the Limberlost. He was afraid for his life every minute.
|
|
The heat was intense. The heavy wading-boots rubbed his feet
|
|
until they bled. He was sore and stiff from his long tramp and
|
|
outdoor exposure. The seven miles of trail was agony at every
|
|
step. He practiced at night, under the direction of Duncan,
|
|
until he grew sure in the use of his revolver. He cut a stout
|
|
hickory cudgel, with a knot on the end as big as his fist; this
|
|
never left his hand. What he thought in those first days he
|
|
himself could not recall clearly afterward.
|
|
|
|
His heart stood still every time he saw the beautiful
|
|
marsh-grass begin a sinuous waving against the play of the wind, as
|
|
McLean had told him it would. He bolted half a mile with the
|
|
first boom of the bittern, and his hat lifted with every yelp of
|
|
the sheitpoke. Once he Saw a lean, shadowy form following him,
|
|
and fired his revolver. Then he was frightened worse than ever
|
|
for fear it might have been Duncan's collie.
|
|
|
|
The first afternoon that he found his wires down, and he
|
|
was compelled to plunge knee deep into the black swamp-muck to
|
|
restring them, he became so ill from fear and nervousness that
|
|
he scarcely could control his shaking hand to do the work. With
|
|
every step, he felt that he would miss secure footing and be
|
|
swallowed in that clinging sea of blackness. In dumb agony he
|
|
plunged forward, clinging to the posts and trees until he had
|
|
finished restringing and testing the wire. He had consumed much
|
|
time. Night closed in. The Limberlost stirred gently, then shook
|
|
herself, growled, and awoke around him.
|
|
|
|
There seemed to be a great owl hooting from every hollow
|
|
tree, and a little one screeching from every knothole. The
|
|
bellowing of big bullfrogs was not sufficiently deafening to
|
|
shut out the wailing of whip-poor-wills that seemed to Come from
|
|
every bush. Nighthawks swept past him with their shivering cry,
|
|
and bats struck his face. A prowling wildcat missed its catch
|
|
and screamed with rage. A straying fox bayed incessantly for its
|
|
mate.
|
|
|
|
The hair on the back of Freckles' neck arose as bristles,
|
|
and his knees wavered beneath him. He could not see whether the
|
|
dreaded snakes were on the trail, or, in the pandemonium, hear
|
|
the rattle for which McLean had cautioned him to listen. He
|
|
stood motionless in an agony of fear. His breath whistled
|
|
between his teeth. The perspiration ran down his face and body
|
|
in little streams.
|
|
|
|
Something big, black, and heavy came crashing through the
|
|
swamp close to him, and with a yell of utter panic Freckles
|
|
ran--how far he did not know; but at last he gained control over
|
|
himself and retraced his steps. His jaws set stiffly and the
|
|
sweat dried on his body. When he reached the place from which he
|
|
had started to run, he turned and with measured steps made his way
|
|
down the line. After a time he realized that he was only
|
|
walking, so he faced that sea of horrors again. When he came
|
|
toward the corduroy, the cudgel fell to test the wire at each
|
|
step.
|
|
|
|
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 perceptions, came only
|
|
a little closer.
|
|
|
|
After a few weeks, when Freckles learned that he was still
|
|
living, that he had a home, and the very first money he ever had
|
|
possessed was safe in his pockets, he began to grow proud. He
|
|
yet side-stepped, dodged, and hurried to avoid being late again,
|
|
but he was gradually developing the fearlessness that men ever
|
|
acquire of dangers to which they are hourly accustomed.
|
|
|
|
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, flesh-hunters would not come on the trail and attack
|
|
him, and he had his revolver for defence if they did. He soon
|
|
learned to laugh at the big, floppy birds that made horrible
|
|
noises. One day, watching behind a tree, he saw a crane solemnly
|
|
performing a few measures of a belated nuptial song-and-dance
|
|
with his mate. Realizing that it was intended in tenderness, no
|
|
matter how it appeared, the lonely, starved heart of the boy
|
|
sympathized with them.
|
|
|
|
Before the first month passed, he was fairly easy about his
|
|
job; by the next he rather liked it. Nature can be trusted to
|
|
work her own miracle in the heart of any man whose daily task
|
|
keeps him alone among her sights, sounds, and silences.
|
|
|
|
When day after day the only thing that relieved his utter
|
|
loneliness was the companionship of the birds and beasts of the
|
|
swamp, it was the most natural thing in the world that Freckles
|
|
should turn to them for friendship. He began by instinctively
|
|
protecting the weak and helpless. He was astonished at the
|
|
quickness with which they became accustomed to him and the
|
|
disregard they showed for his movements, when they learned that
|
|
he was not a hunter, while the club he carried was used more
|
|
frequently for their benefit than his own. He scarcely could
|
|
believe what he saw.
|
|
|
|
From the effort to protect the birds and animals, it was
|
|
only a short step to the possessive feeling, and with that
|
|
sprang the impulse to caress and provide. Through fall, when
|
|
brooding was finished and the upland birds sought the swamp in
|
|
swarms to feast on its seeds and berries, Freckles was content
|
|
with watching them and speculating about them. Outside of half
|
|
a dozen of the very commonest they were strangers to him. The
|
|
likeness of their actions to humanity was an hourly surprise.
|
|
|
|
When black frost began stripping the Limberlost, cutting
|
|
the ferns, shearing the vines from the trees, mowing the
|
|
succulent green things of the swale, and setting the leaves
|
|
swirling down, he watched the departing troops of his friends
|
|
with dismay. He began to realize that he would be left alone. He
|
|
made especial efforts toward friendliness with the hope that he could
|
|
induce some of them to stay. It was then that he conceived the idea of
|
|
carrying food to the birds; for he saw that they were leaving
|
|
for lack of it; but he could not stop them. Day after day,
|
|
flocks gathered and departed: by the time the first snow
|
|
whitened his trail around the Limberlost, there were left only
|
|
the little black-and-white juncos, the sapsuckers,
|
|
yellowhammers, a few patriarchs among the flaming cardinals, the
|
|
blue jays, the crows, and the quail.
|
|
|
|
Then Freckles began his wizard work. He cleared a space of
|
|
swale, and twice a day he spread a birds' banquet. By the middle
|
|
of December the strong winds of winter had beaten most of the
|
|
seed from the grass and bushes. The snow fell, covering the
|
|
swamp, and food was very scarce and difficult to find. The birds
|
|
scarcely waited until Freckles' back was turned to attack his
|
|
provisions. In a few weeks they flew toward the clearing to meet
|
|
him. During the bitter weather of January they came halfway to
|
|
the cabin every morning, and fluttered around him as doves all
|
|
the way to the feeding-ground. Before February they were so
|
|
accustomed to him, and so hunger-driven, that they would perch
|
|
on his head and shoulders, and the saucy jays would try to pry
|
|
into his pockets.
|
|
|
|
Then Freckles added to wheat and crumbs, every scrap of
|
|
refuse food he could find at the cabin. He carried to his pets
|
|
the parings of apples, turnips, potatoes, stray cabbage-leaves,
|
|
and carrots, and tied to the bushes meat-bones having scraps of
|
|
fat and gristle. One morning, coming to his feeding-ground
|
|
unusually early, he found a gorgeous cardinal and a rabbit side
|
|
by side sociably nibbling a cabbage-leaf, and that instantly
|
|
gave to him the idea of cracking nuts, from the store he had
|
|
gathered for Duncan's children, for the squirrels, in the effort
|
|
to add them to his family. Soon he had them coming--red, gray,
|
|
and black; then he became filled with a vast impatience that he
|
|
did not know their names or habits.
|
|
|
|
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 there--it was his and he could have it when he chose. In
|
|
imitation of McLean, he bought a small pocket account-book, in
|
|
which he carefully set down every dollar he earned and every
|
|
penny he spent. As his expenses were small and the Boss paid him
|
|
generously, it was astonishing how his little hoard grew.
|
|
|
|
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 clothing--frequently torn by the
|
|
wire--and saved kitchen scraps for his birds, not because she
|
|
either knew or cared anything about them, but because she
|
|
herself was close enough to the swamp to be touched by its utter
|
|
loneliness. When Duncan laughed at her for this, she retorted:
|
|
"My God, mannie, if Freckles hadna the birds and the beasts he
|
|
would be always alone. It was never meant for a human being to
|
|
be so solitary. He'd get touched in the head if he hadna them to
|
|
think for and to talk to."
|
|
|
|
"How much answer do ye think he gets to his talkin', lass?"
|
|
laughed Duncan.
|
|
|
|
"He gets the answer that keeps the eye bricht, the heart
|
|
happy, and the feet walking faithful the rough path he's set
|
|
them in," answered Mrs. Duncan earnestly.
|
|
|
|
Duncan walked away appearing very thoughtful. The next
|
|
morning he gave an ear from the corn he was shelling for his
|
|
chickens to Freckles, and told him to carry it to his wild
|
|
chickens in the Limberlost. Freckles laughed delightedly.
|
|
|
|
"Me chickens!" he said. "Why didn't I ever think of that
|
|
before? Of course they are! They are just little, brightly
|
|
colored cocks and hens! But `wild' is no good. What would you
|
|
say to me `wild chickens' being a good deal tamer than yours
|
|
here in your yard?"
|
|
|
|
"Hoot, lad!" cried Duncan.
|
|
|
|
"Make yours light on your head and eat out of your hands
|
|
and pockets," challenged Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Go and tell. your fairy tales to the wee people! They're
|
|
juist brash on believin' things," said Duncan. "Ye canna invent
|
|
any story too big to stop them from callin' for a bigger."
|
|
|
|
"I dare you to come see!" retorted Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Take ye!" said Duncan. "If ye make juist ane bird licht on
|
|
your heid or eat frae your hand, ye are free to help yoursel' to
|
|
my corncrib and wheat bin the rest of the winter."
|
|
|
|
Freckles sprang in air and howled in glee.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Duncan! You're too, aisy" he cried. "When will you
|
|
come?"
|
|
|
|
"I'll come next Sabbath," said Duncan. "And I'll believe
|
|
the birds of the Limberlost are tame as barnyard fowl when I see
|
|
it, and no sooner!"
|
|
|
|
After that Freckles always spoke of the birds as his
|
|
chickens, and the Duncans followed his example. The very next
|
|
Sabbath, Duncan, with his wife and children, followed Freckles
|
|
to the swamp. They saw a sight so wonderful it will keep them
|
|
talking all the remainder of their lives, and make them unfailing
|
|
friends of all the birds.
|
|
|
|
Freckles' chickens were awaiting him at the edge of the
|
|
clearing. They cut the frosty air around his head into curves
|
|
and circles of crimson, blue, and black. They chased each other
|
|
from Freckles, and swept so closely themselves that they brushed
|
|
him with their outspread wings.
|
|
|
|
At their feeding-ground Freckles set down his old pail of
|
|
scraps and swept the snow from a small level space with a broom
|
|
improvised of twigs. As soon as his back was turned, the birds
|
|
clustered over the food, snatching scraps to carry to the
|
|
nearest bushes. Several of the boldest, a big crow and a couple
|
|
of jays, settled on the rim and feasted at leisure, while a
|
|
cardinal, that hesitated to venture, fumed and scolded from a
|
|
twig overhead.
|
|
|
|
Then Freckles scattered his store. At once the ground
|
|
resembled the spread mantle of Montezuma, except that this mass
|
|
of gaily colored feathers was on the backs of living birds.
|
|
While they feasted, Duncan gripped his wife's arm and stared in
|
|
astonishment; for from the bushes and dry grass, with gentle
|
|
cheeping and queer, throaty chatter, as if to encourage each
|
|
other, came flocks of quail. Before anyone saw it arrive, a big
|
|
gray rabbit sat in the midst of the feast, contentedly gnawing
|
|
a cabbageleaf.
|
|
|
|
"Weel, I be drawed on!" came Mrs. Duncan's tense whisper.
|
|
|
|
"Shu-shu," cautioned Duncan.
|
|
|
|
Lastly Freckles removed his cap. He began filling it with
|
|
handfuls of wheat from his pockets. In a swarm the grain-eaters
|
|
arose around him as a flock of tame pigeons. They perched on his
|
|
arms and the cap, and in the stress of hunger, forgetting all
|
|
caution, a brilliant cock cardinal and an equally gaudy jay
|
|
fought for a perching-place on his head.
|
|
|
|
"Weel, I'm beat," muttered Duncan, forgetting the silence
|
|
imposed on his wife. "I'll hae to give in. `Seein' is
|
|
believin'., Aman wad hae to see that to believe it. We mauna let
|
|
the Boss miss that sight, for it's a chance will no likely come
|
|
twice in a life. Everything is snowed under and thae craturs near
|
|
starved, but trustin' Freckles that complete they are tamer than our
|
|
chickens. Look hard, bairns!" he whispered. "Ye winna see the
|
|
like o' yon again, while God lets ye live. Notice their color
|
|
against the ice and snow, and the pretty skippin' ways of them!
|
|
And spunky! Weel, I'm heat fair!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles emptied his cap, turned his pockets and scattered
|
|
his last grain. Then he waved his watching friends good-bye and
|
|
started down the timber-line.
|
|
|
|
A week later, Duncan and Freckles arose from breakfast to
|
|
face the bitterest morning of the winter. When Freckles, warmly
|
|
capped and gloved, stepped to the corner of the kitchen for his
|
|
scrap-pail, he found a big pan of steaming boiled wheat on the
|
|
top of it. He wheeled to Mrs. Duncan with a shining face.
|
|
|
|
"Were you fixing this warm food for me chickens or yours?"
|
|
he asked.
|
|
|
|
"It's for yours, Freckles," she said. "I was afeared this
|
|
cold weather they wadna lay good without a warm bite now and
|
|
then."
|
|
|
|
Duncan laughed as he stepped to the other room for his
|
|
pipe; but Freckles faced Mrs. Duncan with a trace of every pang
|
|
of starved mother-hunger he ever had suffered written large on
|
|
his homely, splotched, narrow features.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, how I wish you were my mother!" he cried.
|
|
|
|
Mrs. Duncan attempted an echo of her husband's laugh.
|
|
|
|
"Lord love the lad!" she exclaimed. "Why, Freckles, are ye
|
|
no bricht enough to learn without being taught by a woman that
|
|
I am your mither? If a great man like yoursel' dinna ken that,
|
|
learn it now and ne'er forget it. Ance a woman is the wife of
|
|
any man, she becomes wife to all men for having had the wifely
|
|
experience she kens! Ance a man-child has beaten his way to life
|
|
under the heart of a woman, she is mither to all men, for the
|
|
hearts of mithers are everywhere the same. Bless ye, laddie, I
|
|
am your mither!"
|
|
|
|
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 tear.s that were
|
|
coming straight from his swelling heart.
|
|
|
|
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 mither-hungry
|
|
lad! He breaks my heart!"
|
|
|
|
Duncan's arms closed convulsively around his wife. With a
|
|
big, brown hand he lovingly stroked her rough, sorrel hair.
|
|
|
|
"Sarah, you're a guid woman!" he said. "You're a michty
|
|
guid woman! Ye hae a way o' speakin' out at times that's like
|
|
the inspired prophets of the Lord. If that had been put to me,
|
|
now, I'd `a' felt all I kent how to and been keen enough to say
|
|
the richt thing; but dang it, I' d, a' stuttered and stammered
|
|
and got naething out that would ha' done onybody a mite o' good.
|
|
But ye, Sarah! Did ye see his face, woman? Ye sent him off
|
|
lookin' leke a white light of holiness had passed ower and
|
|
settled on him. Ye sent the lad away too happy for mortal words,
|
|
Sarah. And ye made me that proud o' ye! I wouldna trade ye an'
|
|
my share o' the Limberlost with ony king ye could mention."
|
|
|
|
He relaxed his clasp, and setting a heavy hand on each
|
|
shoulder, he looked straight into her eyes.
|
|
|
|
"Ye're prime, Sarah! Juist prime!" he said.
|
|
|
|
Sarah Duncan stood alone in the middle of her two-roomed
|
|
log cabin and lifted a bony, clawlike pair of hands, reddened by
|
|
frequent immersion in hot water, cracked and chafed by exposure
|
|
to cold, black-lined by constant battle with sw amp-loam,
|
|
calloused with burns, and stared at them w onderingly.
|
|
|
|
"Pretty-lookin' things ye are!" she whispered. "But ye hae
|
|
juist been kissed. And by such a man! Fine as God ever made at
|
|
His verra best. Duncan wouldna trade wi' a king! Na! Nor I
|
|
wadna trade with a queen wi' a palace, an' velvet gowns, an'
|
|
diamonds big as hazelnuts, an' a hundred visitors a day into the
|
|
bargain. Ye've been that honored I'm blest if I can bear to
|
|
souse ye in dish-water. Still, that kiss winna come off!
|
|
Naething can take it from me, for it's mine till I dee. Lord, if
|
|
I amna proud! Kisses on these old claws! Weel, I be drawed on!"
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER III
|
|
|
|
Wherein a Feather Falls and a Soul Is Born
|
|
|
|
So FRECKLES fared through the bitter winter. He was very happy.
|
|
He had hungered for freedom, love, and appreciation so long! He
|
|
had been unspeakably lonely at the Home; and the utter
|
|
loneliness of a great desert or forest is not so difficult to
|
|
endure as the loneliness of being constantly surrounded by
|
|
crowds of people who do not care in the least whether one is
|
|
living or dead.
|
|
|
|
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 sw ale; when the rushes lifted their heads, and the
|
|
pulse of the newly resurrected season beat strongly in the heart
|
|
of nature, something new stirred in the breast of the hoy.
|
|
|
|
Nature always levies her tribute. Now she laid a powerful
|
|
hand on the soul of Freckles, to which the boy's whole being
|
|
responded, though he had not the least idea what was troubling
|
|
him. Duncan accepted his wife's theory that it was a touch of
|
|
spring fever, but Freckles knew better. He never had been so
|
|
well. Clean, hot, and steady the blood pulsed in his veins. He
|
|
was always hungry, and his most difficult work tired him not at
|
|
all. For long months, without a single intermission, he had
|
|
tramped those seven miles of trail twice each day, through every
|
|
conceivable state of weather. With the heavy club he gave his
|
|
wires a sure test, and between sections, first in play,
|
|
afterward to keep his circulation going, he had acquired the
|
|
skill of an expert drum major. In his work there was exercise
|
|
for every muscle of his body each hour of the day, at night a
|
|
bath, wholesome food, and sound sleep in a room that never knew
|
|
fire. He had gained flesh and color, and developed a greater
|
|
strength and endurance than anyone ever could have guessed.
|
|
|
|
Nor did the Limberlost contain last year's terrors. He had
|
|
been with her in her hour of desolation, when stripped bare and
|
|
deserted, she had stood shivering, as if herself afraid. He had
|
|
made excursions into the interior until he was familiar with
|
|
every path and road that ever had been cut. He had sounded the
|
|
depths of her deepest pools, and had learned why the trees grew
|
|
so magnificently. He had found that places of swamp and swale
|
|
were few compared with miles of solid timber-land, concealed by
|
|
summer's luxuriant undergrowth.
|
|
|
|
The sounds that at first had struck cold fear into his soul
|
|
he now knew had left on wing and silent foot at the approach of
|
|
winter. As flock after flock of the birds returned and he
|
|
recognized the old echoes reawakening, he found to his surprise
|
|
that he had been lonely for them and was hailing their return
|
|
with great joy. All his fears were forgotten. Instead, he was
|
|
possessed of an overpowering desire to know what they were, to
|
|
learn where they had been, and whether they would make friends
|
|
with him as the winter birds had done; and if they did, would
|
|
they be as fickle? For, with the running sap, creeping worm, and
|
|
winging bug, most of Freckles' "chickens" had deserted him,
|
|
entered the swamp, and feasted to such a state of plethora on
|
|
its store that they cared little for his supply, so that in the
|
|
strenuous days of mating and nest-building the boy was deserted.
|
|
|
|
He chafed at the birds' ingratitude, but he found speedy
|
|
consolation in watching and befriending the newcomers. He surely
|
|
would have been proud and highly pleased if he had known that
|
|
many of the former inhabitants of the interior swamp now grouped
|
|
their nests beside the timber-line solely for the sake of his
|
|
protection and company.
|
|
|
|
The yearly resurrection of the Limberlost is a mighty
|
|
revival. Freckles stood back and watched with awe and envy the
|
|
gradual reclothing and repopulation of the swamp. Keen-eyed and
|
|
alert through danger and loneliness, he noted every stage of
|
|
development, from the first piping frog and unsheathing bud, to
|
|
full leafage and the return of the last migrant.
|
|
|
|
The knowledge of his complete loneliness and utter
|
|
insignificance was hourly thrust upon him. He brooded and
|
|
fretted until he was in a fever; yet he never guessed the cause.
|
|
He was filled with a vast impatience, a longing that he scarcely
|
|
could endure.
|
|
|
|
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, yellow-coated,
|
|
black-sleeved, cock goldfincb, had remained on tbe wire for
|
|
several days past the bravest of all; and Freckles, absorbed
|
|
with the cunning and beauty of the tiny fellow, never guessed
|
|
that he was being duped. For the goldfinch was skipping,
|
|
flirting, and swinging for the express purpose of so holding his
|
|
attention that he would not look up and see a small cradle of
|
|
thistledown and wool perilously near his head. In the beginning
|
|
of brooding, the spunky little homesteader had clung heroically
|
|
to the wire when he was almost paralyzed with fright. When day
|
|
after day passed and brought only softly whistled repetitions of
|
|
his call, a handful of crumbs on the top of a locust line-post,
|
|
and gently worded coaxings, he grew in confidence. Of late he
|
|
had sung and swung during the passing of Freckles, who, not
|
|
dreaming of the nest and the solemn-eyed little hen so close
|
|
above, thought himself unusually gifted in his power to attract the
|
|
birds. This morning the goldfinch scarcely could believe his ears,
|
|
and clung to the wire until an unusually vicious rap sent him
|
|
spinning a foot in air, and his "Ptseet" came with a squall of
|
|
utter panic.
|
|
|
|
The wires were ringing with a story the birds could not
|
|
translate, and Freckles was quite as ignorant of the trouble as
|
|
they.
|
|
|
|
A peculiar movement beneath a small walnut tree caught his
|
|
attention. He stopped to investigate. There was an unusually
|
|
large Luna cocoon, and the moth was bursting the upper end in
|
|
its struggles to reach light and air. Freckles stood and stared.
|
|
|
|
"There's something in there trying to get out," he
|
|
muttered. "Wonder if I could help it? Guess I best not be
|
|
trying. If I hadn't happened along, there wouldn't have been
|
|
anyone to do anything, and maybe I'd only be hurting it.
|
|
It's--it's----Oh, skaggany! It's just being born!"
|
|
|
|
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. Tbere was a band of delicate
|
|
lavender across its forehead, and its feet were of the same
|
|
colour; there were antlers, like tiny, straw-colored ferns, on
|
|
its head, and from its shoulders hung the crumpled wet wings. As
|
|
Freckles gazed, tense with astonishment, he saw that these were
|
|
expanding, drooping, taking on color, and small, oval markings
|
|
were beginning to show.
|
|
|
|
The minutes passed. Freckles' steady gaze never wavered.
|
|
Without realizing it, he was trembling with eagerness and
|
|
anxiety. As he saw what was taking place, "It's going to fly,"
|
|
he breathed in hushed wonder. The morning sun fell on the moth
|
|
and dried its velvet down, while the warm air made it fluffy.
|
|
The rapidly growing wings began to show the most delicate green,
|
|
with lavender fore-ribs, transparent, eye-shaped markings, edged with
|
|
lines of red, tan, and black, and long, crisp trailers.
|
|
|
|
Freckles was whispering to himself for fear of disturbing
|
|
the moth. It began a systematic exercise of raising and lowering
|
|
its exquisite wings to dry them and to establish circulation.
|
|
The boy realized that soon it would be able to spread them and
|
|
sail away. His long-coming soul sent up its first shivering cry.
|
|
|
|
"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. M cLean 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 man-creature's head; and
|
|
indeed, he simply must not be allowed to look up, so the brave
|
|
little fellow rocked on the wire and piped, as he had done every
|
|
day for a week: "See me? See me?"
|
|
|
|
"See you! Of courSe I see you," growled Freckles. "I see
|
|
you day after day, and what good is it doing me? I might see you
|
|
every morning for a year, and then not be able to be telling
|
|
anyone about it. `Seen a bird with black silk wings--little, and
|
|
yellow as any canary.' That's as far as I'd get. What you doing
|
|
here, anyway? Have you a mate? What's your name? `See you?' I reckon
|
|
I see you; but I might as well be blind, for any good it's doing
|
|
me!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles impatiently struck the wire. With a screech of
|
|
fear, the goldfinch fled precipitately. His mate arose from the
|
|
nest with a whirr--Freckles looked up and saw it.
|
|
|
|
"O-ho!" he cried. "So that's what you are doing here! You
|
|
have a wife. And so close my head I have been mighty near
|
|
wearing a bird on my bonnet, and never knew it!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles laughed at his own jest, while in better humor he
|
|
climbed to examine the neat, tiny cradle and its contents. The
|
|
hen darted at him in a frenzy. "Now, where do you come in?" he
|
|
demanded, when he saw that she was not similar to the goldfinch.
|
|
|
|
"You be clearing out of here! This is none of your fry.
|
|
This is the nest of me little, yellow friend of the wire, and
|
|
you shan't be touching it. Don't blame you for wanting to see,
|
|
though. My, but it's a fine nest and beauties of eggs. Will you
|
|
be keeping away, or will I fire this stick at you?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles dropped to the trail. The hen darted to the nest
|
|
and settled on it with a tender, coddling movement. He of the
|
|
yellow coat flew to the edge to make sure that everything was
|
|
right. It would have been plain to the veriest novice tbat they
|
|
were part- ners in that cradle.
|
|
|
|
"Well, I'll be switched!" muttered Freckles. "If that ain't
|
|
both their nest! And he's yellow and she's green, or she's
|
|
yellow and he's green. Of course, I don't know, and I haven't
|
|
any way to find out, but it's plain as the nose on your face
|
|
that they are both ready to be fighting for that nest, so, of
|
|
course, they belong. Doesn't that beat you? Say, that's what's
|
|
been sticking me all of this week on that grass nest in the
|
|
thorn tree down the line. One day a blue bird is setting, so I
|
|
think it is hers. The next day a brown bird is on, and I chase
|
|
it off because the nest is blue's. Next day the brown bird is on
|
|
again, and I let her be, because I think it must be hers. Next
|
|
day, be golly, blue's on, and off I send her because it's
|
|
brown's; and now, I bet my hat, it's both their
|
|
nest and I've only been bothering them and making a big fool of
|
|
mesilf. Pretty specimen I am, pretending to be a friend to the
|
|
birds, and so blamed ignorant I don't know which ones go in
|
|
pairs, and blue and brown are a pair, of course, if yellow and
|
|
green are--and there's the red birds! I never thought of them!
|
|
He's red and she's gray--and now I want to be knowing, are they
|
|
all different? Why no! Of course, they ain't! There's the jays
|
|
all blue, and the crows all black."
|
|
|
|
The tide of Freckles' discontent welled until he almost
|
|
choked with anger and chagrin. He plodded down the trail,
|
|
scowling blackly and viciously spanging the wire. At the
|
|
finches' nest he left the line and peered into the thorn tree.
|
|
There was no bird brooding. He pressed closer to take a peep at
|
|
the snowy, spotless little eggs he had found so beautiful, when
|
|
at the slight noise up raised four tiny baby heads with
|
|
wide-open mouths, uttering hunger cries. Freckles stepped back.
|
|
The brown bird alighted on the edge and closed one cavity with
|
|
a wiggling green worm, while not two minutes later the hlue
|
|
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 marsh-grass. He enjoyed splashing through the
|
|
shallow pools on either side of the bridge.
|
|
|
|
Then, too, where the creek entered the swamp was a place of
|
|
unusual beauty. The water spread in darksome, mossy, green
|
|
pools. Water-plants and lilies grew luxuriantly, throwing up
|
|
large, rank, green leaves. Nowhere else in the Limberlost could be
|
|
found frog-music to equal that of the mouth of the creek. The drumming
|
|
and piping rolled in never-ending orchestral effect, while the
|
|
full chorus rang to its accompaniment throughout the season.
|
|
|
|
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, F reckles snatched
|
|
it up with almost a continuous movement facing the sky. There
|
|
was not a tree of any size in a large open space. There was no
|
|
wind to carry it. From the clear sky it had fallen, and
|
|
Freckles, gazing eagerly into the arch of June blue with a few
|
|
lazy clouds floating high in the sea of ether, had neither mind
|
|
nor knowledge to dream of a bird hanging as if frozen there. He
|
|
turned the big quill questioningly, and again his awed eyes
|
|
swept the sky.
|
|
|
|
"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 feather,
|
|
with almost unseeing eyes, so intently was he thinking.
|
|
|
|
Before him spread a large, green pool, filled with rotting
|
|
logs and leaves, bordered with delicate ferns and grasses among
|
|
which lifted the creamy spikes of the arrow-head, the blue of
|
|
water-hyacinth, and the delicate yellow of the jewel-flower. As
|
|
Freckles leaned, handling the feather and staring at it, then
|
|
into the depths of the pool, he once more gave voice to his old
|
|
query: "I wonder what it is!"
|
|
|
|
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!"
|
|
|
|
"Wha--what's that?" stammered Freckles, almost too much
|
|
bewildered to speak. "I--I know you are only a bullfrog, but, be
|
|
jabbers, that sounded mightily like speech. Wouldn't you please
|
|
to be saying it over?"
|
|
|
|
The bullfrog cuddled contentedly in the ooze. Then suddenly
|
|
he lifted his voice, and, as an imperative drumbeat, rolled it
|
|
again: "Fin' dout! Fin' dout! Find out!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles had the answer. Something seemed to snap in his
|
|
brain. There was a wavering flame before his eyes. Then his mind
|
|
cleared. His head lifted in a new poise, his shoulders squared,
|
|
while his spine straightened. The agony was over. His soul
|
|
floated free. Freckles came into his birthright.
|
|
|
|
"Before God, I will!" He uttered the oath so impressively
|
|
that the recording angel never winced as he posted it in the
|
|
prayer column.
|
|
|
|
Freckles set his hat over the top of one of the locust
|
|
posts used between trees to hold up the wire while he fastened
|
|
the feather securely in the band. Then he started down the line,
|
|
talking to himself as men who have worked long alone always fall
|
|
into the habit of doing.
|
|
|
|
"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 alway saying, and here's the way I am to do it. He said, too,
|
|
that there were people that knew everything in the swamp. Of
|
|
course they have written books! The thing for me to be doing is
|
|
to quit moping and be buying some. Never bought a book in me
|
|
life, or anything else of much account, for that matter. Oh,
|
|
ain't I glad I didn't waste me money! I'll surely be having
|
|
enough to get a few. Let me see."
|
|
|
|
Freckles sat on a log, took his pencil and account-book,
|
|
and figured on a back page. He had walked the timber-line ten
|
|
months. His pay was thirty dollars a month, and his board cost
|
|
him eight. That left twenty-two dollars a month, and his
|
|
clothing had cost him very little. At the least he had two
|
|
hundred dollars in the bank. He drew a deep breath and smiled at
|
|
the sky with satisfaction.
|
|
|
|
"I'll be having a book about all the birds, trees, flowers,
|
|
butterflies, and Yes, by gummy! I'll be having one about the
|
|
frogs --if it takes every cent I have," he promised himself.
|
|
|
|
He put away the account-book, that was his most cherished
|
|
possession, caught up his stick, and started down the line. The
|
|
even tap, tap, and the cheery, gladsome whistle carried far
|
|
ahead of him the message that Freckles was himself again.
|
|
|
|
He fell into a rapid pace, for he had lost time that
|
|
morning; when he rounded the last curve he was almost running.
|
|
There was a chance that the Boss might be there for his weekly
|
|
report.
|
|
|
|
Then, wavering, flickering, darting here and there over the
|
|
sweet marsh-grass, came a large black shadow, sweeping so
|
|
closely before him that for the second time that morning
|
|
Freckles dodged and sprang back. He had seen some owls and hawks
|
|
of the swamp that he thought might be classed as large birds, but never
|
|
anything like tbis, for six feet it spread its big, shining
|
|
wings. Its strong feet could be seen drawn among its featbers.
|
|
The sun glinted on its sharp, hooked beak. Its eyes glowed,
|
|
caught the light, and seemed able to pierce the ground at his
|
|
feet. It cared no more for Freckles than if he had not been
|
|
there; for it perched on a low tree, while a second later it
|
|
awkwardly hopped to the trunk of a lightning-riven elm, turned
|
|
its back, and began searching the blue.
|
|
|
|
Freckles looked just in tinme to see a second shadow sweep
|
|
the grass; and another bird, a trifle smaller and not quite so
|
|
brilliant in the light, slowly sailed down to perch beside the
|
|
first. Evidently they were mates, for with a queer, rolling hop
|
|
the first-comer shivered his bronze wings, sidled to the new
|
|
arrival, and gave her a silly little peck on her wing. Then he
|
|
coquettishly drew away and ogled her. He lifted his head,
|
|
waddled from her a few steps, awkwardly ambled back, and gave
|
|
her such a simple sort of kiss on her beak that Freckles burst
|
|
into a laugh, but clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the
|
|
sound.
|
|
|
|
The lover ducked and side-stepped a few feet. He spread his
|
|
wings and slowly and softly waved them precisely as if he were
|
|
fanning his charmer, which was indeed the result he
|
|
accomplished. Then a wave of uncontrollable tenderness moved him
|
|
so he hobbled to his bombardment once more. He faced her
|
|
squarely this time, and turned his head from side to side with
|
|
queer little jerks and indiscriminate peckings at her wings and
|
|
head, and smirkings that really should have been irresistible.
|
|
She yawned and shuffled away indifferently. Freckles reached up,
|
|
pulled the quill from his hat, and looking from it to the birds,
|
|
nodded in settled conviction.
|
|
|
|
"So you're me black angels, ye spalpeens! No wonder you
|
|
didn't get in! But I'll back you to come closer it than any
|
|
other birds ever did. You fly higher than I can see. Have you
|
|
picked the Limberlost for a good thing and come to try it? Well,
|
|
you can be me chickens if you want to, but I'm blest if you
|
|
ain't cool for new ones. Why don't you take this stick for a
|
|
gun and go skinning a mile?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles broke into an unrestrained laugh, for the
|
|
bird-lover was keen about his courting, while evidently his mate
|
|
was diffident. When he approached too boisterously, she relieved
|
|
him of a goodly tuft of feathers and sent him backward in a
|
|
series of squirmy little jumps that gave the boy an idea of what
|
|
had happened up-sky to send the falling feather across his
|
|
pathway.
|
|
|
|
"Score one for the lady! I'll be umpiring this,"
|
|
volunteered Freckles.
|
|
|
|
With a ravishing swagger, half-lifted wings, and deep,
|
|
guttural hissing, the lover approached again. He suddenly lifted
|
|
his body, but she 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 bov.
|
|
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 pent-up boyishness in the
|
|
lad broke forth. With an eloquence of which he never dreamed he
|
|
told his story. He talked with such enthusiasm that McLean never
|
|
took his eyes from his face or shifted in the saddle until he
|
|
described the strange bird-lover, and then the Boss suddenly bent
|
|
over the pommel and laughed with the boy.
|
|
|
|
Freckles decorated his story with keen appreciation and
|
|
rare touches of Irish wit and drollery that made it most
|
|
interesting as well as very funny. It was a first attempt at
|
|
descriptive narration. With an inborn gift for striking the
|
|
vital point, a naturalist's dawning enthusiasm for the wonders
|
|
of the Limberlost, and the welling joy of his newly found
|
|
happiness, he made McLean see the struggles of the moth and its
|
|
freshly painted wings, the dainty, brilliant bird-mates of
|
|
different colors, the feather sliding through the clear air, the
|
|
palpitant throat and batting eyes of the, frog. while his
|
|
version of the big bird's courtship won for the Boss the best
|
|
laugh he had enjoyed for years.
|
|
|
|
"They're in the middle of a swamp now" said Freckles. "Do
|
|
you suppose there is any chance of them staying with me
|
|
chickens? If they do, they'll be about the queerest I have; but
|
|
I tell you, sir, I am finding some plum good ones. There's a new
|
|
kind over at the mouth of the creek that uses its wings like
|
|
feet and walks on all fours. It travels like a thrashing
|
|
machine. There's another, tall as me waist, with a bill a foot
|
|
long, a neck near two, not the thickness of me wrist and an
|
|
elegant color. He's some blue and gray, touched up with black,
|
|
white, and brown. The voice of him is such that if he' d be
|
|
going up and standing beside a tree and crying at it a few times
|
|
he could be sawing it square off. I don't know but it would be
|
|
a good idea to try him on the gang, sir."
|
|
|
|
McLean laughed. "Those must be hlue herons, Freckles," he
|
|
said. "And it doesn't seem possible, but your description of the
|
|
big black birds sounds like genuine black vultures. They are
|
|
common enough in the South. I've seen them numerous around the
|
|
lumber camps of Georgia, but I never before heard of any this
|
|
far north. They must be strays. You have described perfectly our
|
|
nearest equivalent to a branch of these birds called in Europe
|
|
Pharaoh's Chickens, but if they are coming to the Limberlost
|
|
they will have to drop Pharaoh and become Freckles' Chickens,
|
|
like the remainder of the birds; won't they? Or are they too odd
|
|
and ugly to interest you?"
|
|
|
|
"Oh, not at all, at all!" cried Freckles, bursting into
|
|
pure brogue in his haste. "I don't know as I'd be calling them
|
|
exactly pretty, and they do move like a rocking-horse loping,
|
|
but they are so big and fearless. They have a fine color for
|
|
black birds, and their feet and beaks seem so strong. You never
|
|
saw anything so keen as their eyes! And. fly? Why, just think,
|
|
sir, they must be flying miles straight up, for they were out of
|
|
sight completely when the feather fell. I don't suppose I've a
|
|
chicken in the swamp that can go as close heaven as those big,
|
|
black fellows, and then"
|
|
|
|
Freckles' voice dragged and he hesitated.
|
|
|
|
"Then what?" interestedly urged McLean.
|
|
|
|
"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 helieve 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?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles lifted his brave, steady eyes to the Boss.
|
|
|
|
"If anybody loved me like that, Mr. McLean, I wouldn't be
|
|
spending any time on how they looked or moved. All I'd be
|
|
thinking of would be how they felt toward me. If they will stay,
|
|
I'll be caring as much for them as any chickens I have. If I did
|
|
laugh at them I thought he was just fine!"
|
|
|
|
The face of McLean was a study; but the honest eyes of the
|
|
boy were so compelling that he found himself answering: "You are
|
|
right, Freckles. He's a gentleman, isn't he? And the only real
|
|
chicken you have. Of course he'll remain! The Limberlost will be
|
|
paradise for his family. And now, Freckles, what has been the
|
|
trouble all spring? You have done your work as faithfully as
|
|
anyone could ask, but I can't help seeing that there is
|
|
something wrong. Are you tired of your job?"
|
|
|
|
"I love it," answered Freckles. "It will almost break me
|
|
heart when the gang comes and begins tearing up the swamp and
|
|
scaring away me chickens."
|
|
|
|
"Then what is the trouble?" insisted McLean.
|
|
|
|
"I think, sir, it's been books," answered Freckles. "You
|
|
see, I didn't realize it meself until the bullfrog told me this
|
|
morning. I hadn't ever even heard about a place like this.
|
|
Anyway, I wasn't understanding how it would be, if I had. Being
|
|
among these beautiful things every day, I got so anxious like to
|
|
be knowing and naming them, that it got to eating into me and
|
|
went and made me near sick, when I was well as I could be. Of
|
|
course, I learned to read, write, and figure some at school, but
|
|
there was nothing there, or in any of the city that I ever got
|
|
to see, that would make a fellow even be dreaming of such
|
|
interesting things as there are here. I've seen the parks--but
|
|
good Lord, they ain't even beginning to be in it with the
|
|
Limberlost! It's all new and strange to me. I don't know a thing
|
|
about any of it. The bullfrog told me to `find out,' plain as
|
|
day, and books are the only way; ain't they?"
|
|
|
|
"Of course," said McLean, astonished at himself for his
|
|
heartfelt relief. He had not guessed until that minute what it
|
|
would have meant to him to have Freckles give up. "You know
|
|
enough to study out what you want yourself, if you have the
|
|
books; don't you?"
|
|
|
|
"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 alwavs
|
|
did me sums perfect, and loved me history books. I had them
|
|
almost by heart. I never could get me grammar to suit them. They
|
|
said it was just born in me to go wrong talking, and if it
|
|
hadn,t been I suppose I would have picked it up from the other
|
|
children; but I'd the best voice of any of them in the Home or
|
|
at school. I could knock them all out singing. I was always
|
|
leader in the Home, and
|
|
once one of the superintendents gave me carfare and let me go
|
|
into the city and sing in a boys' choir. The master said I'd the
|
|
swatest voice of them all until it got rough like, and then he
|
|
made me quit for awhile, but he said it would be coming back by
|
|
now, and I'm railly thinking it is, sir, for I've tried on the
|
|
line a bit of late and it seems to go smooth again and lots
|
|
stronger. That and me chickens have been all the company I've
|
|
been having, and it will be all I'll want if I can have some
|
|
books and learn the real names of things, where they come from,
|
|
and why they do such interesting things. It's been fretting me
|
|
more than I knew to be shut up here among all these wonders and
|
|
not knowing a thing. I wanted to ask you what some books would
|
|
cost me, and if you'd be having the goodness to get me the right
|
|
ones. I think I have enough money"
|
|
|
|
Freckles offered his account-book and the Boss studied it
|
|
gravely.
|
|
|
|
"You needn't touch your account, Freckles," he said. "T en
|
|
dollars from this month's pay will provide you everything you
|
|
need to start on. I will write a friend in Grand Rapids today to
|
|
select you the very best and send them at once."
|
|
|
|
Freckles' eyes were shining.
|
|
|
|
"Never owned a book in me life!" he said. "Even me
|
|
schoolbooks were never mine. Lord! How I used to wish I could
|
|
have just one of them for me very own! Won't it be fun to see me
|
|
sawbird and me little yellow fellow looking at me from the pages
|
|
of a book, and their real names and all about them printed
|
|
alongside? How long will it be taking, sir?"
|
|
|
|
"Ten days should do it nicely," said McLean. Then, seeing
|
|
Freckles' lengthening face, he added: "I'll have Duncan bring
|
|
you a ten-bushel store-box the next time he goes to town. He can
|
|
haul it to the west entrance and set it up wherever you want it.
|
|
You can put in your spare time filling it with the specimens you
|
|
find until the books come, and then you can study out what you
|
|
have. I suspect you could collect specimens that I could send to
|
|
naturalists in the city and sell for you; things like that
|
|
winged creature, this morning. I don't know much in that line, but it
|
|
must have been a moth, and it might have been rare. I've seen
|
|
them by the thousand in museums, and in all nature I don't
|
|
remember rarer coloring than their wings. I'll order you a
|
|
butterfly-net and box and show you how scientists pin specimens.
|
|
Possibly you can make a fine collection of these swamp beauties.
|
|
It will be all right for you to take a pair of different moths
|
|
and butterflies, but I don't want to hear of your killing any
|
|
birds. They are protected by heavy fines."
|
|
|
|
McLean rode away leaving Freckles staring aghast. Then he
|
|
saw the point and smiled. Standing on the trail, he twirled the
|
|
feather and thought over the morning.
|
|
|
|
"Well, if life ain't getting to be worth living!" he said
|
|
wonderingly. "Biggest streak of luck I ever had! `Bout time
|
|
something was coming my way, but I wouldn't ever thought anybody
|
|
could strike such magnificent prospects through only a falling
|
|
feather."
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER IV
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Faces Trouble Bravely and Opens the Way for New
|
|
Experiences
|
|
|
|
ON DUNCAN'S return from his next trip to town there was a big
|
|
store-box loaded on the back of his wagon. He drove to the west
|
|
entrance of the swamp, set the box on a stump that Freckles had
|
|
selected in a beautiful, sheltered place, and made it secure on
|
|
its foundations with a tree at its back.
|
|
|
|
"It seems most a pity to nail into that tree," said Duncan.
|
|
"I haena the time to examine into the grain of it, but it looks
|
|
as if it might be a rare ane. Anyhow, the nailin' winna hurt it
|
|
deep, and havin' the case by it will make it safer if it is a
|
|
guid ane."
|
|
|
|
"Isn't it an oak?" asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Ay," said Duncan. "It looks like it might be ane of thae
|
|
finegrained white anes that mak' such grand furniture."
|
|
|
|
When the body of the case was secure, Duncan made a door
|
|
from the lid and fastened it with hinges. He drove a staple,
|
|
screwed on a latch, and gave Freckles a small padlock--so that
|
|
he nmight 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 Measures of the Limberlost he could have
|
|
been no happier.
|
|
|
|
When the big teamster stood back to look at his work he
|
|
laughingly quoted," `Neat, but no' gaudy, as McLean says. All we're,
|
|
needing now is a coat of paint to make a cupboard that would
|
|
turn Sarah green with envy. Ye'll find that safe an' dry, lad,
|
|
an' that's all that's needed."
|
|
|
|
"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 half-day 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. How I wish I
|
|
could do something that would please him as much!"
|
|
|
|
"Why, Freckles," said Duncan, as he knelt and began
|
|
collecting his tools, "I canna see that it will hurt ye to be
|
|
told that ye are doing every day a thing that pleases the Boss
|
|
as much as anything ye could do. Ye're being uncommon faithful,
|
|
lad, and honest as old Father Time. McLean is trusting ye as he
|
|
would his own flesh and blood."
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Duncan!" cried the happy boy. "Are you sure?"
|
|
|
|
"Why I know," answered Duncan. "I wadna venture to say so
|
|
else. In those first days he cautioned me na to tell ye, but now
|
|
he wadna care. D'ye ken, Freckles, that some of the single trees
|
|
ye are guarding are worth a thousand dollars?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles caught his breath and stood speechless.
|
|
|
|
"Ye see," said Duncan, "that's why they maun be watched so
|
|
closely. They tak', say, for instance, a burl maple--bird's eye
|
|
they call it in the factory, because it's full o' wee knots and
|
|
twists that look like the 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
|
|
maple--veneer, they call it. When it's all done and polished ye
|
|
never saw onythin' grander. Gang into a retail shop the next
|
|
time ye are in town and see some.
|
|
By sawin' it thin that way they get finish for thousands of
|
|
dollars' worth of furniture from a single tree. If ye dinna
|
|
watch faithful, and Black Jack gets out a few he has marked, it
|
|
means the loss of more money than ye ever dreamed of, lad. The
|
|
other night, down at camp, some son of Balaam was suggestin'
|
|
that ye might be sellin' the Boss out to Jack and lettin' him
|
|
tak' the trees secretly, and nobody wad ever ken till the gang
|
|
gets here."
|
|
|
|
A wave of scarlet flooded Freckles' face and he blazed
|
|
hotly at the insult.
|
|
|
|
"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 tbey'd find some. So you see bow tbe
|
|
Boss is trustin' ye, lad."
|
|
|
|
"I am gladder than I can ever expriss," said Freckles. "And
|
|
now will I be walking double time to keep some of them from
|
|
cutting a tree to get all that money!"
|
|
|
|
"Mither o' Moses!" howled Duncan. "Ye can trust the Scotch
|
|
to bungle things a'thegither. McLean was only meanin' to show ye
|
|
all confidence and honor. He's gone and set a high price for
|
|
some dirty whelp to ruin ye. I was just tryin' to show ye how he
|
|
felt toward ye, and I've gone an' give ye that worry to bear.
|
|
Damn the Scotch! They're so slow an' so dumb!"
|
|
|
|
"Exciptin' prisint company?" sweetly inquired Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"No!" growled Duncan. "Headin' the list! He'd nae business
|
|
to set a price on ye, lad, for that's about the amount of it,
|
|
an' I'd nae right to tell ye. We've both done ye ill, an' both
|
|
meanin' the verra best. Juist what I'm always sayin' to Sarah."
|
|
|
|
"I am mighty proud of what you have been telling me,
|
|
Duncan," said Freckles. "I need the warning, sure. For with the
|
|
books coming I might be timpted to neglect me work when double
|
|
watching is needed. Thank you more than I can say for putting me
|
|
on to it. What you've told me may be the saving of me. I won't
|
|
stop for dinner now. I'll be getting along the east line, and
|
|
when I come around about three, maybe Mother Duncan will let me
|
|
have a glass of milk and a bite of something."
|
|
|
|
"Ye see now!" cried Duncan in disgust. "Ye'll start on that
|
|
seven-mile tramp with na bite to stay your stomach. What was it
|
|
I told ye?"
|
|
|
|
"You told me that the Scotch had the hardest heads and the
|
|
softest hearts of any people that's living," answered Freckles.
|
|
|
|
Duncan grunted in gratified disapproval.
|
|
|
|
Freckles picked up his club and started down the line,
|
|
whistling cheerily, for he had an unusually long repertoire upon
|
|
which to draw.
|
|
|
|
Duncan went straight to the lower camp, and calling McLean
|
|
aside, repeated the conversation verbatim, ending: "And nae
|
|
matter what happens now or ever, dinna ye dare let onythin' make
|
|
ye believe that Freckles hasna guarded faithful as ony man
|
|
could."
|
|
|
|
"I don't think anything could shake my faith in the lad,"
|
|
answered McLean.
|
|
|
|
Freckles was whistling merrily. He kept one eye religiously
|
|
on the line. The other he divided between the path, his friends
|
|
of the wire, and a search of the sky for his latest arrivals.
|
|
Every day since their coming he had seen them, either hanging as
|
|
small, black clouds above the swamp or bobbing over logs and
|
|
trees with their queer, tilting walk. Whenever he could spare
|
|
time, he entered the swamp and tried to make friends with them,
|
|
for they were the tamest of all his unnumbered subjects. They
|
|
ducked, dodged, and ambled around him, over logs and bushes, and
|
|
not even a near approach would drive them to flight.
|
|
|
|
For two weeks he had found them circling over the
|
|
Limberlost regularly, but one morning the female was missing and
|
|
only the big black chicken hung sentinel above the swamp. His
|
|
mate did not reappear in the following days, and Freckles grew
|
|
very anxious. He spoke of it to Mrs. Duncan, and she quieted his
|
|
fears by raising a delightful hope in their stead.
|
|
|
|
"Why, Freckles, if it's the hen-bird ye are missing, it's
|
|
ten to one she's safe," she said. "She's laid, and is setting,
|
|
ye silly! Watch him and mark whaur he lichts. Then follow and find
|
|
the nest. Some Sabbath we'll all gang see it."
|
|
|
|
Accepting this theory, Freckles began searching for the
|
|
nest. Because these "chickens" were large, as the hawks, he
|
|
looked among the treetops until he almost sprained the back of
|
|
his neck. He had half the crow and hawk nests in the swamp
|
|
located. He searched for this nest instead of collecting
|
|
subjects for his case. He found the pair the middle of one
|
|
forenoon on the elm where he had watched their love-making. The
|
|
big black chicken was feeding his mate; so it was proved that
|
|
they were a pair, they were both alive, and undoubtedly she was
|
|
brooding. After that Freckles' nest-hunting continued with
|
|
renewed zeal, but as he had no idea where to look and Duncan
|
|
could offer no helpful suggestion, the nest was no nearer to
|
|
being found.
|
|
|
|
Coming from a long day on the trail, Freckles saw Duncan's
|
|
children awaiting him much closer the swale than they usually
|
|
ventured, and from their wild gestures he knew that something
|
|
had happened. He began to run, but the cry that reached him was:
|
|
"The books have come!"
|
|
|
|
How they hurried! Freckles lifted the youngest to his
|
|
shoulder, the second took his club and dinner pail, and when
|
|
they reached Mrs. Duncan they found her at work on a big box.
|
|
She had loosened the lid, and then she laughingly sat on it.
|
|
|
|
"Ye canna have a peep in here until ye have washed and
|
|
eaten supper," she said. "It's all ready on the table. Ance ye
|
|
begin on this, ye'll no be willin' to tak' your nose o' it till
|
|
bedtime, and I willna get my work done the nicht. We've eaten
|
|
long ago."
|
|
|
|
It was difficult work, but Freckles smiled bravely. He made
|
|
himself neat, swallowed a few bites, then came so eagerly that
|
|
Mrs. Duncan yielded, although she said she very well knew all
|
|
the time that his supper would be spoiled.
|
|
|
|
Lifting the lid, they removed the packing and found in that
|
|
box books on birds, trees, flowers, moths, and butterflies.
|
|
There was also one containing Freckles' bullfrog, true to life.
|
|
Besides these were a butterfly-net, a naturalist's tin
|
|
specimen-box, a bottle of cyanide, a box of cotton, a paper of long,
|
|
steel specimen-pins, and a letter telling what all these things were
|
|
and how to use them.
|
|
|
|
At the discovery of each new treasure, Freckles shouted:
|
|
"Will you be looking at this, now?"
|
|
|
|
Mrs. Duncan cried: "Weel, I be drawed on!"
|
|
|
|
The eldest boy turned a somersault for every extra, while
|
|
the baby, trying to follow his example, bunched over in a
|
|
sidewise sprawl and cut his foot on the axe with which his
|
|
mother had prized up the box-lid. That sobered them, they
|
|
carried the books indoors. Mrs. Duncan had a top shelf in her
|
|
closet cleared for them, far above the reach of meddling little
|
|
fingers.
|
|
|
|
When Freckles started for the trail next morning, the
|
|
shining new specimen-box flashed on his back. The black
|
|
"chicken," a mere speck in the blue, caught the gleanm of it.
|
|
Tbe folded net hung beside the boy's hatchet, and the bird book
|
|
was in the box. He walked the line and tested each section
|
|
scrupulously, watching every foot of the trail, for he was
|
|
determined not to slight his work; but if ever a boy "made haste
|
|
slowly" in a hurry, it was Freckles that morning. When at last
|
|
he reached the space he had cleared and planted around his case,
|
|
his heart swelled with the pride of possessing even so much that
|
|
he could call his own, while his quick eyes feasted on the
|
|
beauty of it.
|
|
|
|
He had made a large room with the door of the case set even
|
|
with one side of it. On tbree sides, fine big bushes of wild
|
|
rose climbed to the lower branches of the trees. Part of his
|
|
walls were mallow, part alder, thorn, willow, and dogwood. Below
|
|
there filled in a solid mass of pale pink sheep-laurel, and
|
|
yellow St. John's wort, while the amber threads of the dodder
|
|
interlaced everywhere. At one side the swamp came close, here
|
|
cattails grew in profusion. In front of them he had planted a
|
|
row of water-hyacinths without disturbing in the least the state
|
|
of their azure bloom, and where the ground arose higher for his
|
|
floor, a row of foxfire, that soon would be open.
|
|
|
|
To the left he had discovered a queer natural arrangement
|
|
of the trees, that grew to giant size and were set in a
|
|
gradually narrowing space so that a long, open vista stretched away
|
|
until lost in the dim recesses of the swamp. A little trimming of
|
|
underbush, rolling of dead logs, levelling of floor and
|
|
carpeting with moss, made it easy to understand why Freckles had
|
|
named this the "cathedral"; yet he never had been taught that
|
|
"the groves were God's first temples."
|
|
|
|
On either side of the trees that constituted the first arch
|
|
of this dim vista of the swamp he planted ferns that grew
|
|
waist-high thus early in the season, and so skilfully the work
|
|
had been done that not a frond drooped because of the change.
|
|
Opposite, he cleared a space and made a flower bed. He filled
|
|
one end with every delicate, lacy vine and fern he could
|
|
transplant successfully. The body of the bed was a riot of
|
|
color. Here he set growing dainty blue-eyed-Marys and blue-eyed
|
|
grass side by side. He planted harebells; violets, blue, white,
|
|
and yellow; wild geranium, cardinal-flower, columbine, pink
|
|
snake's mouth, buttercups, painted trilliums, and orchis. Here
|
|
were blood-root, moccasinflower, hepatica, pitcher-plant,
|
|
Jack-in-the-pulpit, and every other flower of the Limberlost
|
|
that was in bloom or bore a bud presaging a flower. Every day
|
|
saw the addition of new specimens. The place would have driven
|
|
a botanist wild with envy.
|
|
|
|
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 tbis the front door, though he used every
|
|
precaution to hide it. He built rustic seats between several of
|
|
the trees, leveled the floor, and thickly carpeted it with rank,
|
|
heavy, woolly-dog moss. Around the case he planted wild
|
|
clematis, bittersweet, and wild-grapevines, and trained them
|
|
over it until it was almost covered. Every day he planted new
|
|
flowers, cut back rough bushes, and coaxed out graceful ones.
|
|
His pride in his room was very great, but he had no idea how
|
|
surprisingly beautiful it would appear to anyone who had not
|
|
witnessed its growth and construction.
|
|
|
|
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
|
|
near-by 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 eagerness, stopped at
|
|
"vulture."
|
|
|
|
" `Great black California vulture,'" he read.
|
|
|
|
"Humph! This side the Rockies will do for us."
|
|
|
|
" `Common turkey-buzzard.' "
|
|
|
|
"Well, we ain't hunting common turkeys. McLean said
|
|
chickens, and what he says goes."
|
|
|
|
" `Black vulture of the South.' "
|
|
|
|
"Here we are arrived at once."
|
|
|
|
Freckles' finger followed the line, and he read scraps
|
|
aloud.
|
|
|
|
" `Common in the South. Sometimes called Jim Crow. Nearest
|
|
equivalent to C-a-t-h-a-r-t-e-s A-t-r-a-t-a.,"
|
|
|
|
"How the divil am I ever to learn them corkin' big words by
|
|
mesel'?"
|
|
|
|
" `--the Pharaoh's Chickens of European species. Sometimes
|
|
stray north as far as Virginia and Kentucky,"
|
|
|
|
"And sometimes farther," interpolated Freckles," `cos I got
|
|
them right here in Indiana so like these pictures I can just see
|
|
me big chicken bobbing up to get his ears boxed.. Hey?"
|
|
|
|
" `Light-blue eggs,"
|
|
|
|
"Golly! I got to be seeing them!"
|
|
|
|
" `--big as a common turkey's, but shaped like a hen's,
|
|
heavily splotched with chocolate,"
|
|
|
|
"Caramels, I suppose. And"
|
|
|
|
" `--in hollow logs or stumps.'"
|
|
|
|
"Oh, hagginy! Wasn't I harking 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 smudge-fire, with-
|
|
out 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's
|
|
--and there never had been others. Freckles' heart leaped hotly.
|
|
He ran a quick hand over his belt to feel if his revolver and
|
|
hatchet were there, caught up his cudgel and laid it across his
|
|
knees--then sat quietly, waiting. Was it Black Jack, or someone
|
|
even worse? Forced to do something to brace his nerves, he
|
|
puckered his stiffening lips and began whistling a tune he had
|
|
led in his clear tenor every year of his life at the Home
|
|
Christmas exercises.
|
|
|
|
"Who comes this way, so blithe and gay,
|
|
|
|
Upon a merry Christmas day?"
|
|
|
|
His quick Irish wit roused to the ridiculousness of it
|
|
until he 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 w as a man from the
|
|
gang. Wessner had been his bunk-mate the night he came down the
|
|
corduroy. He knew him as well as any of McLean's men. This was
|
|
no timber-thief. No doubt the Boss had sent him with a message.
|
|
Freckles sprang up and called cheerily, a warm welcome on his
|
|
face.
|
|
|
|
"Well, it's good telling if you're glad to see me," said
|
|
Wessner, with something very like a breath of relief. "We been
|
|
hearing down at the camp you were so mighty touchy you didn't
|
|
allow a man within a rod of the line."
|
|
"No more do I," answered Freckles, "if he's a stranger, but
|
|
you're from McLean, ain't you?"
|
|
|
|
"Oh, damn McLean!" said Wessner.
|
|
|
|
Freckles gripped the cudgel until his knuckles slowlv
|
|
turned purple.
|
|
|
|
"And are you railly saying so?" he inquired with elaborate
|
|
politeness.
|
|
|
|
"Yes, I am," said Wessner. "So would every man of the gang
|
|
if they wasn't too big cowards to say anything, unless mavbe
|
|
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!"
|
|
|
|
Green lights began to play through the gray of Freckles'
|
|
eyes.
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
gentle_. man! As for the Boss living like a prince, he shares
|
|
fare with you every day of your lives!"
|
|
|
|
Wessner was not a born diplomat, bnt 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.
|
|
|
|
"Humph!" said Freckles. "Have you been up to Chicago and
|
|
cornered wheat, and are vou offering me a friendly tip on the
|
|
invistment of me fortune?"
|
|
|
|
Wessner came close.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles, old fellow," he said, "if you let me give you a
|
|
pointer, I can put you on to making a cool five hundred without
|
|
stepping out of your tracks."
|
|
|
|
Freckles drew back.
|
|
|
|
"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, I--I mean a friend of mine. If you want to hear
|
|
sense and act with reason, he can see you later, but it ain't
|
|
necessary. We Can make all the plans needed. The trick's so dead
|
|
small and easy."
|
|
|
|
"Must be if you have the engineering of it," said Freckles.
|
|
But he beard, with a sigh of relief, that they were alone.
|
|
|
|
Wessner was impervious. "You just bet it is! Why, only
|
|
think, Freckles, slavin' away at a measly little thirty dollars
|
|
a month, and here is 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 beside the
|
|
line?"
|
|
|
|
"That's it, Freckles," blustered the Dutchman, "you're just
|
|
to find it. You needn't do a thing. You needn't know a thing.
|
|
You name a morning when you will walk up the west side of the
|
|
swamp and then turn round and walk hack down the same side again
|
|
and the money is yours. Couldn't anything be easier than that,
|
|
could it?"
|
|
|
|
"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?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles' soul was satisfied. "Is that all?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"No, it ain't," said Wessner. "If you really want to brace
|
|
up and be a man and go into the thing for keeps, you can make
|
|
five times that in a week. My friend knows a dozen others we
|
|
could get out in a few days, and all you'd have to do would be
|
|
to keep out of sight. Then you could take your money and skip
|
|
some night, and begin life like a gentleman somewhere else. What
|
|
do you think about it?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles purred like a kitten.
|
|
|
|
" `Twould be a rare joke on the Boss," he said, "to be
|
|
stalin' from him the very thing he's trusted me to guard, and be
|
|
getting me wages all winter throwed in free. And you're making
|
|
the pay awful high. Me to be getting five hundred for such a
|
|
simple little thing as that. You're trating me most royal
|
|
indade! It's away beyond all I'd be expecting. Sivinteen cints
|
|
would be a big price for that job. It must be looked into
|
|
thorough. Just you wait here until I do a minute's turn in the
|
|
swamp, and then I'll be eschorting you out of the clearing and
|
|
giving you the answer."
|
|
|
|
Freckles lifted the overhanging bushes and hurried to the
|
|
case. He unslung the specimen-box and laid it inside with his
|
|
hatchet and revolver. He sipped the key in his pocket and went
|
|
back to Wessner.
|
|
|
|
"Now for the answer," he said. "Stand up!"
|
|
|
|
There was iron in his voice, and he was commanding as an
|
|
outraged general. "Anything. vou want to be taking off?" he
|
|
questioned.
|
|
|
|
Wessner looked the astonishment he felt. "Why, no,
|
|
Freckles," he said.
|
|
|
|
"Have the goodness to be calling me Mister McLean," snapped
|
|
Freckles. "I'm after resarvin' me pet name for the use of me
|
|
friends! You may stand with your back to the light or be taking
|
|
any advantage you want."
|
|
|
|
"Why, what do you mean?" spluttered Wessner.
|
|
|
|
"I'm manin'," said Freckles tersely, "to lick a
|
|
quarter-section of 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 Duncan moved near
|
|
McLean and whispered, "Think of the boy, sir?"
|
|
|
|
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 F reckles' voice reached him be held
|
|
himself, with a strong effort, to learn what mettle was in the
|
|
boy.
|
|
|
|
"Don't you be wasting of me good time in the numbering of
|
|
me hands," cried Freckles. "The stringth of me cause will make
|
|
up for the weakness of me mimbers, and the size of a cowardly
|
|
thief doesn't count. You'll think all the wildcats of the
|
|
Limherlost are turned loose on you whin I come against you, and
|
|
as for me cause----I slept with you, Wessner, the night I came
|
|
down the corduroy like a dirty, friendless tramp, and the Boss was
|
|
for taking me up, washing, clothing, and feeding me, and giving
|
|
me a home full of love and tinderness, and a master to look to,
|
|
and good, well-earned money in the bank. He's trusting me his
|
|
heartful, and here comes you, you spotted toad of the big road,
|
|
and insults me, as is an honest Irish gintleman, by hinting that
|
|
you concaive I'd be willing to shut me eyes and hold fast while
|
|
you rob him of the thing I was set and paid to guard, and then
|
|
act the sneak and liar to him, and ruin and eternally blacken
|
|
the soul of me. You damned rascal," raved Freckles, "be fighting
|
|
before I forget the laws of a gintlemin's game and split your
|
|
dirty head with me stick!"
|
|
|
|
Wessner backed away, mumhling, "But I don't want to hurt
|
|
you, Freckles!"
|
|
|
|
"Oh, don't you!" raged the boy, now fairly frothing. "Well,
|
|
you ain't resembling me none, for I'm itching like death to git
|
|
me fingers in the face of you."
|
|
|
|
He danced up, and as Wessner lunged in self-defense, ducked
|
|
under his arm as a bantam and punched him in the pit of the
|
|
stomach so that he doubled with a groan. Before Wessner could
|
|
straighten himself, Freckles was on him, fighting like the
|
|
wildest fury that ever left the beautiful island. The Dutchman
|
|
dealt thundering blows that sometimes landed and sent Freckles
|
|
reeling, and sometimes missed, while he went plunging into the
|
|
swale with the impetus of them. Freckles could not strike with
|
|
half Wessner's force, but he could land three blows to the
|
|
Dutchman's one. It was here that the boy's days of alert
|
|
watching on the line, the perpetual swinging of the heavy
|
|
cudgel, and the endurance of all weather stood him in good
|
|
stead; for he was tough, and agile. He skipped, ducked, and
|
|
dodged. For the first five minutes he endured fearful
|
|
punishment. Then Wessner's breath commenced to whistle between
|
|
his teeth, when Freckles only had begun fighting. He sprang back
|
|
with shrill laughter.
|
|
|
|
"Begolly! and will your honor be whistling the hornpipe for
|
|
me to be dancing of?', he cried.
|
|
|
|
Spang! went his fist into Wessner's face, and he was past
|
|
him into the swale.
|
|
|
|
"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 he
|
|
afraid of hurting me. I'll let you throw in an extra hand and
|
|
lick you to me complate satisfaction all the Same. Did you hear
|
|
me call the limit? Will you get up and be facing me?"
|
|
|
|
As Wessner struggled to his feet, he resembled a
|
|
battlefield, for his clothing was in ribbons and his face and
|
|
hands streaming blood.
|
|
|
|
"I--I guess I got enough," he mumbled.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, you do?" roared Freckles. "Well this ain't your say.
|
|
You come 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 ike a man, or getting it poured down the
|
|
throat of you like a baby? I ain't got enough! This is only just
|
|
the beginning with me. Be looking out there!"
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
Freckles watched him with regardful eye and saw at last
|
|
that he was completely exhausted. He bent over him, and catching
|
|
him by the back of the neck, jerked him to his knees. Wessner
|
|
lifted the face of a whipped cur, and fearing further punishment,
|
|
burst into shivering sobs, while the tears washed tiny rivulets
|
|
through the blood and muck. Freckles stepped back, glaring at
|
|
Wessner, but suddenly the scowl of anger and the ugly
|
|
disfiguring red faded from the boy's face. He dabbed at a cut on
|
|
his temple from which issued a tiny crimson stream, and jauntily
|
|
shook back his hair. His face took on the innocent look of a
|
|
cherub, and his voice rivaled that of a brooding dove, but into
|
|
his eyes crept a look of diabolical mischief.
|
|
|
|
He glanced vaguely around him until he saw his club, seized
|
|
and twirled it as a drum major, stuck it upright in the muck,
|
|
and marched on tiptoe to Wessner, mechanically, as a puppet
|
|
worked by a string. Bending over, Freckles reached an arm around
|
|
Wessner's waist and helped him to his feet.
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
ittle boys were going home. I've me work to do, and can't be
|
|
entertaining you any more today. Come back tomorrow, if you
|
|
ain't through yet, and we'll repate the perfarmance. Don't be
|
|
staring at me so wild like! I would eat you, but I can't afford
|
|
it. Me earnings, being honest, come slow, and I've no money to
|
|
be squanderin' on the pailful of Dyspeptic's Delight it would be
|
|
to taking to work you out of my innards!"
|
|
|
|
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 ine, the boy twirled
|
|
it a second, shook back his thick hair bonnily, and stepping
|
|
into the trail, followed Wessner. Because Freckles was Irish, it
|
|
was impossible to do it silently, so presently his clear tenor
|
|
rang out, though there were bad catches where he Was hard
|
|
pressed for breath:
|
|
|
|
"It was the Dutch. It was the Dutch.
|
|
|
|
Do you think it was the Irish hollered help?
|
|
|
|
Not much!
|
|
|
|
It was the Dutch. It was the Dutch----"
|
|
|
|
Wessner turned and mumbled: "What you following me for?
|
|
What are 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 to show him
|
|
off me territory with the honors of war!"
|
|
|
|
Then he changed his tone completely and added: "Belike it's
|
|
this, Freddy. You see, the Boss might come riding down this
|
|
trail any minute, and the ittle mare's so wheedlesome that if
|
|
she'd come on to you in your prisint state all of a sudden,
|
|
she'd stop that short she'd send Mr. McLean out over the ears of
|
|
her. No disparagement intinded to the sinse of the. mare!" he
|
|
added hastily.
|
|
|
|
Wessner belched a fearful oath, while Freckles laughed
|
|
merrily.
|
|
|
|
"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 iver out of you; and I
|
|
shOuldn't think you'd be wanting such a fine gintleman as him to
|
|
see that it's white!"
|
|
|
|
Wessner grew ghastly under his grime and broke inyo a
|
|
staggering run.
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
interestig 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 blue-lined,
|
|
calloused whiteness of his maimed arm, now vividly streaked with
|
|
contusions, while in a series of circular dots the blood oozed
|
|
slowly. Here Wessner had succeeded in setting his teeth. When
|
|
Freckles saw what it was he forgave himself the kick in the pit
|
|
of Wessner's stomach, and cursed fervently and deep.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles, Freckles," said McLean's voice.
|
|
|
|
Freckles snatched down his sleeve and arose to his feet.
|
|
|
|
"Excuse me, sir," he said. "You'll surely be belavin' I
|
|
thought meself alone."
|
|
|
|
McLean pushed him carefully to the seat, and bending over
|
|
him, opened a pocket-case that he carried as regularly as his
|
|
revolver and watch, for cuts and bruises were of daily
|
|
occurrence among the gang.
|
|
|
|
Taking the hurt arm, he turned back the sleeve and bathed
|
|
and bound the wounds. He examined Freckles' head and body and
|
|
convinced himself that there was no permanent injury, although
|
|
the cruelty of the punishment the boy had borne set the Boss
|
|
shuddering. Then he closed the case, shoved it into his pocket,
|
|
and sat beside Freckles. All the indescribable beauty of the
|
|
place was strong around him, but he saw only the bruised face of
|
|
the suffering boy, who had hedged for the information he wanted
|
|
as a diplomat, argued as a judge, fought as a sheik, and
|
|
triumphed as a devil.
|
|
|
|
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 McLean.
|
|
|
|
"Have you any orders, sir?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said McLean, "I have, and you are to follow them to
|
|
the letter. Turn over that apparatus to me and go straight home.
|
|
Soak yourself 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 w as 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 ittle idiot," growled McLean. "You can't walk
|
|
the line! I doubt if you can reach Duncan's. Don't you know when
|
|
you are done up? You go to bed; I'll finish your work."
|
|
|
|
"Niver!" protested Freckles. "I was just a little done up
|
|
for the prisint, a minute ago. I'm all right now. Riding-boots
|
|
are far too low. The day's hot and the walk a good seven miles,
|
|
sir. Niver!"
|
|
|
|
As he reached for the outfit he pitched forward and his
|
|
eyes closed. McLean stretched him on the moss and applied
|
|
restoratives. When Freckles returned to consciousness, McLean
|
|
ran to the cabin to tell Mrs. Duncan to have a hot bath ready,
|
|
and to bring Nellie. That worthy wOman promptly filled the
|
|
wash-boiler, starting a roaring fire under it. She pushed the
|
|
horse-trough from its base and rolled it to the kitchen.
|
|
|
|
By the time McLean came again, leading Nelie and holding
|
|
Freckles on her back, Mrs. Duncan was ready for business. She
|
|
and the Boss laid Freckles in the trough and poured on hot water
|
|
until he squirmed. They soaked and massaged him. Then they drew
|
|
off the hot water and closed his pores with cold. Lastly they
|
|
stretched him on the floor and chafed, rubbed, and kneaded him
|
|
until he cried out for mercy. As they rolled him into bed, his
|
|
eyes dropped shut, but a ittle later they flared open.
|
|
|
|
"Mr. McLean," he cried, "the tree! Oh, do be looking after
|
|
the tree!"
|
|
|
|
McLean bent over him. "Which tree, Freckles?"
|
|
|
|
"I don't know exact" sir. but it's on the east line, and
|
|
the wire is fastened to it. He bragged that you nailed it
|
|
yourself, sir. You'll know it by the bark having been laid open
|
|
to the grain somewhere low down. Five hundred dollars he offered
|
|
me--to be selling you out--sir!"
|
|
|
|
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
|
|
hying the other with a caress on the boy's forehead. F reckles
|
|
stirred at his touch, and whispered as softly as the swallows
|
|
under the eaves: "If you're coming this way--tomorrow--be
|
|
pleased to step over --and we'll repate--the chorus softly!"
|
|
|
|
"Bless the gritty devil," muttered McLean.
|
|
|
|
Then he went out and told Mrs. Duncan to keep close watch
|
|
on Freckles, also to send Duncan to him at the swamp the minute
|
|
he came home. Following the trail to the ine and back to the
|
|
scent of the fight, the Boss entered Freckles' study quietly, as
|
|
if his spirit, keeping there, might be roused, and gazed around
|
|
with astonished eyes.
|
|
|
|
How had the boy conceived it? What a picture he had wrought
|
|
in iving colors! He had the heart of a painter. He had the soul
|
|
of a poet. The Boss stepped carefully over the velvet carpet to
|
|
touch the walls of crisp verdure with gentle fingers. He stood
|
|
long beside the flower bed, and gazed at the banked wall of
|
|
bright bloom as if he doubted its reality.
|
|
|
|
Where had Freckles ever found, and how had he transplanted
|
|
such ferns? As McLean turned from them he stopped suddenly.
|
|
|
|
He had reached the door of the cathedral. That which
|
|
Freckles 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 iving 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 iving
|
|
color and glowing light? Was Freckles a devout Christian, and
|
|
did he worship here? Or was he an untaught heathen, and down
|
|
this vista of entrancing loveliness did Pan come piping, and
|
|
dryads, nymphs, and fairies dance for him?
|
|
|
|
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 started around the
|
|
line in search of the tree.
|
|
|
|
Said Duncan: "Now the boy is in for sOre trouble!"
|
|
|
|
"I hope not," answered McLean. "You never in all your life
|
|
saw a cur whipped so completely. He won't come back for the
|
|
repetition of the chorus. We surely can find the tree. If we
|
|
can't, Freckles can. I will bring enough of the gang to take it
|
|
out at once. That will insure peace for a time, at least, and I
|
|
am hoping that in a month more the whole gang may be moved here.
|
|
It soon will be fall, and then, if he will go, I intend to send
|
|
Freckles to my mother to be educated. With his quickness of mind
|
|
and body and a few years' good help he can do anything. Why,
|
|
Duncan, I'd give a hundred-dollar bill if you could have been here
|
|
and seen for yourself."
|
|
|
|
"Yes, and I'd `a' done murder," muttered the big teamster.
|
|
"I hope, sir, ye will make good your plans for Freckles, though
|
|
I'd as soon see ony born child o' my ain taken from our home. We
|
|
love the lad, me and Sarah."
|
|
|
|
Locating the tree was easy, because it was so well
|
|
identified. When the rumble of the big lumber wagons passing the
|
|
cabin on the way to the swamp wakened Freckles next morning, he
|
|
sprang up and was soon following them. He was so sore and stiff
|
|
that every movement was torture at first, but he grew easier,
|
|
and shortly did not suffer so much. McLean scolded him for
|
|
coming, yet in his heart triumphed over every new evidence of
|
|
fineness in the boy.
|
|
|
|
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 mightn't
|
|
I load it on and tak' it up to the barn as we pass?"
|
|
|
|
McLean said he was very willing, ordered the driver to
|
|
break line and load the log, detailing men to assist. He told
|
|
Freckles to ride on a section of the maple with him, but now the
|
|
boy asked to enter the swamp with Duncan.
|
|
|
|
"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 chance that they might be in that
|
|
one."
|
|
|
|
"Go ahead," said McLean. "That's a different story. If they
|
|
happen to be there, why tell Duncan he must give up the tree
|
|
until they have finished with it."
|
|
|
|
Then he climbed on a wagon and was driven away. Freckles
|
|
hurried into the swamp. He was a little behind, yet he could see
|
|
the men. Before he overtook them, they had turned from the west
|
|
road and had entered the swamp toward the east.
|
|
|
|
They stopped at the trunk of a monstrous prostrate log. It
|
|
had been cut three feet from the ground, over three-fourths of
|
|
the way through, and had fallen toward the east, the body of the
|
|
log still resting on the stump. The underbrush was almost
|
|
impenetrable, but Duncan plunged in and with a crowbar began
|
|
tapping along the trunk to decide how far it was hollow, so that
|
|
they would know where to cut. As they waited his decision, there
|
|
came from the mouth of it--on wings--a large hlack hird that
|
|
swept over their heads.
|
|
|
|
Freckles danced wildly. "It's me chickens! Oh, it's me
|
|
chickens!" he shouted. "Oh, Duncan, come quick! You've found the
|
|
nest of me precious chickens!"
|
|
|
|
Duncan hurried to the mouth of the log, but Freckles was
|
|
before him. He crashed through poison-vines and underbrush
|
|
regardless of any danger, and climbed on the stump. When Duncan
|
|
came he was shouting like a wild man.
|
|
|
|
"It's hatched!" he yelled. "Oh, me big chicken has hatched
|
|
out me ittle 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,
|
|
hlinking little bird to the light in a leaf-lined hat. The men
|
|
found it sufficiently wonderful to satisfy even Freckles, who
|
|
had forgotten he was ever sore or stiff, and coddled over it
|
|
with every blarneying term of endearment he knew.
|
|
|
|
Duncan gathered his tools. "Deal's off, boys!" he said
|
|
cheerfully. "This log mauna be touched until Freckles' chaukies
|
|
have finished with it. We might as weel gang. Better put it
|
|
back, Freckles. It's just out, and it may chill. Ye will probably
|
|
hae twa the morn."
|
|
|
|
Freckles crept into the log and carefully deposited the
|
|
baby beside the egg. When he came back, he said: "I made a hig
|
|
mistake not to be bringing the egg out with the baby, but I was
|
|
fearing to touch it. It's shaped ike a hen's egg, and it's big
|
|
as a turkey's, and the beautifulest blue--just splattered with
|
|
big brown splotches, like me book said, precise. Bet you never
|
|
saw such a sight as it made on the yellow of the rotten wood
|
|
beside that funny leathery-faced little white baby."
|
|
|
|
"Tell you what, Freckles," said one of the teamsters. "Have
|
|
you ever heard of this Bird Woman who goes all over the country
|
|
with a camera and makes pictures? She made some on my brother
|
|
Jim's place last summer, and Jim's so wild about them he quits
|
|
plowing and goes after her about every nest he finds. He helps
|
|
her all he can to take them, and then she gives him a picture.
|
|
Jim's so proud of what he has he keeps them in the Bible. He
|
|
shows them to everybody that comes, and brags about how he
|
|
helped. If you're smart, you'll send for her and she'll come and
|
|
make a picture just like life. If you help her, she will give
|
|
you one. It would be uncommon pretty to keep, after your birds
|
|
are gone. I dunno what they are. I never see their like before.
|
|
They must be something rare. Any you fellows ever see a bird
|
|
like that hereabouts?"
|
|
|
|
No one ever had.
|
|
|
|
"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 hig notion to stop and tell her. If she drives straight
|
|
back in the swamp on the west road, and turns east at this hig
|
|
sycamore, she can't miss finding the tree, even if F reckles
|
|
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
|
|
hird 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 hy gummy! maybe
|
|
she will give me a picture of the little white sucker for
|
|
my trouble."
|
|
|
|
Freckles touched his arm.
|
|
|
|
"Will she be rough with it?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"Government land! No!" said the teamster. "She's dead down
|
|
on anybody that shoots a bird or tears up a nest. Why, she's
|
|
half killing herself in all kinds of places and weather to teach
|
|
people to love and protect the birds. She's that plum careful of
|
|
them that Jim's wife says she has Jim a standin' like a big fool
|
|
holding an ombrelly over them when they are young and tender
|
|
until she gets a focus, whatever that is. Jim says there ain't
|
|
a bird on his place that don't actually seem to like having her
|
|
around after she has wheedled them a few days, and the pictures
|
|
she takes nobody would ever believe who didn't stand by and
|
|
see."
|
|
|
|
"Will you he sure to tell her to come?', asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
Duncan slept at home that night. He heard Freckles slipping
|
|
out early the next morning, but he was too sleepy to wonder why,
|
|
until he came to do his morning chores. When he found that none
|
|
of his stock was at all thirsty, and saw the water-trough
|
|
brimming, he knew that the boy was trying to make up to him for
|
|
the loss of the big trough that he had been so anxious to have.
|
|
|
|
"Bless his fool little hot heart!" said Duncan. "And him so
|
|
sore it is tearing him to move for anything. Nae wonder he has
|
|
us all loving him!"
|
|
|
|
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 hird 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 ahout his chickens.
|
|
Lovingly he set his room in order and watered the flowers and
|
|
carpet. He had chosen for his resting-place the coolest spot on
|
|
the west side, where there was almost always a hreeze; but today
|
|
the heat was so intense that it penetrated even there.
|
|
|
|
"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 heen a shame to lose that sight? The cunning ittle divil!
|
|
When he gets to toddling down that log to meet me, won't he be
|
|
a circus? Wonder if he'll be as graceful a performer afoot as
|
|
his father and mother?"
|
|
|
|
The heat became more insistent. Noon came; Freckles ate his
|
|
dinner and settled for an hour or two on a bench with a book.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER V
|
|
|
|
Wherein an Angel Materializes and a Man Worships
|
|
|
|
PERHAPS there was a hreath of sound--Freckles never afterward
|
|
could remember--but for some reason he lifted his head as the
|
|
bushes parted and the face of an angel looked between. Saints,
|
|
nymphs, and fairies had floated down his cathedral aisle for him
|
|
many times, with forms and voices of exquisite beauty.
|
|
|
|
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 w as all of one piece with the
|
|
gold of the sun that filtered between the branches. Her eyes
|
|
were the deepest blue of the iris, her lips the reddest red of
|
|
the foxfire, while her cheeks were exactly of the same satin as
|
|
the wild rose petals caressing them. She was smiling at Freckles
|
|
in perfect confidence, and she cried:
|
|
|
|
"Oh, I'm so delighted that I've found you!"
|
|
|
|
The wildly leaping heart of Freckles burst from his body
|
|
and fell in the black swamp-muck at her feet with such a thud that
|
|
he did not understand how she could avoid hearing. He really felt
|
|
that if she looked down she would see.
|
|
|
|
Incredulous, he quavered: "An'--an' was you looking for
|
|
me?"
|
|
|
|
"I hoped I might find you," said the Angel. "You see, I
|
|
didn't do 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 P apilio Ajax you ever
|
|
saw. I knew how pleased she'd he, so I ran after it. It flew so
|
|
slow and so low that I thought a dozen times I had it. Then all
|
|
at once it went from sight above the trees, and I couldn't find
|
|
my way back to save me. I think I've walked more than an hour.
|
|
I have been mired to my knees. A thorn raked my arm until it is
|
|
bleeding, and I'm so tired and warm."
|
|
|
|
She parted the bushes farther. Freckles saw that her hlue
|
|
cotton frock clung to her, limp with perspiration. It was torn
|
|
across the breast. One sleeve hung open from shoulder to elbow.
|
|
A thorn had torn her arm until it was covered with blood, and
|
|
the gnats and mosquitoes were clustering around it. Her feet
|
|
were in lace hose and low shoes. Freckles gasped. In the
|
|
Limberlost in low shoes! He caught an armful of moss from his
|
|
carpet and huried it in the ooze in front of her for a footing.
|
|
|
|
"Come out here so I can see where you are stepping. Quick,
|
|
for the life of you!" he ordered.
|
|
|
|
She smiled on him indulgently.
|
|
|
|
"Why?" she inquired.
|
|
|
|
"Did anybody let you come here and not he telling you of
|
|
the snakes?" urged Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"We met Mr. McLean on the corduroy, and he did say
|
|
something about snakes, I helieve. The Bird Woman put oh leather
|
|
leggings, and a nice, parboiled time she must be having! Worst
|
|
dose I ever endured, and I'd nothing to do but swelter."
|
|
|
|
"Will you be coming out of there?" groaned Freckles.
|
|
|
|
She laughed as if it were a fine joke.
|
|
|
|
"Mayhe 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 he 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. `Maybe--if I'd--he telling you,' " she
|
|
imitated, rounding and accenting each word carefully.
|
|
|
|
Freckles was beginning to feel a wildness in his head. He
|
|
had derided Wessner at that same hour yesterday. Now his own
|
|
eyes were filling with tears.
|
|
|
|
"If you were understanding the danger!" he continued
|
|
desperately.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, I don't think there is much!"
|
|
|
|
She tilted on the morass.
|
|
|
|
"If you killed one snake here, it's probably all there is
|
|
near., and. anywav, 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 you he knowing it if you did?" asked Freckles,
|
|
almost impatiently.
|
|
|
|
How the laugh of the young thing rippled!
|
|
|
|
" `Would I he knowing it?' " she mocked. "You should see
|
|
the swamps of Michigan where they dump rattlers from the
|
|
marldredgers three and four at a time!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles stood astounded. She did know. She was not in the
|
|
least afraid. She was depending on a rattlesnake to live up to
|
|
his share of 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 he pleased to he receiving you at me front door," he
|
|
said, "but as you have arrived at the hack, will you come in and
|
|
be seated?"
|
|
|
|
He waved toward a bench. The Angel came instantly.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, how lovely and cool!" she cried.
|
|
|
|
As she moved across his room, Freckles had difficult work
|
|
to keep from faling on his knees; for they were very weak, while
|
|
he was hard driven by an impulse to worship.
|
|
|
|
"Did you arrange this?" she asked.
|
|
|
|
"Yis," said Freckles simply.
|
|
|
|
"Someone must come with a big canvas and copy each side of
|
|
it," she said. "I never saw anything so beautiful! How I wish I
|
|
might remain here with you! I will, some day, if you will let
|
|
me; but now, if you can spare the time, will you help me find
|
|
the carriage? If the Bird Woman comes back and I am gone, she
|
|
will be almost distracted."
|
|
|
|
"Did you come on the west road?" asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"I think so," she said. "The man who told the Bird Woman
|
|
said that was the only place the wires were down. We drove away
|
|
in, and it was dreadful--over stumps and logs, and we mired to
|
|
the hubs. I suppose you know, though. I should have stayed in
|
|
the carriage, but I was so tired. I never dreamed of getting
|
|
lost. I suspect I will be scolded finely. I go with the Bird
|
|
Woman half the time during the summer vacations. My father says
|
|
I learn a lot more than I do at school, and get it straight. I
|
|
never came within a smell of being lost before. I thought, at
|
|
first, it was going to he horrid; but since I've found you,
|
|
maybe it will be good fun after all."
|
|
|
|
Freckles was amazed to hear himself excusing: "It was so
|
|
hot in there. You couldn't he expected to bear it for hours and
|
|
not be moving. I can take you around the trail almost to where
|
|
you were. Then you can sit in the carriage, and I will go find
|
|
the Bird Woman."
|
|
|
|
"You'll be killed if you. do! When she stays this long, it
|
|
means that she has a focus on something. You see, when she has
|
|
a focus, and lies in the weeds and water for hours, and the sun
|
|
bakes her, and things crawl over her, and then someone comes
|
|
along and scares her bird away just as she has it coaxed
|
|
up--why, she kills them. If I melt, you won't go after her.
|
|
She's probably blistered and half eaten up; but she never will quit
|
|
until she is satisfied."
|
|
|
|
"Then it will be safer to be taking care of you," suggested
|
|
Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Now you're talking sense!" said the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"May I try to help your arm?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"Have you any idea how it hurts?" she parried.
|
|
|
|
"A little," said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Well, Mr. McLean said We'd probably find his son here"
|
|
|
|
"His son!" cried Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"That's what he said. And that you would do anything you
|
|
could for us; and that we could trust you with our lives. But I
|
|
would have trusted you anyway, if I hadn't known a thing about
|
|
you. Say, your father is rampaging proud of you, isn't he?"
|
|
|
|
"I don't know," answered the dazed Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Well, call on me if you want reliable information. He's so
|
|
proud of 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 sculptor could
|
|
have chiseled it.
|
|
|
|
Freckles unlocked his case, and taking out some cotton
|
|
cloth, he tore it in strips. Then he hrought a bucket of the
|
|
cleanest water he could find. She yielded herself to his touch
|
|
as a haby, and he bathed away the blood and handaged the ugly,
|
|
ragged wound. He finished his surgery by lapping the torn sleeve
|
|
over the cloth and binding it down with a piece of twine, with
|
|
the Angel's help about the knots.
|
|
|
|
Freckles worked with trembling fingers and a face tense
|
|
with earnestness.
|
|
|
|
"Is it feeling any better?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, it's well noW!" cried the Angel. "It doesn't hurt at
|
|
all, any more."
|
|
|
|
"I'm mighty glad," said Freckles. "But you had best go and
|
|
be having your doctor fix it right; the minute you get home."
|
|
|
|
"Oh, bother! A little scratch like that!" jeered the Angel.
|
|
"My blood is perfectly pure. It will heal in three days."
|
|
|
|
"It's cut cruel deep. It might be making a scar" faltered
|
|
Freckles, his eyes on the ground." `Twould--'twould be an awful
|
|
pity. A doctor might know something to prevent it."
|
|
|
|
"Why, I never thought of that!" exclaimed the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"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 thing that Freckles ever
|
|
had seen.
|
|
|
|
"Don't let's bother about it," she proposed, with the
|
|
faintest hint of a confiding gesture toward him. "It won't make
|
|
a scar. Why, it couldn't, when you have dressed it so nicely."
|
|
|
|
The velvety touch of her warm arm was tingling in Freckles'
|
|
fingertips. Dainty lace and fine white ribbon peeped through ber
|
|
torn dress. There were beautiful rings on her fingers. Every
|
|
article she wore was of the finest material and in excellent
|
|
taste. There was the trembling Limberlost guard in his coarse
|
|
clothing, with his cotton rags and his old pail of swamp water.
|
|
Freckles was sufficiently accustomed to contrasts to notice
|
|
them, and sufficiently fine to be hurt by them always.
|
|
|
|
He lifted his eyes with a shadowy pain in them to hers, and
|
|
found them of serene, unconscious purity. What she had said w as
|
|
straight from a kind, untainted, young heart. She meant every
|
|
word of it. Freckles' soul sickened. He scarcely knew whether he
|
|
could muster strength to stand.
|
|
|
|
"We must go and hunt for tbe carriage," said the Angel,
|
|
rising.
|
|
|
|
In instant alarm for her, Freckles sprang up, grasped the
|
|
cudgel, and led the way, sharply watching every step. He went as
|
|
close the log as he felt that he dared, and with a little
|
|
searching found the carriage. He cleared a path for the Angel,
|
|
and with a sigh of relief saw her enter it safely. The heat was
|
|
intense. She pushed the damp hair from her temples.
|
|
|
|
"This is a shame!" said Freckles. "You'll never be coming
|
|
here again."
|
|
|
|
"Oh yes I shall!" said the Angel. "The Bird Woman says that
|
|
these 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."
|
|
|
|
Freckles barely escaped crying aloud for joy.
|
|
|
|
"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 drinking-water there?" she cried. "I was
|
|
never so thirsty or so hungry in my life, but I thought I
|
|
wouldn't mention it."
|
|
|
|
"And I had not the wit to be seeing!" wailed Freckles. "I
|
|
can be getting you a good drink in no time."
|
|
|
|
He turned to the trail.
|
|
|
|
"Please wait a minute," called the Angel. "What's vour
|
|
name? I want to think about you while you are gone." F reckles
|
|
lifted his face with the brown rift across it and smiled
|
|
quizzically.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles?" she guessed, witb a peal of laughter. "And mine
|
|
is----"
|
|
|
|
"I'm knowing yours," interrupted Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"I don't believe you do. What is it?" asked the girl.
|
|
|
|
"You won't be getting angry?"
|
|
|
|
"Not until I've had the water, at least."
|
|
|
|
It was Freckles' turn to laugh. He whipped off his big,
|
|
floppy 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."
|
|
|
|
The girl laughed happily.
|
|
|
|
Once out of her sight, Freckles ran every step of the way
|
|
to the cabin. Mrs. Duncan gave him a small bucket of water, cool
|
|
from the well. He carried it in the crook of his right arm, and a
|
|
basket filled with bread and butter, cold meat, apple pie, and pickles,
|
|
in his left hand.
|
|
|
|
"Pickles are kind o' cooling," said Mrs. Duncan.
|
|
|
|
Then Freckles ran again.
|
|
|
|
The Angel was on her knees, reaching for the bucket, as he
|
|
came up.
|
|
|
|
"Be drinking slow," he cautioned her.
|
|
|
|
"Oh!" she cried, with a long breath of satisfaction. "It's
|
|
so good! You are more than kind to bring it!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles stood binking in the dazzling glory of her smile
|
|
nntil he scarcely could see to lift the basket.
|
|
|
|
"Mercy!" she exclaimned. "I think I had better be naming
|
|
you the `Angel.' My Guardian Angel."
|
|
|
|
"Yis," said Freckles. "I look the character every day--but
|
|
today most emphatic!"
|
|
|
|
"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 vour 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."
|
|
|
|
"Did he say he was proud of me?', marveled Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"He didn't need to," answered the Angel. "He was radiating
|
|
pride from every pore. Now, have you brought me your dinner?"
|
|
|
|
"I had my dinner two hours ago," answered Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Honest Injun?" bantered the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"Honest! I brought that on purpose for you."
|
|
|
|
"Well, if you knew how hungry I am, you would know how
|
|
thankful I am, to the dot," said the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"Then you be eating," cried the happy Freckles.
|
|
|
|
The Angel sat on a big camera, spread the lunch on the
|
|
carriage seat, and divided it in halves. The daintiest parts she
|
|
could select 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 Bird Woman!"
|
|
|
|
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 paraphernaia. F reckles ran to her aid. He
|
|
took all he could carry of her load, stowed it in the back of
|
|
the carriage, and helped her in. The Angel gave her water, knelt
|
|
and unfastened the leggings, bathed her face, and offered the
|
|
lunch.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman finished her lunch, and lay back, almost too
|
|
tired to speak.
|
|
|
|
"Were you for getting Little Chicken's picture?" Freckles
|
|
asked.
|
|
|
|
"Finely!" she answered. "He posed splendidly. But I
|
|
couldn't do anything with his mother. She will require coaxing."
|
|
|
|
"The Lord be praised!" muttered Freckles under his breath.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman began to feel better.
|
|
|
|
"Why do you call the baby vulture `Little Chicken'?" she
|
|
asked, leaning toward Freckles in an interested manner.
|
|
|
|
" `Twas Duncan began it," said Freckles. "You see, through
|
|
the fierce cold of winter the birds of the swamp were almost
|
|
starving. It is mighty lonely here, and they were all the
|
|
company I was having. I got to carrying scraps and grain down to
|
|
them. Duncan was that ginerous he was giving me of his wheat and
|
|
corn from his chickens' feed, and he called the birds me swamp
|
|
chickens. Then when these big black fellows came, Mr. McLean
|
|
said they were our nearest kind to some in the old world that
|
|
they called `Pharaoh's Chickens,' and he called mine `Freckles'
|
|
Chickens.'"
|
|
|
|
"Good enough!" cried the Bird Woman, her splotched purple
|
|
face lighting with interest. "You must shoot something for them
|
|
occasionally, and I'll bring more food when I come. If you will
|
|
help me keep them until I get my series, I'll give you a copy of
|
|
each study I make, mounted in a book."
|
|
|
|
Freckles drew a deep breath.
|
|
|
|
"I'll be doing me very best," he promised, and from the
|
|
deeps he meant it.
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
"So Mr. McLean said," answered Freckles.
|
|
|
|
Before they drove away, the Bird Woman thanked him for his
|
|
kindness to the Angel and to her. She gave him her hand at
|
|
parting, and Freckles joyfully realized that this was going to
|
|
be another person for him to love. He could not remember, after
|
|
they had driven away, that they even had noticed his missing
|
|
hand, and for the first time in his life he had forgotten it.
|
|
|
|
When the Bird Woman and the Angel were on the home road,
|
|
she told of the little corner of paradise into which she had
|
|
strayed and of her new name. The Bird Woman looked at the girl
|
|
and guessed its appropriateness.
|
|
|
|
"Did you know Mr. McLean had a son?" asked the Angel.
|
|
"Isn't the little accent he has, and the way he twists a
|
|
sentence, too dear? And isn't it too old-fashioned and funny to
|
|
hear him call his father `mister'?"
|
|
|
|
"It sounds too good to be true," said the Bird Woman,
|
|
answering the last question first. "I am so tired of these
|
|
present-day young men who patronizingly call their fathers
|
|
`Dad,' `Governor,' `Old Man" and `Old Chap,' that the boy's
|
|
attitude of respect and deference appealed to me as being fine as
|
|
silk. There must be something rare about that young man."
|
|
|
|
She did not find it necessary to tell the Angel that for
|
|
several years she had known the man who so proudly proclaimed
|
|
himself Freckles' father to be a bachelor and a Scotchman. The
|
|
Bird Woman had a fine way of attending strictly to her own
|
|
business.
|
|
|
|
Freckles turned to the trail, but he stopped at every wild
|
|
brier to study the pink satin of the petals. She was not of his
|
|
world, and better than any other he knew it; but she might be
|
|
his Angel, and he was dreaming of naught but blind, silent
|
|
worship. He finished the happiest day of his life, and that
|
|
night he returned to the swamp as if drawn by invisible force.
|
|
That Wessner would try for his revenge, he knew. That he would
|
|
be abetted by Black Jack was almost certain, but fear had fled
|
|
the happy heart of Freckles. He had kept his trust. He had won
|
|
the respect of the Boss. No one ever could wipe from his heart
|
|
the flood of holy adoration that had welled with the coming of
|
|
his Angel. He would do his best, and trust for strength to meet
|
|
the dark day of reckoning that he knew would come Sooner or
|
|
later. He swung round the trail, briskly tapping the wire, and
|
|
singing in a voice that scarcely could have been surpassed for
|
|
sweetness.
|
|
|
|
At the edge of the clearing he came into the bright
|
|
moonlight and there sat McLean on his mare. Freckles hurried to
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
"Is there trouble?" he inquired anxiously.
|
|
|
|
"That's what I wanted to ask you," said the Boss. "I
|
|
stopped at the cabin to see you a minute, before I turned in,
|
|
and they said you had come down here. You must not do it,
|
|
Freckles. The swamp is none too healthful at any time, and at
|
|
night it is rank poison."
|
|
|
|
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 [?]
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER VI
|
|
|
|
Wherein a Fight Occurs and Women Shoot Straight
|
|
|
|
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 envv. He must
|
|
devise a way to keep water cool. He would ask Mrs. Duncan for a
|
|
double lunch and an especially nice one the day of her next
|
|
coming, so that if the Bird Woman happened to be late, the Angel
|
|
might not suffer from thirst and hunger. He would tell her to
|
|
bring heavy leather leggings, so that he might take her on a
|
|
trip around the trail. She should make friends with all of his
|
|
chickens and see their nests.
|
|
|
|
On the line he talked of her incessantly.
|
|
|
|
"You needn't be thinking," he said to the goldfinch, "that
|
|
because I'm coming down this line alone day after dav., 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 jealousv of her. The sawbird will stretch his neck out
|
|
of joint, and she'll turn the heads of all the flowers. Wherever
|
|
she goes, I can go back afterward and see the things she's seen,
|
|
walk the path she's walked, hear the grasses whispering over all
|
|
she's said; and if there's a place too swampy for her bits of
|
|
feet; Holy Mother! Maybe--maybe she'd be putting the beautiful
|
|
arms of her around me neck and letting me carry her over!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles shivered as with a chill. He sent the cudgel
|
|
whirling skyward, dexterously caught it, and set it spinning.
|
|
|
|
"You damned presumptuous fool!" he cried. "The thing for
|
|
you to be thinking of would be to stretch in the muck for the
|
|
feet of her to be walking over, and then you could hold yourself
|
|
holy to be even of that service to her.
|
|
|
|
"Maybe she'll be wanting the cup me blue-and-brown chickens
|
|
raised their babies in. Perhaps she'd like to stop at the pool
|
|
and see me bullfrog that had the goodness to take on human speech to
|
|
show me the way out of me trouble. If there's any feathers
|
|
falling that day, why, it's from the wings of me chickens--it's
|
|
sure to be, for the only Angel outside the gates will be walking
|
|
this timberline, and every step of the way I'll be holding me
|
|
breath and praying that she don't unfold wings and Sail away
|
|
before the hungry eyes of me."
|
|
|
|
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, be 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 tbem. Though it was a long trip, he
|
|
paid them several extra visits a day for fear a snake, hawk, or
|
|
fox might have found the baby. For now his chickens not only
|
|
represented all his former interest in them, but they furnished
|
|
the inducement that was bringing his Angel.
|
|
|
|
Possibly he could find other subjects that the Bird Woman
|
|
wanted. The teamster had said that his brother went after her
|
|
every time he found a nest. He never had counted the nests that
|
|
he knew of, and it might be that among all the birds of the
|
|
swamp some would be rare to her.
|
|
|
|
The feathered folk of the Limberlost were practically
|
|
undisturbed save by their natural enemies. It was very probable
|
|
that among his chickens others as odd as the big black ones
|
|
could be found. If she wanted pictures of half-grown birds, he
|
|
could pick up fifty in one morning's trip around the line, for
|
|
he had fed, handled, and made friends with them ever since their
|
|
eyes opened.
|
|
|
|
He had gathered bugs and worms all spring as he noticed
|
|
them on the grass and bushes, and dropped them into the first
|
|
little open mouth he had found. The babies gladly had accepted
|
|
this queer tri-parent addition to their natural providers.
|
|
|
|
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 direction--if one had
|
|
an idea of direction and did not become completely lost in its
|
|
rank tangle of vegetation and bushes. The hrighter-hued flowers
|
|
were opening. The trumpet-creepers were flaunting their gorgeous
|
|
horns of red and gold sweetness from the tops of lordly oak and
|
|
elm, and below entire pools were pink-sheeted in mallow bloom.
|
|
|
|
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 tbe heat nor leaving the field mice, moles, and
|
|
young rabbits of their chosen location. He Saw them crossing the
|
|
trail every day as the heat grew intense. The rattlers were
|
|
sadly forgetting their manners, for they struck on no
|
|
provocation whatever, and did not even remember to rattle
|
|
afterward. Daily Freckles was compelled to drive big black
|
|
snakes and blue racers from the nests of his chickens. Often the
|
|
terrified squalls of the parent birds would reach him far down
|
|
the line and he would run to rescue the babies.
|
|
|
|
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, wideeyed and incredulous.
|
|
|
|
They arranged that Freckles should drive the carriage into
|
|
the east entrance in the shade and then take the horse toward the
|
|
north to a better place he knew. Then he was to entertain the
|
|
Angel at his study or on the line until the Bird Woman finished
|
|
her work and came to them.
|
|
|
|
"This will take only a little time," she said. "I know
|
|
where to set the camera now, and Little Chicken is big enough to
|
|
be good and too small to run away or to act very ugly, so I will
|
|
be coming soon to see about those nests. I have ten plates
|
|
along, and I surely won't use more than two on him; so perhaps
|
|
I can get Some nests or young birds this morning."
|
|
|
|
Freckles almost flew, for his dream had come true so soon.
|
|
He was walking the timber-line and the Angel was following him.
|
|
He asked to be excused for going first, because he wanted to be
|
|
sure the trail was safe for her. She laughed at his fears,
|
|
telling him that it was the polite thing for him to do, anyway.
|
|
|
|
"Oh!" said Freckles, "so you was after knowing that? Well,.
|
|
I didn't s'pose you did, and I was afraid you'd think me wanting
|
|
in respect to be preceding you!"
|
|
|
|
The astonished Angel looked at him, caught the
|
|
irrepressible gleam of Irish fun in his eyes, so they stood and
|
|
laughed together.
|
|
|
|
Freckles did not realize how he was talking that morning.
|
|
He showed her many of the beautiful nests and eggs of the line.
|
|
She could identify a number of them, but of some she was
|
|
ignorant, so they made notes of the number and color of the
|
|
eggs, material, and construction of nest, color, size, and shape
|
|
of the birds, and went to find them in the book.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
"What are you planning to be?" she asked wonderingly.
|
|
|
|
"Whatever Mr. McLean wants me to," he replied.
|
|
|
|
"What do you do most?" she asked.
|
|
|
|
"Watch me lines."
|
|
|
|
"I don't mean work!"
|
|
|
|
"Oh, in me spare time I keep me room and study in me
|
|
books."
|
|
|
|
"Do you work on the room or the books most?"
|
|
|
|
"On the room only what it takes to keep it up, and the rest
|
|
of the 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
|
|
it--something really great. I must find out what it is and then
|
|
you must work on it. Your father is expecting you to do
|
|
something. One can tell by the way he talks. You should begin
|
|
right away. You've wasted too much time already."
|
|
|
|
Poor Freckles hung his head. He never had wasted an hour in
|
|
his life. There never had been one that was his to waste.
|
|
|
|
The Angel, studying him intently, read the thought in his
|
|
face. "Oh, I don't mean that!" she cried, with the frank dismay
|
|
of sixteen. "Of course, you're not. lazy! No one ever would
|
|
think that from 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 t hing 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 seat--the hat she had removed and
|
|
held in her fingers rolled to her feet. "There!" she exclaimed
|
|
vehemently. "You can see what I'm going to be. Nothing!
|
|
Absolutely nothing! You can sing? Of course you can sing! It is
|
|
written all over you."
|
|
|
|
"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, tbe
|
|
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."
|
|
|
|
"Will you do something for me?" she asked.
|
|
|
|
"I'll do anything in the world you want me to," said
|
|
Freckles largely, "and if I can't do what you want, I'll go to
|
|
work at once and I'll try `til I can."
|
|
|
|
"Good! That's business!" said the Angel. "You go over there
|
|
and stand before that hedge and sing something. Just anything
|
|
you think of first."
|
|
|
|
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 tbe
|
|
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, heigh-o.
|
|
|
|
In dreams we'll stand upon that shore
|
|
|
|
And all the realm behold;
|
|
|
|
We'll see the sights so grand
|
|
|
|
That belong to fairyland,
|
|
|
|
Its mysteries we will explore,
|
|
|
|
Its beauties will unfold.
|
|
|
|
Oh, tra, la, la, oh, ha, ha, ha! We're haPpy now as we can be,
|
|
Our welcome song we will prolong, and greet you with our melody.
|
|
O fairyland, sweet fairyland, we love to sing----"
|
|
|
|
No song could have given the intense sweetness and
|
|
rollicking quality of Freckles' voice better scope. He forgot
|
|
everything but pride in bis work. He was singing the chorus, and
|
|
the Angel was sbivering in ecstasy, when clip! clip! came the
|
|
sharply beating feet of a swiftly ridden horse down the trail
|
|
from the north. They both sprang toward the entrance.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles! Freckles!" called the voice of the Bird Woman.
|
|
|
|
They were at the trail on the instant.
|
|
|
|
"Both those revolvers loaded?" she asked.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Is there a way you can cut across the swamp and reach the
|
|
chicken tree in a few minutes, and with little noise?"
|
|
|
|
"Yes."
|
|
|
|
"Then go flying," said the Bird Woman. "Give the Angel a
|
|
lift behind me, and we will ride the horse back where you left
|
|
him and wait for you. I finished Little Chicken in no time and
|
|
put him back. His mother came so close, I felt sure she would
|
|
enter the log. The light was fine, so I set and focused the
|
|
camera and covered it with branches, attached the long hose, and
|
|
went away over a hundred feet and hid in some bushes to wait. A
|
|
short, stout man and a tall, dark one passed me so closely I
|
|
almost could have reached out and touched them. They carried a
|
|
big saw on their shoulders. They said they could work until near
|
|
noon, and then they must lay off until you passed and then try
|
|
to load and get out at night. They went on--not entirely from
|
|
sight--and began cutting a tree. Mr. McLean told me the other
|
|
day what would probably happen here, and if they fell that tree
|
|
he loses his wager on you. Keep to the east and north and
|
|
hustle. We'll meet you at the carriage. I always am armed. Give
|
|
Angel one of your revolvers, and you keep the other. We will
|
|
separate and creep toward them from different sides and give
|
|
them a fusillade that will send them flYing. You hurry,. now!"
|
|
|
|
She lifted the reins and started briskly down the trail.
|
|
The Angel, hatless and with sparkling eYes, was clinging around
|
|
her waist.
|
|
|
|
Freckles wheeled and ran. He worked his way witb much care,
|
|
dodging limbs and bushes with noiseless tread, and cutting as
|
|
closely where he thought the men were as he felt that he dared
|
|
if he were to remain unseen. As he ran he tried to think. It was
|
|
Wessner, burning for his revenge, aided by the bully of the
|
|
locality, that he was going to meet. He was accustomed to that thought
|
|
but not to the complication of having two women on his hands who
|
|
undoubtedly would have to be taken care of in spite of the Bird
|
|
Woman's offer to help him. His heart was jarring as it never had
|
|
before with running. He must follow the Bird Woman's plan and
|
|
meet them at the carriage, but if they really did intend to try
|
|
to help him, he must not allow it. Allow the Angel to try to
|
|
handle a revolver in his defence? Never! Not for all the trees
|
|
in the Limberlost! She might shoot herself. She might forget to
|
|
watch sharply and run across a snake that was not particularly
|
|
well behaved that morning. Freckles permitted himself a grim
|
|
smile as he went speeding on.
|
|
|
|
When he reached the carriage, the Bird Woman and the Angel
|
|
had the horse hitched, the outfit packed, and were calmly
|
|
waiting. The Bird Woman held a revolver in her hand. She wore
|
|
dark clothing. They had pinned a big focusing cloth over the
|
|
front of the Angel's light dress.
|
|
|
|
"Give Angel one of your revolvers, quick!" said the Bird
|
|
Woman. "We will creep up until we are in fair range. The
|
|
underbrush is so thick and they are so busy that they will never
|
|
notice us, if we don't make a noise. You fire first, then I will
|
|
pop in from my direction, and then you, Angel, and shoot quite
|
|
high, or else very low. We mustn't really hit them. We'll go
|
|
close enough to the cowards to make it interesting, and keep it
|
|
up until we have them going."
|
|
|
|
Freckles protested.
|
|
|
|
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 wbere You are. Wait until vou hear
|
|
Freckles' first shot, then follow me as closely as you can, to
|
|
let them know that we outnumber them. If You want to save
|
|
McLean's wager on You, now you go!" she commanded Freckles, who,
|
|
with an agonized glance at the Angel, ran tow ard the east.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman chose the middle distance, and for a last time
|
|
cautioned the Angel as she moved away to lie down and shoot
|
|
high.
|
|
|
|
Through the underbrush the Bird Woman crept even more
|
|
closely than she had intended, found a clear range, and waited
|
|
for Freckles' shot. There was one long minute of sickening
|
|
suspense. The men straightened for breath. Work was difficult
|
|
with a handsaw in the heat of the swamp. As they rested, the big
|
|
dark fellow took a bottle from his pocket and began oiling the
|
|
saw.
|
|
|
|
"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 saw-handle flew from Wessner's
|
|
hand and he reeled from the jar of the shock. Black Jack
|
|
straightened, uttering a fearful oath. The hat sailed from his
|
|
head from the far northeast. The Angel had not waited for the
|
|
Bird Woman, and her shot scarcely could have been called high.
|
|
At almost the same instant the third shot whistled from the
|
|
east. Black Jack sprang into the air with a yell of complete
|
|
panic, for it ripped a heel from his boot. Freckles emptied his
|
|
second chamber, and the earth spattered over Wessner. Shots
|
|
poured in rapidly. Witbout even reaching for a weapon, both men
|
|
ran toward the east road in great leaping bounds, while leaden
|
|
slugs sung and hissed around them in deadly earnest.
|
|
|
|
Freckles was trimming his corners as closely as he dared,
|
|
but if the Angel did not really intend to hit, she was taking
|
|
risks in a scandalous manner.
|
|
|
|
When the men reached the trail, Freckles yelled at the top
|
|
of his voice: "Head them off on the south, boys! Fire from the
|
|
south!"
|
|
|
|
As he had hoped, Jack and Wessner instantly plunged into
|
|
the swale. A spattering of lead followed them. They crossed the
|
|
swale, running low, with not even one backward glance, and
|
|
entered the woods beYond the corduroy.
|
|
|
|
Then the little party gathered at the tree.
|
|
|
|
"I'd better fix this saw so they can't be using it if they come
|
|
back," said Freckles, taking out his hatchet and making sawteeth
|
|
fly.
|
|
|
|
"Now we must leave here without being seen," said the Bird
|
|
Woman to the Angel. "It won't do for me to make enemies of these
|
|
men, for I am likely to meet them while at work any day."
|
|
|
|
"You can do it by driving straight north on this road,"
|
|
said Freckles. "I will go ahead and cut the wires for You. The
|
|
swale is almost dry. You will only be sinking a little. In a few
|
|
rods you will strike a cornfield. I will take down the fence and
|
|
let you into that. Follow the furrows and drive straight across
|
|
it until you come to the other side. Be following the fence
|
|
south until you come to a road through the woods east of it.
|
|
Then take that road and follow east until You reach the pike.
|
|
You will come out on your way back to town, and two miles north
|
|
of anYwhere they are likely to be. Don't for Your lives ever let
|
|
it out that you did this," he earnestly cautioned, "for it's
|
|
black enemies you would be making."
|
|
|
|
Freckles clipped the wires and they drove through. The
|
|
Angel leaned from the carriage and held out his revolver.
|
|
Freckles looked at her in surprise. Her eyes were black, while
|
|
her face was a deeper rose than usual. He felt that his own was
|
|
white.
|
|
|
|
"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 she had the nerve
|
|
and skill to fire like that purposely?
|
|
|
|
"I will send the first reliable man I meet for McLean,"
|
|
said the Bird Woman, gathering up the lines. "If I don't meet
|
|
one when we reach town, we will send a messenger. If it wasn't
|
|
for having the gang see me, I would go myself; but I will
|
|
promise you that you will have help in a little over two hours.
|
|
You keep well hidden. They must think some of the gang is with
|
|
you now. There isn't a chance that they will be back, but don't
|
|
run any risks. Remain under cover. If they should come, it
|
|
probably would be for their saw." She laughed as at a fine joke.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER VII
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail
|
|
|
|
ROUND-EYED, Freckles watched the Bird Woman and the Angel drive
|
|
away. After they were from sight and he was safely hidden among
|
|
the branches of a small tree, he remembered that he neither had
|
|
thanked them nor said good-bye. Considering what they had been
|
|
through, they never would come again. His heart sank until he
|
|
had palpitation in his wading-boots.
|
|
|
|
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 psalm-singing kind, who came with a tear in
|
|
the eye and hypocrisy in every feature of their faces; the kind
|
|
who dressed in silks and jewels, and handed to those poor little
|
|
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 reason--to see how
|
|
they would take them and be amused by what they would do; and the
|
|
third class, whom he considered real people. They made him feel they
|
|
cared that he was there, and that they would have been glad to
|
|
see him elsewhere.
|
|
|
|
Now here was another class, that had all they needed of the
|
|
world's best and were engaged in doing work that counted. They
|
|
had things worth while to be proud of; and they had met him as
|
|
a son and brother. With them he could, for the only time in his
|
|
life, forget the lost hand that every day tortured him with a
|
|
new pang. What kind of people were they and where did they
|
|
belong among the classes he knew? He failed to decide, because
|
|
he never had known others similar to them; but how he loved
|
|
them!
|
|
|
|
In the world where he was going soon, were the majority
|
|
like them, or were they of the hypocrite and hun-throwing
|
|
classes?
|
|
|
|
He had forgotten tbe 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
|
|
McLean only could he tell his story.
|
|
|
|
At the sight of Freckles the men threw up their hats and
|
|
cheered. McLean shook hands with him warmly, but big Duncan
|
|
gathered him into his arms and hugged him as a bear and choked
|
|
over a few words of praise. The gang drove in and finished
|
|
felling the tree. McLean was angry beyond measure at this
|
|
attempt on his property, for in their haste to fell the tree the
|
|
thieves had cut too high and wasted a foot and a half of
|
|
valuable timber.
|
|
|
|
When the last wagon rolled away, McLean sat on the stump
|
|
and Freckles told the story he was aching to tell. The Boss
|
|
scarcely could believe his senses. Also, he w as much
|
|
disappointed.
|
|
|
|
"I have been almost praying all the way over, Freckles," he
|
|
said, "that you would have some evidence by which we could
|
|
arrest those fellows and get them out of our way, but this will
|
|
never do. We can't mix up those women in it. They have helped
|
|
you save me the tree and my wager as well. Going across the
|
|
country as she does, the Bird Woman never could be expected to
|
|
testify against them."
|
|
|
|
"No, indeed; nor the Angel, either, sir," said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"The Angel?" queried the astonished McLean.
|
|
|
|
The Boss listened in silence while Freckles told of the
|
|
coming 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 understand why her father
|
|
risks such a jewel in this place."
|
|
|
|
"He's daring it because she is a jewel, sir," said
|
|
Freckles, eagerly. "Why, she's trusting a rattlesnake to rattle
|
|
before it strikes her, and of course, she think she can trust
|
|
mankind as well. The man isn't made who wouldn't lay down the
|
|
life of him for her. She doesn't need any care. Her face and the
|
|
pretty ways of her are all the protection she would need in a
|
|
band of howling savages."
|
|
|
|
"Did you say she handled one of the revolvers?" asked
|
|
McLean.
|
|
|
|
"She scared all the breath out of me body," admitted
|
|
Freckles. "Seems that her father has taught her to shoot. The
|
|
Bird Woman told her distinctly to lie low and blaze away high,
|
|
just to help Scare them. The spunky little thing followed them
|
|
right out into the west road, spitting lead like hail, and
|
|
clipping all around the heads and heels of them; and I'm damned,
|
|
sir, if I believe she' d cared a rap if she'd hit. I never saw
|
|
much shooting, but if that wasn't the nearest to miss I ever
|
|
want to see! Scared the life near out of me body with the fear
|
|
that she'd drop one of them. As long as I'd no one to help me
|
|
but a couple of women that didn't dare be mixed up in it, all I
|
|
could do was to let them get away."
|
|
|
|
"Now, will they come back?" asked McLean.
|
|
|
|
"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 tbe pluck,
|
|
unless he is half drunk. Then he'd be a terror. And the next
|
|
time" Freckles hesitated.
|
|
|
|
"What?"
|
|
|
|
"It will be a question of who shoots first and
|
|
straightest."
|
|
|
|
"Then the only thing for me to do is to double the guard
|
|
and bring the gang here the first minute possible. As soon as I
|
|
feel that we have the rarest of the stuff out below, we will
|
|
come. The fact is, in many cases, until it is felled it's
|
|
difficult to tell what a tree will prove to be. It won't do to
|
|
leave you here longer alone. Jack has been shooting twenty years
|
|
to your one, and it stands to reason that you are no match for
|
|
him. Who of the gang would you like best to have with you?"
|
|
|
|
"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 track for you. I'll need to
|
|
come like lightning, and Duncan has no extra horse, so I'm
|
|
thinking you'd best get me one--or perhaps a wheel would be
|
|
better. I used to do extra work for the Home doctor, and he
|
|
would let me take his bicycle to ride around the place. And at
|
|
times the head nurse would loan me his for an hour. A wheel
|
|
would cost less and be faster than a horse, and would take less
|
|
care. I believe, if you are going to town soon, you had best
|
|
pick up any kind of an old one at some second-hand store, for if
|
|
I'm ever called to use it in a hurry there won't be the
|
|
handlebars left after crossing the corduroy."
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said McLean; "and if you didn't have a first-class
|
|
wheel, you never could cross the corduroy on it at all."
|
|
|
|
As they walked to the cahin, McLean insisted on another
|
|
guard, but Freckles was stubbornly set on fighting his battle
|
|
alone. He made one mental condition. If the Bird Woman was going
|
|
to give up the Little Chicken series, he would yield to the
|
|
second guard, solely for the sake of her work and the presence of
|
|
the Angel in the Limberlost. He did not propose to have a second man
|
|
unless it were absolutely necessary, for he had been alone so
|
|
long that he loved the solitude, his chickens, and flowers. The
|
|
thought of having a stranger to all his ways come and meddle
|
|
with his arrangements, frighten his pets, pull his flowers, and
|
|
interrupt him when he wanted to study, so annoyed him that he
|
|
was blinded to his real need for help.
|
|
|
|
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 tban any money the Boss might
|
|
lose.
|
|
|
|
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 weak and
|
|
harmless.
|
|
|
|
What Black Jack's next move would be he could not imagine,
|
|
but that there would be a move of some kind was certain. The big
|
|
bully was not a man to give up his purpose, or to have the hat
|
|
swept from his head with a bullet and bear it meekly. Moreover,
|
|
Wessner would cling to his revenge with a Dutchman's singleness
|
|
of mind.
|
|
|
|
Freckles tried to think connectedly, but there were too
|
|
many places on the trail where the Angel's footprints were yet
|
|
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 migbt belong to anyone who found and wanted
|
|
it. He stooped under the wires and entered the swamp. With a
|
|
little searching, he found a big piece of thick bark loose on a
|
|
log and carefully peeling it, carried it out and covered the
|
|
print so that the first rain would not obliterate it.
|
|
|
|
When he reached his room, he tenderly laid the hat upon his
|
|
bookshelf, and to wear off his awkwardness, mounted his wheel
|
|
and went spinning on trail again. It was like flying, for the
|
|
path was worn smooth with his feet and baked hard with the sun
|
|
almost all the way. When he came to the bark, he veered far to
|
|
one side and smiled at it in passing. Suddenly he was off the
|
|
wheel, kneeling beside it. He removed his hat, carefully lifted
|
|
the bark, and gazed lovingly at the imprint.
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
sav that singing was the big thing I was to be doing. That's
|
|
what thev all thought at the Home. Well, if it is, I'll just
|
|
shut me eyes, think of me little room, the face of her watching,
|
|
and the heart of her beating, and I'll raise them. Damn them, if
|
|
singing will do it, I'll raise them from the benches!"
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER VIII
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Meets a Man of Affairs and Loses Nothing by the
|
|
Encounter
|
|
|
|
"WEEL, I be drawed on!" exclaimed Mrs. Duncan.
|
|
|
|
Freckles stood before her, holding the Angel's hat.
|
|
|
|
"I've been thinking this long time that ye or Duncan would
|
|
see that sunbonnets werena braw enough for a woman of my
|
|
standing, and ye're a guid laddie to bring me this beautiful
|
|
hat."
|
|
|
|
She turned it around, examining the weave of the straw and
|
|
the foliage trimmings, passing her rough fingers over the satin
|
|
ties delightedly. As she held it up, admiring it, Freckles'
|
|
astonished eyes saw a new side of Sarah Duncan. She was jesting,
|
|
but under the jest the fact loomed strong that, though poor,
|
|
overworked, and with none but God-given refinement, there was
|
|
something in her soul crying after that bit of feminine finerv,
|
|
and it made his heart ache for her. He resolved that when he
|
|
reached the city he would send her a hat, if it took fifty
|
|
dollars to do it.
|
|
|
|
She lingeringly handed it back to him.
|
|
|
|
"It's unco guid of ye to think of me," she said lightly,
|
|
"but I maun question your taste a wee. D'ye no think ye had best
|
|
return this and get a woman with half her hair gray a little
|
|
plainer headdress? Seems like that's far ower gay for me. I'm
|
|
no' saying that it's no' exactly what I'd like to hae, but I
|
|
mauna mak mysel' ridiculous. Ye'd best give this to somebody
|
|
young and pretty, say about sixteen. Where did ye come by it,
|
|
Freckles? If there's anything been dropping lately, ye hae forgotten
|
|
to mention it."
|
|
|
|
"Do you see anything heavenly about that hat?" queried
|
|
Freckles, holding it up.
|
|
|
|
The morning breeze waved the ribbons gracefully, binding
|
|
one around Freckles' sleeve and the other across his chest,
|
|
where they caught and clung as if magnetized.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said Sarah Duncan. "It's verra plain and simple, but
|
|
it juist makes ye feel that it's all of the finest stuff. It's
|
|
exactly what I'd call a heavenly hat."
|
|
|
|
"Sure," said Freckles, "for it's belonging to an Angel!"
|
|
|
|
Then he told her about the hat and asked her what he should
|
|
do with it.
|
|
|
|
"Take it to her, of course!" said Sarah Duncan. "Like it's
|
|
the only 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 thing he felt
|
|
he should do and wanted to do, but he was not sure.
|
|
|
|
"You think I might be taking it home?" he said.
|
|
|
|
"Of course ye must," said Mrs. Duncan. "And without another
|
|
hour's delay. It's been here two days noo, and she may want it,
|
|
and be too busy or afraid to come."
|
|
|
|
"But how can I take it?" asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Gang spinning on your wheel. Ye can do it easy in an
|
|
hour."
|
|
|
|
"But in that hour, what if----?"
|
|
|
|
"Nonsense!" interrupted Sarah Duncan. "Ye've watched that
|
|
timber-line until ye're grown fast to it, lad. Give me your
|
|
boots and club and I'll gae walk the south end and watch doon
|
|
the east and west sides until ye come back."
|
|
|
|
"Mrs. Duncan! You never would be doing it," cried Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Why not?" inquired she.
|
|
|
|
"But you know you're mortal afraid of snakes and a lot of
|
|
other 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 davis so bright
|
|
it feels like storm. I can put the bairns on the woodpile to
|
|
play until I get back. Ye gang awa and take the blessed little
|
|
angel her beautiful hat."
|
|
|
|
"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 gang flying. Ought ye put
|
|
on your Sabbath-day clothes?"
|
|
|
|
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 w ading-boots
|
|
for shoes, gave her his club, and went spinning toward town. He
|
|
knew very well where the Angel lived. He had seen her home many
|
|
times, and he passed it again without even raising his eyes from
|
|
the street, steering straight for her father's place of
|
|
business.
|
|
|
|
Carrying the hat, Freckles passed a long line of clerks,
|
|
and at the door of the private office asked to see the
|
|
proprietor. When he had waited a moment, a tall, spare,
|
|
keen-eyed man faced him, and in brisk, nervous tones asked: "How
|
|
can I serve you, sir?"
|
|
|
|
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 he having words to express for the brave
|
|
things they was doing for me. I'm McLean's Limberlost guard,
|
|
sir."
|
|
|
|
"Why don't you take it yourself?" questioned the Man or
|
|
Affairs.
|
|
|
|
Freckles' clear gray eyes met those of the Angel's father
|
|
squarely, and he asked: "If you were in my place, would you take
|
|
it to her yourself?"
|
|
|
|
"No, I would not," said that gentleman quicklv.
|
|
|
|
"Then why ask why I did not?" came Freckles' lamb-like
|
|
query.
|
|
|
|
"Bless me!" said the Angel's father. He stared at the
|
|
package, then at the lifted chin of the boy, and then at the
|
|
package again, and muttered, "Excuse me!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles bowed.
|
|
|
|
"It would be favoring me greatly if you would deliver the
|
|
hat and the message. Good morning, sir," and he turned away.
|
|
|
|
"One minute," said the Angel's father. "Suppose I give you
|
|
permission to return this hat in person and make your own
|
|
acknowledgments."
|
|
|
|
Freckles stood one moment thinking intently, and then he
|
|
lifted those eyes of unswerving truth and asked: "Why should
|
|
you, sir? You are kind, indade, to mention it, and it's thanking
|
|
yoU I am for your good intintions, but my wanting to go or your
|
|
being willing to have me ain't proving that your daughter would
|
|
be wanting me or care to bother with me."
|
|
|
|
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 elsewhere."
|
|
|
|
"If that's the case," said the Angel's father, "and you
|
|
feel under obligations for her assistance the other day, you can
|
|
discharge them in that way. She is spending all her time in the
|
|
fields and woods searching for subjects. If you run across
|
|
things, perhaps rarer than she may find, about your work, it
|
|
would save her the time she spends searching for subjects, and
|
|
she could work in security under your protection. By all means
|
|
let her know if you find subjects you think she could use, and
|
|
we will do anything we can for you, if you will give her what
|
|
help you can and see that she is as safe as possible."
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
conies to protecting them, I'd risk me life, to be sure, but
|
|
even that mightn't do any good in some cases. There are many
|
|
dangers to be reckoned with in the swamp, sir, that call for
|
|
every person to look sharp. If there wasn't really thieving to
|
|
guard against, why, McLean wouldn't need be paying out good
|
|
money for a guard. I'd love them to be coming, and I'll do all
|
|
I can, but you must be told that there's danger of them running
|
|
into timber thieves again any day, sir."
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the Angel's father, "and I suppose there's
|
|
danger of the earth opening up and swallowing the town any day,
|
|
but I'm damned if I quit business for fear it will, and the Bird
|
|
Woman won't, either. Everyone knows her and her work, and there
|
|
is no danger in the world of anyone in any way molesting her,
|
|
even if he were stealing a few of McLean's gold-plated trees.
|
|
She's as safe in the Limberlost as she is at home, so far as
|
|
timber thieves are concerned. All I am ever uneasy about are the
|
|
snakes, poison-vines, and insects; and those are risks she must
|
|
run anywhere. You need not hesitate a minute about that. I shall
|
|
be glad to tell them what you wish. Thank you very much, and
|
|
good day, sir."
|
|
|
|
There was no way in which Freckles could know it, but by
|
|
following his best instincts and being what he conceived a
|
|
gentleman should be, he surprised the Man of Affairs into
|
|
thinking of him and seeing his face over his books many times
|
|
that morning; whereas, if he had gone to the Angel as he had
|
|
longed to do, her father never would have given him a second
|
|
thought.
|
|
|
|
On the street he drew a deep breath. How had he acquitted
|
|
himself? He only knew that he had lived up to his best impulse,
|
|
and that is all anyone can do. He glanced over his wheel to see
|
|
that it was all right, and just as he stepped to the curb to
|
|
mount he heard a voice that thrilled him through and through:
|
|
"Freckles! Oh Freckles!"
|
|
|
|
The Angel separated from a group of laughing, sweet-faced
|
|
girls and came hurrying to him. She was in snowy white--a quaint
|
|
little frock, with a marvel of soft lace around her throat and
|
|
wrists. Through the sheer sleeves of it her beautiful, rounded
|
|
arms showed distinctly, and it was cut just to the base of her
|
|
perfect neck. On her head was a pure white creation of fancy
|
|
braid, with folds on folds of tulle, soft and silken as cobwebs,
|
|
lining the brim; while a mass of white roSes clustered against
|
|
the gold of her hair, crept around the crown, and fell in a riot
|
|
to her shoulders at the back. There were gleams of gold with
|
|
settings of blue on her fingers, and altogether she was the
|
|
daintiest, sweetest sight he ever had seen. Freckles, standing
|
|
on the curb, forgot himself in his cotton shirt, corduroys, and
|
|
his belt to which his wire-cutter and pliers were hanging, and
|
|
gazed as a man gazes when first he sees the woman he adores with
|
|
all her charms enhanced by appropriate and beautiful clothing.
|
|
|
|
"Oh Freckles," she cried as she came to him. "I was
|
|
wondering about you the other day. Do you know I never saw you
|
|
in town before. You watch that old line so closely! Why did you
|
|
come? Is there any trouble? Are you just starting to the
|
|
Limberlost?"
|
|
|
|
"I came to bring your hat," said Freckles. "You forgot it
|
|
in the rush the other day. I have left it with your father, and
|
|
a message trying to ixpriss the gratitude of me for how you and
|
|
the Bird Woman were for helping me out."
|
|
|
|
The Angel nodded gravely, then Freckles saw that he had
|
|
done the proper thing in going to her father. His heart bounded
|
|
until it jarred his body, for she was saying that she scarcely
|
|
could wait for the time to come for the next picture of the
|
|
Little Chicken series. "I want to hear the remainder of that
|
|
song, and I hadn't even begun seeing your room yet," she
|
|
complained. "As for singing, if you can sing like that every
|
|
day, I never can get enough of it. I wonder if I couldn't bring
|
|
my banjo and some of the songs I like best. I'll play and you
|
|
sing, and we'll put the birds out of commission."
|
|
|
|
Freckles stood on the curb with drooped eyes, for he felt that
|
|
if he lifted them the tumult of tender adoration in them would show
|
|
and frighten her.
|
|
|
|
"I was afraid your ixperience the other day would scare you
|
|
so that You'd never be coming again," he found himself saying.
|
|
|
|
The Angel laughed gaily.
|
|
|
|
"Did I seem scared?" she questioned.
|
|
|
|
"No," said Freckles, "you did not."
|
|
|
|
"Oh, I just enjoved 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 before long now, for
|
|
it's soon the gang will be there to work on the swamp."
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
They looked at each other, and groaned despairingly in
|
|
unison.
|
|
|
|
"You like it, too," said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the Angel, "I love it. Your room is a little
|
|
piece right out of the heart of fairyland, and the cathedral is
|
|
God's work, not yours. You only found it and opened the door
|
|
after He had it completed. The birds, flowers, and vines are all
|
|
so lovely. The Bird Woman says it is really a fact that the
|
|
mallows, foxfire, iris, and lilies are larger and of richer
|
|
coloring there than in the remainder of the country. She says
|
|
it's because of the rich loam and muck. I hate seeing the swamp
|
|
torn up, and to you it will be like losing your best friend; won't it?"
|
|
|
|
"Something like," said Freckles. "Still, I've the
|
|
Limberlost in me heart so that all of it will be real to me
|
|
while I live, no matter what they do to it. I'm glad past
|
|
telling if you will be coming a few more times, at least until
|
|
the gang arrives. Past that time I don't allow mesilf to be
|
|
thinking."
|
|
|
|
"Come, have a cool drink before you start back," said the
|
|
Angel.
|
|
|
|
"I couldn't possibly," said Freckles. "I left Mrs. Duncan
|
|
on the trail, and she's terribly afraid of a lot of things. If
|
|
she even sees a big snake, I don't know what she'll do."
|
|
|
|
"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 enemies --if such as she could have enemies--and heard the
|
|
whispered jeers of the curious, then she would see her mistake
|
|
and be sorry. It would be only a manly thing for him to think
|
|
this out, and save her from the results of her own blessed
|
|
bigness of heart.
|
|
|
|
"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 because--
|
|
because goodness knows why! You can ride faster to make up for
|
|
the time. I've just thought out what I want to fix for you."
|
|
|
|
She stepped to his side and deliberately slipped her hand
|
|
under his arm--that right arm that ended in an empty sleeve.
|
|
|
|
"You are coming," she said firmly. "I won't have it."
|
|
|
|
Freckles could not have told how he felt, neither could
|
|
anyone else. His blood rioted and his head swam, but he kept his
|
|
wits. He bent over her.
|
|
|
|
"Please don't, Angel," he said softly. "You don't
|
|
understand."
|
|
|
|
How Freckles came to understand Was a problem.
|
|
|
|
"It's this," he persisted. "If your father met me on the
|
|
street, 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 do--why, then you completely failed in reading my
|
|
father, and I'll ask him and just show You."
|
|
|
|
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 the veriest dolt could have read the words his lips formed:
|
|
"Take him along!"
|
|
|
|
A sudden trembling seized Freckles. At sight of the Angel's
|
|
father he had stepped back as far from her as he could, leaned
|
|
the wheel against him, and snatched off his hat.
|
|
|
|
The Angel turned on him with triumphing eyes.
|
|
|
|
She was highly strung and not accustomed to being thwarted.
|
|
"Did You see that?" she demanded. "Now are you satisfied? Will
|
|
you come, or must I call a policeman to bring you?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles went. There was nothing else to do. Guiding his
|
|
wheel, he walked down the street beside her. On every hand she
|
|
was kept busy giving and receiving the cheeriest greetings. She
|
|
walked into the parlors exactly as if she owned them. A clerk
|
|
came hurrying to meet her.
|
|
|
|
"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 we'll
|
|
take too much time and afterward he will blame me."
|
|
|
|
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?
|
|
|
|
"On my soul!" he muttered under his breath. "They don't
|
|
aven touch her!"
|
|
|
|
She laid down her sunshade and gloves. She walked to the
|
|
end of the counter and turned the full battery of her eyes on
|
|
the attendant.
|
|
|
|
"Please," she said.
|
|
|
|
The white-aproned individual stepped back and gave
|
|
delighted assent. The Angel stepped beside him, and selecting a
|
|
tall, flaring glass, of almost paper thinness, she stooped and
|
|
rolled it in a tray of cracked ice.
|
|
|
|
"I want to mix a drink for my friend," she said. "He has a
|
|
long, hot ride before him, and I don't want him started off with
|
|
one of those old palate-teasing sweetnesses that you mix just on
|
|
purpose to drive a man back in ten minutes.', There was an
|
|
appreciative laugh from the line at the counter.
|
|
|
|
"I want a clear, cool, sparkling drink that has a tang of
|
|
acid in it. Where's the cherry phosphate? That, not at all
|
|
sweet, would be good; don't you think?"
|
|
|
|
The attendant did think. He pointed out the different taps,
|
|
and 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.
|
|
|
|
"That's entirely too sweet for a thirsty man," she said.
|
|
|
|
She poured out half the mixture, and refilling the glass,
|
|
tasted it a second time. She submitted that result to the
|
|
attendant. "Isn't that about the thing?" she asked.
|
|
|
|
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: "I'll be drinking it to the
|
|
Swamp Angel."
|
|
|
|
As he had said to her that first day, she now cautioned
|
|
him: "Be drinking slowly"
|
|
|
|
When the screen-door swung behind them, one of the men at
|
|
the counter asked of the attendant: "Now, what did that mean?"
|
|
|
|
"Exactly what you saw," replied he, rather curtly. "We're
|
|
accustomed to it here. Hardly a day passes, this hot weather,
|
|
but she's picking up some poor, god-forsaken mortal and bringing
|
|
him in. Then she comes behind the counter herself and fixes up
|
|
a drink to suit the occasion. She's all sorts of fancies about
|
|
what's what for all kinds of times and conditions, and you bet
|
|
she can just hit the spot! Ain't a clerk here can put up a drink
|
|
to touch her. She's a sort of knack at it. Every once in a
|
|
while, when the Boss sees her, he calls out to her to mix him a
|
|
drink."
|
|
|
|
"And does she?" asked the man with an interested grin.
|
|
|
|
"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 bits tbe
|
|
spot just as no spot was ever hit before. I honestly believe
|
|
that the _interest_ she takes in it is half the trick, for I
|
|
watch her closely and I can't come within gunshot of her concoctions.
|
|
She has a running bill here. Her father settles once a month. She
|
|
gives nine-tenths of it away. Hardly ever touches it herself, but when
|
|
she does she makes me mix it. She's just old persimmons. Even
|
|
the scrub-boy of this establishment would fight for her. It
|
|
lasts the year round, for in winter it's some poor, frozen cuss
|
|
that she's warming up on hot coffee or chocolate."
|
|
|
|
"Mighty queer specimen she had this time," volunteered
|
|
another. "Irish, hand off, straight as a ramrod, and something
|
|
worth while in his face. Notice that hat peel off, and the eyes
|
|
of him? There's a case of `fight for her!, Wonder who he is?"
|
|
|
|
"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 w ay. I've heard that he is a
|
|
master hand with the birds, and that would just suit the Bird
|
|
Woman to a T."
|
|
|
|
On the street the Angel walked beside Freckles to the first
|
|
crossing and there she stopped. "Now, will you promise to ride
|
|
fast enough to make up for the five minutes that took?" she
|
|
asked. "I am a little uneasy about Mrs. Duncan."
|
|
|
|
Freckles turned his wheel into the street. It seemed to him
|
|
he had poured that delicious icy liquid into every vein in his
|
|
body instead of his stomach. It even went to his brain.
|
|
|
|
"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.
|
|
|
|
"Next time, maybe you won't take so much coaxing," she
|
|
teased.
|
|
|
|
"I wouldn't this, if I had known your father and been
|
|
understanding you better. Do you really think the Bird Woman
|
|
will be coming again?"
|
|
|
|
The Angel jeered. "Wild horses couldn't drag her away," she
|
|
cried. "She will have hard work to wait the week out. I
|
|
shouldn't be in the least surprised to see her start any hour."
|
|
|
|
Freckles could not endure the suspense; it had to come.
|
|
|
|
"And you?" he questioned, but he dared not lift his eyes.
|
|
|
|
"Wild horses me, too," she laughed, "couldn't keep me away
|
|
either! 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?"
|
|
|
|
"Yis," said Freckles, because it was all he was capable of
|
|
saying just then.
|
|
|
|
"It's beginning to act stormy," she said. "If you hurry you
|
|
will just about make it. Now, good-bye."
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER IX
|
|
|
|
Wherein the Limberlost Falls upon Mrs. Duncan and Freckles Comes
|
|
to the Rescue
|
|
|
|
FRECKLES was halfway to the Limberlost when he dismounted. He
|
|
could ride no farther, because he could not see the road. He sat
|
|
under a tree, and, leaning against it, sobs shook, twisted, and
|
|
rent him. If they would remind him of his position, speak
|
|
Condescendingly, or notice his hand, he could endure it, but
|
|
this-it surely would kill him! His hot, pulsing Irish blood was
|
|
stirred deeply. What did they mean? Why did they do it? Were
|
|
they like that to everyone? Was it. pity?
|
|
|
|
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 w orth
|
|
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 not hing
|
|
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 onlv
|
|
long enough to slip them on, and then sped with all his strength
|
|
for the Limberlost. To the west, the long, black, hard-beaten
|
|
trail lay clear; but far up the east side, straight across the
|
|
path, he could see what was certainly a limp, brown figure.
|
|
Freckles spun with all his might.
|
|
|
|
Face down, Sarah Duncan lay across the trail. When Freckles
|
|
turned her over, his blood chilled at the look of horror settled
|
|
on her face. There was a low humming and something spatted
|
|
against him. Glancing around, Freckles shivered in terror, for
|
|
there was a swarm of wild bees settled on a scrub-thorn only a
|
|
few yards away. The air was filled with excited, unsettled bees
|
|
making ready to lead farther in search of a suitable location.
|
|
Then he thought he understood, and with a prayer of thankfulness
|
|
in his heart that she had escaped, even so narrowly, he caught
|
|
her up and hurried down the trail until they were well out of
|
|
danger. He laid her in the shade, and carrying water from the
|
|
swamp in the crown of his hat, he bathed her face and hands; but
|
|
she lay in unbroken stillness, without a sign of life.
|
|
|
|
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 was hysterical, and the Limberlost had
|
|
neither sung nor performed for her.
|
|
|
|
But there was trouble brewing. It was quiet and intensely
|
|
hot, with that stifling stillness that precedes a summer storm,
|
|
and feathers and fur were tense and nervous. The birds were
|
|
singing only a few broken snatches, and flying around, seeking
|
|
places of shelter. One moment everything seemed devoid of life,
|
|
the next there was an unexpected whir, buzz, and sharp cry.
|
|
Inside, a pandemonium of growling, spatting, snarling, and
|
|
grunting broke loose.
|
|
|
|
The swale bent flat before heavy gusts of wind, and the big
|
|
black chicken swept lower and lower above the swamp. Patches of
|
|
clouds gathered, shutting out the sun and making it very dark,
|
|
and the next moment were swept away. The sun poured with fierce,
|
|
burning brightness, and everything was quiet. It was at the
|
|
first growl of thunder that Freckles really had noticed the
|
|
weather, and putting his own troubles aside resolutely, raced
|
|
for the swamp.
|
|
|
|
Sarah Duncan paused on the line. "Weel, I wouldna stay in
|
|
this place for a million a month," she said aloud, and the sound
|
|
of her voice brought no comfort, for it was so little like she
|
|
had thought it that she glanced hastily around to see if it had
|
|
really been she that spoke. She tremblingly wiped the
|
|
perspiration from her face with the skirt of her sunbonnet.
|
|
|
|
"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 sw ale, where the grasses reached almost to her waist, and
|
|
her horror of snakes returning, she made a flying leap for an
|
|
old log lying beside the line. She alighted squarely, but it was so
|
|
damp and rotten that she sank straight through it to her knees. She
|
|
caught at the wire as she went down, and missing, raked her wrist
|
|
across a barb until she tore a bleeding gash. Her fingers closed
|
|
convulsively around the second strand. She was too frightened to
|
|
scream now. Her tongue stiffened. She clung frantically to the
|
|
sagging wire, and finally managed to grasp it with the other
|
|
hand. Then she could reach the top wire, and so she drew herself
|
|
up and found solid footing. She picked up the club that she had
|
|
dropped in order to extricate herself. Leaning heavily on it,
|
|
she managed to return to the trail, but she was trembling so
|
|
that she scarcely could walk. Going a few steps farther, she
|
|
came to the stump of the first tree that had been taken out.
|
|
|
|
She sat bolt upright and very still, trying to collect her
|
|
thoughts and reason away her terror. A squirrel above her
|
|
dropped a nut, and as it came rattling down, bouncing from
|
|
branch to branch, every nerve in her tugged wildly. When the
|
|
disgusted squirrel barked loudly, she sprang to the trail.
|
|
|
|
The wind arose higher, the changes from light to darkness
|
|
were more abrupt, while the thunder came closer and louder at
|
|
every peal. In swarms the blackbirds arose from the swale and
|
|
came flocking to the interior, with a clamoring cry. "_T'check_,
|
|
_t'check_." Grackles marshaled to the tribal call:
|
|
"_Trall-a-hee_, _trall-a-hee_." Red-winged blackbirds swept low,
|
|
calling to belated mates: "_Fol-low-me_, _fol-low-me_." Big,
|
|
jetty crows gathered close to her, crying, as if warning her to
|
|
flee before it was everlastingly too late. A heron, fishing the
|
|
near-by pool for Freckles' "find-out" frog, fell into trouble
|
|
with a muskrat and uttered a rasping note that sent Mrs. Duncan
|
|
a rod down the line without realizing that she had moved. She
|
|
was too shaken to run far. She stopped and looked around her
|
|
fearfully..
|
|
|
|
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 rau 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
|
|
bebind warned her she dared not. Gathering her skirts higher,
|
|
with hair flying around her face and her eyes almost bursting
|
|
from their sockets, she ran straight toward it. The sound of her
|
|
feet and the humming of the bees alarmed the rattler, so it
|
|
stopped across the trail, lifting its head above the grasses of
|
|
the swale and rattling inquiringly--rattled until the bees were
|
|
outdone.
|
|
|
|
Straight toward it went the panic-stricken woman, running
|
|
wildly and uncontrollably. She took one leap, clearing its body
|
|
on the path, then flew ahead with winged feet. The snake, coiled
|
|
to strike, missed Mrs. Duncan and landed among the bees instead.
|
|
They settled over and around it, and realizing that it had found
|
|
trouble, it sank among the grasses and went threshing toward its
|
|
den in the deep willow-fringed low ground. The swale appeared as
|
|
if a reaper were cutting a wide swath. The mass of enraged bees
|
|
darted angrily around, searching for it, and striking the
|
|
scrub-thorn, began a temporary settling there to discover
|
|
whether it were a suitable place. Completely exhausted, Mrs.
|
|
Duncan staggered on a few steps farther, fell facing the path,
|
|
where Freckles found her, and lay quietly.
|
|
|
|
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 added their
|
|
wailing to Freckles' panic.
|
|
|
|
This time he was so close the cabin that he could carry ber
|
|
into the house and lay ber on the bed. He sent the oldest boy
|
|
scudding down tbe corduroy for the nearest neighbor, and between
|
|
them they undressed Mrs. Duncan and discovered that she was not
|
|
bitten. They bathed and bound the bleeding wrist and coaxed her
|
|
back to consciousness. She lay sobbing and shuddering. The first
|
|
intelligent word she said was: "Freckles, look at that jar on
|
|
the kitchen table and see if my yeast is no running ower."
|
|
|
|
Several days passed before she could give Duncan and
|
|
Freckles any detailed account of what had happened to her, even
|
|
then she could not do it without crying as the least of her
|
|
babies. Freckles was almost heartbroken, and nursed her as well
|
|
as any woman could have done; while big Duncan, with a heart
|
|
full for them both, worked early and late to chink every crack
|
|
of the cabin and examine every spot that possibly could harbor
|
|
a snake. The effects of her morning on the trail kept her
|
|
shivering half the time. She could not rest until she sent for
|
|
McLean and begged him to save Freckles from further risk, in
|
|
that place of horrors. The Boss went to the swamp with his mind
|
|
fully determined to do so.
|
|
|
|
Freckles stood and laughed at him. "Why, Mr. McLean, don't
|
|
you let a woman's nervous system set you worrying about me," he
|
|
said. "I'm not denying how she felt, because I've been through
|
|
it meself, but that's all over and gone. It's the height of me
|
|
glory to fight it out with the old swamp, and all that's in it,
|
|
or will be coming to it, and then to turn it over to you as I
|
|
promised you and meself I'd do, sir. You couldn't break the
|
|
heart of me entire quicker than to be taking it from me now,
|
|
when I'm just on the home-stretch. It won't be over three or
|
|
four weeks yet, and when I've gone it almost a year, why, what's
|
|
that to me, sir? You mustn't let a woman get mixed up with business,
|
|
for I've always heard about how it's bringing trouble."
|
|
|
|
McLean smiled. "What about that last tree?" he said.
|
|
|
|
Freckles blushed and grinned appreciatively.
|
|
|
|
"Angels and Bird Women don't count in the common run, sir,"
|
|
he affirmed shamelessly.
|
|
|
|
McLean sat in the saddle and laughed.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER X
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards
|
|
Him
|
|
|
|
THE Bird Woman and the Angel did not seem to count in the common
|
|
run, for they arrived on time for the third of the series and
|
|
found McLean 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 McLean would come to the concert.
|
|
|
|
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 commanding and
|
|
filled with much impatience.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles James Ross McLean!" she was saying. "You fill me
|
|
with dark-blue despair! You're singing as if your voice were
|
|
glass and might break at any minute. Why don't you sing as you
|
|
did a week ago? Answer me that, please."
|
|
|
|
Freckles smiled confusedly at the Angel, who sat on one of
|
|
his fancy seats, playing his accompaniment on her banjo.
|
|
|
|
"You are a fraud," she said. "Here you went last week and
|
|
led me to think that there was the making of a great singer in
|
|
you, and now you are singing--do you know how badly you are
|
|
singing?"
|
|
|
|
"Yis," said Freckles meekly. "I'm thinking I'm too happy to
|
|
be singing well today. The music don't come right only when I'm
|
|
lonesome and sad. The world's for being all sunshine at prisint,
|
|
for among you and Mr. McLean and the Bird Woman I'm after being
|
|
that happy that I can't keep me thoughts on me notes. It's more
|
|
than sorry I am to be disappointing you. Play it over, and I'll
|
|
be beginning again, and this time I'll hold hard."
|
|
|
|
"Well," said the Angel disgustedly, "it seems to me that if
|
|
I had all the things to be proud of that you have, I'd lift up
|
|
my head and sing!"
|
|
|
|
"And what is it I've to be proud of, ma'am?" politely
|
|
inquired Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Why, a whole worldful of things," cried the Angel
|
|
explosively. "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 he proud that you've never
|
|
even once disappointed him or failed in what he believed you
|
|
could do. You can be proud over the way everyone speaks of you with
|
|
trust and honor, and about how brave of heart and strong of body you
|
|
are I heard a big man say a few days ago that the Limberlost was
|
|
full of disagreeable things--positive dangers, unhealthful as it
|
|
could be, and that since the memory of the first settlers it has
|
|
been a rendezvous for runaways, thieves, and murderers. This
|
|
swamp is named for a man that was lost here and wandered around
|
|
`til he starved. That man I was talking with said he wouldn't
|
|
take your job for a thousand dollars a month--in fact, he said
|
|
he wouldn't have it for any money, and you've never missed a day
|
|
or lost a tree. Proud! Why, I should think you would just parade
|
|
around about proper over that!
|
|
|
|
"And you can always be proud that you are born an Irishman.
|
|
My father is Irish, and if you want to see him get up and strut
|
|
give him a teeny opening to enlarge on his race. He says that if
|
|
the Irish had decent territory they'd lead the world. He says
|
|
they've always been handicapped by lack of space and of fertile
|
|
soil. He says if Ireland had been as big and fertile as Indiana,
|
|
why, England wouldn't ever have had the uPper hand. She'd only
|
|
be an appendage. Fancy England an appendage! He says ireland has
|
|
the finest orators and the keenest statesmen in Europe today,
|
|
and when England wants to fight, with whom does she fill her
|
|
trenches? Irishmen, of course! Ireland has the greenest grass
|
|
and trees, the finest stones and lakes, and they've
|
|
jaunting-cars. I don't know just exactly what they are, but
|
|
Ireland has all there are, anyway. They've a lot of great
|
|
actors, and a few singers, and there never Was a sweeter poet
|
|
than one of theirs. You should hear my father recite `Dear Harp
|
|
of My Country.' He does it this way."
|
|
|
|
The Angel arose, made an elaborate old-time bow, and
|
|
holding up the banjo, recited in cUpping feet and meter, with
|
|
rhythmic swing and a touch of brogue that Was simply
|
|
irresistible:
|
|
|
|
"Dear harp of my country" [The Angel ardently clasped the
|
|
banjo],
|
|
|
|
"In darkness I found thee" [She held it to the light],
|
|
|
|
"The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long" [She
|
|
muted 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 had been playing
|
|
for Freckles].
|
|
|
|
"That's what you want to be thinking of!" she cried. "Not
|
|
darkness, and lonesomeness, and sadness, but `light, freedom,
|
|
and song.' I can't begin to think offhand of all the big,
|
|
splendid things an Irishman has to be proud of; but whatever
|
|
they are, they are all yours, and you are a part of them. I just
|
|
despise that `saddest-when-I-sing' business. You can sing! Now
|
|
You go over there and do it! Ireland has had her statesmen,
|
|
warriors, actors, and poets; now you be her voice! You stand
|
|
right out there before the cathedral door, and I'm going to come
|
|
down the aisle playing that accompaniment, and when I stop in
|
|
front of you--you sing!"
|
|
|
|
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 touching her with golden
|
|
glory. Freckles stood as if transfixed.
|
|
|
|
The cathedral was majestically beautiful, from arched dome
|
|
of frescoed gold, green, and blue in never-ending shades and
|
|
harmonies, to the mosaic aisle she trod, richly inlaid in
|
|
choicest colors, and gigantic pillars that were God' s handiwork
|
|
fashioned and perfected through ages of sunshine and rain. But
|
|
the fair young face and divinely molded form of the Angel were
|
|
His most perfect work of all. Never had she appeared so
|
|
surpassingly beautiful. She was smiling encouragingly now, and
|
|
as she came toward him, she struck the chords full and strong.
|
|
|
|
The heart of poor Freckles almost burst with dull pain and his
|
|
great love for her. In his desire to fulfill her expectations he
|
|
forgot everything else, and when she reached his initial chord
|
|
he was ready. He literally burst forth:
|
|
|
|
"Three little leaves of Irish green,
|
|
|
|
United on one stem,
|
|
|
|
Love, truth, and valor do they mean,
|
|
|
|
They form a magic gem."
|
|
|
|
The Angel's eyes widened curiously and her lips parted. A
|
|
deep color swept into her cheeks. She had intended to arouse
|
|
him. She had more than succeeded. She was too young to know that
|
|
in the effort to rouse a man, women frequently kindle fires that
|
|
they neither can quench nor control. Freckles was looking over
|
|
her head now and singing that song, as it never had been sung
|
|
before, for her alone; and instead of her helping him, as she
|
|
had intended, he was carrying her with him on the waves of his
|
|
voice, away, away into another world. When he struck into the
|
|
chorus, wide-eyed and panting, she was swaying toward him and
|
|
playing with all her might.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, do you love? Oh, say you love
|
|
|
|
You love the shamrock green!"
|
|
|
|
At the last note, Freckles' voice ceased and he looked at
|
|
the Angel. He had given his best and his all. He fell on his
|
|
knees and folded his arms across his breast. The Angel, as if
|
|
magnetized, walked straight down the aisle to him, and running
|
|
her fingers into the crisp masses of his red hair, tilted his
|
|
head back and laid her lips on his forehead.
|
|
|
|
Then she stepped back and faced him. "Good boy!". she said,
|
|
in a voice that wavered from the throbbing of her shaken heart.
|
|
"Dear boy! I knew you could do it! I knew it was in you!
|
|
Freckles, when you go into the world, if you can face a big
|
|
audience and sing like that, just once, you will be immortal,
|
|
and anything you want will be yours."
|
|
|
|
"Anything!" gasped Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Anything," said the Angel.
|
|
|
|
Freckles arose, muttered something, and catching up his old
|
|
bucket, plunged into the swamp blindly on a pretence of bringing
|
|
water. The Angel walked slowly across the study, sat on the
|
|
rustic bench, and, through narrowed lids, intently studied the
|
|
tip of her shoe.
|
|
|
|
On the trail the Bird Woman wheeled to McLean with a
|
|
dumbfounded look.
|
|
|
|
"God!" muttered he.
|
|
|
|
At last the Bird Woman spoke.
|
|
|
|
"Do you think the Angel knew she did that?" she asked
|
|
softly.
|
|
|
|
"No," said McLean; "I do not. But the poor boy knew it.
|
|
Heaven help him!"
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman stared across the gently waving swale. "I
|
|
don't see how I am going to blame her," she said at last. "It's
|
|
so exactly what I would have done myself."
|
|
|
|
"Say the remainder," demanded McLean hoarsely. "Do him
|
|
justice."
|
|
|
|
"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 if she could
|
|
not believe that it could be his conception and work.
|
|
|
|
That was a happy day. The Bird Woman had brought a lunch,
|
|
and they spread it, with Freckles' dinner, on the studv floor
|
|
and sat, resting and enjoying themselves. But the Angel put her
|
|
banjo into its case, silently gathered her music, and no one
|
|
mentioned the concert.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman left McLean and the Angel to clear away the
|
|
lunch, and with Freckles examined the walls of his room and told
|
|
him all she knew about his shrubs and flowers. She analyzed a
|
|
cardinal-flower and showed him what he had wanted to knOw all
|
|
summer--why the bees buzzed ineffectually around it while the
|
|
humming-birds found in it an ever-ready feast. Some of his
|
|
specimens were so rare that she was unfamiliar with them, and
|
|
with the flower book between them they knelt, studying the
|
|
different varieties. She wandered the length of the cathedral
|
|
aisle with him, and it Was at her suggestion that he lighted his
|
|
altar with a row of flaming foxfire.
|
|
|
|
As Freckles came to the cabin from his long day at the
|
|
swamp he saw Mrs. Chicken sweeping to the south and wondered
|
|
where she Was going. He stepped into the bright, cosy little
|
|
kitchen, and as he reached down the wash-basin he asked Mrs.
|
|
Duncan a question.
|
|
|
|
"Mother Duncan, do kisses wash off?"
|
|
|
|
So warm a wave swept her heart that a half-flush mantled
|
|
her face. She straightened her shoulders and glanced at her
|
|
hands tenderly.
|
|
|
|
"Lord, na! Freckles," she cried. "At least, the anes ye get
|
|
from people ye love dinna. They dinna stay on the outside. They
|
|
strike in until they find the center of your heart and make
|
|
their stopping-place there, and naething can take them from
|
|
ye--I doubt if even death Na, lad, ye can be reet sure kisses
|
|
dinna wash. off!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles set the basin down and muttered as he plunged his
|
|
hot, tired face into the water, "I needn't be afraid to be
|
|
washing, then, for that one struck in."
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XI
|
|
|
|
Wherein the Butterflies Go on a Spree and Freckles Informs the
|
|
Bird Woman
|
|
|
|
"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 tbe swamp that I'm believing never happened before,
|
|
and surelv she'll be wanting it."
|
|
|
|
"What now, Freckles?" asked Mrs. Duncan.
|
|
|
|
"Why, the oddest thing you ever heard of," said Freckles;
|
|
"the whole insect tribe gone on a spree. I'm supposing it's my
|
|
doings, but it all happened by accident, like. You see, on the
|
|
swale side of the line, right against me trail, there's one of
|
|
these scrub wild crabtrees. Where the grass grows thick around
|
|
it, is the finest place you ever conceived of for snakes. Having
|
|
women about has set me trying to clean out those fellows a bit,
|
|
and yesterday I noticed that tree in passing. It struck me that
|
|
it would be a good idea to be taking it out. First I thought I'd
|
|
take me hatchet and cut it down, for it ain't thicker than me
|
|
upper arm. Then I remembered how it was blooming in the spring
|
|
and filling all the air with sweetness. The coloring of the
|
|
blossoms is beautiful, and I hated to be killing it. I just cut
|
|
the grass short all around it. Then I started at the ground,
|
|
trimmed up the trunk near the height of me shoulder, and left
|
|
the top spreading. That made it look so truly ornamental that,
|
|
idle like, I chips off the rough places neat, and this morning,
|
|
on me soul, it's a sight! You see,. cutting off the limbs and
|
|
trimming up the trunk sets the sap running. In this hot sun it
|
|
ferments in a few hours. There isn't much room for more things
|
|
to crowd on that tree than there are, and to get drunker isn't
|
|
noways possible."
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
asd hind legs, fiddling with their fore-feet 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 asything--even more sap to
|
|
themselves. There's a lot of hard-backed bugs--beetles, I
|
|
guess--colored like the brown, blue, and black of a peacock's
|
|
tail. They hang on until the legs of them are so wake they can't
|
|
stick a minute longer, and then they break away and fall to the
|
|
ground. They just lay there on their backs, fably clawing air.
|
|
When it wears off a bit, up they get, and go crawling back for
|
|
more, and they so full they bump into each other and roll over.
|
|
Sometimes they can't climb the tree until they wait to sober up
|
|
a little. There's a lot of big black-and-gold bumblebees, done
|
|
for entire, stumbling over the bark and rolling on the ground.
|
|
They just lay there on their backs, rocking from side to side,
|
|
singing to themselves like fat, happy babies. The wild bees keep
|
|
up a steady buzzing with the beating of their wings.
|
|
|
|
"The butterflies are the worst old topers of them all.
|
|
They're just a circus! You never saw the like of the beauties!
|
|
They come every color you could be naming, and every shape you
|
|
could be thinking up. They drink and drink until, if I'm driving
|
|
them away, they stagger as they fly and turn somersaults in the
|
|
air. If I lave them alone, they cling to the grasses, shivering
|
|
happy like; and I'm blest, Mother Duncan, if the best of them
|
|
could be unlocking the front door with a lead pencil, even."
|
|
|
|
"I never heard of anything sae surprising," said Mrs.
|
|
Duncan.
|
|
|
|
"It's a rare sight to watch them, and no one ever made a
|
|
picture of a thing like that before, I'mn for thinking," said
|
|
Freckles earnestly.
|
|
|
|
"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 them; but he could discover no trace of anything
|
|
to justify his fears.
|
|
|
|
He tilted his hat brim to shade his face and looked for his
|
|
chickess. They were hasging almost beyond sight in the sky.
|
|
|
|
"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. Isstantly he knew that someone had been there. He
|
|
stepped to the center of the room, closely scanning each wall
|
|
and the floor. He could find no trace of a clue to confirm his
|
|
belief, yet so intimate was he with the spirit of the place that
|
|
he knew.
|
|
|
|
How he knew he could not have told, yet he did know that
|
|
someone had entered his room, sat on his benches, and walked
|
|
over his floor. He was surest around the case. Nothing was
|
|
disturbed, yet it seemed to Freckles that he could see where
|
|
prying fingers had tried the lock. He stepped behind the case,
|
|
carefully examining the ground all around it, and close beside
|
|
the tree to which it was nailed he found a deep, fresh footprint
|
|
in the spongy soil--a long, narrow print, that was never made by
|
|
the foot of Wessner. His heart tugged in his breast as he
|
|
mentally measured the print, but he did not linger, for now the
|
|
feeling arose that he was being watched. It seemed to him that
|
|
he could feel the eyes of some intruder at his back. He knew he
|
|
was examining thing 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 nothing more tangible than one footprint to justify him.
|
|
|
|
He waited until he was sure Duncan would be at home, if he
|
|
were coming for the night, before he west 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 pipe and taking a good
|
|
revolver, the big man went to the Limberlost.
|
|
|
|
Freckles made himself clean and neat, and raced to town,
|
|
but it was night and the stars were shining before he reached
|
|
the home of the Bird Woman. From afar he could see that the
|
|
house was ablaze with lights. The lawn and veranda were strung with
|
|
fancy lanterns and alive with people. He thought his errand important,
|
|
so to turn back never occurred to Freckles. This was all the
|
|
time or opportunity he would have. He must see the Bird Woman,
|
|
and see her at once. He leaned his wheel inside the fence and
|
|
walked up the broad front entrance. As he neared the steps, he
|
|
saw that the place was swarming with young people, and the
|
|
Angel, with an excuse to a group that surrounded her, came
|
|
hurrying to him.
|
|
|
|
"Oh Freckles!" she cried delightedly. "So you could come?
|
|
We were so afraid you could not! I'm as glad as I can be!"
|
|
|
|
"I don't understand," said Freckles. "Were you expecting
|
|
me?"
|
|
|
|
"Why of course!" exclaimed the Angel. "Haven't you come to
|
|
mv party? Didn't you get my invitation? I sent you one."
|
|
|
|
"By mail?" asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the Angel. "I had to help with the
|
|
preparations, and I couldn't find time to drive out; but I wrote
|
|
you a letter, and told you that the Bird Woman w as giving a
|
|
party for me, and we wanted you to come, surely. I told them at
|
|
the office to put it with Mr. Duncan's mail."
|
|
|
|
"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?"
|
|
|
|
The Angel's face clouded.
|
|
|
|
"What a disappointment!" she cried. "I did so want all my
|
|
friends to know you. Can't you stay anyway?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles glanced from his wading-boots to the patent
|
|
leathers of some of the Angel's friends, and smiled whimsically,
|
|
but there was no danger of his ever misjudging her again.
|
|
|
|
"You know I cannot, Angel," he said.
|
|
|
|
"I am afraid I do," she said ruefully. "It's too bad! But
|
|
there is a thing I want for you more than to come to my party,
|
|
and that is to hang on and win with your work. I think of you
|
|
every day, and I just pray that those thieves are not getting
|
|
ahead of you. Oh, Freckles, do watch closely!"
|
|
|
|
She was so lovely a picture as she stood before bim, 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.
|
|
|
|
Her face and bared neck and arms were like the wild rose
|
|
bloom. Her soft frock of white tulle lifted and stirred around
|
|
her with the gentle evening air. The beautiful golden hair, that
|
|
crept around her temples and ears as if it loved to cling there,
|
|
was caught back and bound with broad blue satin ribbon. There
|
|
was a sash of blue at her waist, and knots of it catching up her
|
|
draperies.
|
|
|
|
"Must I go after the Bird Woman?" she pleaded.
|
|
|
|
"Indade, you must," answered Freckles firmly.
|
|
|
|
The Angel went away, but returned to say that the Bird
|
|
Woman was telling a story to those inside and she could not come
|
|
for a short time.
|
|
|
|
"You won't come in?" she pleaded.
|
|
|
|
"I must not," said Freckles. "I am not dressed to be among
|
|
your friends, and I might be forgetting meself and stay too
|
|
long."
|
|
|
|
"Then," said the Angel, "we mustn't go through the house,
|
|
because it would disturb the story'. but I want you to come the
|
|
outside way to the conservatory and have some of my birthday
|
|
lunch and some cake to take to Mrs. Duncan and the babies. Won't
|
|
that be fun?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles thought that it would be more than fun, and
|
|
followed delightedly.
|
|
|
|
The Angel gave him a big glass, brimming with some icy,
|
|
sparkling liquid that struck his palate as it never had been
|
|
touched before, because a combination of frosty fruit juices had
|
|
not been a frequent beverage with him. The night was warm, and
|
|
the Angel most beautiful and kind. A triple delirium of spirit,
|
|
mind, and body seized upon him and developed a boldness all
|
|
unnatural. He slightly parted the heavy curtains that separated
|
|
the conservatory from the company and looked between. He almost
|
|
stopped breathing. He had read of things like that, but he never had
|
|
seen them.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
The Angel crowded beside him and was watching also.
|
|
|
|
"Doesn't it look pretty?" she whispered.
|
|
|
|
"Do you suppose Heaven is any finer than that?" asked
|
|
Freckles.
|
|
|
|
The Angel began to laugh.
|
|
|
|
"Do you want to be laughing harder than that?" queried
|
|
Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"A laugh is always good," said the Angel. "A little more
|
|
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 move over
|
|
those floors, and hold me own against the best of them."
|
|
|
|
"But where does my laugh come in?" demanded the Angel, as
|
|
if she had been defrauded.
|
|
|
|
"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 she spoke, Freckles had not
|
|
realized fully that it was his loved Bird Woman.
|
|
|
|
Noticing his bewilderment, she cried: "Why, Freckles! Don't
|
|
you know me in my war clothes?"
|
|
|
|
"I do in the uniform in which you fight the Limberlost,"
|
|
said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman laughed. Then he told her why he had come,
|
|
but she scarcely could believe him. She could not say exactly
|
|
when she would go, but she would make it as soon as possible,
|
|
for she was most anxious for the study.
|
|
|
|
While they talked, the Angel was busy packing a box of
|
|
sandwiches, cake, fruit, and flowers. She gave him a last frosty
|
|
glass, thanked him repeatedly for bringing news of new material;
|
|
then Freckles went into the night. He rode toward the Limberlost
|
|
with his eyes on the stars. Presently he removed his hat, hung
|
|
it to his belt, and ruffled his hair to the sweep of the night
|
|
wind. He filled. the air all the way with snatches of oratorios,
|
|
gospel hymns, and dialect and coon songs, in a startlingly
|
|
varied programme. The one thing Freckles knew that he could do
|
|
was to sing. The Duncans heard him coming a mile up the corduroy
|
|
and could not believe their senses. Freckles unfastened the box
|
|
from his belt, and gave Mrs. Duncan and the children all the
|
|
eatables it contained, except one big piece of cake that he
|
|
carried to the sweet-loving Duncan. He put the flowers back in
|
|
the box and set it among his books. He did not say anything, but
|
|
they understood it was not to be touched.
|
|
|
|
"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 man was so amazed he kept
|
|
forgetting the treat in his hands.
|
|
|
|
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 hlood.
|
|
|
|
Every time he passed the little bark-covered imprint on the
|
|
trail he dismounted, removed his hat, solemnly knelt and laid
|
|
his lips on the impression. Because he kept no account himself,
|
|
only the laughing-faced old man of the moon knew how often it
|
|
happened; and as from the beginning, to the follies of earth
|
|
that gentleman has ever been kind.
|
|
|
|
With the near approach of dawn Freckles tuned his last
|
|
note. Wearied almost to falling, he turned from the trail into
|
|
the path leading to the cabin for a few hours' rest.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XII
|
|
|
|
Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack
|
|
|
|
As FRECKLES left the trail, from the swale close the south
|
|
entrance, four large muscular men arose and swiftly and
|
|
carefully entered the swamp by the wagon road. Two of them
|
|
carried a big saw, the third, coils of rope and wire, and all of
|
|
them were heavily armed. They left one man on guard at the
|
|
entrance. The other three made their way through the darkness as
|
|
best they could, and were soon at Freckles' room. He had left
|
|
the swamp on his wheel from the west trail. They counted on his
|
|
returning on the wheel and circling the east line before he came
|
|
there.
|
|
|
|
A little below the west entrance to Freckles' room, Black
|
|
Jack stepped into the swale, and binding a wire tightly around
|
|
a scrub oak, carried it below the waving grasses, stretched it
|
|
taut across the trail, and fastened it to a tree in the swamp.
|
|
Then he obliterated all signs of his work, and arranged the
|
|
grass over the wire until it was so completely covered that only
|
|
minute examination would reveal it. They entered Freckles' room
|
|
with coarse oaths and jests. In a few moments, his specimen case
|
|
with its precious contents was rolled into the swamp, while the
|
|
saw was eating into one of the finest trees of the Limberlost.
|
|
|
|
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 happv. Although
|
|
he watched until his eyes ached, he could see no sign of anyone
|
|
having entered the swamp.
|
|
|
|
He called a cheery greeting to all his chickens. At Sleepy
|
|
Snake Creek he almost fell from his wheel with surprise: the
|
|
saw-bird was surrounded by four lanky youngsters clamoring for
|
|
breakfast. The father was strutting with all the importance of
|
|
a drum major.
|
|
|
|
"No use to expect the Bird Woman today," said Freckles;
|
|
"but now wouldn't she be jumping for a chance at that?"
|
|
|
|
As soon as Freckles was far down the east line, the watch
|
|
was posted below the room on the west to report his coming. It
|
|
was only a few moments before the signal came. Then the saw
|
|
stopped, and the rope was brought out and uncoiled close to a
|
|
sapling. Wessner and Black Jack crowded to the very edge of the
|
|
swamp a little above the wire, and crouched, waiting.
|
|
|
|
They heard Freckles before they saw him. He came gliding
|
|
down the line swiftly, and as he rode he was singing softly:
|
|
|
|
"Oh, do you love,
|
|
|
|
Oh, say you love----"
|
|
|
|
He got no farther. The sharply driven wheel struck the
|
|
tense wire and bounded back. Freckles shot over the handlebar
|
|
and coasted down the trail on his chest. As he struck, Black
|
|
Jack and Wessner were upon him. Wessner caught off an old felt
|
|
hat and clapped it over Freckles' mouth, while Black Jack
|
|
twisted the boy's arms behind him and they rushed him into his
|
|
room. Almost before he realized that anything had happened, he
|
|
was trussed to a tree and securely gagged.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
Wessner went to the trail and removed the wire. He picked
|
|
up Freckles' wheel, that did not seem to be injured, and leaned
|
|
it against the bushes so that if anyone did pass on the trail he
|
|
would not see it doubled in the swamp-grass.
|
|
|
|
Then he came and stood in front of Freckles and laughed in
|
|
devilish hate. To his own amazement, Freckles found himself
|
|
looking fear in the face, and marveled that he was not afraid.
|
|
Four to one! The tree halfway eaten through, the wagons coming
|
|
up the inside road--he, bound and gagged! The men with Black
|
|
Jack and Wessner had belonged to McLean's gang when last he had
|
|
heard of them, but who those coming with the wagons might be he
|
|
could not guess.
|
|
|
|
If they secured that tree, McLean lost its value, lost his
|
|
wager, and lost his faith in him. The words of the Angel
|
|
hammered in his ears. "Oh, Freckles, do watch closely!"
|
|
|
|
The saw worked steadily.
|
|
|
|
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 Jack stopped him, with an oath.
|
|
|
|
"You see here, Dutchy," he bawled, "mebby you think you'll
|
|
wash his face with that, but you won't. A contract's a contract.
|
|
We agreed to take out these trees and leave him for you to
|
|
dispose of whatever way you please, provided you shut him up
|
|
eternally on this deal. But I'll not see a tied man tormented by
|
|
a fellow that he can lick up the ground with, loose, and that's
|
|
flat. It raises my gorge to think what he'll get when we're
|
|
gone, but you needn't think you're free to begin before. Don't you
|
|
lay a hand on him while I'm here! What do you say, boys?"
|
|
|
|
"I say yes," growled one of McLean's latest deserters.
|
|
"What's more, we're a pack of fools to risk the dirty work of
|
|
silencing him. You had him face down and you on his back; why
|
|
the hell didn't you cover his head and roll him into the bushes
|
|
until we were gone? When I went into this, I didn't understand
|
|
that he Was to see all of us and that there was murder on the
|
|
ticket. I'm not up to it. I don't mind lifting trees we came
|
|
for, but I'm cursed if I want blood on my hands."
|
|
|
|
"Well, you ain't going to get it," bellowed Jack. "You
|
|
fellows only contracted to help me get out my marked trees. He
|
|
belong to Wessner, and it ain't in our deal what happens to
|
|
him."
|
|
|
|
"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 buck--come to think of it, killing is what he needs. He's
|
|
away too good for this world of woe, anyhow. I tell you, it's
|
|
all safe enough. His dropping out won't be the only secret the
|
|
old Limberlost has never told. It's too dead easy to make it
|
|
look like he helped take the timber and then cut. Why, he's
|
|
played right into our hands. He was here at the swamp all last
|
|
night, and back again in an hour or so. When we get our plan
|
|
worked out, even old fool Duncan won't lift a finger to look for
|
|
his carcass. We couldn't have him going in better shape."
|
|
|
|
"You just bet," said Wessner. "I owe him all he'll get, and
|
|
be damned to you, but I'll pay!" he snarled at Freckles.
|
|
|
|
So it was killing, then. They were not only after this one
|
|
tree, but many, and with his body it was their plan to kill his
|
|
honor. To brand him a thief, with them, before the Angel, the
|
|
Bird Woman, the dear Boss, and the Duncans--Freckles, in sick
|
|
despair, sagged against the ropes.
|
|
|
|
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 hy any possibility, and there would be no
|
|
tomorrow for the boy. Duncan was on his way to the South camp,
|
|
and the Bird Woman had said she would come as soon as she could.
|
|
After the fatigue of the party, it was useless to expect her and
|
|
the Angel today, and God save them from coming! The Angel's
|
|
father had said they would be as safe in the Limberlost as at
|
|
home. What would he think of this?
|
|
|
|
The sweat hroke on Freckles' forehead. He tugged at the
|
|
ropes whenever he felt that he dared, but they were passed
|
|
around the tree and his body several times, and knotted on his
|
|
chest. He was helpless. There was no hope, no help. And after
|
|
they had conspired to make him appear a runaway thief to his
|
|
loved ones, what was it that Wessner would do to him?
|
|
|
|
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. N ever 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. Thev
|
|
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 angry expression.
|
|
|
|
Last week he had taken her and the Bird Woman across the
|
|
swamp over the path he followed in going from his room to the
|
|
chicken tree. He had told them the night before, that the
|
|
butterfly tree was on the line close to this path. In figuring
|
|
on their not coming that day, he failed to reckon with the enthusiasm
|
|
of the Bird Woman. They must be there for the study, and the Angel had
|
|
risked crossing the swamp in search of him. Or was there
|
|
something in his room they needed? The blood surged in his ears
|
|
as the roar of the Limberlost in the wrath of a storm.
|
|
|
|
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
|
|
mother did it!"
|
|
|
|
"Freckles! Freckles! Oh, Freckles!" the voice of the Angel
|
|
came calling. Freckles swayed forward and wrenched at the rope
|
|
until it cut deeply into his body.
|
|
|
|
"Hell!" cried Black Jack. "Who is that? Do you know?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles nodded.
|
|
|
|
Jack whipped out a revolver and snatched the gag from
|
|
Freckles' mouth.
|
|
|
|
"Say quick, or it's up with you right now, and whoever that
|
|
is with you!"
|
|
|
|
"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 when we were
|
|
spying on him yesterday."
|
|
|
|
"No, he leaves lying to your sort," snapped Black Jack, as
|
|
he undid the rope and pitched it across the room. "Remember that
|
|
you're covered every move you make, mv buck," he cautioned.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles! Freckles!" came the Angel's impatient voice,
|
|
closer and closer.
|
|
|
|
"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 easv to what any
|
|
man will get if he touches either of them!"
|
|
|
|
"Freckles, where are you?" demanded the Angel.
|
|
|
|
Soulsick with fear for her, Freckles went toward her and
|
|
parted the bushes that she might enter. She came through without
|
|
apparently giving him a glance, and the first words she said
|
|
were: "Why have the gang come so soon? I didn't know you
|
|
expected them for three weeks yet. Or is this some especial tree
|
|
that Mr. McLean needs to fill an order right now?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles hesitated. Would a man dare lie to save himself?
|
|
No. But to save the Angel--surely that was different. He opened
|
|
his lips, but the Angel was capable of saving herself. She
|
|
walked among them, exactly as if she had been reared in a lumber
|
|
camp, and never waited for an answer.
|
|
|
|
"Why, your specimen case!" she cried. "Look! Haven't you
|
|
noticed that it's tipped over? Set it straight, quickly!"
|
|
|
|
A couple of the men stepped out and carefully righted the
|
|
case.
|
|
|
|
"There! That's better," she said. "Freckles, I'm surprised
|
|
at your 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?"
|
|
|
|
"It's a white oak," said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Like those they make dining-tables and sideboards from?"
|
|
|
|
"Yes."
|
|
|
|
"My! How interesting!" she cr.ied. "I don't know a thing
|
|
about timber, but my father wants me o 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.
|
|
|
|
Some of them appeared foolish and some grim, but one
|
|
managed to say they did.
|
|
|
|
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 you ever in
|
|
Colorado?"
|
|
|
|
"No," said Jack.
|
|
|
|
"I see you aren't the same man," said the Angel. "You know,
|
|
we were in Colorado last year, and there was a cowboy who was
|
|
the handsomest man anywhere around. He'd come riding into town
|
|
every night, and all we girls just adored him! Oh, but he was a
|
|
beauty! I thought at first glance you were really he, but I see
|
|
now he wasn't nearly so tall nor so broad as you, and only half
|
|
as handsome."
|
|
|
|
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 prettiest girl in the country."
|
|
|
|
With one accord the other men looked at Black Jack, and for
|
|
the first time realized that he was a superb specimen of
|
|
manhood, for he stood six feet tall, was broad, well-rounded,
|
|
and had dark, even skin, big black eyes, and full red lips.
|
|
|
|
"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed the Angel. "I'd just love
|
|
to see you on horseback. Nothing sets a handsome man off so
|
|
splendidly. Do you ride?"
|
|
|
|
"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 broad-brimmed felt hat, and ride past my house of
|
|
evenings. I'm always at home then, and almost always on the
|
|
veranda, and,. oh! but I would like to see you! Will you do that
|
|
for me?" It is impossible to describe the art with which the
|
|
Angel asked the question. She was looking straight into Jack's
|
|
face, coarse and hardened with sin and careless living, which
|
|
was now taking on a wholly different expression. The evil lines
|
|
of it were softening and fading under her clear gaze. A dull red
|
|
flamed into his bronze cheeks, while his eyes were growing
|
|
brightly tender.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," he said, and the glance he gave the men was of such
|
|
a nature that no one saw fit even to change countenance.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, goody!" she cried, tilting on her toes. "I'll ask all
|
|
the girls to come see, but they needn't stick in! We can get
|
|
along without them, can't we?"
|
|
|
|
Jack leaned toward her. He was the charmed fluttering bird,
|
|
while the Angel was the snake.
|
|
|
|
"Well, I rather guess!" he cried.
|
|
|
|
The Angel drew a deep breath and surveyed him rapturously.
|
|
|
|
"My, but you're tall!" she commented. "Do you suppose I
|
|
ever will grow to reach your shoulders?"
|
|
|
|
She stood on tiptoe and measured the distance with her
|
|
eyes. Then she developed timid confusion, while her glance
|
|
sought the ground.
|
|
|
|
"I wish I could do something," she half whispered.
|
|
|
|
Jack seemed to increase an inch in height.
|
|
|
|
"What?" he asked hoarsely.
|
|
|
|
"Lariat Bill used always to have a bunch of red flowers in
|
|
his shirt pocket. The red lit up his dark eyes and olive cheeks
|
|
and made him splendid. May I put some red flowers on you?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles stared as he wheezed for breath. He wished the
|
|
earth would open and swallow him. Was he dead or alive? Since
|
|
his Angel had seen Black Jack she never had glanced his way. Was
|
|
she completely bewitched? Would she throw herself at the man's
|
|
feet before them all? Couldn't she give him even one thought?
|
|
Hadn't she seen that he was gagged and bound? Did she truly
|
|
think that these were McLean's men? Why, she could not! It Was
|
|
only a few days ago that she had been close enough to this man
|
|
and angry enough with him to peel the hat from his head with a
|
|
shot! Suddenly a thing she had said jestingly to him one day
|
|
came back with startling force: "You must take Angels on trust."
|
|
Of course you must! She was his Angel. She must have seen! His
|
|
life, and what was far more, her own, was in her hands. There
|
|
was nothing he could do but trust her. Surely she was working
|
|
out some plan.
|
|
|
|
The Angel knelt beside his flower bed and recklessly tore
|
|
up by the roots a hig bunch of foxfire.
|
|
|
|
"These stems are so tough and sticky," she said. "I can't
|
|
break them. Loan me your knife,', she ordered Freckles.
|
|
|
|
As she reached for the knife, her back was for one second
|
|
toward the men. She looked into his eyes and deliberately
|
|
winked.
|
|
|
|
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 no--by the splendor of God! The big fellow w
|
|
as 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 danger of her presence
|
|
among those men; the real necessity for action?
|
|
|
|
As the Angel stepped from Jack, she turned her head to one
|
|
side and peered at him, quite as Freckles had seen the little
|
|
yellow fellow do on the line a hundred times, and said: "Well,
|
|
that does the trick! Isn't that fine? See how it sets him off,
|
|
boys? Don't you forget the tie is to be red, and the first ride
|
|
soon. I can't wait very long. N ow I must go. The Bird Woman
|
|
will be ready to start, and she will come here hunting me next,
|
|
for she is busy today. What did I come here for anyway?"
|
|
|
|
She glanced inquiringly around, and several of the men
|
|
laughed. Oh, the delight of it! She had forgotten her errand for
|
|
him! Jack had a second increase in height. The Angel glanced
|
|
helplessly as if seeking a clue. Then her eyes fell, as if by
|
|
accident, on Freckles, and she cried, "Oh, I know now! It was
|
|
those magazines the Bird Woman promised you. I came to tell you
|
|
that we put them under the box where we hide things, at the
|
|
entrance to the swamp as we came in. I knew I would need my
|
|
hands crossing the swamp, so I hid them there. You'll find them
|
|
at the same old place."
|
|
|
|
Then Freckles spoke.
|
|
|
|
"It's mighty risky for you to be crossing the swamp alone,"
|
|
he said. "I'm surprised that the Bird Woman would be letting you
|
|
try it. I know it's a little farther, but it's hegging you I am
|
|
to be going back by the trail. That's bad enough, but it's far
|
|
safer than the swamp."
|
|
|
|
The Angel laughed merrily.
|
|
|
|
"Oh stop your nonsense!" she cried. "I'm not afraid! Not in
|
|
the least! The Bird Woman didn't want me to try following a
|
|
path that I'd been over only once, but I was sure I could do it,
|
|
and I'm rather proud of the performance. Now, don't go babying!
|
|
You know I'm not afraid!"
|
|
|
|
"No," said Freckles gently, "I know you're not; but that
|
|
has nothing to do with the fact that your friends are afraid for
|
|
you. On the trail you can see your way a bit ahead, and you've
|
|
all the world a better chance if you meet a snake."
|
|
|
|
Then Freckles had an inspiration. He turned to Jack
|
|
imploringly.
|
|
|
|
"You tell her!" he pleaded. "Tell her to go by the trail.
|
|
She will for you."
|
|
|
|
The implication of this statement was so gratifying to
|
|
Black Jack that he seemed again to expand and take on increase
|
|
before their very eyes.
|
|
|
|
"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 32-caliber revolver that her father had
|
|
presented her for her share in what he was pleased to call her
|
|
military exploit. One last glance at Freckles showed her the
|
|
agony in his eyes, and immediately she imagined he had some
|
|
other reason. She would follow the trail.
|
|
|
|
"All right," she said, giving Jack a thrilling glance. "If
|
|
you say so, I'll return by the trail to please you. Good-bye,
|
|
everybody."
|
|
|
|
She lifted the bushes and started toward the entrance.
|
|
|
|
"You damned fool! Stop. her!" growled Wessner. "Keep her
|
|
till we're loaded, anyhow. You're playing hell! Can't you see
|
|
that when this thing is found out, there she'll be to ruin all
|
|
of us. If you let her go, every man of us has got to cut, and
|
|
some of us will be caught sure."
|
|
|
|
Jack sprang forward. Freckles' heart muffled in his throat.
|
|
The Angel seemed to divine Jack's coming. She was humming a
|
|
little song. She deliherately stopped and hegan pulling the
|
|
heads of the curious grasses that grew all around her. When she
|
|
straightened, she took a step hackward and called: "Ho!
|
|
Freckles, the Bird Woman wants that natural history pamphlet
|
|
returned. It belongs to a set she is going to have bound. That's
|
|
one of the reasons we put it under the box. You be sure to get
|
|
them as you go home tonight, for fear it rains or becomes damp
|
|
with the heavy dews."
|
|
|
|
"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 lovely.
|
|
|
|
"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 re-echoed Freckles' "All right." With her
|
|
head held well up, the Angel walked slowly away' and Jack turned
|
|
to the men.
|
|
|
|
"Drop your damned staring and saw wood," he shouted. "Don't
|
|
you know anything at all about how to treat a lady?" It might
|
|
have been a question which of the cronies that crouched over
|
|
green wood fires in the cabins of Wildcat Hollow, eternally
|
|
sucking a corncob pipe and stirring the endless kettles of
|
|
stewing coon and opossum, had taught him to do even as well as
|
|
he had by the Angel.
|
|
|
|
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
|
|
side."
|
|
|
|
"What about the noise?" asked Wessner.
|
|
|
|
"No difference about the noise," answered Jack. "She took
|
|
us to be from McLean's gang, slick as grease. Make the chips
|
|
fly!"
|
|
|
|
So all of them attacked the big tree.
|
|
|
|
Freckles sat on one of his benches and waited. In their
|
|
haste to 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
|
|
figured on when she would cross the path of the clearing, pass
|
|
the deep pool where his "find-out" frog lived, cross Sleepy
|
|
Snake Creek, and reach the carriage.
|
|
|
|
He wondered what she would say to the Bird Woman, and how
|
|
long it would take them to pack and start. He knew now that they
|
|
would understand, and the Angel would try to get the Boss there
|
|
in time to save his wager. She could never do it, for the saw
|
|
was over half through, and Jack and Wessner cutting into the
|
|
opposite side of the tree. It appeared as if they could fell at
|
|
least that tree, before McLean could come, and if they did he
|
|
lost his wager.
|
|
|
|
When it was down, would they rebind him and leave him for
|
|
Wessner to wreak his insane vengeance on, or would they take him
|
|
along to the next tree and dispose of him when they had stolen
|
|
all the timber they could? Jack had said that he should not be
|
|
touched until he left. Surely he would not run all that risk for
|
|
one tree, when he had many others of far greater value marked.
|
|
Freckles felt that he had some hope to cling to now, but he
|
|
found himself praying that the Angel would hurry.
|
|
|
|
Once Jack came to Freckles and asked if he had any water.
|
|
Freckles arose and showed him where he kept his drinking-water.
|
|
Jack drank in great gulps, and as he passed back the bucket, he
|
|
said:" When a man's got a chance of catching a fine girl like
|
|
that, he ought not be mixed up in any dirty business. I wish to
|
|
God I was out of this!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles answered heartily: "I wish I was, too!"
|
|
|
|
Jack stared at him a minute and then broke into a roar of
|
|
rough laughter.
|
|
|
|
"Blest if I blame you," he said. "But you had your chance!
|
|
We offered you a fair thing and you gave Wessner his answer. I
|
|
ain't envying you when he gives you his."
|
|
|
|
"You're six to one," answered Freckles. "It will be easy
|
|
enough for you to be killing the body of me, but, curse you all,
|
|
you can't blacken me soul!"
|
|
|
|
"Well, I'd give anything you could name if I had your
|
|
honesty," said Jack.
|
|
|
|
When the mighty tree fell, the Limberlost shivered and
|
|
screamed with the echo. Freckles groaned in despair, but the
|
|
gang took heart. That was so much accomplished. They knew where
|
|
to dispose of it safely, with no questions asked. Before the day
|
|
was over, they could remove three others, all suitable for
|
|
veneer and worth far more than this. Then they would leave
|
|
Freckles to Wessner and scatter for safety, with more money than
|
|
they had ever hoped for in their possession.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XIII
|
|
|
|
Whwerein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black
|
|
Jack Falls upon Her
|
|
|
|
ON THE line, the Angel gave one backward glance at Black Jack,
|
|
to see that he had returned to his work. Then she gathered her
|
|
skirts above her knees and leaped forward on the run. In the
|
|
first three yards she passed Freckles' wheel. Instantly she
|
|
imagined that was why he had insisted on her coming by the
|
|
trail. She seized it and sprang on. The saddle was too high, but
|
|
she was an expert rider and could catch the pedals as they came
|
|
up. She stopped at Duncan's cabin long enough to remedy this,
|
|
telling Mrs. Duncan while working what was happening, and for
|
|
her to follow the east trail until she found the Bird Woman, and
|
|
told her that she had gone after McLean and for her to leave the
|
|
swamp as quickly as possible.
|
|
|
|
Even with her fear for Freckles to spur her, Sarah Duncan
|
|
blanched and began shivering at the idea of facing the
|
|
Limberlost. The Angel looked her in the eyes.
|
|
|
|
"No matter how afraid you are, you have to go," she said.
|
|
"If you don't the Bird Woman will go to Freckles' room, hunting
|
|
me, and they will have trouble with her. If she isn't told to
|
|
leave at once, they may follow me, and, finding I'm gone, do
|
|
some terrible thing to Freckles. I can't go--that's flat--for if
|
|
they caught me, then there'd be no one to go for help. You don't
|
|
suppose they are going to take out the trees they're after and
|
|
then leave Freckles to run and tell? They are going to murder
|
|
the, boy. that's what they are going to do. You run, and run for
|
|
life! For Freckles' life! You can ride back with the Bird
|
|
Woman."
|
|
|
|
The Angel saw Mrs. Duncan started; then began her race.
|
|
|
|
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 been--and only two miles covered. She leaned over
|
|
the bars, almost standing on the pedals, racing with all the
|
|
strength in her body. The blood surged in her ears while her
|
|
head swam, but she kept a straight course, and rode and rode. It
|
|
seemed to her that she was standing still, while the trees and
|
|
houses were racing past her.
|
|
|
|
Once a farmer's big dog rushed angrily into the road and
|
|
she swerved until she almost fell, but she regained her balance,
|
|
and setting her muscles, pedaled as fast as she could. At last
|
|
she lifted her head. Surely it could not be over a mile more.
|
|
She had covered two of corduroy and at least three of gravel,
|
|
and it was only six in all.
|
|
|
|
She was reeling in the saddle, but she gripped the bars
|
|
with new energy, and raced desperately. The sun beat on her bare
|
|
head and hands. Just when she was choking with dust, and almost
|
|
prostrate with heat and exhaustion--crash, she ran into a broken
|
|
bottle. Snap! went the tire; the wheel swerved and pitched over.
|
|
The Angel rolled into the thick yellow dust of the road and lay
|
|
quietly.
|
|
|
|
From afar, Duncan began to notice a strange, dust-covered
|
|
object in the road, as he headed toward town with the first load
|
|
of the day's felling.
|
|
|
|
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 dirt-streaked, crimson, and bearing a
|
|
startling whiteness around the mouth and nose.
|
|
|
|
Wheels were commOn enough. Many of the farmers' daughters
|
|
owned and rode them, but he knew these same farmers' daughters;
|
|
this face was a stranger's. He glanced at the Angel's tumbled
|
|
clothing, the silkiness of her hair, with its pale satin ribbon,
|
|
and noticed that she had lost her hat. Her lips tightened in an
|
|
ominous quiver. He left her and picked up the wheel: as he had
|
|
surmised, he knew it. This, then, was Freckles' Swamp Angel.
|
|
There was trouble in the Limberlost, and she had broken down
|
|
racing to McLean. Duncan turned the bays into a fence-corner,
|
|
tied one of them, unharnessed the other, fastened up the trace
|
|
chains, and hurried to the nearest farmhouse to send help to the
|
|
Angel. He found a woman, who took a bottle of camphor, a jug of
|
|
water, and some towels, and started on the run.
|
|
|
|
Then Duncan put the bay to speed and raced to camp.
|
|
|
|
The Angel, left alone, lay still for a second, then she
|
|
shivered and opened her eyes. She saw that she was on the grass
|
|
and the broken wheel beside her. Instantly she realized that
|
|
someone had carried her there and gone after help. She sat up
|
|
and looked around. She noticed the load of logs and the one
|
|
horse. Someone was riding after help for her!
|
|
|
|
"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 frightened, and ran at top speed.
|
|
|
|
The Angel passed a wildly waving, screaming woman on the
|
|
road, and a little later a man riding aS if he, too, were in
|
|
great haste. The man called to her, but she only lay lower and
|
|
used the whip. Soon the feet of the man's horse sounded farther
|
|
and farther away.
|
|
|
|
At the South camp they were loading a second wagon, when
|
|
the Angel appeared riding one of Duncan's bays, lathered and
|
|
dripping, and cried: "Everybody go to Freckles! There are
|
|
thieves stealing trees, and they had him bound. They're going to
|
|
kill him!"
|
|
|
|
She wheeled the horse toward the Limberlost. The alarm
|
|
sounded through camp. The gang were not unprepared. McLean
|
|
sprang to Nellie's back and raced after the Angel. As they
|
|
passed Duncan, he wheeled and followed. Soon the pike was an
|
|
irregular procession of barebacked riders, wildly driving flying
|
|
horses toward the swamp.
|
|
|
|
The Boss rode neck-and-neck with the Angel. He repeatedly
|
|
commanded her to stop and fall out of line, until he remembered
|
|
that he would need her to lead him to Freckles. Then he gave up
|
|
and rode beside her, for she was sending the bay at as sharp a
|
|
pace as the other horses could keep and hold out. He could see
|
|
that she was not hearing him. He glanced back and saw that
|
|
Duncan was close. There was something terri.fying in the
|
|
appearance of the big man, and the manner in which he sat his
|
|
beast and rode. It would be a sad day for the man on whom
|
|
Duncan's wrath broke. There were four others close behind him,
|
|
and the pike filling with the remainder of the gang; so McLean
|
|
took heart and raced beside the Angel. Over and over he asked
|
|
her where the trouble was, but she only gripped the hames,
|
|
leaned along the bay's neck, and slashed away with the
|
|
blacksnake. The steaming horse, with crimson nostrils and
|
|
heaving sides, stretched out and ran for home with all the speed
|
|
there was in him.
|
|
|
|
When they passed the cabin, the Bird Woman's carriage was
|
|
there and Mrs. Duncan in the door wringing her hands, but the
|
|
Bird Woman was nowhere to be seen. The Angel sent the bay along
|
|
the path and turned into the west trail, while the men bunched
|
|
and followed her. When she reached the entrance to Freckles'
|
|
room, there were four men with her, and two more very close
|
|
behind. She slid from the horse, and snatching the little
|
|
revolver from her pocket, darted toward the bushes. McLean
|
|
caught them back, and with drawn weapon, pressed beside her.
|
|
There they stopped in astonishment.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman blocked the entrance. Over a small limb lay
|
|
her revolver. It was trained at short range on Black Jack and
|
|
Wessner, who stood with their hands above their heads.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
Freckles' face was white, with colorless lips, but in his
|
|
eyes was the strength of undying courage. McLean pushed past the
|
|
Bird Woman crying. "Hold steady on them only one minute more!"
|
|
|
|
He snatched the revolver from Wessner's belt, and stooped
|
|
for Jack's.
|
|
|
|
At that instant the Angel rushed past. She tore the gag
|
|
from Freckles, and seizing the rope knotted on his chest, she
|
|
tugged at it desperately. Under her fingers it gave way, and she
|
|
hurled it to McLean. The men were crowding in, and Duncan seized
|
|
Wessner. As the Angel saw Freckles stand out, free, she reached
|
|
her arms to him and pitched forward. A fearful oath burst from
|
|
the lips of Black Jack. To have saved his life, Freckles could
|
|
not have avoided the glance of triumph he gave Jack,
|
|
when.folding the Angel in his arms and stretching her on the
|
|
mosses.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman cried out sharply for water as she ran to
|
|
them. Someone sprang to bring that, and another to break open
|
|
the case for brandy. As McLean arose from binding Wessner, there
|
|
was a cry that Jack was escaping.
|
|
|
|
He was already far in the swamp, running for its densest
|
|
part in leaping bounds. Every man who could be spared plunged
|
|
after him.
|
|
|
|
Other members of the gang arriving, were sent to follow the
|
|
tracks of the wagons. The teamsters had driven from the west
|
|
entrance, and crossing the swale, had taken the same route the
|
|
Bird Woman and the Angel had before them. There had been ample
|
|
time for the drivers to reach the road; after that they could
|
|
take any one of four directions. Traffic was heavy, and lumber
|
|
wagons were passing almost constantly, so the men turned back
|
|
and joined the more exciting hunt for a man. The remainder of
|
|
the gang joined them, also farmers of the region and travelers
|
|
attracted by the disturbance.
|
|
|
|
Watchers were set along the trail at short intervals. They
|
|
patrolled the line and roads through the swamp that night, with
|
|
lighted torches, and the next day McLean headed as thorough a
|
|
search as he felt could be made of one side, while Duncan
|
|
covered the other; but Black Jack could not be found. Spies were
|
|
set around his home, in Wildcat Hollow, to ascertain if he
|
|
reached there or aid was being sent in any direction to him; but
|
|
it was Soon clear that his relatives were ignorant of his
|
|
hiding-place, and were searching for him.
|
|
|
|
Great is the elasticity of youth. A hot bath and a sound
|
|
night's sleep renewed Freckles' strength, and it needed but
|
|
little more to work the same result with the Angel. Freckles was
|
|
on the trail early the next morning. Besides a crowd of people
|
|
anxious to witness Jack's capture, he found four stalwart
|
|
guards, one at each turn. In his heart he was compelled to admit
|
|
that he was glad to have them there. Close noon, McLean placed
|
|
his men in charge of Duncan, and taking Freckles, drove to town
|
|
to see how the Angel fared. McLean visited a greenhouse and
|
|
bought an armload of its finest products; but Freckles would
|
|
have none of them. He would carry his message in a glowing mass
|
|
of the Limberlost's first goldenrod.
|
|
|
|
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, thev
|
|
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 ILimberlost. Make him
|
|
see how great and fine it is, and how far, far better he has
|
|
done than you or any of us expected! What's one old tree,
|
|
anyway?" she cried passionately.
|
|
|
|
"I was thinking before you came. Those other men were rank
|
|
big cowards. They were scared for their lives. If they were the
|
|
drivers, I wager you gloves against gloves they never took those
|
|
logs out to the pike. My coming upset them. Before you feel bad
|
|
any more, you go look and see if they didn't lose courage the
|
|
minute they left Wessner and Black Jack, dump that timber and
|
|
run. I don't believe they ever had the grit to drive out with it
|
|
in daylight. Go see if they didn't figure on leaving the way we
|
|
did the other morning, and you'll find the logs before you reach
|
|
the road. They never risked taking them into the open, when they
|
|
got away and had time to think. Of course they didn't!
|
|
|
|
"And, then, another thing. You haven't lost your wager! It
|
|
never will be claimed, because you made it with a stout, dark,
|
|
red-faced man who drives a bay and a gray. He was right back of
|
|
you, Mr. McLean, when I came yesterday. He went deathly white
|
|
and shook on his feet when he saw those men probably would be
|
|
caught. Some one of them was something to him, and you can just
|
|
spot him for one of the men at the bottom of your troubles, and
|
|
urging those younger fellows to steal from you. I suppose he'd
|
|
promised to divide. You settle with him, and that business will
|
|
stop."
|
|
|
|
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 hrave and faithful?
|
|
You won't love him any the less even if you don't find the logs"
|
|
|
|
The Angel's nerve gave way and she began to cry. Freckles
|
|
could not endure it. He almost ran from the room, with the tears
|
|
in his eyes; but McLean took the Angel from the Bird Woman's
|
|
arms, and kissed her brave little face, stroked her hair, and
|
|
petted her into quietness hefore he left.
|
|
|
|
As they drove to the swamp, McLean so earnestly seconded
|
|
all that the Angel had said that he soon had the boy feeling
|
|
much better.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles, your Angel has a spice of the devil in her, but
|
|
she's superb! You needn't spend any time questioning or
|
|
bewailing anything she does. Just worship blindly, my boy. By
|
|
heaven! she's sense, courage, and beauty for half a dozen
|
|
girls," said McLean.
|
|
|
|
"It's altogether right you are, sir," affirmed Freckles
|
|
heartily. Presently he added, "There's no question but the
|
|
series is over now."
|
|
|
|
"Don't think it!" answered McLean. "The Bird Woman is
|
|
working 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 w ant to protect, but
|
|
there they remain, and this time it is useless for you to say
|
|
one word. I have listened to your pride too long. You are too
|
|
precious to me, and that voice of yours is too precious to the
|
|
world to run any more risks."
|
|
|
|
"I am sorry to have anything spoil the series," said
|
|
Freckles, "and I'd love them to be coming, the Angel especial,
|
|
but it can't be. You'll have to tell them so. You see, Jack
|
|
would have been ready to stake his life she meant what she said
|
|
and did to him. When the teams pulled out, Wessner seized me;
|
|
then he and Jack went to quarreling over whether they should
|
|
finish me then or take me to the next tree they were for
|
|
felling. Between them they were pulling me around and hurting me
|
|
bad. Wessner wanted to get at me right then, and Jack said he
|
|
shouldn't be touching me till the last tree was out and all the
|
|
rest of them gone. I'm belaving Jack really hated to see me done
|
|
for in the beginning; and I think, too, he was afraid if Wessner
|
|
finished me then he'd lose his nerve and cut, and they couldn't
|
|
be managing the felling without him; anyway, they were hauling
|
|
me round like I was already past all feeling, and they tied me
|
|
up again. To keep me courage up, I twits Wessner about having to
|
|
tie me and needing another man to help handle me. I told him
|
|
what I' d do to him if I was free, and he grabs up me own club
|
|
and lays open me head with it. When the blood came streaming, it
|
|
set Jack raving, and he cursed and damned Wessner for a coward
|
|
and a softy. Then Wessner turned on Jack and gives it to him for
|
|
letting the Angel make a fool of him. Tells him she was just
|
|
playing with him, and beyond all manner of doubt she'd gone
|
|
after you, and there was nothing to do on account of his
|
|
foolishness but finish me, get out, and let the rest of the
|
|
timber go, for likely you was on the way right then. That drove
|
|
Jack plum crazy.
|
|
|
|
"I don't think he was for having a doubt of the Angel
|
|
before, but then he just raved. He grabbed out his gun and
|
|
turned on Wessner. Spang! It went out of his fist, and the order
|
|
comes: `Hands up!' Wessner reached for kingdom come like he was
|
|
expecting to grab hold and pull himself up. Jack puts up what he
|
|
has left. Then he leans over to me and tells me what he'll do to
|
|
me if he ever gets out of there alive. Then, just like a snake
|
|
hissing, he spits out what he'll do to her for playing him. He
|
|
did get away, and with his strength, that wound in his hand
|
|
won't be bothering him long. He'll do to me just what he said,
|
|
and when he hears it really was she that went after you, why,
|
|
he'll keep his oath about her.
|
|
|
|
"He's lived in the swamp all his life, sir, and everybody
|
|
says it's always been the home of cutthroats, outlaws, and
|
|
runaways. He knows its most secret places as none of the others.
|
|
He's alive. He's in there now, sir. Some way he'll keep alive.
|
|
If you'd seen his face, all scarlet with passion, twisted with
|
|
pain, and black with hate, and heard him swearing that oath,
|
|
you'd know it was a sure thing. I ain't done with him yet, and
|
|
I've brought this awful thing on her."
|
|
|
|
"And I haven't begun with him yet," said McLean, setting
|
|
his teeth. "I've been away too slow and too easy, believing
|
|
there'd be no greater harm than the loss of a tree. I've sent
|
|
for a couple of first-class detectives. We will put them on his
|
|
track, and rout him out and rid the country of him. I don't
|
|
propose for him to stop either our work or our pleasure. As for
|
|
his being in the swamp now, I don't helieve 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."
|
|
|
|
"I wish to my soul you had seen and heard him!" said
|
|
Freckles, unconvinced.
|
|
|
|
They entered the swamp, taking the route followed by the
|
|
Bird Woman 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 com-
|
|
pletely convinced him that the Angel was correct there also. But
|
|
he had no proof, so all he could do was to discharge the man,
|
|
although his guilt was so apparent that he offered to withdraw
|
|
the wager.
|
|
|
|
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 manv of them expressed regrets that he who was
|
|
undoubtedly most to blame should escape, while Wessner, who in
|
|
the beginning was only his tool, should be left to punishment.
|
|
|
|
But for Freckles, with Jack's fearful oath ringing in his
|
|
ears, there was neither rest nor peace. He was almost ill when
|
|
the day for the next study of the series arrived and he saw the
|
|
Bird Woman and the Angel coming down the corduroy. The guards of
|
|
the east line he left at their customary places, but those of
|
|
the west he brought over and placed, one near Little Chicken's
|
|
tree, and the other at the carriage. He was firm about the
|
|
Angel's remaining in the carriage, that he did not offer to have
|
|
unhitched. He went with the Bird Woman to secure the picture,
|
|
which was the easiest matter it had been at any time yet, for
|
|
the simple reason that the placing of the guards and the unusual
|
|
movement around the swamp had made Mr. and Mrs. Chicken timid,
|
|
and they had not carried Little Chicken the customary amount of
|
|
food. Freckles, in the anxiety of the past few days, had
|
|
neglected him, and he had been so hungry, much of the time, that
|
|
when the Bird Woman held up a sweet-bread, although he had
|
|
started toward the recesses of the log at her coming, he
|
|
stopped; with slightly opened beak, he waited anxiously for the
|
|
treat, and gave a study of great value, showing every point of
|
|
his head, also his wing and tail development.
|
|
|
|
When the Bird Woman proposed to look for other subjects
|
|
close the line, Freckles went so far as to tell her that Jack
|
|
had made fearful threats against the Angel. He implored her to
|
|
take the Angel home and keep her under unceasing guard until
|
|
Jack was located. He wanted to tell her all about it, but he
|
|
knew how dear the Angel was to her, and he dreaded to burden her
|
|
with his fears when they might prove groundless. He allowed her
|
|
to go, but afterward blamed himself severely for having done so.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XIV
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Nurses a Heartache and Black Jack Drops Out
|
|
|
|
"MCLEAN," said Mrs. Duncan, as the Boss paused to greet her in
|
|
passing the cabin, "do you know that Freckles hasna been in bed
|
|
the past five nights and all he's eaten in that many days ye
|
|
could pack into a pint cup?"
|
|
|
|
"Why, what does the boy mean?" demanded McLean. "There's no
|
|
necessity for him being on guard, with the watch I've set on the
|
|
line. I had no idea he was staying down there."
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
"But where does he go?" asked McLean in astonishment.
|
|
|
|
"I'm no given to bearing tales out of scbool," said Sarah
|
|
Duncan" `but in tbis case I'd tell ye if I could. What the
|
|
trouble is I dinna ken. If it is no' stopped, he's in for
|
|
dreadful sickness, and I thought ye could find out and help him.
|
|
He's in sair trouble; that's all I know."
|
|
|
|
McLean sat brooding as he stroked Nellie's neck.
|
|
|
|
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 yellow, and
|
|
he's peaked as a starving caged bird."
|
|
|
|
McLean rode to the Limberlost, and stopping in the shade,
|
|
sat waiting for Freckles, whose hour for passing the foot of the
|
|
lease had come.
|
|
|
|
Along the north line came Freckles, fairly staggering. When
|
|
he turned east and reached Sleepy Snake Creek, sliding through
|
|
the swale as the long black snake for which it was named, he sat
|
|
on the bridge and closed his burning eyes, but they would not
|
|
remain shut. As if pulled by wires, the heavy lids flew open,
|
|
while the outraged nerves and muscles of his body danced,
|
|
twitched, and tingled.
|
|
|
|
He bent forward and idly watched the limpid little stream
|
|
flowing beneath his feet. Stretching into the swale, it came
|
|
creeping between an impenetrable wall of magnificent wild
|
|
flowers, vines, and ferns. Milkweed, goldenrod, ironwort,
|
|
fringed gentians, cardinal-flowers, and turtle-head stood on the
|
|
very edge of the creek, and every flower of them had a double in
|
|
the water. Wild clematis crowned with snow the heads of trees
|
|
scattered here and there on the bank.
|
|
|
|
From afar the creek appeared to be murky, dirty water.
|
|
Really it was clear and sparkling. The tinge of blackness was
|
|
gained from its bed of muck showing through the transparent
|
|
current. He could see small and wonderfully marked fish. What
|
|
became of them when the creek spread into the swamp? For one
|
|
thing, they would make mighty fine eating for the family of that
|
|
self-satisfied old blue heron.
|
|
|
|
Freckles sat so quietly that soon tbe brim of bis hat was
|
|
covered with snake-feeders, rasping their crisp wings and
|
|
singing while they rested. Some of them settled on the club, and
|
|
one On his shoulder. He w as so motionless; feathers, fur, and
|
|
gauze were so accustomed to him, that all through the swale they
|
|
continued their daily life and forgot he was there.
|
|
|
|
The heron family were wading the mouth of the creek.
|
|
Freckles idly wondered whether the nerve-racking rasps they
|
|
occasionally emitted indicated domestic felicity or a raging quarrel. He
|
|
could not decide. A sheitpoke, with flaring crest, went stalking
|
|
across a bare space close to the creek's mouth. A stately brown
|
|
bittern waded into the clear-flowing water, lifting his feet
|
|
high at every step, and setting them down carefully, as if he
|
|
dreaded wetting them, and with slightly parted beak, stood
|
|
eagerly watching around him for worms. Behind him were some
|
|
mighty trees of the swamp above, and below the bank glowed a
|
|
solid wall of goldenrod.
|
|
|
|
No wonder the ancients had chosen yellow as the color to
|
|
represent victory, for the fierce, conquering hue of the sun was
|
|
in it. They had done well, too, in selecting purple as the
|
|
emblem of royalty. It was a dignified, compelling color, while
|
|
in its warm tone there was a hint of blood.
|
|
|
|
It was the Limberlost's hour to proclaim her sovereignty
|
|
and triumph. Everywhere she flaunted her yellow banner and
|
|
trailed the purple of her mantle, that was paler in the
|
|
thistle-heads, took on strength in the first opening asters, and
|
|
glowed and burned in the ironwort.
|
|
|
|
He gazed into her damp, mossy recesses where high-piled
|
|
riven trees decayed under coats of living green, where dainty
|
|
vines swayed and clambered, and here and there a yellow leaf,
|
|
fluttering down, presaged the coming of winter. His love of the
|
|
swamp laid hold of him and shook him with its force.
|
|
|
|
Compellingly beautiful was the Limberlost, but cruel
|
|
withal; for inside bleached the uncoffined bones of her victims,
|
|
while she had missed cradling him, oh! so narrowly.
|
|
|
|
He shifted restlessly; the movement sent the snake-feeders
|
|
skimming. The hum of life swelled and roared in his strained
|
|
ears. Small turtles, that had climbed on a log to sun, splashed
|
|
clumsily into the water. Somewhere in the timber of the bridge
|
|
a bloodthirsty little frog cried sharply. "Keel'im! Keel'im!"
|
|
|
|
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 trail in its
|
|
wake.
|
|
|
|
Then, below the turtle-log, a dripping silver-gray head,
|
|
with shining eyes, was cautiously lifted, and Freckles' hand
|
|
slid to his revolver. Higher and higher came the head, a long,
|
|
heavy, furcoated body arose, now half, now three-fourths from
|
|
the water. Freckles looked at his shaking hand and doubted, but
|
|
he gathered his forces, the shot rang, and the otter lay quiet.
|
|
He hurried down and tried to lift it. He scarcely could muster
|
|
strength to carry it to the bridge. The consciousness that he
|
|
really could go no farther with it made Freckles realize the
|
|
fact that he was close the limit of human endurance. He could
|
|
bear it little, if any, longer. Every hour the dear face of the
|
|
Angel wavered before him, and behind it the awful distorted
|
|
image of Black Jack, as he had sworn to the punishment he would
|
|
mete out to her. He must either see McLean, or else make a trip
|
|
to town and find her father. Which should he do? He was almost
|
|
a stranger, so the Angel's father might not be impressed with
|
|
what he said as he would if McLean went to him. Then he
|
|
remembered that McLean had said he would come that morning.
|
|
Freckles never had forgotten before. He hurried on the east
|
|
trail as fast as his tottering legs would carry him.
|
|
|
|
He stopped when he came to the first guard, and telling him
|
|
of his luck, asked him to get the otter and carry it to the
|
|
cabin, as he was anxious to meet McLean.
|
|
|
|
Freckles passed the second guard without seeing him, and
|
|
hurried to the Boss. He took off his hat, wiped his forehead,
|
|
and stood silent under the eyes of McLean.
|
|
|
|
The Boss was dumbfounded. Mrs. Duncan had led him to expect
|
|
that he would find a change in Freckles, but this was almost
|
|
deathly. The fact was apparent that the boy scarcely knew what
|
|
he was doing. His eyes had a glazed, far-sighted appearance,
|
|
that wrung the heart of the man who loved him. Without a thought
|
|
of preliminaries, McLean leaned in the saddle and drew Freckles
|
|
to him.
|
|
|
|
"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 he shook with
|
|
a nervous chill. McLean gathered him closer and waited.
|
|
|
|
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 trouble?"
|
|
|
|
"Oh, I want to tell you! I must tell you, sir," shuddered
|
|
Freckles. "I cannot be bearing it the day out alone. I was
|
|
coming to you when I remimbered you would be here."
|
|
|
|
He lifted his face and gazed across the swale, with his
|
|
jaws set firmly a minute, as if gathering his forces. Then he
|
|
spoke.
|
|
|
|
"It's the Angel, sir," he said.
|
|
|
|
Instinctively McLean's grip on him tightened, and Freckles
|
|
looked 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 save me.
|
|
|
|
"Since I can remimber, whatever the thing was that happened
|
|
to me in the beginning has been me curse. I've been hitter,
|
|
hard, and smarting under it hopelessly. She came by, and found
|
|
me voice, and put hope of life and success like other men into
|
|
me in spite of it."
|
|
|
|
Freckles held up his maimed arm.
|
|
|
|
"Look at it, sir!" he said. "A thousand times I've cursed
|
|
it, hanging there helpless. She took it on the street, before
|
|
all the people, just as if she didn't see that it was a thing to
|
|
hide and shrink from. Again and again I've had the feeling with
|
|
her, if I didn't entirely forget it, that she didn't see it was
|
|
gone and I must he pointing it out to her. Her touch on it was
|
|
so sacred-like, at times since I've caught meself looking at the
|
|
awful thing near like I was proud of it, sir. if I had been born
|
|
your son she couldn't be traiting me more as her equal, and she
|
|
can't help knowing you ain't truly me father. Nobody can know
|
|
the homeliness or the ignorance of me better than I do, and all
|
|
me lack of birth, relatives, and money, and what's it all to
|
|
her?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles stepped back, squared his shoulders, and with a
|
|
royal lift of his head looked straight into the Boss's eyes.
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
hridge for the great distance between us, sir, and clearest of
|
|
all, I'm for realizing it: hut 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 hy inches! Black Jack's hand may not have heen hurt
|
|
so bad. Any hour he may be creeping up behind her! Any minute
|
|
the awful revenge he swore to be taking may in some way fall on
|
|
her, and I haven't even warned her father. I can't stay here
|
|
doing nothing another hour. The five nights gone I've watched
|
|
under her windows, but there's the whole of the day. She's her
|
|
own horse and little cart, and's free to be driving through the
|
|
town and country as she pleases. If any evil comes to her
|
|
through Black Jack, it comes from her angel-like goodness to me.
|
|
Somewhere he's hiding! Somewhere he is waiting his chance! Somewhere
|
|
he is reaching out for her! I tell you I cannot, I dare not be
|
|
bearing it longer!"
|
|
|
|
"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?"
|
|
|
|
"Yis," said Freckles simply.
|
|
|
|
But McLean could see the flesh was twitching on the lad's
|
|
bones.
|
|
|
|
"What was it the guard brought there?" McLean asked in an
|
|
effort to distract F reckles' 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 swamp-the old buster Duncan and I have been telling you of.
|
|
I haven't a doubt but it was the one Mother Duncan met. `Twas
|
|
down the trail there, just a little farther on, that I found
|
|
her, and it's sure to be close yet."
|
|
|
|
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 know that it is
|
|
very valuable?"
|
|
|
|
"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 heautifulness of the Angel. Her hands were in a
|
|
muff as big as her body, and I thought it was so pretty. I think
|
|
she was Some queen, or the like. Do you suppose I could have
|
|
this skin tanned and made into such a muff as that?--an enormous
|
|
big one, sir?"
|
|
|
|
"Of course you can," said McLean. "That's a fine idea and
|
|
it's easy enough. We must hox and express the otter, cold
|
|
storage,. bv 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 love you!"
|
|
|
|
McLean strained him to his breast.
|
|
|
|
"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 youir mind set at ease before you lie down. Suppose you
|
|
go."
|
|
|
|
"Suppose I do," said Freckles, with a glimmer of the old
|
|
light in his eyes and newly found strength to shoulder the
|
|
otter. Together they turned into the trail.
|
|
|
|
McLean noticed and spoke of the big black chickens.
|
|
|
|
"They've heen 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!"
|
|
|
|
Suddenly McLean turned toward him with blanching face
|
|
|
|
"Freckles!" he cried.
|
|
|
|
"My God, sir!" shuddered Freckles.
|
|
|
|
He dropped the otter, caught up his club, and plunged into
|
|
the swale. Reaching for his revolver, McLean followed. The
|
|
chickens circled 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 heside Black Jack. His fate was evident and most horrible.
|
|
|
|
"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 deliherately 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
|
|
uuderstand 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 with Jack's
|
|
fine ability in woodcraft. He was an expert."
|
|
|
|
"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 get the marked ones, there were
|
|
a dozen they could get out in a few days."
|
|
|
|
"Freckles!" cried McLean. "You don't mean a dozen!"
|
|
|
|
"That's what he said, sir--a dozen. He said they couldn't
|
|
tell how 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 heing 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 line--say Hall--that I will
|
|
begin on the swamp, at the north end, and lay it off in
|
|
sections, and try to hunt out the marked trees. I suppose they
|
|
are all marked something like that first maple on the line was.
|
|
Wessner mentioned another good one not so far from that. He said
|
|
it was best of all. I'd be having the swelled head if I could
|
|
find that. Of course, I don't know a thing about the trees, but
|
|
I could hunt for the marks. Jack was so good at it he could tell
|
|
some of them by the bark, but all he wanted to take that we've
|
|
found so far have just had a deep chip cut out, rather low down,
|
|
and where the bushes were thick over it. I believe I could be
|
|
finding some of them."
|
|
|
|
"Good head!" said McLean. "We will do that. You may begin
|
|
as soon as you are rested. And about things you come across in
|
|
the swamp, Freckles--the most trifling little thing that you
|
|
think the Bird Woman would want, take your wheel and go after
|
|
her at any time. I'll leave two men on the line, so that you
|
|
will have one on either side, and you can come and go as you
|
|
please. Have you stopped to think of all we owe her, my boy?"
|
|
|
|
"Yis; and the Angel--we owe her a lot, too," said Freckles.
|
|
"I owe her me life and honor. It's lying awake nights I'll have
|
|
to be trying to think how I'm ever to pay her up."
|
|
|
|
"Well, begin with the muff," suggested McLean. "That should
|
|
be fine."
|
|
|
|
He bent down and ruffled the rich fur of the otter lying at
|
|
his feet.
|
|
|
|
"I don't exactly see how it comes to be in such splendid
|
|
fur in summer. Their coats are always thick in cold weather, but
|
|
this scarcely 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 after the muff
|
|
is finished."
|
|
|
|
He told McLean of Mrs. Duncan's desire for a hat similar to
|
|
the Angel's. He hesitated a little in the telling, keeping sharp
|
|
watch on McLean's face. When he saw the Boss's eyes were full of
|
|
comprehension and sympathy, he loved him anew, for, as ever,
|
|
McLean was quick to understand. Instead of laughing, he said: "I
|
|
think you'll have to let me in on that, too. You mustn't be
|
|
selfish, you know. I'll tell you what we'll do. Send it for
|
|
Christmas. I'll be home then, and we can fill a box. You get the
|
|
hat. I'll add a dress and wrap. You buy Duncan a hat and gloves.
|
|
I'll send him a big overcoat, and we'll put in a lot of little
|
|
stuff for the babies. Won't that be fun?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles fairly shivered with delight.
|
|
|
|
"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.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XV
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little
|
|
Chicken Furnishes the Subject
|
|
|
|
A WEEK later everything at the Limberlost was precisely as it
|
|
had been before the tragedy, except the case in Freckles' room
|
|
now rested on the stump of the newly felled tree. Enough of the
|
|
vines were left to cover it prettily, and every vestige of the
|
|
havoc of a few days before was gone. New guards were patrolling
|
|
the trail. Freckles was roughly laying off the swamp in sections
|
|
and searching for marked trees. In that time he had found one
|
|
deeply chipped and the chip cunningly replaced and tacked in. It
|
|
promised to be quite rare, so he was jubilant. He also found so
|
|
many subjects for the Bird Woman that her coming was of almost
|
|
daily occurrence, and the hours he spent with her and the Angel
|
|
were nothing less than golden.
|
|
|
|
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 w as now multiplied by from two
|
|
to ten. The young were tame from Freckles' tri-parenthood, and
|
|
so plump and sleek that they were quite as beautiful as their
|
|
elders??? even if in many cases they lacked their brilliant
|
|
plumage. It was the same story of increase everywhere. There
|
|
were chubby little ground-hogs scudding on the trail. There were
|
|
cunning baby coons and opossums peeping from hollow logs and
|
|
trees. Young muskrats followed their parents across the lagoons.
|
|
|
|
If you could come upon a family of foxes that had not yet
|
|
disbanded, and see the young playing with a wild duck's carcass
|
|
that their mother had brought, and note the pride and
|
|
satisfaction in her eyes as she lay at one side guarding them,
|
|
it would be a picture not to be forgotten. Freckles never tired
|
|
of studying the devotion of a fox mother to her babies. To him,
|
|
whose early life had been so embittered by continual proof of
|
|
neglect and cruelty in human parents toward their children, the
|
|
love of these furred and feathered folk of the Limberlost was
|
|
even more of a miracle than to the Bird Woman and the Angel.
|
|
|
|
The Angel liked the baby rabbits and squirrels. Earlier in
|
|
the season, when the young were yet very small, it so happened
|
|
that at times Freckles could give into her hands one of these
|
|
little ones. Then it was pure joy to stand back and watch her
|
|
heaving breast, flushed cheek, and shining eyes. Hers were such
|
|
lovely eyes. Freckles had discovered lately that they were not
|
|
so dark as he had thought them at first, but that the length and
|
|
thickness of lash, by which they were shaded, made them appear
|
|
darker than they really were. They were forever changing. Now
|
|
sparkling and darkling with wit, now humid with sympathy, now
|
|
burning with the fire of courage, now taking on strength of
|
|
color with ambition, now flashing indignantly at the abuse of
|
|
any creature.
|
|
|
|
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, witn a close second in the moths and butterflies.
|
|
|
|
Brown butterfly time had come. The edge of the swale was
|
|
filled with milkweed, and other plants beloved of them, and the
|
|
air was golden with the flashing satin wings of the monarch,
|
|
viceroy, and argynnis. They outnumbered those of any other color
|
|
three to one.
|
|
|
|
Among the birds it really seemed as if the little yellow
|
|
fellows were in the preponderance. At least, they were until the
|
|
redwinged blackbirds and bobolinks, that had nested on the
|
|
upland, suddenly saw in the swamp the garden of the Lord and
|
|
came swarming by hundreds to feast and adventure upon it these
|
|
last few weeks before migration. Never was there a finer feast
|
|
spread for the birds. The grasses were filled with seeds: so,
|
|
too, were weeds of every variety. Fall berries were ripe. Wild
|
|
grapes and black haws were ready. Bugs were creeping everywhere.
|
|
The muck was yeasty with worms. Insects filled the air. Nature
|
|
made glorious pause for holiday before her next change, and by
|
|
none of the frequenters of the swamp was this more appreciated
|
|
than by the big black chickens.
|
|
|
|
They seemed to feel the new reign of peace and fullness
|
|
most of all. As for food, they did not even have to hunt for
|
|
themselves these days, for the feasts now being spread before
|
|
Little Chicken were more than he could use, and he was glad to
|
|
have his parents come down and help him.
|
|
|
|
He was a fine, big, overgrown fellow, and his wings, with
|
|
quills of jetty black, gleaming with bronze, were so strong they
|
|
almost lifted his body. He had three inches of tail, and his
|
|
beak and claws were sharp. His muscles began to clamor for
|
|
exercise. He raced the forty feet of his home back and forth
|
|
many times every hour of the day. After a few days of that, he
|
|
began lifting and spreading his wings, and flopping them until
|
|
the down on his back was filled with elm fiber. Then he
|
|
commenced jumping. The funny little hops, springs, and sidewise
|
|
bounds he gave set Freckles and the Angel, hidden in the swamp,
|
|
watching him, into smothered chuckles of delight.
|
|
|
|
Sometimes he fell to coquetting with himself; and that was
|
|
the funniest thing of all, for he turned his head up, down, from
|
|
side to side, and drew in his chin with prinky little jerks and
|
|
tilts. He would stretch his neck, throw up his head, turn it to
|
|
one side and smirk--actually smirk, the most complacent and
|
|
self-satisfied smirk that anyone ever saw on the face of a bird.
|
|
It was so comical that Freckles and the Angel told the Bird
|
|
Woman of it one day.
|
|
|
|
When she finished her work on Little Chicken, she left them
|
|
the camera ready for use, telling them they might hide in the
|
|
bushes and watch. If Little Chicken came out and truly smirked,
|
|
and they could squeeze the bulb at the proper moment to snap
|
|
him, she would be more than delighted.
|
|
|
|
Freckles and the Angel quietly curled beside a big log, and
|
|
with eager eyes and softest breathing they patiently waited; but
|
|
Little Chicken had feasted before they told of his latest
|
|
accomplishment. He was tired and sleepy, so he went into the log
|
|
to bed, and for an hour he never stirred.
|
|
|
|
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."
|
|
|
|
"I do hope so," shivered F reckles.
|
|
|
|
With one accord they arose to their knees and trained their
|
|
eyes on the mouth of the log. The light was full and strong.
|
|
Little Chicken prospected again with no results. He dressed his
|
|
plumage, polished his beak, and when he felt fine and in full
|
|
toilet he began to flirt with himself. Freckles' eyes snapped
|
|
and his breath sucked between his clenched teeth.
|
|
|
|
"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.
|
|
|
|
"Now!--No!" snapped the Angel.
|
|
|
|
Freckles leaned toward the bird. Tensely he waited.
|
|
Unconsciously the hand of the Angel clasped his. He scarcely
|
|
knew it was there. Suddenly Little Chicken sprang straight in
|
|
the air and landed with a thud. The Angel started slightly, but
|
|
Freckles was immovable. Then, as if in approval of his last
|
|
performance, the big, overgrown baby wheeled until he was mOre
|
|
than three-quarters, almost full side, toward the camera,
|
|
straightened on his legs, squared his shoulders, stretched his
|
|
neck full height, drew in his chin and smirked his most
|
|
pronounced smirk, directly in the face of the lens.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
"How soon do you s'pose it will be finished?" came
|
|
Freckles' strident whisper.
|
|
|
|
For the first time the Angel looked at him. He was on his
|
|
knees,. leaning forward, his eyes directed toward the bird, the
|
|
perspiration running in little streams down his red,
|
|
mosquito-bitten face. His hat was awry, his bright hair rampant,
|
|
his breast heaving with excitement, while he yet gripped the
|
|
bulb with every ounce of strength in his body.
|
|
|
|
"Do you think we were for getting it?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
The Angel could only nod. Freckles heaved a deep sigh of
|
|
relief.
|
|
|
|
"Well, if that ain't the hardest work I ever did in me
|
|
life!" he exclaimed. "It's no wonder the Bird Woman's for coming
|
|
out of the swamp looking as if she's been through a fire, a
|
|
flood, and a famine, if that's what she goes through day after
|
|
day. But if you think we got it, why, it's worth all it took,
|
|
and I'm glad as ever you are, sure!"
|
|
|
|
They put the holders in the case, carefully closed the
|
|
camera, set it in also, and carried it to the road.
|
|
|
|
Then Freckles exulted.
|
|
|
|
"Now, let's be telling the Bird Woman about it!" he
|
|
shouted, wildly dancing and swinging his hat.
|
|
|
|
"We got it! We got it! I bet a farm we got it!"
|
|
|
|
Hand in hand they ran to the north end of the swamp,
|
|
yelling "We got. it!" like young Comanches, and never gave a
|
|
thought to what they might do until a big blue-gray bird, with
|
|
long neck and trailing legs, arose on flapping wings and sailed
|
|
over the Limberlost.
|
|
|
|
The Angel became white to the lips and gripped Freckles
|
|
with both hands. He gulped with mortification and turned his
|
|
back.
|
|
|
|
To frighten her subject away carelessly! It was the head
|
|
crime in the Bird Woman's category. She extended her hands as
|
|
she arose, baked, blistered, and dripping, and exclaimed: "Bless
|
|
you, my children! Bless you!" And it truly sounded as if she
|
|
meant it.
|
|
|
|
"Why, why----" stammered the bewildered Angel.
|
|
|
|
Freckles hurried into the breach.
|
|
|
|
"You must be for blaming it every bit on me. I was thinking
|
|
we got Little Chicken's picture real good. I was so drunk with
|
|
the joy of it I lost all me senses and, `Let's run tell the Bird
|
|
Woman,' says I. Like a fool I was for running, and I sort of
|
|
dragged the Angel along."
|
|
|
|
"Oh Freckles!" expostulated the Angel. "Are you loony? Of
|
|
course, it was all my fault! I've been with her hundreds of
|
|
times. I knew perfectly well that I wasn't to let anything--not
|
|
anyt hing --scare her bird. 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 sw ale at the mouth of
|
|
Sleepy Snake Creek, and came wading toward them, with a couple
|
|
of cameras and dripping tripods.
|
|
|
|
"If you will permit me a word, my infants," she said, "I
|
|
will explain to you that I have had three shots at that fellow."
|
|
|
|
The Angel heaved a deep sigh of relief, and Freckles' face
|
|
cleared a little.
|
|
|
|
"Two of them," continued the Bird Woman, "in the rushes-one
|
|
facing, crest lowered; one light on back, crest flared; and the
|
|
last on wing, when you came up. I simply had been praying for
|
|
something to make him arise from that side, so that he would fly
|
|
toward the camera, for he had waded around until in my position
|
|
I couldn't do it myself. See? Behold in yourselves the answer to
|
|
the prayers of the long-suffering!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles took a step toward her.
|
|
|
|
"Are you really meaning that?" he asked wonderingly. "Only
|
|
think, Angel, we did the right. thing! She won't lose her
|
|
picture through the carelessness of us, when she's waited and
|
|
soaked nearly two hours. She's not angry with us!"
|
|
|
|
"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 fun.
|
|
|
|
Then they loaded the carriage, and the Bird Woman and the
|
|
Angel started for their homes. It had been a difficult time for
|
|
all of them, so they were very tired, but they were joyful.
|
|
Freckles was so happy it seemed to him that life could hold
|
|
little more. As the Bird Woman was ready to drive away he laid
|
|
his hand on the lines and looked into her face.
|
|
|
|
"Do you suppose we got it?" he asked, so eagerly that she
|
|
would have given much to be able to say yes with conviction.
|
|
|
|
"Why, my dear, I don't know," she said. "I've no way to
|
|
judge. If 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 line after him.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XVI
|
|
|
|
Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the Gang
|
|
|
|
FROM afar Freckles saw them coming. The Angel was standing,
|
|
waving her hat. He sprang on his wheel and raced, jolting and
|
|
pounding, down the corduroy to meet them. The Bird Woman stopped
|
|
the horse and the Angel gave him the bit of print paper.
|
|
Freckles leaned the wheel against a tree and took the proof with
|
|
eager fingers. He never before had seen a study from any of his
|
|
chickens. He stood staring. When he turned his face toward them
|
|
it was transfigured with delight.
|
|
|
|
"You see!" he exclaimed, and began gazing again. "Oh, me
|
|
Little Chicken!" he cried. "Oh me ilegant Little Chicken! I'd be
|
|
giving all me money in the bank for you!"
|
|
|
|
Then he thought of the Angel's muff and Mrs. Duncan's hat,
|
|
and added, "or at least, all but what I'm needing bad for
|
|
something else. Would you mind stopping at the cabin a minute
|
|
and showing this to Mother Duncan?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"Give me that little book in your pocket," said the Bird
|
|
Woman.
|
|
|
|
She folded the outer edges of the proof so that it would
|
|
fit into the book, explaining as she did so its perishable
|
|
nature in that state. Freckles went hurrying ahead, and they
|
|
arrived in time to see Mrs. Duncan gazing as if awestruck, and
|
|
to hear her bewildered "Weel I be drawed on!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles and the Angel helped the Bird Woman to establish
|
|
herself for a long day at the mouth of Sleepy Snake Creek. Then
|
|
she sent them away and waited what luck would bring to her.
|
|
|
|
"Now, what shall we do?" inquired the Angel, who was a
|
|
bundle of nerves and energy.
|
|
|
|
"Would you like to go to me room awhile?" asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"If you don't care to very much, I'd rather not," said the
|
|
Angel. "I'll tell you. Let's go help Mrs. Duncan with dinner and
|
|
play with the baby. I love a nice, clean baby."
|
|
|
|
They started toward the cabin. Every few minutes they
|
|
stopped to investigate something or to chatter over some natural
|
|
history wonder. The Angel had quick eyes; she seemed to see
|
|
everything, but Freckles' were even quicker; for life itself had
|
|
depended on their sharpness ever since the beginning of his work
|
|
at the swamp. They saw it at the same time.
|
|
|
|
"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?"
|
|
|
|
"I don't know," said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Well, but I want to know!" said the Angel. "No one came
|
|
away here and cut it for fun. They've taken it away. Let's go
|
|
back and see if we can see it anywhere around there."
|
|
|
|
She turned, retraced her footsteps, and began eagerly
|
|
searching. Freckles did the same.
|
|
|
|
"There it is!" he exclaimed at last" `leaning against tbe
|
|
trunk of that big maple."
|
|
|
|
"Yes, and leaning there has killed a patcb of dried bark,"
|
|
said the Angel. "See how dried it appears?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles stared at her.
|
|
|
|
"Angel!" he shouted, "I bet you it's a marked tree!"
|
|
|
|
"Course it is!" cried tbe 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?"
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said Freckles; "if I take off my wading-boots I
|
|
can."
|
|
|
|
"Then take them off," said the Angel, "and do hurry! Can't
|
|
you see that I am almost crazy to know if this tree is a marked
|
|
one?"
|
|
|
|
When they pushed the sapling over, a piece of bark as big
|
|
as the 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 in an
|
|
effort to intensify her vision.
|
|
|
|
Freckles reached the opening, then slid rapidly to the
|
|
ground. He was almost breathless while his eyes were flashing.
|
|
|
|
"The bark's been cut clean with a knife, the sap scraped
|
|
away, and a big chip taken out deep. The trunk is the twistiest
|
|
thing you ever saw. It's full of eyes as a bird is of featbers!"
|
|
|
|
The Angel was dancing and shaking his hand.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Freckles," she cried, "I'm so delighted that you found
|
|
it!"
|
|
|
|
"But I didn't," said the astonished Freckles. "That tree
|
|
isn't my find; it's yours. I forgot it and was going on; you
|
|
wouldn't give up, and 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 sapling
|
|
first!"
|
|
|
|
"Yes, after you took me back and set me looking for it,"
|
|
scoffed Freckles.
|
|
|
|
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, and all
|
|
so much alike. We'd feel good and green to find it and then lose
|
|
it."
|
|
|
|
Freckles lifted the sapling to replace it, but the Angel
|
|
motioned him away.
|
|
|
|
"Use your hatchet," she said. "I predict this is the most
|
|
valuable tree in the swamp. You found it. I'm going to play that
|
|
you're my knight. Now, you nail my colors on it."
|
|
|
|
She reached up, and pulling a blue bow from her hair,
|
|
untied and doubled it against the tree. Freckles turned bis eyes
|
|
from her and managed the fastening with shaking fingers. The
|
|
Angel had called him her knight! Dear Lord, how he loved. her!
|
|
She must not see his face, or surely her quick eyes would read
|
|
what he was fighting to hide. He did not dare lay his lips on
|
|
that ribbon then, but that night he would return to it. When
|
|
they had gone a little distance, they both looked back, and the
|
|
morning breeze set the bit of blue waving them a farewell.
|
|
|
|
They walked at a rapid pace.
|
|
|
|
"I am sorry about scaring the birds," said the Angel, "but
|
|
it's almost time for them to go anyway. I feel dreadfully over
|
|
having the swamp ruined, but isn't it a delight to hear the
|
|
good, honest ring of those axes, instead of straining your ears
|
|
for stealthy sounds? Isn't it fine to go openly and freely, with
|
|
nothing worse than a snake or a poison-vine to fear?"
|
|
|
|
"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, Freckles!"
|
|
|
|
She reached him her hand, and as two children, they broke
|
|
into a run when they came closer the gang. They left the swamp
|
|
by the west road and followed the trail until they found the
|
|
men. To the Angel it seemed complete charm. In the shadiest spot
|
|
on the west side of the line, at the edge of the swamp and very
|
|
close Freckles' room, they were cutting bushes and clearing
|
|
space for a big tent for the men's sleeping-quarters, another
|
|
for a 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 Limberlost quarters.
|
|
|
|
Freckles helped the Angel climb on a wagonload of canvas in
|
|
the shade. She removed her leggings, wiped her heated face, and
|
|
glowed with happiness and interest.
|
|
|
|
The gang had been sifted carefully. McLean now felt that
|
|
there was not a man in it who was not trustworthv.
|
|
|
|
They all had heard of the Angel's plucky ride for Freckles'
|
|
relief; several of them had been in the rescue party. Others,
|
|
new since that time, had heard the tale rehearsed in its every
|
|
aspect around the smudge-fires at night. Almost all of them knew
|
|
the Angel by sight from her trips with the Bird Woman to their
|
|
leases. They all knew her father, her position, and the luxuries
|
|
of her home. Whatever course she had chosen with them they
|
|
scarcely would have resented it, but the Angel never had been
|
|
known to choose a course. Her spirit of friendliness was inborn
|
|
and inbred. She loved everyone, so she sympathized with
|
|
everyone. Her generosity was only limited by what was in her
|
|
power to give.
|
|
|
|
She came down the trail, hand in hand with the red-haired,
|
|
freckled timber guard whom she had worn herself past the limit
|
|
of endurance to save only a few weeks before, racing in her
|
|
eagerness to reach them, and laughing her "Good morning,
|
|
gentlemen," right and left. When she was ensconced on the
|
|
wagonload of tenting, she sat on a roll of canvas as a queen on
|
|
her throne. There was not a man of the gang who did not respect
|
|
her. She was a living exponent of universal brotherhood. There
|
|
was no man among them who needed her exquisite face or dainty
|
|
clothing to teach him that the deference due a gentlewoman
|
|
should be paid her. That the spirit of good fellowship she
|
|
radiated levied an especial tribute of its own, and it became
|
|
their delight to honor and please her.
|
|
|
|
As they raced toward the wagon--"Let me tell about the
|
|
tree, please?" she begged Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Why, sure!" said Freckles.
|
|
|
|
He probably would have said the same to anything she
|
|
suggested. When McLean came, he found the Angel flushed and
|
|
glowing, sitting on the wagon, her hands already filled. One of
|
|
the men, who was cutting a scrub-oak, had carried to her a
|
|
handful of crimson leaves. Another had gathered a bunch of
|
|
delicate marsh-grass heads for her. Someone else, in taking out
|
|
a bush, had found a daintily built and lined little nest, fresh
|
|
as when made.
|
|
|
|
She held up her treasures and greeted McLean, "Goodmorning,
|
|
Mr. Boss of the Limberlost!"
|
|
|
|
The gang shouted, while he bowed profoundly before her.
|
|
|
|
"Everyone listen!" cried the Angel, climbing a roll of
|
|
canvas. "I have something to say! Freckles has been guarding
|
|
here over a year now, and he presents the Limberlost to you,
|
|
with every tree in it saved; for good measure he has this
|
|
morning located the rarest one of them all: the one in from the
|
|
east line, that Wessner spoke of the first day--nearest the one
|
|
you took out. All together! Everyone! Hurrah for Freckles!"
|
|
|
|
With flushing cheeks and gleaming eyes, gaily waving the
|
|
grass above her head, she led in three cheers and a tiger.
|
|
Freckles slipped into the swamp and hid himself, for fear he
|
|
could not conceal his pride and his great surging, throbbing
|
|
love for her.
|
|
|
|
The Angel subsided on the canvas and explained to McLean
|
|
about the maple. The Boss was mightily pleased. He took Freckles
|
|
and set out to re-locate and examine the tree. The Angel was
|
|
interested in the making of the camp, so she preferred to remain
|
|
with the men. With her sharp eyes she was watching every detail
|
|
of construction; but when it came to the stretching of the
|
|
dininghall canvas she proceeded to take command. The men were
|
|
driving the rope-pins, when the Angel arose on the wagon and,
|
|
meaning forward, spoke to Duncan, who was directing the work.
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
"That's a fact," said Duncan, studying the conditions.
|
|
|
|
So, by shifting the pins a little, they obtained comfort
|
|
for which they blessed the Angel every day. When they came to
|
|
the sleeping-tent, they consulted her about that. She explained
|
|
the general direction of the night breeze and indicated the best
|
|
position for the tent. Before anyone knew how it happened, the
|
|
Angel was standing on the wagon, directing the location and
|
|
construction of the cooking-shack, the erection of the crane for
|
|
the big boiling-pots, and the building of the storeroom. She
|
|
superintended the laying of the floor of the sleeping-tent
|
|
lengthwise, So that it would be easier to sweep, and suggested
|
|
a new arrangement of the cots that would afford all the men an
|
|
equal share of night breeze. She left the wagon, and climbing on
|
|
the newly erected dining-table, advised with the cook in placing
|
|
his stove, table, and kitchen utensils.
|
|
|
|
When Freckles returned from the tree to join in the work
|
|
around the camp, he caught glimpses of her enthroned on a
|
|
soapbox, cleaning beans. She called to him that they were
|
|
invited for dinner, and that they had accepted the invitation.
|
|
|
|
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 w ay, and the c hef of the gang thought it
|
|
would be a good idea. The next Freckles saw of her she was
|
|
paring potatoes. A little later she arranged the table.
|
|
|
|
She swept it with a broom, instead of laying a cloth; took
|
|
the hatchet and hammered the deepest dents from the tin plates,
|
|
and nearly skinned her fingers scouring the tinware with rushes.
|
|
She set the plates an even distance apart, and laid the forks
|
|
and spoons beside them. When the cook threw away half a dozen
|
|
fruit-cans, sbe gathered them up and melted off the tops,
|
|
although she almost blistered her face and quite blistered her
|
|
fingers doing it. Then she neatly covered these improvised vases
|
|
with the Manila paper from the groceries, tying it with wisps of
|
|
marshgrass. These she filled with fringed gentians,
|
|
blazing-star, asters, goldenrod, and ferns, placing them the
|
|
length of the dining-table. In one of the end cans she arranged
|
|
her red leaves, and in the other the fancy grass. Two men,
|
|
watching her, went away proud of themselves and said that she
|
|
was "a born lady." She laughingly caught up a paper bag and
|
|
fitted it jauntily to her head in imitation of a cook's cap.
|
|
Then she ground the coffee, and beat a couple of eggs to put in,
|
|
"because there is company," she gravely explained to the cook.
|
|
She asked that delighted individual if he did not like it best
|
|
that way, and he said he did not know, because he never had a
|
|
chance to taste it. The Angel said that was her case
|
|
exactly--she never had, either; she was not allowed anything
|
|
stronger than milk. Then they laughed together.
|
|
|
|
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
|
|
mills.
|
|
|
|
"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 their versions
|
|
of the finding of the tree differed widely.
|
|
|
|
"Tell me, Angel," the Boss said jestingly. "I think I have
|
|
a, right to know. Who really did locate that tree?"
|
|
|
|
"Freckles," she answered promptly and emphatically.
|
|
|
|
"But he says quite as positively that it was you. I don't
|
|
understand."
|
|
|
|
The Angel's legal look flashed into her face. Her eyes grew
|
|
tense with earnestness. She glanced around, and seeing no towel
|
|
or basin, held out her hand for Sears to pour water over them.
|
|
Then, using the skirt of her dress to dry them, she climbed on
|
|
the wagon.
|
|
|
|
"I'll tell you, word for word, how it happened," she said,
|
|
"and then you shall decide, and Freckles and I will agree with
|
|
you."
|
|
|
|
When she had finished her version, "Tell us, `oh, most
|
|
learned judge!'" she laughingly quoted, "which of us located
|
|
that tree?"
|
|
|
|
"Blest if I know who located it!" exclaimed McLean. "But I
|
|
have a fairly accurate idea as to who put the blue ribbon on
|
|
it."
|
|
|
|
The Boss smiled significantly at Freckles, who just had
|
|
come, for they had planned that they would instruct the company
|
|
to reserve enough of the veneer from that very tree to make the
|
|
most beautiful dressing table they could design for the Angel's
|
|
share of the discovery.
|
|
|
|
"What will you have for vours?" McLean had asked of
|
|
Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"If it's all the same to you, I'll be taking mine out in
|
|
music lessons--begging your pardon--voice culture," said
|
|
Freckles with a grimace.
|
|
|
|
McLean laughed, for Freckles needed to see or hear only
|
|
once to absorb learning as the thirsty earth sucks up water.
|
|
|
|
The Angel placed McLean at the head of the table. She took
|
|
the foot, with Freckles on her right, while the lumber gang,
|
|
washed, brushed, 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 straightened.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XVII
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Offers His Life for His Love and Gets a Broken
|
|
Body
|
|
|
|
TO REACH the tree was a more difficult task than McLean had
|
|
supposed. The gang could approach nearest on the outside toward
|
|
the east, 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
|
|
good-luck token, and he would wear it always to keep bright in
|
|
memory the day on which the Angel had called him her knight.
|
|
|
|
How he would study, and oh, how he would sing! If only he
|
|
could fulfill McLean's expectations, and make the Angel proud of
|
|
him! If only he could be a real knight!
|
|
|
|
He could not understand why the Angel had failed to come.
|
|
She had wanted to see their tree felled. She would be too late
|
|
if she did not arrive soon. He had told her it would be ready
|
|
that morning, and she had said she surely would be there. Why,
|
|
of all mornings, was she late on this?
|
|
|
|
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 w ait; 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.
|
|
|
|
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
|
|
virtuallv 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 short, glanced
|
|
up, and understood.
|
|
|
|
"South!" shouted McLean. "Run south!"
|
|
|
|
The Angel was helpless. It was apparent that she did not
|
|
know which way south was. There was another slow shiver of the
|
|
big tree. The remainder of the gang stood motionless, but
|
|
Freckles sprang past the trunk and went leaping in big bounds.
|
|
He caught up the Angel and dashed through the thicket for
|
|
safety. The swaying trunk was half over when, for an instant, a
|
|
near-by tree stayed its fall. They saw Freckles' foot catch, and
|
|
with the Angel he plunged headlong.
|
|
|
|
A terrible cry broke from the men, while McLean covered his
|
|
face. Instantly Freckles was up, with the Angel in his arms,
|
|
struggling on. The outer limbs were on them when they saw
|
|
Freckles hurl the Angel, face down, in the muck, as far from him
|
|
as he could send her. Springing after, in an attempt to cover
|
|
her body with his own, he whirled to see if they were yet in
|
|
danger, and with outstretched arms braced himself for the shock.
|
|
The branches shut them from sight, and the awful crash rocked
|
|
the earth.
|
|
|
|
McLean and Duncan ran with axes and saws. The remainder of
|
|
the gang followed, and they worked desperately. It seemed a long
|
|
time before they caught a glimpse of the Angel's blue dress, but
|
|
it renewed their vigor. Duncan fell on his knees beside her and
|
|
tore the muck from underneath her with his hands. In a few
|
|
seconds he dragged her out, choking and stunned, but surely not
|
|
fatally hurt.
|
|
|
|
Freckles lay a little farther under the tree, a big limb
|
|
pinning him down. His eyes were wide open. He w as perfectly
|
|
conscious. Duncan began mining beneath him, but Freckles stopped
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
"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 removed, and
|
|
Freckles lay free.
|
|
|
|
The men bent over to lift him, but he motioned them away.
|
|
|
|
"Don't be touching me until I rest a bit," he pleaded.
|
|
|
|
Then he twisted his head until he saw the Angel, who was
|
|
wiping muck from her eyes and face on the skirt of her dress.
|
|
|
|
"Try to get up," he begged.
|
|
|
|
McLean laid hold of the Angel and helped her to her feet.
|
|
|
|
"Do you think any bones are broken?" gasped Freckles.
|
|
|
|
The Angel shook her head and wiped muck.
|
|
|
|
"You see if you can find any, sir," Freckles commanded.
|
|
|
|
The Angel yielded herself to McLean's touch, and he assured
|
|
Freckles that she was not seriously injured.
|
|
|
|
Freckles settled back, a smile of ineffable tenderness on
|
|
his face.
|
|
|
|
"Thank the Lord!" he hoarsely whispered.
|
|
|
|
The Angel leaned toward him.
|
|
|
|
"Now, Freckles,. you!" she cried. "It's your turn. Please
|
|
get. up!"
|
|
|
|
A pitiful spasm swept Freckles' face. The sight of it
|
|
washed every vestige of color from the Angel's. She took hold of
|
|
his hands.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles, get up!" It was half command, half entreaty.
|
|
|
|
"Easy, Angel, easy! Let me rest a bit first!" implored
|
|
Freckles.
|
|
|
|
She knelt beside him. He reached his arm around her and
|
|
drew her closely. He looked at McLean in an agony of entreaty
|
|
that brought the Boss to his knees on the other side.
|
|
|
|
"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 arm under his head.
|
|
Freckles lifted his eyes of agony to hers.
|
|
|
|
"You see?" he said.
|
|
|
|
The Angel nodded dumbly.
|
|
|
|
Freckles turned to McLean.
|
|
|
|
"Thank you for everything," he panted. "Where are the
|
|
boys?"
|
|
|
|
"They are all here," said the Boss, "except a couple who
|
|
have gone for doctors, Mrs. Duncan and the Bird Woman."
|
|
|
|
"It's no use trying to do anything," said Freckles. "You
|
|
won't forget the muff and the Christmas box. The muff especial?"
|
|
|
|
There was a movement above them so pronounced that it
|
|
attracted Freckles' attention, even in that extreme hour. He
|
|
looked up, and a pleased smile flickered on his drawn face.
|
|
|
|
"Why, if it ain't me Little Chicken!" he cried hoarsely.
|
|
"He must be making his very first trip from the log. Now Duncan
|
|
can have his big watering-trough."
|
|
|
|
"It was Little Chicken that made me late," faltered the
|
|
Angel. "I was so anxious to get here early I forgot to bring his
|
|
breakfast from the carriage. He must have been hungry, for when
|
|
I passed the log he started after me. He was so wabbly, and so
|
|
slow flying from tree to tree and through the bushes, I just had
|
|
to wait on him, for I couldn't drive him back."
|
|
|
|
"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?"
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the 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 muttered, "but
|
|
this looks as if"
|
|
|
|
He stopped short and raised questioning eyes to McLean.
|
|
|
|
"I can't help being Irish, but I can help being
|
|
superstitious," he said. "I mustn't be laying it to the
|
|
Almighty, or to me bird, must I?"
|
|
|
|
"No, dear lad," said McLean, stroking the brilliant hair.
|
|
"The choice lay with you. You could have stood a rooted dolt
|
|
like all the remainder of us. It was through your great love and
|
|
your high courage that you made the sacrifice."
|
|
|
|
"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 smile.
|
|
|
|
"Is my forehead covered with dirt?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
She shook her head.
|
|
|
|
"You did once," he gasped.
|
|
|
|
Instantly she laid her lips on his forehead, then on each
|
|
cheek, and then in a long kiss on his lips.
|
|
|
|
McLean bent over him.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles," he said brokenly, "you will never know how I
|
|
love you. You won't go without saying good-bye to me?"
|
|
|
|
That word stung the Angel to quick comprehension. She
|
|
started as if arousing from sleep.
|
|
|
|
"Good-bye?" she cried sharply, her eyes widening and the
|
|
color rushing into her white face. "Good-bye! Why, what do you
|
|
mean? Who's saying good-bye? Where could Freckles go, when he is
|
|
hurt like this, save to the hospital? You needn't say good-bye
|
|
for that. Of course, we will all go with him! You call up the
|
|
men. We must start right away."
|
|
|
|
"It's no use, Angel," said Freckles. "I'm thinking ivry
|
|
bone in me breast is smashed. You'll have to be letting me go!"
|
|
|
|
"I will not," said the Angel flatly. "It's no use wasting
|
|
precious time talking about it. You are alive. You are
|
|
breathing; and no matter how badly your bones are broken, what
|
|
are great surgeons for but to fix you up and make you well
|
|
again? You promise me that you'll just grit your teeth and hang
|
|
on when we hurt you, for we must start with you as quickly as it
|
|
can be done. I don't know what has been the matter with me.
|
|
Here's good time wasted already."
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Angel!" moaned Freckles, "I can't! You don't know how
|
|
bad it is. I'll die the minute you are for trying to lift me!"
|
|
|
|
"Of course you will, if you make up your mind to do it,"
|
|
said the Angel. "But if you are determined you won't, and set
|
|
yourself to breathing deep and strong, and hang on to me tight,
|
|
I can get you out. Really you must, Freckles, no matter how it
|
|
hurts, for you did this for me, and now I must save you, so you
|
|
might as well promise."
|
|
|
|
She bent over him, trying to smile encouragement with her
|
|
fear-stiffened lips.
|
|
|
|
"You will promise, Freckles?"
|
|
|
|
Big drops of cold sweat ran together on Freckles' temples.
|
|
|
|
"Angel, darlin' Angel," he pleaded, taking her hand in his.
|
|
"You ain't understanding, and I can't for the life of me be
|
|
telling you, but indade, it's best to be letting me go. This is
|
|
my chance. Please say good-bye, and let me slip off quick!"
|
|
|
|
He appealed to McLean.
|
|
|
|
"Dear Boss, you know! You be telling her that, for mne,
|
|
living is far worse pain than dying. Tell her you know death is
|
|
the best thing that could ever be happening to me!"
|
|
|
|
"Merciful Heaven!" burst in the Angel. "I can't endure this
|
|
delay!"
|
|
|
|
She caught Freckles' hand to her breast, and bending over
|
|
him, 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 promise me,"
|
|
she said. "Do you say it?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles hesitated.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles!" imploringly commanded the Angel, "you do say
|
|
it!"
|
|
|
|
"Yis," gasped Freckles.
|
|
|
|
The Angel sprang to her feet.
|
|
|
|
"Then that's all right," she said, with a tinge of her
|
|
old-time briskness. "You just keep breathing away like a steam
|
|
engine, and I will do all the remainder."
|
|
|
|
The eager men gathered around her.
|
|
|
|
"It's going to be a tough pull to get Freckles out," she
|
|
said, "but it's our only chance, so listen closely and don't for
|
|
the lives of you fail me in doing quickly what I tell you.
|
|
There's no time to spend falling down over each other; we must
|
|
have some system. You four there get on those wagon horses and
|
|
ride to the sleeping-tent. Get the stoutest cot, a couple of
|
|
comforts, and a pillow. Ride back with them some way to save
|
|
time. If you meet any other men of the gang, send them here to
|
|
help carry the cot. We won't risk the jolt of driving with him.
|
|
The others clear a path out to the road; and Mr. McLean, you
|
|
take Nellie and ride to town. Tell my father how Freckles is
|
|
hurt and that he risked it to save me. Tell him I'm going to
|
|
take Freckles to Chicago on the noon train, and I want him to
|
|
hold it if we are a little late. If he can't, then have a
|
|
special ready at the station and another on the. Pittsburgh at
|
|
Fort Wayne, so we can go straight through. You needn't mind
|
|
leaviug us. The Bird Woman will be here soon. We will rest
|
|
awhile."
|
|
|
|
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!"
|
|
|
|
A whimsical half-smile touched Freckles' quivering lips.
|
|
|
|
"Angel, can a man be remembering a promise when he ain't
|
|
knowing?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"You can," said the Angel stoutly, "because a promise means
|
|
so much more to you than it does to most men."
|
|
|
|
A look of strength flashed into Freckles' face at her
|
|
words.
|
|
|
|
"I am ready," he said.
|
|
|
|
With the first touch his eyes closed, a mighty groan was
|
|
wrenched 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 quick and
|
|
gentle?"
|
|
|
|
She stepped to the side of the cot and bathed Freckles'
|
|
face. Taking his hand in hers, she gave the word to start. She
|
|
told the men to ask every able-bodied man they met to join them
|
|
so that they could change carriers often and make good time.
|
|
|
|
The Bird Woman insisted upon taking the Angel into the
|
|
carriage and following the cot, but she refused to leave
|
|
Freckles, and suggested that the Bird Woman drive ahead, pack
|
|
them some clothing, and be at the station ready to accompany them to
|
|
Chicago. All the way the Angel walked beside the cot, shading
|
|
Freckles' face with a branch, and holding his hand. At every
|
|
pause to change carriers she moistened his face and lips and
|
|
watched each breath with heart-breaking anxiety.
|
|
|
|
She scarcely knew when her father joined them, and taking
|
|
the branch from her, slipped an arm around her waist and almost
|
|
carried her. To the city streets and the swarm of curious,
|
|
staring faces she paid no more attention than she had to the
|
|
trees of the Limberlost. When the train came and the gang placed
|
|
Freckles aboard, big Duncan made a place for the Angel beside
|
|
the cot.
|
|
|
|
With the best physician to be found, and with the Bird
|
|
Woman and McLean in attendance, the four-hours' run to Chicago
|
|
began. The Angel constantly watched over Freckles; bathed his
|
|
face, stroked his hand, and gently fanned him. Not for an
|
|
instant would she yield her place, or allow anyone else to do
|
|
anything for him. The Bird Woman and McLean regarded her in
|
|
amazement. There seemed to be no end to her resources and
|
|
courage. The only time she spoke was to ask McLean if he were
|
|
sure the special would be ready on the Pittsburgh road. He
|
|
replied that it was made up and waiting.
|
|
|
|
At five o'clock Freckles lay stretched on the
|
|
operating-table of Lake View Hospital, while three of the
|
|
greatest surgeons in Chicago bent over him. At their command,
|
|
McLean picked up the unwilling Angel and carried her to the
|
|
nurses to be bathed, have her bruises attended, and to be put to
|
|
bed.
|
|
|
|
In a place where it is difficult to surprise people, they
|
|
were astonished women as they removed the Angel's dainty stained
|
|
and torn clothing, drew off hose muck-baked to her limbs, soaked
|
|
the dried loam from her silken hair, and washed the beautiful
|
|
scratched, bruised, dirt-covered body. The Angel fell fast
|
|
asleep long before they had finished, and lay deeply
|
|
unconscious, while the fight for Freckles' life was being waged.
|
|
|
|
Three days later she was the same Angel as of old, except
|
|
that Freckles was constantly in her thoughts. The anxiety and
|
|
responsibility that she felt for his condition had bred in her
|
|
a touch of womanliness and authority that was new. That morning
|
|
she arose early and hovered near Freckles' door. She had been
|
|
allowed to remain with him constantly, for the nurses and
|
|
surgeons had learned, with his returning consciousness, that for
|
|
her alone would the active, highly strung, pain-racked sufferer
|
|
be quiet and obey orders. When she was dropping from loss of
|
|
sleep, the threat that she would fall ill had to be used to send
|
|
her to bed. Then by telling Freckles that the Angel was asleep
|
|
and they would waken her the moment he moved, they were able to
|
|
control him for a short time.
|
|
|
|
The surgeon was with Freckles. The Angel had been told that
|
|
the word he brought that morning would be final, so she curled
|
|
in a window seat, dropped the curtains behind her, and in dire
|
|
anxiety, waited the opening of the door.
|
|
|
|
Just as it unclosed, McLean came hurrying down the hall and
|
|
to the surgeon, but with one glance at his face he stepped back
|
|
in dismay; while the Angel, who had arisen, sank to the seat
|
|
again, too dazed to come forward. The men faced each other. The
|
|
Angel, with parted lips and frightened eyes, bent forward in
|
|
tense anxiety.
|
|
|
|
"I--I thought he was doing nicely?" faltered McLean.
|
|
|
|
"He bore the operation well," replied the surgeon, "and his
|
|
wounds are not necessarily fatal. I told you that yesterday, but
|
|
I did not tell you that something else probably would kill him;
|
|
and it will. He need not die from the accident, but he will not
|
|
live the day out."
|
|
|
|
"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 desire death?"
|
|
|
|
"Is he dying?" demanded McLean.
|
|
|
|
"He is," said the surgeon. "He will not live this day out,
|
|
unless some strong reaction sets in at once. He is so low, that
|
|
preferring death to life, nature cannot overcome his inertia. If
|
|
he is to live, he must be made to desire life. Now he
|
|
undoubtedly wishes for death, and that it come quickly."
|
|
|
|
"Then he must die," said McLean.
|
|
|
|
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?"
|
|
|
|
McLean groaned in misery.
|
|
|
|
"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.
|
|
|
|
McLean caught his arm roughly.
|
|
|
|
"You look here!" he cried in desperation. "You say that as
|
|
if I could do something if I would. I tell you the.boy is dear
|
|
to me past expression. I would do anything--spend any sum. You
|
|
have noticed and repeatedly commented on the young girl with me.
|
|
It is that child that he wants! He worships her to adoration,
|
|
and knowing he can never be anything to her, he prefers death to
|
|
life. In God's name, what can I do about it?"
|
|
|
|
"Barring that missing hand, I never examined a finer man,"
|
|
said the surgeon, "and she seemed perfectly devoted to him; why
|
|
cannot he have her?"
|
|
|
|
"Why?" echoed McLean. "Why? Well, for many reasons! I told
|
|
you he was my son. You probably knew that he was not. A little
|
|
over a year ago I never had seen him. He joined one of my lumber
|
|
gangs from the road. He is a stray, left at one of your homes
|
|
for the friendless here in Chicago. When he grew up the
|
|
superintendent bound him to a brutal man. He ran away and landed
|
|
in one of my lumber camps. He has no name or knowledge of legal
|
|
birth. The Angel--we have talked of her. You see what she is,
|
|
physically and mentally. She has ancestors reaching back to
|
|
Plymouth Rock, and across the sea for generations before that.
|
|
She is an idolized, petted only child, and there is great
|
|
wealth. Life holds everything for her, nothing for him. He sees
|
|
it more plainly than anyone else could. There is nothing for the
|
|
boy but death, if it is the Angel that is required to save him."
|
|
|
|
The Angel stood between them.
|
|
|
|
"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!"
|
|
|
|
The amazed men stepped back, staring at her.
|
|
|
|
"That he will never say," said McLean at last, "and you
|
|
don't understand, Angel. I don't know how you came here. I
|
|
wouldn't have had you hear that for the world, but since you
|
|
have, dear girl, you must be told that it isn't your friendship
|
|
or your kindness Freckles wants; it is your love."
|
|
|
|
The Angel looked straight into the great surgeon's eyes
|
|
with her clear, steady orbs of blue, and then into McLean's with
|
|
unwavering frankness.
|
|
|
|
"Well, I do love him," she said simply.
|
|
|
|
McLean's arms dropped helplessly.
|
|
|
|
"You don't understand," he reiterated patiently. "It isn't
|
|
the love of a friend, or a comrade, or a sister, that Freckles
|
|
wants from you; it is the love of a sweetheart. And if to save
|
|
the life he has offered for you, you are thinking of being
|
|
generous and impulsive enough to sacrifice your future--in the
|
|
absence of your father, it will become my plain duty, as the
|
|
protector in whose hands he has placed you, to prevent such
|
|
rashness. The very words you speak, and the manner in which you
|
|
say them, prove that you are a mere child, and have not dreamed
|
|
what love is."
|
|
|
|
Then the Angel grew splendid. A rosy flush swept the pallor
|
|
of fear from her face. Her big eyes widened and dilated with
|
|
intense lights. She seemed to leap to the height and the dignity
|
|
of superb womanhood before their wondering gaze.
|
|
|
|
"I never have had to dream of love," she said proudly. "I
|
|
never have known anything else, in all my life, but to love
|
|
everyone and to have everyone love me. And there never has been
|
|
anyone so dear as Freckles. If you will remember, we have been
|
|
through a good deal together. I do love Freckles, just as I say
|
|
I do. I don't know anything about the love of sweethearts, but
|
|
I love him with all the love in my heart, and I think that will
|
|
satisfy him."
|
|
|
|
"Surely it should!" muttered the man of knives and lancets.
|
|
|
|
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 the telling will save him.".
|
|
|
|
She darted past McLean into Freckles' room, closed the
|
|
door, and turned the key.
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XVIII
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles refuses Love Without Knowledge of Honorable
|
|
Birth, and the Angel Goes in Quest of it
|
|
|
|
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 lost--indeed
|
|
--utterly and hopelessly lost. The Angel lifted her hands to her
|
|
dazed head and reeled, as she tried to face that proposition.
|
|
She dropped on her knees beside the bed, slipped her arm under
|
|
the pillow, and leaning over Freckles, set her lips on his
|
|
forehead. He smiled faintlv, 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?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles drew a long, wavering breath.
|
|
|
|
"Angel," he begged, "be generous! Be thinking of me a
|
|
little. I'm so homesick and worn out, dear Angel, be giving me back me
|
|
promise. Let me go?"
|
|
|
|
"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 w ant you to be educated
|
|
and learn all there is to know about singing, just as soon as
|
|
you are well enough. By the time you have completed your
|
|
education I will have finished college, and then I want," she
|
|
choked a second, "I want you to be my real knight, Freckles, and
|
|
come to me and tell me that you--like me--a little. I have been
|
|
counting on you for my sweetheart from the very first, Freckles.
|
|
I can't give you up, unless you don't like me. But you do like
|
|
me--just a little--don't you, Freckles?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles lay whiter than the coverlet, his staring eyes on
|
|
the ceiling and his breath wheezing between dry lips. The Angel
|
|
awaited his anSWer a second, and when none came, she dropped her
|
|
crimsoning face beside him on the pillow and whispered in his
|
|
ear:
|
|
|
|
"Freckles, I--I'm trying to make love to you. Oh, can't you
|
|
help me only a little bit? It's awful hard all alone! I don't
|
|
know how, when I really mean it, but Freckles, I love you. I
|
|
must have you, and now I guess--I guess maybe I'd better kiss
|
|
you next."
|
|
|
|
She lifted her shamed face and bravely laid her feverish,
|
|
quivering lips on his. Her breath, like clover-bloom, was in his
|
|
nostrils, and her hair touched his face. Then she looked into
|
|
his eyes with reproach.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles," she panted, "Freckles! I didn't think it was in
|
|
you to be mean!"
|
|
|
|
"Mean, Angel! Mean to you?" gasped Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the Angel. "Downright mean. When I kiss you, if
|
|
you had any mercy at all you'd kiss back, just a little bit."
|
|
|
|
Freckles' sinewy fist knotted into the coverlet. His chin
|
|
pointed ceilingward while his head rocked on the pillow.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Jesus!" burst from him in agony. "You ain't the only
|
|
one that was crucified!"
|
|
|
|
The Angel caught Freckles' hand and carried it to her
|
|
breast.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles!" she wailed in terror, "Freckles! It is a
|
|
mistake? Is it that you don't want me?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles' head rolled on in wordless suffering.
|
|
|
|
"Wait a bit, Angel?" he panted at last. "Be giving me a
|
|
little time!"
|
|
|
|
The Angel arose with controlled features. She bathed his
|
|
face, straightened his hair, and held water to his lips. It
|
|
seemed a long time before he reached toward her. Instantlv she
|
|
knelt again, carried his hand to her breast, and leaned her
|
|
cheek upon it.
|
|
|
|
"Tell me, Freckles," she whispered softly.
|
|
|
|
"If I can," said Freckles in agony. "It's just this. Angels
|
|
are from above. Outcasts are from below. You've a sound body and
|
|
you're beautifulest of all. You have everything that loving,
|
|
careful raising and money can give you. I have so much less than
|
|
nothing that I don't suppose I had any right to be born. It's a
|
|
sure thing-nobody wanted me afterward, so of course, they didn't
|
|
before. Some of them should have been telling you long ago."
|
|
|
|
"If that's all you have to sav, 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 love--me, whose people brawled over me, cut off
|
|
me hand, and throwed me away to freeze and to die! Me, who has
|
|
no name just as much because I've no right to any, as because I
|
|
don't know it. When I was little, I planned to find me father
|
|
and mother when I grew up. Now I know me mother deserted me, and
|
|
me father was maybe a thief and surely a liar. The pity for me
|
|
suffering and the watching over me have gone to your head, dear
|
|
Angel, and it's me must be thinking for you. If you could be
|
|
forgetting me lost hand, where I was raised, and that I had no
|
|
name to give vou, 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 so plain to me. Oh, if I
|
|
could only make you see!"
|
|
|
|
She buried her face in the pillow and presently lifted it,
|
|
transfigured.
|
|
|
|
"Now I have it!" she cried. "Oh, dear heart! I can make it
|
|
so plain! Freckles, can you imagine you see the old Limberlost
|
|
trail? Well when we followed it, you know there were places
|
|
where ugly, prickly thistles overgrew the path, and you went
|
|
ahead with your club and bent them back to keep them from
|
|
stinging through my clothing. Other places there were big
|
|
shining pools where lovely, snow-white lilies grew, and you
|
|
waded in and gathered them for me. Oh dear heart, don't you see?
|
|
It's this! Everywhere the wind carried that thistledown, other
|
|
thistles sprang up and grew prickles; and wherever those lily
|
|
seeds sank to the mire, the pure white of other lilies bloomed.
|
|
But, Freckles, there was never a place anywhere in the
|
|
Limberlost, or in the whole world, where the thistledown floated
|
|
and sprang up and blossomed into white lilies! Thistles grow
|
|
from thistles, and lilies from other lilies. Dear Freckles,
|
|
think hard! You must see it! You are a lily, straight through.
|
|
You never, never could have drifted from the thistlepatch.
|
|
|
|
"Where did you find the courage to go into the Limberlost
|
|
and face its terrors? You inherited it from the blood of a brave
|
|
father, dear heart. Where did you get the pluck to hold for over
|
|
a year a job that few men would have taken at all? You got it
|
|
from a plucky mother, you bravest of boys. You attacked
|
|
single-handed a man almost twice your size, and fought as a
|
|
demon, merely at the suggestion that you be deceptive and
|
|
dishonest. Could your mother or your father have been
|
|
untruthful? Here you are, so hungry and starved that you are
|
|
dying for love. Where did you get all that capacity for loving?
|
|
You didn't inherit it from hardened, heartless people, who would
|
|
disfigure you and purposely leave you to die, that's one sure
|
|
thing. You once told me of saving your big bullfrog from a
|
|
rattlesnake. You knew you risked a horrible death when you did
|
|
it. Yet you will spend miserable years torturing yourself with
|
|
the idea that your own mother might have cut off that hand.
|
|
Shame on you, Freckles! YOur mother would have done this"
|
|
|
|
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 not afraid to vouch for them, not for a
|
|
minute!
|
|
|
|
"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 marvelously trained vocalist; we every one of us
|
|
believe that, Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"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 w atch you
|
|
person. ally? And why is he hunting excuses every day to spend
|
|
money on you? My father says McLean is full Scotch-close with a
|
|
dollar. He is a hardheaded husiness man, Freckles, and he is
|
|
doing it because he finds you worthy of it. Worthy of all we all
|
|
can do and more than we know how to do, dear heart! Freckles,
|
|
are you listening to me? Oh! won't you see it? Won't you believe
|
|
it?"
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Angel!" chattered the bewildered Freckles," are you
|
|
truly maning it? Gould it be?"
|
|
|
|
"Of course it could," flashed the Angel, "because it just
|
|
is!"
|
|
|
|
"But you can't prove it," wailed Freckles. "It ain't giving
|
|
me a name, or me honor!"
|
|
|
|
"Freckles," said the Angel sternly, "you are unreasonable!
|
|
Why, I didprove every word I said! Everything proves it! You
|
|
look here! If you knew for sure that I could give you a name and
|
|
your honor, and prove to you that your mother did love you, why,
|
|
then, would you just go to breathing like perpetual motion and
|
|
hang on for dear life and get well?"
|
|
|
|
A bright light shone in Freckles' eyes.
|
|
|
|
"If I knew that, Angel," he said solemnly, "you couldn't be
|
|
killing me if you felled the biggest tree in the Limberlost
|
|
smash on. me!"
|
|
|
|
"Then you go right to work," said the Angel, "and before
|
|
night I'll prove one thing to you: I can show you easily enough
|
|
how much your mother loved you. That will be the first step, and
|
|
then the remainder will all come. If my father and Mr. McLean
|
|
are so anxious to spend some money, I'll give them a chance. I
|
|
don't see why we haven't comprehended how you felt and so have
|
|
been at work weeks ago. We've been awfully selfish. We've all
|
|
been So comfortable, we never stopped to think what other people
|
|
were suffering before our eyes. None of us has understood. I'll
|
|
hire the finest detective in Chicago, and we'll go to work
|
|
together. This is nothing compared with things people do find
|
|
out. We'll go at it, beak and claw, and we'll show you a thing
|
|
or two."
|
|
|
|
Freckles caught her sleeve.
|
|
|
|
"Me mother, Angel! Me mother!" he marveled hoarsely. "Did
|
|
you say you could he 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
|
|
them. Did you ever see them?"
|
|
|
|
"Yis," he replied.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles! Were they white?" she cried.
|
|
|
|
"Maybe they were once. They're all yellow with laying, and
|
|
brown 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 making them how much she loved and
|
|
wanted you."
|
|
|
|
"But how? Angel, tell me how!". implored Freckles with
|
|
trembling eagerness.
|
|
|
|
"Why, easily enough," said the Angel. "I thought you'd
|
|
understand. People that can afford anything at all, always buy
|
|
white for little new babies--linen and lace, and the verYfinest
|
|
things to be had. There's a young woman living near us who cut
|
|
up her wedd ding clothes to have fine things for her baby.
|
|
Mothers who love and want their babies don't buy little rough,
|
|
readymade thing, and they don't run up what they make on an old
|
|
sewing machine. They make fine seams, and tucks, and put on lace
|
|
and trimming by hand. They sit and stitch, and stitch--little,
|
|
even stitches, every one just as careful. Their eyes shine and
|
|
their faces glow. When they have to quit to do something else,
|
|
they look sorry, and fold up their work so particularly. There
|
|
isn't much worth knowing about your mother that those little
|
|
clothes won't tell. I can see her putting the little stitches
|
|
into them and smiling with shining eyes over your coming.
|
|
Freckles, I'll wager you a dollar those little clothes of yours
|
|
are just alive with the dearest, tiny handmade stitches."
|
|
|
|
A new light dawned in Freckles' eyes. A tinge of warm color
|
|
swept into his face. Renewed strength was noticeable in his grip
|
|
of her hands.
|
|
|
|
"Oh Angel! Will you go now? Will you be hurrying?" he
|
|
cried.
|
|
|
|
"Right away," said the Angel. "I won't stop for a thing,
|
|
and I'll hurry with all my might."
|
|
|
|
She smoothed his pillow, straightened the cover, gave him
|
|
one steady look in the eyes, and went quietly from the room.
|
|
|
|
Outside the door, McLean and the surgeon anxiously awaited
|
|
her. McLean caught her shoulders.
|
|
|
|
"Angel, what have you done?" he demanded.
|
|
|
|
The Angel smiled defiance into his eyes.
|
|
|
|
" `What have I done?'" she repeated. "I've tried to save
|
|
Freckles."
|
|
|
|
"What will your father say?" groaned McLean.
|
|
|
|
"It strikes me," said the Angel, "that what Freckles said
|
|
would be to the point."
|
|
|
|
"Freckles!" exclaimed McLean. "What could he say?"
|
|
|
|
"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 mny 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 fineness."
|
|
|
|
He turned to the surgeon. "Save him!" he commanded. "Save
|
|
him!" he implored. "He is too fine to be sacrificed."
|
|
|
|
"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
|
|
bov. She will save him!"
|
|
|
|
The Angel laughingly sped down the hall, and into the
|
|
street, just as she was.
|
|
|
|
"I have come," she said to the matron of the Home, "to ask
|
|
if you will allow me to examine, or, better yet, to take with
|
|
me, the little clothes that a boy you called Freckles,
|
|
discharged last fall, wore the night he was left here."
|
|
|
|
The woman looked at her in greater astonishment than the
|
|
occasion demanded.
|
|
|
|
"Well, I'd be glad to let you see them," she said at last,
|
|
"but the fact is we haven't them. I do hope we haven't made some
|
|
mistake. I was thoroughly convinced, and so was the
|
|
superintendent. We let his people take those things away
|
|
yesterday. Who are you, and what do you want with them?"
|
|
|
|
The Angel stood dazed and speechless, staring at the
|
|
matron.
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
The Angel laid a hand along each cheek to steady her
|
|
chattering teeth.
|
|
|
|
"Who are they?". she stammered. "Where are they going?"
|
|
|
|
"They are Irish folks, miss," said the matron. "They have
|
|
been in Ghicago and over the country for the past three months,
|
|
hunting him everywhere. They have given up, and are starting
|
|
home today. They"
|
|
|
|
"Did they leave an address? Where could I find them?"
|
|
interrupted the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"They left a card, and I notice the morning paper has the
|
|
man's picture and is full of them. They've advertised a great
|
|
deal in the city papers. It's a wonder you haven't seen
|
|
something."
|
|
|
|
"Trains don't run right. We never get Chicago papers," said
|
|
the Angel. "Please give me that card quickly. They may. escape
|
|
me. I simply must catch them!"
|
|
|
|
The matron hurried to the secretary and came back with a
|
|
card.
|
|
|
|
"Their addresses are there," she said. "Both in Chicago and
|
|
at their home. They made them full and plain, and I was to cable
|
|
at once if I got the least clue of him at any time. If they've
|
|
left the city, you can stop them in New York. You're sure to
|
|
catch them before they sail--if you hurry."
|
|
|
|
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 driver's
|
|
sleeve and looked into his eyes.
|
|
|
|
"There is a fast-driving limit?" she asked.
|
|
|
|
"Yes, miss."
|
|
|
|
"Will vou 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 over.
|
|
|
|
"O'More, Suite Eleven, Auditorium."
|
|
|
|
" `O'More,'" she repeated. "Seems to fit Freckles to a dot.
|
|
Wonder if that could be his name? `Suite Eleven' means that you
|
|
are pretty well fixed. Suites in the Auditorium come high."
|
|
|
|
Then she turned the card and read on its reverse, Lord
|
|
Maxwell O'More, M. P., Killvany Place, County Clare, Ireland.
|
|
|
|
The Angel sat on the edge of the seat, bracing her feet
|
|
against the one opposite, as the cab pitched and swung around
|
|
corners and past vehicles. She mechanically fingered the
|
|
pasteboard and stared straight ahead. Then she drew a deep
|
|
breath and read the card again.
|
|
|
|
"A Lord-man!" she groaned despairingly. "A Lord-man! Bet my
|
|
hoecake's scorched! Here I've gone and pledged my word to
|
|
Freckles I'd find him some decent relatives, that he could be
|
|
proud of, and now there isn't a chance out of a dozen that he'll
|
|
have to be ashamed of them after all. It's too mean!"
|
|
|
|
The tears of vexation rolled down the tired, nerve-racked
|
|
Angel's cheeks.
|
|
|
|
"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."
|
|
|
|
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 and well
|
|
dressed.
|
|
|
|
"Well, I must catch you if I can," muttered the Angel. "But
|
|
when I do, if you are a gentleman in name only, you shan't have
|
|
Freckles; that'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."
|
|
|
|
"Thank you; and wait, no matter how long," she said to her
|
|
driver.
|
|
|
|
Catching up the paper, she hurried to the desk and laid
|
|
down Lord O'More's card.
|
|
|
|
"Has my uncle started yet?" she asked sweetly.
|
|
|
|
The surprised clerk stepped back on a bellboy, and covertly
|
|
kicked him for being in the way.
|
|
|
|
"His lordship is in his room," he said, with a low bow.
|
|
|
|
"All right," said the Angel, picking up the card. "I
|
|
thought he might have started. I'll see him."
|
|
|
|
The clerk shoved the bellboy toward the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"Show her ladyship to the elevator and Lord O'More's
|
|
suite," he said, bowing double.
|
|
|
|
"Aw, thanks," said the Angel with a slight nod, as she
|
|
turned away.
|
|
|
|
"I'm not sure," she muttered to herself as the elevator
|
|
sped upward, "whether it's the Irish or the English who say:
|
|
`Aw, thanks,' but it's probable he isn't either; and anyway, I
|
|
just had to do something to counteract that `All right.' How
|
|
stupid of me!"
|
|
|
|
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 before his
|
|
lordship.
|
|
|
|
"Good morning," she said with tense politeness.
|
|
|
|
Lord O'More said nothing. He carelessly glanced her over
|
|
with amused curiosity, until her color began to deepen and her
|
|
blood to run hotly.
|
|
|
|
"Well, my dear," he said at last, "how can I serve you?"
|
|
|
|
Instantly the Angel became indignant. She had been so
|
|
shielded in the midst of almost entire freedom, owing to the
|
|
circumstances of her life, that the words and the look appeared
|
|
to her as almost insulting. She lifted her head with a proud
|
|
gesture.
|
|
|
|
"I am not your `dear,'" she said with slow distinctness.
|
|
"There isn't a thing in the world you can do for me. I came here
|
|
to see if I could do something--a very great something--for you;
|
|
but if I don't like you, I won't do it!"
|
|
|
|
Then Lord O'More did stare. Suddenly he broke into a
|
|
ringing laugh. Without a change of attitude or expression, the
|
|
Angel stood looking steadily at him.
|
|
|
|
There was a silken rustle, then a beautiful woman with
|
|
cheeks of satiny pink, dark hair, and eyes of pure irish blue,
|
|
moved to Lord O'More's side, and catching his arm, shook him
|
|
impatientlY.
|
|
|
|
"Terence! Have you lost your senses?" she cried. "Didn't
|
|
you understand what the child said? Look at her face! See what
|
|
she has!"
|
|
|
|
Lord O'More opened his eyes widely and sat up. He did look
|
|
at 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, and I was careless. Forgive
|
|
me, and tell me why you Came."
|
|
|
|
"I will if I like you," said the Angel stoutly, "and if I
|
|
don't, I won't!"
|
|
|
|
"But I began all wrong, and now I don't know how to make
|
|
you like me," said his lordship, with sincere penitence in his
|
|
tone.
|
|
|
|
The Angel found herself yielding to his voice. He spoke in
|
|
a soft, mellow, smoothly flowing Irish tone, and although his
|
|
speech was perfectly correct, it was so rounded, and accented,
|
|
and the sentences so turned, that it was Freckles over again.
|
|
Still, it was a matter of the very greatest importance, and she
|
|
must be sure; so she looked into the beautiful woman's face.
|
|
|
|
"Are you his wife?" she asked.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the woman, "i am his wife."
|
|
|
|
"Well," said the Angel judicially, "the Bird Woman says no
|
|
one in 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 against Lord
|
|
O'More's sleeve.
|
|
|
|
"Better than anyone in the whole world," said Lady O'More
|
|
promptly.
|
|
|
|
The Angel mused a second, and then her legal tinge came to
|
|
the fore again.
|
|
|
|
"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 quick reply.
|
|
|
|
"And you like him best?" persisted the Angel with finality.
|
|
|
|
"I love him so much that I would give up every one of them
|
|
with dry eyes if by so doing I could save him," cried Lord O'
|
|
More's wife.
|
|
|
|
"Oh!" cried the Angel. "Oh, my!"
|
|
|
|
She lifted her clear eyes to Lord O'More's and shook her
|
|
head.
|
|
|
|
"She never, never could do that!" she said. "But it's a
|
|
mighty big thing to your credit that she thinks she could. I
|
|
guess I'll tell you why I came."
|
|
|
|
She laid down the paper, and touched the portrait.
|
|
|
|
"When you were only a boy, did people call you Freckles?"
|
|
she asked.
|
|
|
|
"Dozens of good fellows all over ireland and the Continent
|
|
are doing it today," answered Lord O'More.
|
|
|
|
The Angel's face wore her most beautiful smile.
|
|
|
|
"I was sure of it," she said winningly. "That's what we
|
|
call him, and 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 vou've been a long time coming!"
|
|
|
|
Lord O'More caught the Angel's wrists and his wife slipped
|
|
her arms around her.
|
|
|
|
"Steady, my girl!" said the man's voice hoarsely. "Don't
|
|
make me think you've brought word of the boy at this last hour,
|
|
unless you know surely."
|
|
|
|
"It's all right," said the Angel. "We have him, and there's
|
|
no chance of a mistake. If I hadn't gone to that Home for his
|
|
little clothes, and heard of you and been hunting you, and had
|
|
met you On the street, or anywhere, I would have stopped you and
|
|
asked you who you were, just because you are so like him. It's
|
|
all right. I can tell you where Freckles is; but whether you
|
|
deserve to know--that's another matter!"
|
|
|
|
Lord O'More did not hear her. He dropped in his chair, and
|
|
covering his face, burst into those terrible sobs that shake and
|
|
rend a strong man. Lady O'More hovered over him, weeping.
|
|
|
|
"Umph! Looks pretty fair for Freckles," muttered the Angel.
|
|
"Lots of things can be explained; now perhaps they can explain
|
|
this."
|
|
|
|
They did explain so satisfactorily that in a few minutes
|
|
the Angel was on her feet, hurrying Lord and Lady O'More to
|
|
reach the hospital. "You said Freckles' old nurse knew his
|
|
mother's picture instantly," said the Angel. "i want that
|
|
picture and the bundle of little clothes."
|
|
|
|
Lady O'More gave them into her hands.
|
|
|
|
The likeness was a large miniature, painted on ivory, with
|
|
a frame of beaten gold. Surrounded by masses of dark hair was a
|
|
delicately cut face. in the upper part of it there was no trace
|
|
of Freckles, but the lips curving in a smile were his very own.
|
|
The Angel gazed at it steadily. Then with a quivering breath she
|
|
laid the portrait aside and reached both hands to Lord O'More.
|
|
|
|
"That will save Freckles' life and insure his happiness,"
|
|
she said positively. "Thank you, oh thank you for coming!"
|
|
|
|
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 and ask him to come
|
|
on the first train."
|
|
|
|
She closed the door after him.
|
|
|
|
"These are Freckles' people," she said to the Bird Woman.
|
|
"You can find out about each other; I'm going to him."
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XIX
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles Finds His Birthright and the Angel Loses Her
|
|
Heart
|
|
|
|
THE nurse left the room quietly, as the Angel entered, carrying
|
|
the bundle and picture. When they were alone, she turned to
|
|
Freckles and saw that the crisis was indeed at hand.
|
|
|
|
That she had good word to give him was his salvation, for
|
|
despite the heavy plaster jacket that held his body immovable,
|
|
his head w as lifted from the pillow. Both arms reached for her.
|
|
His lips and cheeks flamed, while his eyes flashed with
|
|
excitement.
|
|
|
|
"Angel," he panted. "Oh Angel! Did you find them? Are they
|
|
white? Are the little stitches there? O h Angel! Did me mother
|
|
love me?"
|
|
|
|
The words seemed to leap from his burning lips. The Angel
|
|
dropped the bundle on the bed and laid the picture face down
|
|
across his knees. She gently pushed his head to the pillow and
|
|
caught his arms in a firm grasp.
|
|
|
|
"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!"
|
|
|
|
A nervous trembling seized Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Sure? Are you sure?" he urged with clicking teeth.
|
|
|
|
"I know," said the Angel firmly. "And Freckles, while you
|
|
rest and be glad, I want to tell you a story. When you feel
|
|
stronger we will look at the clothes together. They are here. They are
|
|
all right. But while I was at the Home getting them, I heard of
|
|
some people that were hunting a lost boy. I went to see them,
|
|
and what they told me was all so exactly like what might have
|
|
happened to you that I must tell you. Then you'll understand
|
|
that things could be very different from what you always have
|
|
tortured yourself with thinking. Are you strong enough to
|
|
listen? May I tell you?"
|
|
|
|
"Maybe `twasn't me mother! Maybe someone else made those
|
|
little stitches!"
|
|
|
|
"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?"
|
|
|
|
The Angel gently soothed him back.
|
|
|
|
"Why, because nobody else would ever sit and do it the way
|
|
it is done. That's how I know," she said emphatically. "Now you
|
|
listen while I tell you about this lost boy and his people, who
|
|
have hunted for months and can't find him."
|
|
|
|
Freckles lay quietly under her touch, but he did not hear
|
|
a word that she was saying until his roving eyes rested on her
|
|
face; he immediately noticed a remarkable thing. For the first
|
|
time she was talking to him and avoiding his eyes. That was not
|
|
like the Angel at all. It was the delight of hearing her speak
|
|
that she looked one squarely in the face and with perfect
|
|
frankness. There were no side glances and down-drooping eyes
|
|
when the Angel talked; she was business straight through.
|
|
Instantly Freckles' wandering thoughts fastened on her words.
|
|
|
|
"--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 beauty and she has the sweetest way.
|
|
|
|
"But that poor younger son, he had been in love with the
|
|
village vicar's daughter all his life. That' s no wonder either,
|
|
for she was more beautiful yet. She could sing as the angels,
|
|
but she hadn't a cent. She loved him to death, too, if he was
|
|
bony and freckled and red-haired--I don't mean that! They didn't
|
|
say what color his hair was, but his father's must have been the
|
|
reddest ever, for when he found out about them, and it wasn't
|
|
anything so terrible, _he just caved_!
|
|
|
|
"The old man went to see the girl--the pretty one with no
|
|
money, of course--and he hurt her feelings until she ran away.
|
|
She went to London and began studying music. Soon she grew to be
|
|
a fine singer, so she joined a company and came to this country.
|
|
|
|
"When the younger son found that she had left London, he
|
|
followed her. When she got here all alone, and afraid, and saw
|
|
him coming to her, why, she was so glad she up and married him,
|
|
just like anybody else would have done. He didn't want her to
|
|
travel with the troupe, so when they reached Chicago they
|
|
thought that would be a good place, and they stopped, while he
|
|
hunted work. It was slow business, because he never had been
|
|
taught to do a useful thing, and he didn't even know how to hunt
|
|
work, least of all to do it when he found it; so pretty soon
|
|
things were going wrong. But if he couldn't find work, she could
|
|
always sing, so she sang at night, and made little things in the
|
|
daytime. He didn't like her to sing in public, and he wouldn't
|
|
allow her when he could _help_ himself; but winter came, it was
|
|
very cold, and fire was expensive. Rents went up, and they had
|
|
to move farther out to cheaper and cheaper places; and you were
|
|
coming--I mean, the boy that is lost was coming--and they were
|
|
almost distracted. Then the man wrote and told his father all about
|
|
it; and his father sent the letter back unopened with a line telling
|
|
him never to write again. When the baby came, there was very little
|
|
left to pawn for food and a doctor, and nothing at all for a
|
|
nurse; so an old neighbor woman went in and took care of the
|
|
young mother and the little baby, because she was so sorry for
|
|
them. By that time they were away in the suburbs on the top
|
|
floor of a little wooden house, among a lot of big factories,
|
|
and it kept growing colder, with less to eat. Then the man grew
|
|
desperate and he went just to find something to eat and the
|
|
woman was desperate, too. She got up, left the old woman to take
|
|
care of her baby, and went into the city to sing for some money.
|
|
The woman became so cold she put the baby in bed and went home.
|
|
Then a boiler blew up in a big factory beside the little house
|
|
and set it on fire. A piece of iron was pitched across and broke
|
|
through the roof. It came down smnash, and cut just one little
|
|
hand off the poor baby. It screamed and screamed; and the fire
|
|
kept coming closer and closer.
|
|
|
|
"The old woman ran out with the other people and saw what
|
|
had happened. She knew there wasn't going to be time to wait for
|
|
firemen or anything, so she ran into the building. She could
|
|
hear the baby screaming, and she couldn't stand that; so she
|
|
worked her way to it. There it was, all hurt and bleeding. Then
|
|
she was almost scared to death over thinking what its mother
|
|
would do to her for going away and leaving it, so she ran to a
|
|
Home for little friendless babies, that was close, and banged on
|
|
the door. Then she hid across the street until the baby was
|
|
taken in, and then she ran back to see if her own house was
|
|
burning. The big factory and the little house and a lot of
|
|
others were all gone. The people there told her that the
|
|
beautiful lady came back and ran into the house to find her
|
|
baby. She had just gone in when her husband came, and he went in
|
|
after her, and the house fell over both of them."
|
|
|
|
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 burned, and she
|
|
begged and implored them to come after it.
|
|
|
|
"You'd think that would have melted a heart of ice, but
|
|
that old man hadn't any heart to melt, for he got that letter
|
|
and read it. He hid it away among his papers and never told a
|
|
soul. A few months ago he died. When his elder son went to
|
|
settle his business, he found the letter almost the first thing.
|
|
He dropped everything, and came, with his wife, to hunt that
|
|
baby, because he always had loved his brother dearly, and wanted
|
|
him back. He had hunted for him all he dared all these years,
|
|
but when he got here you were gone--I mean the baby was gone,
|
|
and I had to tell you, Freckles, for you see, it might have
|
|
happened to you like that just as easy as to that other lost
|
|
boy."
|
|
|
|
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?"
|
|
|
|
"I--I didn't know I wasn't," faltered the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"It seems to me," said Freckles, his breath beginning to
|
|
come in sharp wheezes, "that you got us rather mixed, and it
|
|
ain't like you to be mixing things till one can't be knowing. if
|
|
they were telling you so much, did they say which hand was for
|
|
being off that lost boy?"
|
|
|
|
The Angel's eyes escaped again.
|
|
|
|
"It--it was the same as yours," she ventured, barely
|
|
breathing in her fear.
|
|
|
|
Still Freckles lay rigid and whiter than the coverlet.
|
|
|
|
"Would that boy be as old as me?" he asked.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the Angel faintly.
|
|
|
|
"Angel," said Freckles at last, catching her wrist, "are
|
|
you trying 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?"
|
|
|
|
Then the Angel's eyes came home. The time had come. She
|
|
pinioned Freckles' arms to his sides and bent above him.
|
|
|
|
"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 snapped
|
|
suddenly.
|
|
|
|
"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 sound, his eyes laughed silently.
|
|
|
|
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 name--old and full of honor--to which you were born.
|
|
Dear heart, which will you have first?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles was very tired; the big drops of perspiration ran
|
|
together on his temples; but the watching Angel caught the words
|
|
his lips formed, "Me mother!"
|
|
|
|
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 the question in his weary eyes.
|
|
|
|
"Wait!" cried the Angel with inborn refinement, for she
|
|
could no more answer that question than he could ask. "Wait, I
|
|
will write it!"
|
|
|
|
She hurried to the table, caught up the nurse's pencil, and
|
|
on the back of a prescription tablet scrawled it: "Terence
|
|
Maxwell O'More, Dunderry House, County Clare, ireland."
|
|
|
|
Before she had finished Came F reckles' voice:, `Angel, are
|
|
you hurrying?"
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the Angel; "I am. But there is a good deal of
|
|
it. I have to put in your house and country, so that you will
|
|
feel located."
|
|
|
|
"Me house?" marveled Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"Of course," said the Angel. "Your uncle says your
|
|
grandmother left your father her dower house and estate, because
|
|
she knew his father would cut him off. You get that, and all
|
|
your share of your grandfather's property besides. it is all set
|
|
off for you and waiting. Lord O'More told me so. I suspect you
|
|
are richer than McLean, Freckles."
|
|
|
|
She closed his fingers over the slip and straightened his
|
|
hair.
|
|
|
|
"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!"
|
|
|
|
Freckles caught her skirt as she turned from him.
|
|
|
|
"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. F reckles'
|
|
grasp on her tightened until he drew her beside him. H e slipped
|
|
his arm around her and drew her face to his pillow.
|
|
|
|
"Don't, Angel; for the love of mercy don't be doing that,"
|
|
he implored. "i can't be bearing it. Tell me. You must tell me."
|
|
|
|
The Angel shook her head.
|
|
|
|
"That ain't fair, Angel," said Freckles. "You made me tell
|
|
you when it was like tearing the heart raw from me breast. And
|
|
you was for making everything heaven--just heaven and nothing
|
|
else for me. If I'm so much more now than I was an hour ago,
|
|
maybe I can be thinking of some way to fix things. You will be
|
|
telling me?" he coaxed, moving his cheek against her hair.
|
|
|
|
The Angel's head moved in negation. Freckles did a moment
|
|
of intent thinking.
|
|
|
|
"Maybe I can be guessing," he whispered. "Will you be
|
|
giving me three chances?"
|
|
|
|
There was the faintest possible assent.
|
|
|
|
"You didn't want me to be knowing me name," guessed
|
|
Freckles.
|
|
|
|
The Angel's head sprang from the pillow and her
|
|
tear-stained face flamed with outraged indignation.
|
|
|
|
"Why, I did too!" she cried angrily.
|
|
|
|
"One gone," said Freckles calmly. "You didn't want me to
|
|
have relatives, a home, and money."
|
|
|
|
"I did!" exclaimed the Angel. "Didn't I go myself, all
|
|
alone, into the city, and find them when I was afraid as death?
|
|
I did. too!"
|
|
|
|
"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 been performed in bringing to
|
|
light his name and relatives that he had no strength left for
|
|
elaborate mental processes. Despite all it meant to him to know
|
|
his name at last, and that he was of honorable birth--knowledge
|
|
without which life was an eternal disgrace and burden the one
|
|
thing that was hammering in Freckles' heart and beating in his
|
|
brain, past any attempted expression, was the fact that, while
|
|
nameless and possibly born in shame, the Angel had told him that
|
|
she loved him. He could find no word with which to begin to
|
|
voice the rapture of his heart over that. But if she regretted
|
|
it--if it had been a thing done out of her pitv for his
|
|
condition, or her feeling of responsibility, if it killed him
|
|
after all, there was only one thing left to do. Not for McLean,
|
|
not for the Bird Woman, not for the Duncans would Freckles have
|
|
done it--but for the Angel-if it would make her happy--he would
|
|
do anything.
|
|
|
|
"Angel," whispered Freckles, with his lips against her
|
|
hair, "you haven't learned your history book very well, or else
|
|
you've forgotten."
|
|
|
|
"Forgotten what?" sobbed the Angel.
|
|
|
|
"Forgotten about the real knight, Ladybird," breathed
|
|
Freckles. "Don't you know that, if anything happened that made
|
|
his lady sorry, a real knight just simply couldn't be
|
|
remembering it? Angel, darling little Swamp Angel, you be
|
|
listening to me. There was one night on the trail, one solemn,
|
|
grand, white night, that there wasn't ever any other like before
|
|
or since, when the dear Boss put his arm around me and told me
|
|
that he loved me; but if you care, Angel, if you don't want it
|
|
that way, why, I ain't remembering that anyone else ever
|
|
did--not in me whole life."
|
|
|
|
The Angel lifted her head and looked into the depths of
|
|
Freckles' honest gray eyes, and they met hers unwaveringly,. but
|
|
the pain in them was pitiful.
|
|
|
|
"Do you mean," she demanded, "that you don't remember that
|
|
a brazen, forward girl told you, when you hadn't asked her, that she"
|
|
--the Angel choked on it a second, but she gave a gulp
|
|
and brought it out bravely--"that she loved you?"
|
|
|
|
"No!" cried Freckles. "No! I don't remember anything of the
|
|
kind!"
|
|
|
|
But all the songbirds of his soul burst into melody over
|
|
that one 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!" cried Freckles. "How can you think it,
|
|
Angel?"
|
|
|
|
"You won't even look as if you remember?"
|
|
|
|
"I will not!" persisted Freckles. "I'll be swearing to it
|
|
if you want me to. If you wasn't too tired to think this thing
|
|
out straight, you'd be seeing that I couldn't--that I just
|
|
simply couldn't! I'd rather give it all up now and go into
|
|
eternity alone, without ever seeing a soul of me same blood, or
|
|
me home, or hearing another man call me by the name I w as born
|
|
to, than to remember anything that would be hurting you, Angel.
|
|
I should think you'd be understanding that it ain't no ways
|
|
possible for me to do it."
|
|
|
|
The Angel's tear-stained face flashed into dazzling beauty.
|
|
A half-hysterical little laugh broke from her heart and bubbled
|
|
over her lips.
|
|
|
|
"Oh, Freckles, forgive me!" she cried. "I've been through
|
|
so much that I'm scarcely myself, or I wouldn't be here
|
|
bothering you when you should be sleeping. Of course you
|
|
couldn't! I knew it all the time! I was just scared! I was
|
|
forgetting that you were you! You're too good a knight to
|
|
remember a thing like that. Of course you are! And when you
|
|
don't remember, why, then it's the same as if it never happened.
|
|
I was almost killed because I'd gone and spoiled everything, but
|
|
now it will be all right. Now vou 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, or am I
|
|
dead and all heaven come true this minute? Did you hear it?"
|
|
|
|
He shook the frame in his impatience at receiving no
|
|
answer.
|
|
|
|
"You are only a pictured face," he said at last, "and of
|
|
course you can't talk; but the soul of you must be somewhere,
|
|
and surely in this hour you are close enough to be hearing. Tell
|
|
me, did you hear that? I can't ever be telling a living soul;
|
|
but darling little mother, who gave your life for mine, I can
|
|
always be talking of it to you! Every day we'll talk it over and
|
|
try to understand the miracle of it. Tell me, are all women like
|
|
that? Were you like me Swamp Angel? if you were, then I'm
|
|
understanding why me father followed across the ocean and went
|
|
into the fire."
|
|
|
|
CHAPTER XX
|
|
|
|
Wherein Freckles returns to the Limberlost, and Lord O'More
|
|
Sails for Ireland Without Him
|
|
|
|
FRECKLES' voice ceased, his eyes closed, and his head rolled
|
|
back from exhaustion. Later in the day he insisted on seeing
|
|
Lord and Lady O'More, but he fainted before the resemblance of
|
|
another man to him, and gave all of his friends a terrible
|
|
fright.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
"Yes," said the Angel's father.
|
|
|
|
"Do you think you have the very worst of it clear to your
|
|
understanding?"
|
|
|
|
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 that hand and held it in a
|
|
strong, firm grasp.
|
|
|
|
"Terence, my boy," he said, "let me do the talking. I came
|
|
here with the understanding that you wanted to ask me for my
|
|
only child. I should like, at the proper time, to regard her
|
|
marriage, if she has found the man she desires to marry, not as
|
|
losing all I have, but as gaining a man on whom I can depend to
|
|
love as a son and to take charge of my affairs for her when I
|
|
retire from business. Bend all of your energies toward rapid
|
|
recovery, and from this hour understand that my daughter and my
|
|
home are yours."
|
|
|
|
"You're not forgetting this?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles lifted his right arm.
|
|
|
|
"Terence, I'm sorrier than I have words to express about
|
|
that," said the Man of Affairs. "It's a damnable pity! But if
|
|
it's for me to choose whether I give all I have left in this
|
|
world to a man lacking a hand, or to one of these gambling,
|
|
tippling, immoral spendthrifts of today, with both hands and
|
|
feet off their souls, and a rotten spot in the core, I choose
|
|
you; and it seems that my daughter does the same. Put what is
|
|
left you of that right arm to the best uses you can in this
|
|
world, and never again mention or feel that it is defective so
|
|
long as you live. Good day, sir!"
|
|
|
|
"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 bis father would be
|
|
cutting him off, and also that me uncle had set aside for me
|
|
what would be me father's interest in his father's estate.
|
|
|
|
"Whatever the sum is that me grandmother left me father,
|
|
because she loved him and wanted him to be having it, that I'll
|
|
be taking. `Twas hers from her father, and she had the right to
|
|
be giving it as she chose. Anything from the man that knowingly
|
|
left me father and me mother to go cold and hungry, and into the
|
|
fire in misery, when just a little would have made life So
|
|
beautiful to them, and saved me this crippled body--money that
|
|
he willed from me when he knew I was living, of his blood and on
|
|
charity among strangers, I don't touch, not if I freeze, starve,
|
|
and burn too! If there ain't enough besides that, and I can't be
|
|
earning enough to fix things for the Angel"
|
|
|
|
"We are not discussing money!" burst in the Man of Affairs.
|
|
"We don't want any blood-money! We have all we need without it.
|
|
If you don't feel right and easy over it, don't you touch a cent
|
|
of any of it."
|
|
|
|
"It's right I should have what me grandmother intinded for
|
|
me father, and I want it," said Freckles, "but I'd die before
|
|
I'd touch a cent of me grandfather's money!"
|
|
|
|
"Now," said the Angel, "we are all going home. We have done
|
|
all we can for Freckles. His people are here. He should know
|
|
them. They are very anxious to become acquainted with him. We'll
|
|
resign him to them. When he is well, why, then he will be
|
|
perfectly free to go to ireland or come to the Limberlost, just
|
|
as he chooses. We will go at once."
|
|
|
|
McLean held out for a week, and then he could endure it no
|
|
longer. He was heart hungry for Freckles. Communing with himself
|
|
in the long, soundful nights of the swamp, he had learned to his
|
|
astonishment that for the past year his heart had been circling
|
|
the Limberlost with Freckles. He began to wish that he had not
|
|
left him. Perhaps the boy--his boy by first right, after
|
|
all--was being neglected. If the Boss had been a nervous old
|
|
woman, he scarcely could have imagined more things that might be
|
|
going wrong.
|
|
|
|
He started for Chicago, loaded with a big box of goldenrod,
|
|
asters, fringed gentians, and crimson leaves, that the Angel
|
|
carefully had gathered from Freckles' room, and a little, long
|
|
slender package. He traveled with biting, stinging jealousy in
|
|
his heart. He would not admit it even to himself, but he was
|
|
unable to remain longer away from Freckles and leave him to the
|
|
Care of Lord O'More.
|
|
|
|
In a few minutes' talk, while McLean awaited admission to
|
|
Freckles' room, his lordship had chatted genially of Freckles'
|
|
rapid recovery, of his delight that he was unspotted by his
|
|
early surroundings, and his desire to visit the Limberlost with
|
|
Freckles before they sailed; he expressed the hope that he could
|
|
prevail upon the Angel's father to place her in his wife's care
|
|
and have her education finished in Paris. He said they were
|
|
anxious to do all they could to help bind Freckles' arrangements
|
|
with the Angel, as both he and Lady O'More regarded her as the
|
|
most promising girl theyknew, and one who could be fitted to
|
|
fill the high position in which Freckles would place her.
|
|
|
|
Every word he uttered was pungent with bitterness to
|
|
McLean. The swamp had lost its flavor without Freckles; and yet,
|
|
as Lord O'More talked, McLean fervently wished himself in the
|
|
heart of it. As he entered Freckles' room he almost lost his
|
|
breath. Everything was changed.
|
|
|
|
Freckles lay beside a window where he could follow Lake
|
|
Michigan's blue until the horizon dipped into it. He could see
|
|
big soft clouds, white-capped waves, shimmering sails, and
|
|
puffing steamers trailing billowing banners of lavender and gray
|
|
across the sky. Gulls and curlews wheeled over the water and
|
|
dipped their wings in the foam. The room was filled with every
|
|
luxury that taste and money could introduce.
|
|
|
|
All the tan and sunburn had been washed from Freckles' face
|
|
in sweats of agony. It was a smooth, even white, its brown rift
|
|
scarcely showing. What the nurses and Lady O'More had done to
|
|
Freckles' hair McLean could not guess, but it was the most
|
|
beautiful that he ever had seen. Fine as floss, bright in color,
|
|
waving and crisp, it fell around the white face.
|
|
|
|
They had gotten his arms into and his chest covered with a
|
|
finely embroidered, pale-blue silk shirt, with soft, white tie
|
|
at the throat. Among the many changes that had taken place
|
|
during his absence, the fact that Freckles was most attractive
|
|
and barely escaped being handsome remained almost unnoticed by
|
|
the Boss, so great was his astonishment at seeing both cuffs
|
|
turned back and the right arm in view. Freckles was using the
|
|
maimed arm that previously he always had hidden.
|
|
|
|
"Oh Lord, sir, but I'm glad to see you!" cried Freckles,
|
|
almost rolling from the bed as he reached toward McLean. "Tell me
|
|
quick, is the Angel well and happy? Can me Little Chicken spread
|
|
six feet of wing and sail to his mother? How's me new father,
|
|
the Bird Woman, Duncans, and Nellie--darling little
|
|
high-stepping Nelie? Me Aunt Alice is going to choose the hat
|
|
just as soon as I'm mended enough to be going with her. How are
|
|
all the gang? Have they found any more good trees? I've been
|
|
thinking a lot, sir. I believe I can find others near that last
|
|
one. Me Aunt Alice thinks maybe I can, and Uncle Terence says
|
|
it's likely. Golly, but they're nice, ilegant people. I tell you
|
|
I'm proud to be same blood with them! Come closer, quick! I was
|
|
going to do this yesterday, and somehow I just felt that you'd
|
|
surely be coming today and I waited. I'm selecting the Angel's
|
|
ring stone. The ring she ordered for me is finished and they
|
|
sent it to keep me company. See? It's an emerald--just me color,
|
|
Lord O'More says."
|
|
|
|
Freckles flourished his hand.
|
|
|
|
"Ain't that fine? Never took so much comfort with anything
|
|
in me life. Every color of the old swamp is in it. I asked the
|
|
Angel to have 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 ittle afraid to be
|
|
doing it with me voice yet, but me heart's tuning away on it
|
|
every blessed hour. Will you be looking at these now?"
|
|
|
|
Freckles tilted a tray of unset stones from Peacock's that
|
|
would have ransomed several valuable kings. He held them toward
|
|
McLean, stirring them with his right arm.
|
|
|
|
"I tell you I'm glad to see you, sir" he said. "i tried to
|
|
tell me uncle what I wanted, but this ain't for him to be mixed
|
|
up in, anyway, and I don't think I made it clear to him. I
|
|
couldn't seem to say the words I wanted. I can be telling you,
|
|
sir."
|
|
|
|
McLean's heart began to thump as a lover's.
|
|
|
|
"Go on, Freckles," he said assuringly.
|
|
|
|
"It's this," said Freckles. "I told him that I would pay
|
|
only three hundred dollars for the Angel's stone. I'm thinking
|
|
that with what he has laid up for me, and the bigness of things
|
|
that the Angel did for me, it seems like a stingy little sum to
|
|
him. I know he thinks I should be giving much more, but I feel
|
|
as if I just had to be buying that stone with money I earned
|
|
meself; and that is all I have saved of me wages. I don't mind
|
|
paying for the muff, or the drexing table, or Mrs. Duncan's
|
|
things, from that other money, and later the Angel can have
|
|
every last cent of me grandmother's, if she'll take it; but just
|
|
now--oh, sir, can't you see that I have to be buying this stone
|
|
with what I have in the bank? I'm feeling that I couldn't do any
|
|
other way, and don't you think the Angel would rather have the
|
|
best stone I can buy with the money I earned meself than a finer
|
|
one paid for with other money?"
|
|
|
|
"In other words, Freckles," said the Boss in a husky voice,
|
|
"you don't want to buy the Angel's ring with money. You want to
|
|
give for it your first awful fear of the swamp. You want to pay
|
|
for it with the loneliness and heart hunger you have suffered
|
|
there, with last winter's freezing on the line and this summer's
|
|
burning in the sun. You want it to stand to her for every hour
|
|
in which you risked your life to fulfill your contract
|
|
honorably. You want the price of that stone to be the fears that
|
|
have chilled your heart-the sweat and blood of your body."
|
|
|
|
Freckles' eyes were filled with tears and his face
|
|
quivering with feeing.
|
|
|
|
"Dear Mr. McLean," he said, reaching with a carex over the
|
|
Boss's black hair and his cheek. "Dear Boss, that's why I've
|
|
wanted you so. I knew you would know. Now you will be looking at
|
|
these? I don't want emeralds, because that's what she gave me."
|
|
|
|
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, turtle-head
|
|
flowers, dewdrops in the shade or moonlight; but they haven't
|
|
the life in them that I want in the stone I give to the Angel
|
|
right. now"
|
|
|
|
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 ice-coated, and the sun is
|
|
in the west and shines through and makes all you can see of the
|
|
whole world look like fire and ice; but fire and ice ain't like
|
|
the Angel."
|
|
|
|
The diamonds joined the emeralds and pearls. There was left
|
|
a little red heap, and Freckles' fingers touched it with a new
|
|
tenderness. His eyes were flashing.
|
|
|
|
"I'm thinking here's me Angel's stone," he exulted. "The
|
|
Limberlost, and me with it, grew in mine; but it's going to
|
|
bloom, and her with it, in this! There's the red of the wild
|
|
poppies, the cardinal-flowers, and the little bunch of crushed
|
|
foxfire that we found where she put it to save me. There's the
|
|
light of the campfire, and the sun setting over Sleepy Snake
|
|
Creek. There's the red of the blood we were willing to give for
|
|
each other. It's ike her ips, and like the drops that dried on
|
|
her beautiful arm that first day, and I'm thinking it must be
|
|
like the brave, tender, clean, red heart of her."
|
|
|
|
Freckles lifted the ruby to his lips and handed it to
|
|
McLean.
|
|
|
|
"I'll be signing me cheque and you have it set," he said.
|
|
"i want you to draw me money and pay for it with those very same
|
|
dollars, sir."
|
|
|
|
Again the heart of McLean took hope.
|
|
|
|
"Freckles, may I ask you something?" he said.
|
|
|
|
"Why, sure," said Freckles. "There's nothing you would be
|
|
asking that it wouldn't be giving me joy to be telling you."
|
|
|
|
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 so
|
|
everlastingly proud of it I catch meself sticking it out on
|
|
display a bit."
|
|
|
|
Freckles looked the Boss in the eyes and began to laugh.
|
|
|
|
"Well thank heaven!" said McLean.
|
|
|
|
"Now it's me turn," said Freckles. "I don't know as I ought
|
|
to be asking you, and yet I can't see a reason good enough to
|
|
keep me from it. It's a thing I've had on me mind every hour
|
|
since I've had time to straighten things out a little. May I be
|
|
asking you a question?"
|
|
|
|
McLean reached over and took Freckles' hand. His voice was
|
|
shaken with feeling as he replied: "Freckles, you almost hurt
|
|
me. Will you never learn how much you are to me--how happy you
|
|
make me in coming to me with anything, no matter what?"
|
|
|
|
"Then it's this," said Freckles, gripping the hand of
|
|
McLean strongly. "If this accident, and all that's come to me
|
|
since, had never happened, where was it you had planned to send
|
|
me to school? What was it you meant for me to do?"
|
|
|
|
"Why, Freckles," answered McLean, "I'm scarcely prepared to
|
|
state definitely. My ideas were rather hazy. I thought we would
|
|
make a beginning and see which way things went. I figured on
|
|
taking you to Grand Rapids first, and putting you in the care of
|
|
my mother. I had an idea it would be best to secure a private
|
|
tutor to coach you for a year or two, until you were ready to
|
|
enter Ann Arbor or the Chicago University in good shape. Then I
|
|
thought we'd finish in this country at Yale or Harvard, and end
|
|
with Oxford, to get a good, all-round flavor."
|
|
|
|
"Is that all?" asked Freckles.
|
|
|
|
"No; that's leaving the music out," said McLean. "I
|
|
intended to have your voice tested by some master, and if you
|
|
really were endowed for a career as a great musician, and had
|
|
inclinations that way, I wished to have you drop some of the college
|
|
work and make music your chief study. Finally, I wanted us to take
|
|
a trip through Europe and clear around the circle together"
|
|
|
|
"And then what?" queried Freckles breathlessly.
|
|
|
|
"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 tumbled in the telling, but they have grown
|
|
steadily on me, Freckles, as you have grown dear to me."
|
|
|
|
Freckles lifted anxious and eager eyes to McLean.
|
|
|
|
"You told me once on the trail, and again when we thought
|
|
that I 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 will do anything that
|
|
will make me love you less."
|
|
|
|
"Glory be to God!" cried Freckles. "Glory to the Almighty!
|
|
Hurry and be telling your mother I'm coming! Just as soon as I
|
|
can get on me feet I'll be taking that ring to me Angel, and
|
|
then I'll go to Grand Rapids and be making me start just as you
|
|
planned, only that I can be paying me own way. When I'm educated
|
|
enough, we'll all--the Angel and her father, the Bird Woman,
|
|
you, and me--all of us will go together and see me house and me
|
|
relations and be taking that trip. When we get back, we'll add
|
|
O'More to the Lumber Company, and golly, sir, but we'll make
|
|
things hum! Good land, sir! Don't do that! Why, Mr. McLean, dear
|
|
Boss, dear father, don't be doing that! What is it?"
|
|
|
|
"Nothing, nothing!" boomed McLean's deep bass; "nothing at
|
|
all!"
|
|
|
|
He abruptly turned, and hurried to the window.
|
|
|
|
"This is a mighty fine view," he said. "Lake's beautiful
|
|
this morning. No wonder Chicago people are so proud of their
|
|
city's location on 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 ive here in the
|
|
country where I was born, and where the ashes of me father and
|
|
mother rest.
|
|
|
|
"I'll be glad to see ireland, and glad especial to see
|
|
those little people who are my kin, but I ain't ever staying
|
|
long. All me heart is the Angel's, and the Limberlost is calling
|
|
every minute. You're thinking, sir, that when I look from that
|
|
window I see the beautiful water, ain't you? I'm not.
|
|
|
|
"I see soft, slow clouds oozing across the blue, me big
|
|
black chickens hanging up there, and a great feather softly
|
|
sliding down. I see mighty trees, swinging vines, bright
|
|
flowers, and always masses of the wild roses, with the wild rose
|
|
face of me Ladybird looking through. I see the swale rocking,
|
|
smell the sweetness of the blooming things, and the damp, mucky
|
|
odor of the swamp; and I hear me birds sing, me squirrels bark,
|
|
the rattlers hiss, and the step of Wessner or Black Jack coming;
|
|
and whether it's the things that I loved or the things that I
|
|
feared, it's all a part of the day.
|
|
|
|
"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 fa ce with blue eyes, gold
|
|
hair, and red lips, and, it's the truth, sir, they're mixed till
|
|
they're one to me!
|
|
|
|
"I'm afraid it will be hurting some, but I have the feeing
|
|
that I can be making my dear people understand, so that they
|
|
will be willing to let me come back home. Send Lady O'More to
|
|
put these flowers God made in the place of these glass-house
|
|
ilegancies, and please be cutting the string of this ittle
|
|
package the Angel's sent me."
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
[End.]
|
|
.
|