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 cock-crow 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 school," said Sarah
Duncan, "but in this case I'd tell ye if I could. What the
trouble is I dinna ken. If it is no' stopped, he's in for dreadful
sickness, and I thought ye could find out and help him. He's in
sair trouble; that's all I know."
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 the brim of his hat was covered
with snake-feeders, rasping their crisp wings and singing while
they rested. Some of them settled on the club, and one on his shoulder.
He was so motionless; feathers, fur, and gauze were so accustomed
to him, that all through the swale they continued their daily life
and forgot he was there.
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 bitter, hard,
and smarting under it hopelessly. She came by, and found me voice,
and put hope of life and success like other men into me in spite
of it."
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 bridge for the great
distance between us, sir, and clearest of all, I'm for realizing
it: but she risked terrible things when she came to me among that
gang of thieves. She wore herself past bearing to save me from such
an easy thing as death! Now, here's me, a man, a big, strong man,
and letting her live under that fearful oath, so worse than any
death `twould be for her, and lifting not a finger to save her.
I cannot hear it, sir. It's killing me by inches! Black Jack's hand
may not have been hurt so bad. Any hour he may be creeping up behind
her! Any minute the awful revenge he swore to be taking may in some
way fall on her, and I haven't even warned her father. I can't stay
here doing nothing another hour. The five nights gone I've watched
under her windows, but there's the whole of the day. She's her own
horse and little cart, and's free to be driving through the town
and country as she pleases. If any evil comes to her through Black
Jack, it comes from her angel-like goodness to me. Somewhere he's
hiding! Somewhere he is waiting his chance! Somewhere he is reaching
out for her! I tell you I cannot, I dare not be bearing it longer!"
"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 Freckles' thoughts.
"Oh!" Freckles said, glancing where the Boss pointed,
"I forgot it! `Tis an otter, and fine past believing, for this
warm weather. I shot it at the creek this morning. `Twas a good
shot, considering. I expected to miss."
Freckles picked up the animal and started toward McLean with it,
but Nellie pricked up her dainty little ears, danced into the swale,
and snorted with fright. Freckles dropped the otter and ran to her
head.
"For pity's sake, get her on the trail, sir," he begged.
"She's just about where the old king rattler crosses to go
into the 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 beautifulness of the Angel. Her hands were in a muff as
big as her body, and I thought it was so pretty. I think she was
some queen, or the like. Do you suppose I could have this skin tanned
and made into such a muff as that?--an enormous big one, sir?"
"Of course you can," said McLean. "That's a fine
idea and it's easy enough. We must box and express the otter, cold
storage, by the first train. You stand guard a minute and I'll tell
Hall to carry it to the cabin. I'll put Nellie to Duncan's rig,
and we'll drive to town and call on the Angel's father. Then we'll
start the otter while it is fresh, and I'll write your instructions
later. It would be a mighty fine thing for you to give to the Angel
as a little reminder of the Limberlost before it is despoiled, and
as a souvenir of her trip for you."
Freckles lifted a face with a glow of happy color creeping into
it and eyes lighting with a former brightness. Throwing his arms
around McLean, he cried: "Oh, how I love you! Oh, I wish I
could make you know how I 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
your 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 been hanging round out there for several days past,"
said Freckles. "I'll tell you what I think it means. I think
the old rattler has killed something too big for him to swallow,
and he's keeping guard and won't let me chickens have it. I'm just
sure, from the way the birds have acted out there all summer, that
it is the rattler's den. You watch them now. See the way they dip
and then rise, frightened like!"
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 beside 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 deliberately thrust his club
under Black Jack's body, and, raising him, rested it on his knee.
He pulled a long silver pin from the front of the dead man's shirt
and sent it spinning into the swale. Then he gathered up a few crumpled
bright flowers and dropped them into the pool far away.
"My soul is sick with the horror of this thing," said
McLean, as he and Freckles drove toward town. "I can't understand
how Jack dared risk creeping through the swale, even in desperation.
No one knew its dangers better than he. And why did he choose the
rankest, muckiest place to cross the swamp?"
"Don't you think, sir, it was because it was on a line with
the Limberlost south of the corduroy? The grass was tallest there,
and he counted on those willows to screen him. Once he got among
them, he would have been safe to walk by stooping. If he'd made
it past that place, he'd been sure to get out."
"Well, I'm as sorry for Jack as I know how to be," said
McLean, "but I can't help feeling relieved that our troubles
are over, for now they are. With so dreadful a punishment for Jack,
Wessner under arrest, and warrants for the others, we can count
on their going away and remaining. As for anyone else, I don't think
they will care to attempt stealing my timber after the experience
of these men. There is no other man here 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 being just fine."
"Well, I wish I knew which they are," said McLean, "so
I could get them out first."
"I have been thinking," said Freckles. "I believe
if you will leave one of the guards on the 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.