Beilefoate, Pa., June 28, 1912.
FRECKLES
By
Gene Stratton-
Porter
COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY DOUBLEDAY, PACE
& CO.
[Continued from last week |
SYNOPSIS.
Freckles, a homeless boy, ia hired by
Boss McLean to guard the expensive tim-
ber in the Limberlost from timber thieves.
Freckles does his work faithfully, makes
friends with the birds and yearns to
more about nature. He lives with Mr.
and Mrs, Duncan.
FF : " CHAPTER II. ~
| A FEATHER FALLS.
P3~)HE sounds that had at first
! struck cold fear into Freckles’
———
soul he now knew had left on |
wing and silent foot at the
approach of winter.
flock of the birds returned and he
recognized the old echoes reawakening
he found to his surprise that he bad |
been lonely for them and was hailing
their return with great joy. 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 wing
ing 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 days of mat-
ing and nest building the boy was de-
serted.
The yearly resurrection of the Lim-
berlost is a mighty revival. Freckles
stood back and watched with awe and
envy the gradual reclothing and re-
populating of the swamp. Keen eyed
and alert through danger and loneli-
ness, he noted every stage of develop-
ment from the first piping frog and un-
sheathing bud to full leafage and the
return. of the last emigrant.
The knowledge of his complete lone-
liness and utter insignificance was
bourly thrust upon him. He brooded
and fretted untll he was in a fever,
and yet he never guessed the cause. |
He was filled with a vast impatience |
and a longing that would not much
further be denied.
It was June by the zodiac, June by
the Limberlost, and by every delight |
of a newly resurrected season it should
bave been June in the hearts of all |
men. Yet Freckles scowled darkly as |
he came down the trall, and the run-
ning tap, tap which tested the sagging
wire and telegraphed word of his com-
ing 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 goldfinch,
had for several days past remained
on the wire, 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 holding his attention that he would
not look up and see a small cradle of
thistiedown and wool perilously near
his head.
A peculiar movement under a small
walnut tree caught his eye. He stop-
ped to investigate. It was an un-
usually large Luna cocoon, and the |
moth was just 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.
1 could help it? Guess I best not be
trying. If | badn’'t happened along
there wouldn't have been any one to
help it, 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
great wobblings and contortions climb-
ed up the tree. He stared, speechless
with amazement as the moth crept
around a limb and clung to the under-
side. There was a great pursy body
almost as large as his thumb and of
the very snowiest white that Freckles
had ever seen. There was a band of
delicate lavender across its forehead.
and its feet were of the same color.
There were antlers like tiny straw
colored ferns on its head and on its
shoulders little wet looking flaps no
bigger than his thumb nail. Freckles
saw that those queer little wet look-
wonder. The morning sun fell on the
moth and dried its velvet down, and
the soft air made it fluffy. The rapid.
know | that knows.
As flock after |
1
gan a systematic exercise of raising
{and lowering its exquisite wings to
| dry them and to establish circulation.
' Freckles realized that it would soon
| 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 kpew! It
| must be something grand. It can’t be
‘a butterfly. It's away too big. Oh,
| T wish there was some one to tell me
what it is!”
| He climbed on the locust post and.
| balancing himself by the wire, held a
| finger in the line of the moth's advance
| up the twig. It unhesitatingly climbed
| on, and he stepped back to the path.
' holding it up to the light and examin-
| ing it closelv. Then he held it in the
shade and (urned it, gloating over its
| markings and beautiful coloring. When
| he held the moth back to the limb it
| climbed on, still waving those magnifi-
cent wings.
“My. but I'd like to be staying with
| you!" he said. “But if I was to stay
here all day you couldn't get any pret-
tier than yon are right now and |
. wonldn't get smart enough to tell what |
you are. | suppose there's some one
Of course there is. Mr.
Mclean said there were people that
knew every !esf bird and ower in the
Limberlost. Oh, lord, how I wish you'a
| 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 just them, so the
| brave little fellow rocked on the wire
and piped up, just as he had done ev-
ery day for a week, “See me; see me?"
“See you! Of course I see you.”
growled Freckles. *I see you day aft.
er day, and what good is it doing me?
1 might see you every morning for a
year and then not be able to be telling
| any one about it. ‘Seen a bird-little
| and yellow as any canary, with black
| silk wings." That's as far as I'd ger.
| 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 tore from
off 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.”
Freckles climbed up 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 like
the goldfinch.
is mone of your fry. This is the nest
of me little yellow friend of the wire,
and -shan't be touching it. Don't
Bla wanting’ to-sée though.
My, but it's u fine nest and beauties of
eggs. Will you be keeping away cr
| will I fire this stick at you?’
| Freckles dropped back to the trail.
i The hen darted to the nest and settled
on it with a tender, coddling move- '
ment. He of the yellow coat flew to
the edge to make sure that everything
was right.
“Well, I'll be switched!”
Freckles. “If that ain't both their
nest!
jor 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. Don't that
beat you? Say, that's what's been
sticking me for all of these two weeks
on that grass nest in the thorn tree
down the line. One day a bluebird
Is setting. and 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
“You be clearing out of here! This
muttered
And he's yellow and she’s green,
| dipping. tilting, whirling until it lit
‘quill down in the path in front of
him, came a glossy. iridescent Dig
black feather. As it struck the
| ground Freckles snatched it up and
| with an almost continuous movement
faced the sky. There was not a tree
lof any size In a large open space.
| From the clear sky It had fallen, and
! Freckles, gazing eagerly into the arch
| of June blue with a few lazy clouds
| floating far up in the sea of ether,
| had meither mind nor knowledge to
{dream of a bird hanging as if frozen
| there. He turned the big quill ques-
| tioningly., and aguin his awed eyes
| swept the sky.
| “A feather dropped from heaven!”
| he breathed reverently. “Are the holy
| angels molting? But, no; if they were
'it would be white. Maybe all the un-
| gels are pot for being white. What ir
| 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 be-
ing punished it's for slipping up to the
| gates, beating fits 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 sail
i Ing bird. Then he went slowly on hix
‘ way. turning the feather over and
wondering about it. It was a wing
quill eighteen inches in length, with a
big, heavy spine, gray at the base,
shading to jet black at the tip, and it
caught the play of the sup's rays in
slanting gleams of green and bronze.
Again Freckles’ “old man of the sea”
Freckles was whispering to himself | Out of the clear sky above him, first |
for fear of disturbing the moth. It be- 'level with his face, then skimming. |
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' 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 1 wish I knew!” he
kept repeating.
Before him spread a great green
i pool, filled with rotting logs and
! leaves, bordered with delicate ferns
| ana grasses, among which lifted the
, creamy spikes of the arrowhead, the
' blue of water hyacinth and the deli-
| cate yellow of the jewel flower. As
Freckles leaned, handling the feather
and staring first at it and then into
| the depths of the pool, he once more
! gave voice to his old query, “I won-
| der what it 1s?”
| 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 taken aback
to speak. “I—I know you are only a
| bullfrog; but, be jabers, that sound-
| ed mightily like speech. Wouldn't you
| please to be saying it over?”
The bullfrog cuddled contentedly in
the voze. Then suddenly he lifted his
‘ voice and, like an imperative drum-
beat, rolled it again, “Fin’ dout, fin’
“dout, fin’ dout!™
Freckles had the answer,
Like the lightning's Bash, something
seemed to snap in his brain. There
was a wavering flame before his eyes.
Then his mind cleared. His head lift-
ed in a new poise, his shoulders squar-
ied, and his spine straightened. The
agony was over.
Freckies came into his birthright.
“Before God, 1 will!"
oath =o lmpressively that the record-
ing nngel never winced as he posted it
up in the prayer column.
Freckles set his hat over the top of
i one of the locust posts used between
| trees to hold up the wire and fastened
' the feather securely in the band. Then
he started down the line, talking to
himself as men that have worked long
alone slways fall into the habit of do-
ing.
“What a fool I have been!” he mut-
| tered. “Of course that's what I have
to do. There wouldn't likely anybody
| be doing it for me. Of course I can!
| What am I a man for? If I was a
| four footed thing of the swamp maybe
His soul floated free. |
blue’s on again, and off 1 sent her be- | yr pars the grit to work hard enough
cause it's brown's, and now I bet my | gpg stick at it. Mr. McLean Is always
hat it's both their nest. and I've only | guuing and here's the way I am to do
been bothering them and making a big | it He said. too. that there were peo-
fool of meself.” ple that knew everything in the
{ Freckles plodded on down the trail. | gwamp. Of course they have written
| scowling blackly and viciously spang- | books. The thing for me to be doing
{ing the wire. At the finches’ nest he {3 to quit moping and be buying me
| lett the line and peered into the thorn | gome books. Never bought a book in
| tree. There was no bird brooding. He | me life or anything else of much ac-
& be hers. Next day, be golly, | 1 couldn't, but a man can do anything
snowy, spotless little eggs he had
| found so beautiful, and at the slight
| noise up flared four tiny baby heads
| with wide open mouths and hunger
' erles. Freckles stepped back. The
{ brown bird lit on the edge and closed
one cavity with a wiggling green
worm, and not two minutes later the
blue filled another with something
again
Freckles repented his “How I wish 1
knew!”
About the bridge spanning Sleepy
Snake creek the swale spread wide,
the timber largely dropped away, and
willows, rushes, marsh grass and
splendid wild flowers grew abundant-
ly. Lazy big black water snakes, for
which the creek was named, sunned on
the bushes, wild ducks and grebe chat-
cranes and herons fished, and
muskrats plowed the bank in queer,
rolling furrows. It was always a place
full of interest to Freckles,
Freckles struck slowly into the path
from the bridge to the line.
It waa the one spot at Which be Right
I
He was swishing rank grass with
his cudgel and of the shade
the denser swamp afforded when he
“Wonder if | pressed closer to take a peep at the | count, for that matter. Oh, ain't I
glad 1 didn't waste me money! I'll
surely be having enough to get a few.
Let me see.”
[Continued next week.]
Show Spread of Education.
| In Edinburgh, Scotland, a few days
since, there was presented a Masque
of learning, or a pageant of education
: through the ages. It was organized by
Prof. Patrick Geddes and his vol-
leagues in celebration of the semi-jubl.
lee of the university hall or residence,
The scheme of the pageant comprised
a presentation of the culture aspects
of all the great civilizations—eastern,
and western, ancient and modern;
from the Egyptian, Indian and Chi-
nese systems, through the Greek and
Roman, Celtic and Mediaeval, to the
Renaissance and encyclopaedic epochs,
and the ideal union of city and uni
versity.
Gravitation.
He only knew that it existed and he
was able to prove how it acted, but
what it was in and of itself he never
knew. Gravitation is a law of nature,
or a force acting in accordance with
a law of nature, and that is all that
the wisest man is able to say about
it—unless he is prepared to talk non-
sense. It is like electricity. We know
perfectly well what electicity itself
.does, but what electricity itself is baf-
fles the profoundest of sclentists and
philosophers,
The great Newton himself did not
pretend to know what gravitatign is. ||
He uttered the |
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metal, and though there is a lot of :
very fine gold, the bulk is made up
of solid pyrites of from five penny-
weights to two ounces each.
Long Chance.
A Harvard professor proposes to
search for treasure in the head of the
i
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Sphynx, and this induces one of his |
friends to adwance the opinion that he
is going to take a chance at a Pharaoh
bank, as it were.
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