freckles-第3部分

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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　bestwill　that　do？〃



Freckles'　rigid　attitude　relaxed　suddenly。　　His　head　dropped；　and

big　tears　splashed　on　the　soiled　calico　shirt。　　McLean　was　not

surprised　at　the　silence；　for　he　found　that　talking　came　none　too

easily　just　then。



〃All　right；〃　he　said。　　〃I　will　write　it　on　the　rollJames　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　ranhow　far

he　did　not　know；　but　at　last　he　gained　control　over　himself　and

retraced　his　steps。　　His　jaws　set　stiffly　and　the　sweat　dried　on

his　body。　　When　he　reached　the　place　from　which　he　had　started　to

run；　he　turned　and　with　measured　steps　made　his　way　down　the　line。　

After　a　time　he　realized　that　he　was　only　walking；　so　he　faced

that　sea　of　horrors　again。　　When　he　came　toward　the　corduroy；

the　cudgel　fell　to　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；　yellow…hammers；　a　few　patriarchs　among　the　flaming

cardinals；　the　blue　jays；　the　crows；　and　the　quai