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 believe it. He'd find a way out last night, in spite of us.

Don't you worry! I am at the helm now, and I'll see to that
gentleman in my own way."

"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 completely convinced him that
the Angel was correct there also. But he had no proof, so all he

could do was to discharge the man, although his guilt was so
apparent that he offered to 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 cruellydriven. At last their owner

attributed their actions to snakes, and as they were very valuable
dogs, abandoned the effort to urge them on. So that all they really

established was the fact that Black Jack had eluded their vigilance
and crossed the trail some time in the night. He had escaped to the

swale; from there he probably crossed the corduroy, and reaching
the lower end of the swamp, had found friends. It was a great

relief to feel that he was not in the swamp, and it raised the
spirits of every man on the line, though many of them expressed

regrets that he who was undoubtedly most to blame should escape,
while Wessner, who in the beginning was only his tool, should be

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 unusualmovement around the swamp had made Mr.

and Mrs. Chicken timid, and they had not carried Little Chicken the
customaryamount 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" target="_blank" title="ad.挂念地；渴望地">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 about
the line, Freckles went so far as to tell her that Jack had made

fearful threats against the Angel. He implored her to take the
Angel home and keep her under unceasing guard until Jack was

located. He wanted to tell her all about it, but he knew how dear
the Angel was to her, and he dreaded to burden her with his fears

when they might prove groundless. He allowed 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
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 dreadfulsickness, 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