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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
.
”
