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The
tide
of
Freckles
’
discontent
welled
until
he
almost
choked
with
anger
and
chagrin
.
He
plodded
down
the
trail
,
scowling
blackly
and
viciously
spanging
the
wire
.
At
the
finches
’
nest
he
left
the
line
and
peered
into
the
thorn
tree
.
There
was
no
bird
brooding
.
He
pressed
closer
to
take
a
peep
at
the
snowy
,
spotless
little
eggs
he
had
found
so
beautiful
,
when
at
the
slight
noise
up
raised
four
tiny
baby
heads
with
wide
-
open
mouths
,
uttering
hunger
cries
.
Freckles
stepped
back
.
The
brown
bird
alighted
on
the
edge
and
closed
one
cavity
with
a
wiggling
green
worm
,
while
not
two
minutes
later
the
blue
filled
another
with
a
white
.
That
settled
it
.
The
blue
and
brown
were
mates
.
Once
again
Freckles
repeated
his
“
How
I
wish
I
knew
!
”
Around
the
bridge
spanning
Sleepy
Snake
Creek
the
swale
spread
widely
,
the
timber
was
scattering
,
and
willows
,
rushes
,
marsh
-
grass
,
and
splendid
wild
flowers
grew
abundantly
.
Here
lazy
,
big
,
black
water
snakes
,
for
which
the
creek
was
named
,
sunned
on
the
bushes
,
wild
ducks
and
grebe
chattered
,
cranes
and
herons
fished
,
and
muskrats
plowed
the
bank
in
queer
,
rolling
furrows
.
It
was
always
a
place
full
of
interest
,
so
Freckles
loved
to
linger
on
the
bridge
,
watching
the
marsh
and
water
people
.
He
also
transacted
affairs
of
importance
with
the
wild
flowers
and
sweet
marsh
-
grass
.
He
enjoyed
splashing
through
the
shallow
pools
on
either
side
of
the
bridge
.
Then
,
too
,
where
the
creek
entered
the
swamp
was
a
place
of
unusual
beauty
.
The
water
spread
in
darksome
,
mossy
,
green
pools
.
Water
-
plants
and
lilies
grew
luxuriantly
,
throwing
up
large
,
rank
,
green
leaves
.
Nowhere
else
in
the
Limberlost
could
be
found
frog
-
music
to
equal
that
of
the
mouth
of
the
creek
.
The
drumming
and
piping
rolled
in
never
-
ending
orchestral
effect
,
while
the
full
chorus
rang
to
its
accompaniment
throughout
the
season
.
Freckles
slowly
followed
the
path
leading
from
the
bridge
to
the
line
.
It
was
the
one
spot
at
which
he
might
relax
his
vigilance
.
The
boldest
timber
thief
the
swamp
ever
had
known
would
not
have
attempted
to
enter
it
by
the
mouth
of
the
creek
,
on
account
of
the
water
and
because
there
was
no
protection
from
surrounding
trees
.
He
was
bending
the
rank
grass
with
his
cudgel
,
and
thinking
of
the
shade
the
denser
swamp
afforded
,
when
he
suddenly
dodged
sidewise
;
the
cudgel
whistled
sharply
through
the
air
and
Freckles
sprang
back
.
From
the
clear
sky
above
him
,
first
level
with
his
face
,
then
skimming
,
dipping
,
tilting
,
whirling
until
it
struck
,
quill
down
,
in
the
path
in
front
of
him
,
came
a
glossy
,
iridescent
,
big
black
feather
.
As
it
touched
the
ground
,
Freckles
snatched
it
up
with
almost
a
continuous
movement
facing
the
sky
.
There
was
not
a
tree
of
any
size
in
a
large
open
space
.
There
was
no
wind
to
carry
it
.
From
the
clear
sky
it
had
fallen
,
and
Freckles
,
gazing
eagerly
into
the
arch
of
June
blue
with
a
few
lazy
clouds
floating
high
in
the
sea
of
ether
,
had
neither
mind
nor
knowledge
to
dream
of
a
bird
hanging
as
if
frozen
there
.
He
turned
the
big
quill
questioningly
,
and
again
his
awed
eyes
swept
the
sky
.
“
A
feather
dropped
from
Heaven
!
”
he
breathed
reverently
.
“
Are
the
holy
angels
moulting
?
But
no
;
if
they
were
,
it
would
be
white
.
Maybe
all
the
angels
are
not
for
being
white
.
What
if
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
being
punished
it
’
s
for
slipping
to
the
gates
,
beating
its
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
sailing
bird
;
then
he
went
slowly
on
his
way
,
turning
the
feather
and
wondering
about
it
.
It
was
a
wing
quill
,
eighteen
inches
in
length
,
with
a
heavy
spine
,
gray
at
the
base
,
shading
to
jet
black
at
the
tip
,
and
it
caught
the
play
of
the
sun
’
s
rays
in
slanting
gleams
of
green
and
bronze
.
Again
Freckles
’
“
old
man
of
the
sea
”
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
I
wish
I
knew
!
”
he
kept
repeating
as
he
turned
and
studied
the
feather
,
with
almost
unseeing
eyes
,
so
intently
was
he
thinking
.
