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- Стр. 44/195
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Freckles
’
head
rolled
over
and
his
eyes
dropped
shut
.
McLean
towered
above
the
lad
.
His
bright
hair
waved
on
the
pillow
.
His
face
was
swollen
,
and
purple
with
bruises
.
His
left
arm
,
with
the
hand
battered
almost
out
of
shape
,
stretched
beside
him
,
and
the
right
,
with
no
hand
at
all
,
lay
across
a
chest
that
was
a
mass
of
purple
welts
.
McLean
’
s
mind
traveled
to
the
night
,
almost
a
year
before
,
when
he
had
engaged
Freckles
,
a
stranger
.
The
Boss
bent
,
covering
the
hurt
arm
with
one
hand
and
laying
the
other
with
a
caress
on
the
boy
’
s
forehead
.
Freckles
stirred
at
his
touch
,
and
whispered
as
softly
as
the
swallows
under
the
eaves
:
“
If
you
’
re
coming
this
way
—
tomorrow
—
be
pleased
to
step
over
—
and
we
’
ll
repate
—
the
chorus
softly
!
”
“
Bless
the
gritty
devil
,
”
muttered
McLean
.
Then
he
went
out
and
told
Mrs
.
Duncan
to
keep
close
watch
on
Freckles
,
also
to
send
Duncan
to
him
at
the
swamp
the
minute
he
came
home
.
Following
the
trail
to
the
line
and
back
to
the
scent
of
the
fight
,
the
Boss
entered
Freckles
’
study
quietly
,
as
if
his
spirit
,
keeping
there
,
might
be
roused
,
and
gazed
around
with
astonished
eyes
.
How
had
the
boy
conceived
it
?
What
a
picture
he
had
wrought
in
living
colors
!
He
had
the
heart
of
a
painter
.
He
had
the
soul
of
a
poet
.
The
Boss
stepped
carefully
over
the
velvet
carpet
to
touch
the
walls
of
crisp
verdure
with
gentle
fingers
.
He
stood
long
beside
the
flower
bed
,
and
gazed
at
the
banked
wall
of
bright
bloom
as
if
he
doubted
its
reality
.
Where
had
Freckles
ever
found
,
and
how
had
he
transplanted
such
ferns
?
As
McLean
turned
from
them
he
stopped
suddenly
.
He
had
reached
the
door
of
the
cathedral
.
That
which
Freckles
had
attempted
would
have
been
patent
to
anyone
.
What
had
been
in
the
heart
of
the
shy
,
silent
boy
when
he
had
found
that
long
,
dim
stretch
of
forest
,
decorated
its
entrance
,
cleared
and
smoothed
its
aisle
,
and
carpeted
its
altar
?
What
veriest
work
of
God
was
in
these
mighty
living
pillars
and
the
arched
dome
of
green
!
How
similar
to
stained
cathedral
windows
were
the
long
openings
between
the
trees
,
filled
with
rifts
of
blue
,
rays
of
gold
,
and
the
shifting
emerald
of
leaves
!
Where
could
be
found
mosaics
to
match
this
aisle
paved
with
living
color
and
glowing
light
?
Was
Freckles
a
devout
Christian
,
and
did
he
worship
here
?
Or
was
he
an
untaught
heathen
,
and
down
this
vista
of
entrancing
loveliness
did
Pan
come
piping
,
and
dryads
,
nymphs
,
and
fairies
dance
for
him
?
Who
can
fathom
the
heart
of
a
boy
?
McLean
had
been
thinking
of
Freckles
as
a
creature
of
unswerving
honesty
,
courage
,
and
faithfulness
.
Here
was
evidence
of
a
heart
aching
for
beauty
,
art
,
companionship
,
worship
.
It
was
writ
large
all
over
the
floor
,
walls
,
and
furnishing
of
that
little
Limberlost
clearing
.
When
Duncan
came
,
McLean
told
him
the
story
of
the
fight
,
and
they
laughed
until
they
cried
.
Then
they
started
around
the
line
in
search
of
the
tree
.
