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She
had
found
Freckles
’
boots
so
large
and
heavy
that
she
had
gone
back
and
taken
them
off
,
although
she
was
mortally
afraid
to
approach
the
swamp
without
them
.
The
thought
of
it
made
her
nervous
,
and
the
fact
that
she
never
had
been
there
alone
added
to
her
fears
.
She
had
not
followed
the
trail
many
rods
when
her
trouble
began
.
She
was
not
Freckles
,
so
not
a
bird
of
the
line
was
going
to
be
fooled
into
thinking
she
was
.
They
began
jumping
from
their
nests
and
darting
from
unexpected
places
around
her
head
and
feet
,
with
quick
whirs
,
that
kept
her
starting
and
dodging
.
Before
Freckles
was
halfway
to
the
town
,
poor
Mrs
.
Duncan
was
hysterical
,
and
the
Limberlost
had
neither
sung
nor
performed
for
her
.
But
there
was
trouble
brewing
.
It
was
quiet
and
intensely
hot
,
with
that
stifling
stillness
that
precedes
a
summer
storm
,
and
feathers
and
fur
were
tense
and
nervous
.
The
birds
were
singing
only
a
few
broken
snatches
,
and
flying
around
,
seeking
places
of
shelter
.
One
moment
everything
seemed
devoid
of
life
,
the
next
there
was
an
unexpected
whir
,
buzz
,
and
sharp
cry
.
Inside
,
a
pandemonium
of
growling
,
spatting
,
snarling
,
and
grunting
broke
loose
.
The
swale
bent
flat
before
heavy
gusts
of
wind
,
and
the
big
black
chicken
swept
lower
and
lower
above
the
swamp
.
Patches
of
clouds
gathered
,
shutting
out
the
sun
and
making
it
very
dark
,
and
the
next
moment
were
swept
away
.
The
sun
poured
with
fierce
,
burning
brightness
,
and
everything
was
quiet
.
It
was
at
the
first
growl
of
thunder
that
Freckles
really
had
noticed
the
weather
,
and
putting
his
own
troubles
aside
resolutely
,
raced
for
the
swamp
.
Sarah
Duncan
paused
on
the
line
.
“
Weel
,
I
wouldna
stay
in
this
place
for
a
million
a
month
,
”
she
said
aloud
,
and
the
sound
of
her
voice
brought
no
comfort
,
for
it
was
so
little
like
she
had
thought
it
that
she
glanced
hastily
around
to
see
if
it
had
really
been
she
that
spoke
.
She
tremblingly
wiped
the
perspiration
from
her
face
with
the
skirt
of
her
sunbonnet
.
“
Awfu
’
hot
,
”
she
panted
huskily
.
“
B
’
lieve
there
’
s
going
to
be
a
big
storm
.
I
do
hope
Freckles
will
hurry
.
”
Her
chin
was
quivering
as
a
terrified
child
’
s
.
She
lifted
her
bonnet
to
replace
it
and
brushed
against
a
bush
beside
her
.
WHIRR
,
almost
into
her
face
,
went
a
nighthawk
stretched
along
a
limb
for
its
daytime
nap
.
Mrs
.
Duncan
cried
out
and
sprang
down
the
trail
,
alighting
on
a
frog
that
was
hopping
across
.
The
horrible
croak
it
gave
as
she
crushed
it
sickened
her
.
She
screamed
wildly
and
jumped
to
one
side
.
That
carried
her
into
the
swale
,
where
the
grasses
reached
almost
to
her
waist
,
and
her
horror
of
snakes
returning
,
she
made
a
flying
leap
for
an
old
log
lying
beside
the
line
.
She
alighted
squarely
,
but
it
was
so
damp
and
rotten
that
she
sank
straight
through
it
to
her
knees
.
She
caught
at
the
wire
as
she
went
down
,
and
missing
,
raked
her
wrist
across
a
barb
until
she
tore
a
bleeding
gash
.
Her
fingers
closed
convulsively
around
the
second
strand
.
She
was
too
frightened
to
scream
now
.
Her
tongue
stiffened
.
She
clung
frantically
to
the
sagging
wire
,
and
finally
managed
to
grasp
it
with
the
other
hand
.
Then
she
could
reach
the
top
wire
,
and
so
she
drew
herself
up
and
found
solid
footing
.
She
picked
up
the
club
that
she
had
dropped
in
order
to
extricate
herself
.
Leaning
heavily
on
it
,
she
managed
to
return
to
the
trail
,
but
she
was
trembling
so
that
she
scarcely
could
walk
.
Going
a
few
steps
farther
,
she
came
to
the
stump
of
the
first
tree
that
had
been
taken
out
.
She
sat
bolt
upright
and
very
still
,
trying
to
collect
her
thoughts
and
reason
away
her
terror
.
A
squirrel
above
her
dropped
a
nut
,
and
as
it
came
rattling
down
,
bouncing
from
branch
to
branch
,
every
nerve
in
her
tugged
wildly
.
When
the
disgusted
squirrel
barked
loudly
,
she
sprang
to
the
trail
.
