Wherein the Angel Releases Freckles, and the Curse of Black Jack Falls
upon Her
On the line, the Angel gave one backward glance at Black Jack, to see
that he had returned to his work. Then she gathered her skirts above her
knees and leaped forward on the run. In the first three yards she passed
Freckles' wheel. Instantly she imagined that was why he had insisted on
her coming by the trail. She seized it and sprang on. The saddle was
too high, but she was an expert rider and could catch the pedals as
they came up. She stopped at Duncan's cabin long enough to remedy this,
telling Mrs. Duncan while working what was happening, and for her to
follow the east trail until she found the Bird Woman, and told her that
she had gone after McLean and for her to leave the swamp as quickly as
possible.
Even with her fear for Freckles to spur her, Sarah Duncan blanched and
began shivering at the idea of facing the Limberlost. The Angel looked
her in the eyes.
“No matter how afraid you are, you have to go,” she said. “If you don't
the Bird Woman will go to Freckles' room, hunting me, and they will have
trouble with her. If she isn't told to leave at once, they may follow
me, and, finding I'm gone, do some terrible thing to Freckles. I can't
go--that's flat--for if they caught me, then there'd be no one to go
for help. You don't suppose they are going to take out the trees they're
after and then leave Freckles to run and tell? They are going to murder
the boy; that's what they are going to do. You run, and run for life!
For Freckles' life! You can ride back with the Bird Woman.”
The Angel saw Mrs. Duncan started; then began her race.
Those awful miles of corduroy! Would they never end? She did not dare
use the wheel too roughly, for if it broke she never could arrive on
time afoot. Where her way was impassable for the wheel, she jumped off,
and pushing it beside her or carrying it, she ran as fast as she could.
The day was fearfully warm. The sun poured with the fierce baking heat
of August. The bushes claimed her hat, and she did not stop for it.
Where it was at all possible, the Angel mounted and pounded over the
corduroy again. She was panting for breath and almost worn out when she
reached the level pike. She had no idea how long she had been--and only
two miles covered. She leaned over the bars, almost standing on the
pedals, racing with all the strength in her body. The blood surged in
her ears while her head swam, but she kept a straight course, and rode
and rode. It seemed to her that she was standing still, while the trees
and houses were racing past her.
Once a farmer's big dog rushed angrily into the road and she swerved
until she almost fell, but she regained her balance, and setting her
muscles, pedaled as fast as she could. At last she lifted her head.
Surely it could not be over a mile more. She had covered two of corduroy
and at least three of gravel, and it was only six in all.
She was reeling in the saddle, but she gripped the bars with new energy,
and raced desperately. The sun beat on her bare head and hands. Just
when she was choking with dust, and almost prostrate with heat and
exhaustion--crash, she ran into a broken bottle. Snap! went the tire;
the wheel swerved and pitched over. The Angel rolled into the thick
yellow dust of the road and lay quietly.
From afar, Duncan began to notice a strange, dust-covered object in the
road, as he headed toward town with the first load of the day's felling.
He chirruped to the bays and hurried them all he could. As he neared the
Angel, he saw it was a woman and a broken wheel. He was beside her in an
instant. He carried her to a shaded fence-corner, stretched her on
the grass, and wiped the dust from the lovely face all dirt-streaked,
crimson, and bearing a startling whiteness around the mouth and nose.
Wheels were common enough. Many of the farmers' daughters owned and
rode them, but he knew these same farmers' daughters; this face was a
stranger's. He glanced at the Angel's tumbled clothing, the silkiness of
her hair, with its pale satin ribbon, and noticed that she had lost her
hat. Her lips tightened in an ominous quiver. He left her and picked
up the wheel: as he had surmised, he knew it. This, then, was Freckles'
Swamp Angel. There was trouble in the Limberlost, and she had broken
down racing to McLean. Duncan turned the bays into a fence-corner, tied
one of them, unharnessed the other, fastened up the trace chains, and
hurried to the nearest farmhouse to send help to the Angel. He found a
woman, who took a bottle of camphor, a jug of water, and some towels,
and started on the run.
Then Duncan put the bay to speed and raced to camp.
The Angel, left alone, lay still for a second, then she shivered and
opened her eyes. She saw that she was on the grass and the broken wheel
beside her. Instantly she realized that someone had carried her there
and gone after help. She sat up and looked around. She noticed the load
of logs and the one horse. Someone was riding after help for her!
“Oh, poor Freckles!” she wailed. “They may be killing him by now. Oh,
how much time have I wasted?”
She hurried to the other bay, her fingers flying as she set him free.
Snatching up a big blacksnake whip that lay on the ground, she caught
the hames, stretched along the horse's neck, and, for the first time,
the fine, big fellow felt on his back the quality of the lash that
Duncan was accustomed to crack over him. He was frightened, and ran at
top speed.
The Angel passed a wildly waving, screaming woman on the road, and a
little later a man riding as if he, too, were in great haste. The man
called to her, but she only lay lower and used the whip. Soon the feet
of the man's horse sounded farther and farther away.
At the South camp they were loading a second wagon, when the Angel
appeared riding one of Duncan's bays, lathered and dripping, and cried:
“Everybody go to Freckles! There are thieves stealing trees, and they
had him bound. They're going to kill him!”
She wheeled the horse toward the Limberlost. The alarm sounded through
camp. The gang were not unprepared. McLean sprang to Nellie's back and
raced after the Angel. As they passed Duncan, he wheeled and followed.
Soon the pike was an irregular procession of barebacked riders, wildly
driving flying horses toward the swamp.
The Boss rode neck-and-neck with the Angel. He repeatedly commanded her
to stop and fall out of line, until he remembered that he would need her
to lead him to Freckles. Then he gave up and rode beside her, for she
was sending the bay at as sharp a pace as the other horses could keep
and hold out. He could see that she was not hearing him. He glanced back
and saw that Duncan was close. There was something terrifying in the
appearance of the big man, and the manner in which he sat his beast and
rode. It would be a sad day for the man on whom Duncan's wrath broke.
There were four others close behind him, and the pike filling with the
remainder of the gang; so McLean took heart and raced beside the Angel.
Over and over he asked her where the trouble was, but she only gripped
the hames, leaned along the bay's neck, and slashed away with the
blacksnake. The steaming horse, with crimson nostrils and heaving sides,
stretched out and ran for home with all the speed there was in him.
When they passed the cabin, the Bird Woman's carriage was there and Mrs.
Duncan in the door wringing her hands, but the Bird Woman was nowhere to
be seen. The Angel sent the bay along the path and turned into the west
trail, while the men bunched and followed her. When she reached the
entrance to Freckles' room, there were four men with her, and two more
very close behind. She slid from the horse, and snatching the little
revolver from her pocket, darted toward the bushes. McLean caught them
back, and with drawn weapon, pressed beside her. There they stopped in
astonishment.
The Bird Woman blocked the entrance. Over a small limb lay her revolver.
It was trained at short range on Black Jack and Wessner, who stood with
their hands above their heads.
Freckles, with the blood trickling down his face, from an ugly cut in
his temple, was gagged and bound to the tree again; the remainder of the
men were gone. Black Jack was raving as a maniac, and when they looked
closer it was only the left arm that he raised. His right, with the
hand shattered, hung helpless at his side, while his revolver lay
at Freckles' feet. Wessner's weapon was in his belt, and beside him
Freckles' club.
Freckles' face was white, with colorless lips, but in his eyes was the
strength of undying courage. McLean pushed past the Bird Woman crying.
“Hold steady on them only one minute more!”
He snatched the revolver from Wessner's belt, and stooped for Jack's.
At that instant the Angel rushed past. She tore the gag from Freckles,
and seizing the rope knotted on his chest, she tugged at it desperately.
Under her fingers it gave way, and she hurled it to McLean. The men were
crowding in, and Duncan seized Wessner. As the Angel saw Freckles stand
out, free, she reached her arms to him and pitched forward. A fearful
oath burst from the lips of Black Jack. To have saved his life, Freckles
could not have avoided the glance of triumph he gave Jack, when folding
the Angel in his arms and stretching her on the mosses.
The Bird Woman cried out sharply for water as she ran to them. Someone
sprang to bring that, and another to break open the case for brandy.
As McLean arose from binding Wessner, there was a cry that Jack was
escaping.
He was already far in the swamp, running for its densest part in leaping
bounds. Every man who could be spared plunged after him.
Other members of the gang arriving, were sent to follow the tracks
of the wagons. The teamsters had driven from the west entrance, and
crossing the swale, had taken the same route the Bird Woman and the
Angel had before them. There had been ample time for the drivers to
reach the road; after that they could take any one of four directions.
Traffic was heavy, and lumber wagons were passing almost constantly,
so the men turned back and joined the more exciting hunt for a man.
The remainder of the gang joined them, also farmers of the region and
travelers attracted by the disturbance.
Watchers were set along the trail at short intervals. They patrolled the
line and roads through the swamp that night, with lighted torches, and
the next day McLean headed as thorough a search as he felt could be made
of one side, while Duncan covered the other; but Black Jack could not be
found. Spies were set around his home, in Wildcat Hollow, to ascertain
if he reached there or aid was being sent in any direction to him; but
it was soon clear that his relatives were ignorant of his hiding-place,
and were searching for him.
Great is the elasticity of youth. A hot bath and a sound night's sleep
renewed Freckles' strength, and it needed but little more to work the
same result with the Angel. Freckles was on the trail early the next
morning. Besides a crowd of people anxious to witness Jack's capture,
he found four stalwart guards, one at each turn. In his heart he was
compelled to admit that he was glad to have them there. Close noon,
McLean placed his men in charge of Duncan, and taking Freckles, drove to
town to see how the Angel fared. McLean visited a greenhouse and bought
an armload of its finest products; but Freckles would have none of them.
He would carry his message in a glowing mass of the Limberlost's first
goldenrod.
The Bird Woman received them, and in answer to their eager inquiries,
said that the Angel was in no way seriously injured, only so bruised
and shaken that their doctor had ordered her to lie quietly for the day.
Though she was sore and stiff, they were having work to keep her in bed.
Her callers sent up their flowers with their grateful regards, and the
Angel promptly returned word that she wanted to see them.
She reached both hands to McLean. “What if one old tree is gone? You
don't care, sir? You feel that Freckles has kept his trust as nobody
ever did before, don't you? You won't forget all those long first days
of fright that you told us of, the fearful cold of winter, the rain,
heat, and lonesomeness, and the brave days, and lately, nights, too, and
let him feel that his trust is broken? Oh, Mr. McLean,” she begged,
“say something to him! Do something to make him feel that it isn't for
nothing he has watched and suffered it out with that old Limberlost.
Make him see how great and fine it is, and how far, far better he has
done than you or any of us expected! What's one old tree, anyway?” she
cried passionately.
“I was thinking before you came. Those other men were rank big cowards.
They were scared for their lives. If they were the drivers, I wager you
gloves against gloves they never took those logs out to the pike. My
coming upset them. Before you feel bad any more, you go look and see if
they didn't lose courage the minute they left Wessner and Black Jack,
dump that timber and run. I don't believe they ever had the grit to
drive out with it in daylight. Go see if they didn't figure on leaving
the way we did the other morning, and you'll find the logs before you
reach the road. They never risked taking them into the open, when they
got away and had time to think. Of course they didn't!
“And, then, another thing. You haven't lost your wager! It never will
be claimed, because you made it with a stout, dark, red-faced man who
drives a bay and a gray. He was right back of you, Mr. McLean, when I
came yesterday. He went deathly white and shook on his feet when he saw
those men probably would be caught. Some one of them was something to
him, and you can just spot him for one of the men at the bottom of your
troubles, and urging those younger fellows to steal from you. I suppose
he'd promised to divide. You settle with him, and that business will
stop.”
She turned to Freckles. “And you be the happiest man alive, because you
have kept your trust. Go look where I tell you and you'll find the logs.
I can see just about where they are. When they go up that steep little
hill, into the next woods after the cornfield, why, they could unloose
the chains and the logs would roll from the wagons themselves. Now, you
go look; and Mr. McLean, you do feel that Freckles has been brave and
faithful? You won't love him any the less even if you don't find the
logs.”
The Angel's nerve gave way and she began to cry. Freckles could not
endure it. He almost ran from the room, with the tears in his eyes; but
McLean took the Angel from the Bird Woman's arms, and kissed her brave
little face, stroked her hair, and petted her into quietness before he
left.
As they drove to the swamp, McLean so earnestly seconded all that the
Angel had said that he soon had the boy feeling much better.
“Freckles, your Angel has a spice of the devil in her, but she's superb!
You needn't spend any time questioning or bewailing anything she does.
Just worship blindly, my boy. By heaven! she's sense, courage, and
beauty for half a dozen girls,” said McLean.
“It's altogether right you are, sir,” affirmed Freckles heartily.
Presently he added, “There's no question but the series is over now.”
“Don't think it!” answered McLean. “The Bird Woman is working for
success, and success along any line is not won by being scared out. She
will be back on the usual day, and ten to one, the Angel will be with
her. They are made of pretty stern stuff, and they don't scare worth
a cent. Before I left, I told the Bird Woman it would be safe; and it
will. You may do your usual walking, but those four guards are there to
remain. They are under your orders absolutely. They are prohibited from
firing on any bird or molesting anything that you want to protect, but
there they remain, and this time it is useless for you to say one word.
I have listened to your pride too long. You are too precious to me, and
that voice of yours is too precious to the world to run any more risks.”
“I am sorry to have anything spoil the series,” said Freckles, “and I'd
love them to be coming, the Angel especial, but it can't be. You'll have
to tell them so. You see, Jack would have been ready to stake his life
she meant what she said and did to him. When the teams pulled out,
Wessner seized me; then he and Jack went to quarreling over whether they
should finish me then or take me to the next tree they were for felling.
Between them they were pulling me around and hurting me bad. Wessner
wanted to get at me right then, and Jack said he shouldn't be touching
me till the last tree was out and all the rest of them gone. I'm
belaying Jack really hated to see me done for in the beginning; and
I think, too, he was afraid if Wessner finished me then he'd lose his
nerve and cut, and they couldn't be managing the felling without him;
anyway, they were hauling me round like I was already past all feeling,
and they tied me up again. To keep me courage up, I twits Wessner about
having to tie me and needing another man to help handle me. I told him
what I'd do to him if I was free, and he grabs up me own club and lays
open me head with it. When the blood came streaming, it set Jack raving,
and he cursed and damned Wessner for a coward and a softy. Then Wessner
turned on Jack and gives it to him for letting the Angel make a fool of
him. Tells him she was just playing with him, and beyond all manner of
doubt she'd gone after you, and there was nothing to do on account of
his foolishness but finish me, get out, and let the rest of the timber
go, for likely you was on the way right then. That drove Jack plum
crazy.
“I don't think he was for having a doubt of the Angel before, but then
he just raved. He grabbed out his gun and turned on Wessner. Spang! It
went out of his fist, and the order comes: 'Hands up!' Wessner reached
for kingdom come like he was expecting to grab hold and pull himself
up. Jack puts up what he has left. Then he leans over to me and tells me
what he'll do to me if he ever gets out of there alive. Then, just like
a snake hissing, he spits out what he'll do to her for playing him. He
did get away, and with his 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 cruelly driven. 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 unusual movement around
the swamp had made Mr. and Mrs. Chicken timid, and they had not carried
Little Chicken the customary amount 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 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.