Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1912-03-14

SeuSe VI 1LeeuOAl anu power 10 reel
that 1t was there-it was his and he
could have it when he chose.
That winter held the first hours Of
real happiness in Freckles' life. He
was free. He was doing a mans work
faithfully through every rigor of rain,
snow and blizzard. He was gathering
a wonderful strength. of body, paying
his way and saving money.
Mrs. Duncan had a hot drink ready
for him when he came in from q freez-
Ing day on the trail, knitted a heavy
m1tten for his left hand, devised a
way to sew up and pad the right sleeve
which protected the MANNED arm in
bitter weather. patched his clothing
and saved kitchen scraps for his birds.
not because she either knew or cared
a rap about them. but because she her
self was near enough the swamp to be
touched by its utter loneliness. When
Duncan laughed at her for this she re-
torted: my God, mamie. if Freckles
hadna the birds and the beasts he
would be always alone. 1t was never
meant for a human being to be sa soil.
tary."
The next morning Duncan gave an
ear Of corn he was shelling to Free
kles and told him to carry 1t to his wild
chickens in the Limberlost. Freckles
laughed delightedly.
"Me chickens." he said. "Why didn't
l ever think Of that before? Of course
they are! They are just little brightly
colored cocks and hens. But what
would you say to me wild chickens be-
ing IL good deal tanner than yours here
in your yard?"
"Hoot. lad" cried Duncan.
"Make yours light on your head and
eat out of your hands and pockets
challenged Freckles.
go tell your fairy tales to the wee
people! They're just brash on be-
levin things" said Duncan.
81 dare you to come see!" retorted
Freckles.
"Take ye!" said Duncan. eff We
make juist n bird LIGHT on your held
or eat frae your hand We are free to
help yourself to my corncrib and wheat
bin the rest Of the winter"
After that Freckles always spoke of
the birds as his chickens. The next
Sabbath Duncan, with his wife and
children. followed Freckles to the
swamp.
Freckles' chickens we're awaiting
him at the edge Of the clearing. They
cut the frosty air about his head into
curves and circles of crimson, blue and
black. They chased each other from
Freckles and swept so closely them
selves that they brushed him with their
outspreaG wings.
At their feeding ground Freckles set
down his old pail Of scraps and swept
the n from a small level space with
a broom ~improvised from twigs. AS
OOH as his back was turned the birds
clustered over the food. snatching
scraps to carry to the nearest bushes.
Several of the boldest, a big crow and
a couple of jays, settled on the rim
and Toasted at leisure. while a cardi-
nal that hesitated to venture fumed
and scolded from a twig overhead.
Then Freckles scattered his store.
At once the ground resembled the
spread mantle Of Montezuma. except
that this mass of gayly colored feathers
was on the backs of living birds. While
they Toasted Duncan gripped his wife's
arm and stared in establishment, for
from the bushes and dry grass with
gentle cheeping and queer, throatv
chatter, as if to encourage each other,
came f1ocks of quail. Before n one
saw it arrive a big gray rabbit sat in
the midst of the feast, contentedly
gnawing a cabbage leaf.
"Weel. / be drawed on" came Mrs.
Duncan's tense whisper.
"S%hu-shu!!" cautioned Duncan.
Lastly Freckles took off his cap. He
began filling it with handfuls of wheat
from his pockets. In a swarm the grain
eaters rose about him like a flock of
tame pigeons. They perched on his
arms and the cap. and, in the stress
Of hunger forgetting all caution, a bril-
liant cock cardinal and an equally
gaudy jay fought for a perching place
on his head.
"Weel. I'm beat!" muttered Duncan.
forgetting the silence imposed on his
wife. "Ill haze to give in. Seem is
believin'."
A week later Duncan and Freckles
rose from breakfast to face the bitter
est morning of the winter. When
Freckles. warmly capped and gloved,
stepped to the corner Of the kitchen for
his scrap pail he found a pan of
steaming boiled wheat on the top Of it.
He wheeled to Mrs. Duncan with a
shining face.
"Were you fixing this warm food for
me chickens or yours?" he asked.
cts for yours. F%reckles." she said.
Freckles faced Mrs. Duncan with a
trace of every pang Of starved mother
hunger be had ever suffered written
large on his homely, splotched. narrow
features.
"Oh. how l wish you were my moth.
er!" he cried.
Lord love the lad!" exclaimed Mrs.
Duncan. "Why. Freckles. are We no
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