Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1912-04-11
.FRECKLE IS
BY
Gene SGr@GG@m7
Porter
COPYRIGHT. 1904. BY DOUBLEDAY. PAGE
& co.
COPYRIGHT. 1904. BY DOUBLEDAY. PAGE
& CO..

snakes and blue racers from the nests
of his chickens. Often the terrified
squalls of the parent birds would
reach him far down the line, and he
would run to the rescue of the ba-
bies.
He saw the angel when the carriage
turned from the corduroy into the
clearing. They stopped at the west
entrance to the swamp, waiting for
him to precede them down the trail,
as he had told them it was safest for
the horse that he should do so. They
followed the east line to a point oppo-
site the big chickens tree, and Free
kles carried in the cameras and showed
the Bird Woman a path he had cleared
to the log.
They arranged that Freckles should
drive the carriage into the east en-
trance in the shade and then take the
horse around toward the north to a
better place he knew. Then he was
to entertain the angel at his study or
on the line until the Bird Woman fin
ished her work and came to them.
Freckles trod on air, for his dream
had come true so soon. He was going
down the timberline and the angel was
following him. He asked to be excused
for going first, because he wanted to
be sure the trail was safe for her.
She laughed at his fears, telling him
that it was the polite thing for him to
do anyway.
"Oh," said Freckles, $50 you was
after knowing that? Well, I didn't
s'pose you did, and, 1 was afraid you'd
think me wanting in respect to be
preceding you
The %astonished angel looked at him,
caught the irrepressible CLEAN of Irish
fun in his eyes, and they laughed to-
gether.
Freckles did not realize how he was
talking that morning. He showed her
many of the beautiful nests and eggs
of the line. She could identify a num-
Der Of them, but of some she was igno-
rant, so they made notes Of the num-
Der and color of the eggs, material and
construction Of nest, color, size and
shape of the birds and went on to, look
them up in the book.
At his room, when Freckles had lift
ed the ~overhanging bushes and stepped
back for her to enter, bis heart was all
out of time and place. The angel drew
a deep breath and stood staring, first
at n side. then at another, then far
off down the cathedral aisle. cts
just fairyland!" she cried ecstatically.
Then she turned and stared at Freckles
exactly as she had at his handiwork.
"What are you planning to be-" she
asked slowly.
"Whatever Mr.. Mclean wants me
to-" he replied.
"What do you do most?" she asked.
swatch nc lines"
81 don't mean work."
"Oh! In me spare time T keep mo
room and study in me books"
"Do you work on the room or the
books nost?'
"On the oom just what j. takes to
keep it up and the rest of the time on
me books"
The angel eyed him sharply. "7Ve!l.
maybe you are going to be q great
scholar SHE said, "but YOU don't loo!i
it. Your face isl't right for that. but
it's got something big in it-something
just great. 1 must find out what. it is
and then YOU must go to work on it.
Your father is expecting YOU to dc
something. You can Tell by the way
he talks. You ought to begin right
away. You've wasted too much time
already"
Poor Freckles hung his head. He
had never wasted an hour in his life.
There had never been one that was his
to waste.
The angel, studying him intently,
read his thought in his face. "Oh,
don't mean that" she cried, with the
frank dismay Of sixteen. "Of course
you're not lazy! Nobody would ever
think hat from your looks. It's this
:! mean: There is something fine, strong
and full of power in your face. There
is something you are to do in this
world, and no matter how hard you
work at all these other things nor how
successfully you do them it is all vast
ed until you find the one thing that
you can do best. If you could go any
where you please and do anything you
want, what would you do"
"Td go to Chicago and sing in the
First Episcopal choir" answered
Freckles promptly.
The angel dropped back On a seat
the hat she had taken off and held in
her fingers rolled to her feet. "There,'
she exclaimed vehemently, ''you can
see what I'm going to be. Nothing,
absolutely nothing! You can sing:
OF III you can sing. 1t is written
all over you"
"Anybody with half wit could have
seen he could sing without having to
be told" she thought. Its in the
slenderness Of his fingers and his
quick, nervous touch. 1t is in the
brightness Of his hair, the fire Of his
eyes, the breadth Of his chest, the
muscles of his throat and neck and,