Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1912-05-14

Freckles struck slowly into the path
leading from the bridge to the line.
1t was the one spot ut which he might
relax his vigilance. The greatest tim
Der thief the swamp had ever known
would not have attempted to enter 1t
Of the water and because there was
no protection from surrounding trees.
He was swishing the rank grass with
his cudsel and thinking Of the shade
the denser swamp afforded when he
suddenly lodged sidewise. The cud-
gel whistled sharply through the air
and Freckles sprang back.
Out Of the clear sky above him, first
level with his face, then skimming.
dipping. fitting. whirling until it lit
quill down in the path in front Of
him. came a glossy. iridescent big
black feather. AS 1t struck the
ground Freckles snatched It up and
with an almost continuous movement
faced the sky. There was not tree
of any size in a large open space.
From the clear sky 1t had fallen. and
Freckles, gazing eagerly into the arch
Of June blue with few lazy clouds
floating far up in the sea Of ether.
had neither mind nor knowledge to
dream of bird hanging as If frozen
there. He turned the big quill ques-
tioningly. and again his awed eyes
swept the sky.
"a feather dropped from heaveng'
he breathed reverently. Are the holy
angels molting? But, no; If they were
1t would be white. Maybe all the an
gels are not for being white. What If
the angels Of God are white and those
of the devil are black? But black
one has no business up there. Maybe
some poor black angel is so tired Of be-
ing punished it's for slipping up to the
gates. beating its wings trying to
make the Master hear!'
Again and again Freckles searched
the sky. but there was no answering
CLEAN OF Golden gates, no form Of sail
ing bird. Then he went slowly on his
way. turning the feather over and
wondering about it. 1t was wing
quill eighteen inches in length, with
big, heavy spine, gray at the base,
shading to jet black at the tip. and 1t
caught the play Of the suns rays In
slunting CLEANS of green and bronze
Again Freckles' "old man Of the sea"
sat sullen and heavy on his shoulders
and weighted him down until bis step
Jagged and his heart ached.
where did 1t come from? What
is It? oh. how l wish 1 knew" be
kept repeating.
Before him spread great green
pool, filed with rotung logs and
leaves, bordered with delicate ferns
and grasses. among which lifted the
creamy spikes of the arrowhead, the
blue of water hyacinth and the dell
cate yellow Of the jewel flower. As
Ereckles leaned. handling the feather
and staring first at 1t end then into
the depths of the pool. he once more
gave voice to his old query. Il won
der what it is?"
Straight across from him. coucned
in the MOSES Of soggy old log. big
green bulfrog. with palpitant throat
and batting eyes. Lifted bis head and
beloved In answer. Elm dout, I'M
dout!'
"Wha-what's thatT stammered
Freckles, almost too much taken aback
to speak. IL know you are only a
bullfrog; but. be jabers, that sound
ed nightly like speech. Wouldn't you
please to be saying 1t over?
The bullfrog cuddled contentedly In
the ooze. Then suddenly he lifted his
voice and, like an imperative drum
beat, rolled 1t again. Fin dout fin
dout. fln' dout!"
Freckles had the answer
Like the lightning's fash. something
seemed to snap in his brain. There
was a wavering fame before his eyes.
Then his mind cleared. his head lift
ed in a new poise, his shoulders squar-
ed, and his spine straightened. The
agony was over. His soul 6oated free
Freckles came into his birthright>
Before God. l will" he uttered the |
oath so impressively that the record
Ing angel never WINGED as be posted 1t
up In the prayer column.
Freckles set bis hat over the top OF
one of the locust posts used between
trees to hold up the wire and fastened
the feather securely in the band. Then
be started down the line. talking to
himself as men that have worked long
alone always fall into the habit OF do |
Ing
What a fool have been!' he NUT |
tered. "Of course That's what / have
to do. There wouldn't likely anybody
be doing it for me. OF course ] can!
What am man for? II I was
four footed thing of the swamp maybe
I couldn't. but man can do anything
II he's the grit to work hard enough |
and stick at 1t, Mr.. Mclean is always
saving, and here's the way I am to do
1t. He said. too. that there were peo- |
ple that knew everything in the
swamp. OF course they have written
books. The thing for me to be doing
is to quit moping and be buying me
some books. Never bought book IN
me life or anything else Of much ac-
count, for that matter. Oh, ain't ]
glad l didn't waste me money! I'll
surely be having enough to get few.
Let me see."
fro BE CONTINUED