freckles-第6部分

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As　he　saw　what　was　taking　place；　〃It's　going　to　fly；〃　he　breathed

in　hushed　wonder。　　The　morning　sun　fell　on　the　moth　and　dried　its

velvet　down；　while　the　warm　air　made　it　fluffy。　　The　rapidly　growing

wings　began　to　show　the　most　delicate　green；　with　lavender

fore…ribs；　transparent；　eye…shaped　markings；　edged　with　lines　of

red；　tan；　and　black；　and　long；　crisp　trailers。



Freckles　was　whispering　to　himself　for　fear　of　disturbing　the　moth。　

It　began　a　systematic　exercise　of　raising　and　lowering　its

exquisite　wings　to　dry　them　and　to　establish　circulation。　　The　boy

realized　that　soon　it　would　be　able　to　spread　them　and　sail　away。　

His　long…coming　soul　sent　up　its　first　shivering　cry。



〃I　don't　know　what　it　is！　　Oh；　I　wish　I　knew！　　How　I　wish　I　knew！　

It　must　be　something　grand！　　It　can't　be　a　butterfly！　　It's　away

too　big。　　Oh；　I　wish　there　was　someone　to　tell　me　what　it　is！〃



He　climbed　on　the　locust　post；　and　balancing　himself　with　the　wire；

held　a　finger　in　the　line　of　the　moth's　advance　up　the　twig。　

It　unhesitatingly　climbed　on；　so　he　stepped　to　the　path；　holding

it　to　the　light　and　examining　it　closely。　　Then　he　held　it　in　the

shade　and　turned　it；　gloating　over　its　markings　and　beautiful　coloring。

When　he　held　the　moth　to　the　limb；　it　climbed　on；　still　waving　those

magnificent　wings。



〃My；　but　I'd　like　to　be　staying　with　you！〃　he　said。　　〃But　if　I　was

to　stand　here　all　day　you　couldn't　grow　any　prettier　than　you　are

right　now；　and　I　wouldn't　grow　smart　enough　to　tell　what　you　are。　

I　suppose　there's　someone　who　knows。　　Of　course　there　is！　　Mr。　McLean

said　there　were　people　who　knew　every　leaf；　bird；　and　flower　in

the　Limberlost。　　Oh　Lord！　　How　I　wish　You'd　be　telling　me　just　this

one　thing！〃



The　goldfinch　had　ventured　back　to　the　wire；　for　there　was　his

mate；　only　a　few　inches　above　the　man…creature's　head；　and　indeed；

he　simply　must　not　be　allowed　to　look　up；　so　the　brave　little

fellow　rocked　on　the　wire　and　piped；　as　he　had　done　every　day　for

a　week：　　〃SEE　ME？　　SEE　ME？〃



〃See　you！　　Of　course　I　see　you；〃　growled　Freckles。　　〃I　see　you　day

after　day；　and　what　good　is　it　doing　me？　　I　might　see　you　every

morning　for　a　year；　and　then　not　be　able　to　be　telling　anyone

about　it。　　‘Seen　a　bird　with　black　silk　wingslittle；　and　yellow

as　any　canary。'　That's　as　far　as　I'd　get。　　What　you　doing　here；　anyway？

Have　you　a　mate？　　What's　your　name？　　‘See　you？'　　I　reckon　I　see　you；

but　I　might　as　well　be　blind；　for　any　good　it's　doing　me！〃



Freckles　impatiently　struck　the　wire。　　With　a　screech　of　fear；　the

goldfinch　fled　precipitately。　　His　mate　arose　from　the　nest　with　a

whirrFreckles　looked　up　and　saw　it。



〃Oho！〃　he　cried。　　〃So　THAT'S　what　you　are　doing　here！　　You　have

a　wife。　　And　so　close　my　head　I　have　been　mighty　near　wearing　a　bird

on　my　bonnet；　and　never　knew　it！〃



Freckles　laughed　at　his　own　jest；　while　in　better　humor　he　climbed

to　examine　the　neat；　tiny　cradle　and　its　contents。　　The　hen　darted

at　him　in　a　frenzy。　　〃Now；　where　do　you　come　in？〃　he　demanded；　when

he　saw　that　she　was　not　similar　to　the　goldfinch。



〃You　be　clearing　out　of　here！　　This　is　none　of　your　fry。　　This　is　the

nest　of　me　little；　yellow　friend　of　the　wire；　and　you　shan't　be

touching　it。　　Don't　blame　you　for　wanting　to　see；　though。　　My；　but

it's　a　fine　nest　and　beauties　of　eggs。　　Will　you　be　keeping　away；　or

will　I　fire　this　stick　at　you？〃



Freckles　dropped　to　the　trail。　　The　hen　darted　to　the　nest　and

settled　on　it　with　a　tender；　coddling　movement。　　He　of　the　yellow

coat　flew　to　the　edge　to　make　sure　that　everything　was　right。　

It　would　have　been　plain　to　the　veriest　novice　that　they　were

partners　in　that　cradle。



〃Well；　I'll　be　switched！〃　muttered　Freckles。　　〃If　that　ain't　both

their　nest！　　And　he's　yellow　and　she's　green；　or　she's　yellow　and

he's　green。　　Of　course；　I　don't　know；　and　I　haven't　any　way　to　find

out；　but　it's　plain　as　the　nose　on　your　face　that　they　are　both

ready　to　be　fighting　for　that　nest；　so；　of　course；　they　belong。　

Doesn't　that　beat　you？　　Say；　that's　what's　been　sticking　me　all

of　this　week　on　that　grass　nest　in　the　thorn　tree　down　the　line。　

One　day　a　blue　bird　is　setting；　so　I　think　it　is　hers。　　The　next　day

a　brown　bird　is　on；　and　I　chase　it　off　because　the　nest　is　blue's。　

Next　day　the　brown　bird　is　on　again；　and　I　let　her　be；　because　I

think　it　must　be　hers。　　Next　day；　be　golly；　blue's　on；　and　off　I

send　her　because　it's　brown's；　and　now；　I　bet　my　hat；　it's　both

their　nest　and　I've　only　been　bothering　them　and　making　a　big　fool

of　mesilf。　　Pretty　specimen　I　am；　pretending　to　be　a　friend　to　the

birds；　and　so　blamed　ignorant　I　don't　know　which　ones　go　in　pairs；

and　blue　and　brown　are　a　pair；　of　course；　if　yellow　and　green

areand　there's　the　red　birds！　　I　never　thought　of　them！　　He's　red

and　she's　grayand　now　I　want　to　be　knowing；　are　they　all　different？　

Why　no！　　Of　course；　they　ain't！　　There's　the　jays　all　blue；　and

the　crows　all　black。〃



The　tide　of　Freckles'　discontent　welled　until　he　almost　choked　with

anger　and　chagrin。　　He　plodded　down　the　trail；　scowling　blackly　and

viciously　spanging　the　wire。　　At　the　finches'　nest　he　left　the　line

and　peered　into　the　thorn　tree。　　There　was　no　bird　brooding。　

He　pressed　closer　to　take　a　peep　at　the　snowy；　spotless　little　eggs

he　had　found　so　beautiful；　when　at　the　slight　noise　up　raised　four

tiny　baby　heads　with　wide…open　mouths；　uttering　hunger　cries。　

Freckles　stepped　back。　　The　brown　bird　alighted　on　the　edge　and

closed　one　cavity　with　a　wiggling　green　worm；　while　not　two　minutes

later　the　blue　filled　another　with　a　white。　　That　settled　it。　

The　blue　and　brown　were　mates。　　Once　again　Freckles　repeated　his

〃How　I　wish　I　knew！〃



Around　the　bridge　spanning　Sleepy　Snake　Creek　the　swale　spread

widely；　the　timber　was　scattering；　and　willows；　rushes；　marsh…

grass；　and　splendid　wild　flowers　grew　abundantly。　　Here　lazy；

big；　black　water　snakes；　for　which　the　creek　was　named；　sunned　on

the　bushes；　wild　ducks　and　grebe　chattered；　cranes　and　herons

fished；　and　muskrats　plowed　the　bank　in　queer；　rolling　furrows。　

It　was　always　a　place　full　of　interest；　so　Freckles　loved　to　linger　on

the　bridge；　watching　the　marsh　and　water　people。　　He　also　transacted

affairs　of　importance　with　the　wild　flowers　and　sweet　marsh…grass。　

He　enjoyed　splashing　through　the　shallow　pools　on　either　side　of

the　bridge。



Then；　too；　where　the　creek　entered　the　swamp　was　a　place　of

unusual　beauty。　　The　water　spread　in　darksome；　mossy；　green　pools。　

Water…plants　and　lilies　grew　luxuriantly；　throwing　up　large；　rank；

green　leaves。　　Nowhere　else　in　the　Limberlost　could　be　found

frog…music　to　equal　that　of　the　mouth　of　the　creek。　　The　drumming

and　piping　rolled　in　never…ending　orchestral　effect；　while　the　full

chorus　rang　to　its　accompaniment　throughout　the　season。



Freckles　slowly　followed　the　path　leading　from　the　bridge　to

the　line。　　It　was　the　one　spot　at　which　he　might　relax　his　vigilance。　

The　boldest　timber　thief　the　swamp　ever　had　known　would　not　have

attempted　to　enter　it　by　the　mouth　of　the　creek；　on　account　of　the

water　and　because　there　was　no　protection　from　surrounding　trees。　

He　was　bending　the　rank　grass　with　his　cudgel；　and　thinking　of　the

shade　the　denser　swamp　afforded；　when　he　suddenly　dodged　sidewise；

the　cudgel　whistled　sharply　through　the　air　and　Freckles　sprang　back。



From　the　clear　sky　above　him；　first　level　with　his　face；　then　skimming；

dipping；　tilting；　whirling　until　it　struck；　quill　down；　in　the　path

in　front　of　him；　came　a　glossy；　iridescent；　big　black　feather。　　As　it

touched　the　ground；　Freckles　snatched　it　up　with　almost　a　continuous

movement　facing　the　sky。　　There　was　not　a　tree　of　any　size　in　a

large　open　space。　　There　was　no　wind　to　carry　it。　　From　the　clear　sky

it　had　fallen；　and　Freckles；　gazing　eagerly　into　the　arch　of　June

blue　with　a　few　lazy　clouds　floating　high　in　the　sea　of　ether；

had　neither　mind　nor　knowledge　to　dream　of　a　bird　hanging　as　if

frozen　there。　　He　turned　the　big　quill　questioningly；　and　again

his　awed　eyes　swept　the　sky。



〃A　feather　dropped　from　Heaven！〃　he　breathed　reverently。　　〃Are　the

holy　angels　moulting？　　But　no；　if　they　were；　it　would　be　white。　

Maybe　all　the　angels　are　not　for　being　white。　　What　if　the　angels　of

God　are　white　and　those　of　the　devil　are　black？　　But　a　black　one　has

no　business　up　there。　　Maybe　some　poor　black　angel　is　so　tired　of

being　punished　it's　for　slipping　to　the　gates；　beating　its　wings

trying　to　make　the　Master　hear！〃



Again　and　again　Freckles　searched　the　sky；　but　there　was　no

answering　gleam　of　golden　gates；　no　form　of　sailing　bird；　then　he

went　slowly　on　his　way；　turning　the　feather　and　wondering　about　it。　

It　was　a　wing　quill；　eighteen　inches　in　length；　with　a　heavy　spine；

gray　at　the　base；　shading　to　jet　black　at　the　tip；　and　it　caught　the

play　of　the　sun's　rays　in　slanting　gleams　of　green　and　bronze。　

Again　Freckles'　〃old　man　of　the　sea〃　sat　sullen　and　heavy　on　his

shoulders　and　weighted　him　down　until　his　step　lagged　and　his

heart　ached。



〃Where　did　it　come　from？　　What　is　it？　　Oh；　how　I　wish　I　knew！〃　he

kept　repeating　as　he　turned　and　studied　the　feather；　with　almost

unseeing　eyes；　so　intently　was　he　thinking。



Before　him　spread　a　large；　green　pool；　filled　with　rotting　logs　and

leaves；　bordered　with　delicate　ferns　and　grasses　among　which　lifted

the　creamy　spikes　of　the　arrow…head；　the　blue　of　water…hyacinth；

and　the　delicate　yellow　of　the　jewel…flower。　　As　Freckles　leaned；

handling　the　feather　and　staring　at　it；　then　into　the　depths　of　the

pool；　he　once　more　gave　voice　to　his　old　query：　　〃I　wonder　what　it　is！〃



Straight　across　from　him；　couched　in　the　mosses　of　a　soggy　old　log；

a　big　green　bullfrog；　with　palpitant　throat　and　batting　eyes；

lifted　his　head　and　bellowed　in　answer。　　〃FIN'　DOUT！　　FIN'　DOUT！〃



〃Whawhat's　that？〃　stammered　Fre