tence, too dear? And isn't it
too old-fashioned and funny to hear him call his father 'mister'?"

"It sounds too good to be true," said the Bird Woman, answering the
last question first. "I am so tired of these present-day young men who
patronizingly call their fathers 'Dad,' 'Governor,' 'Old Man' and 'Old
Chap,' that the boy's attitude of respect and deference appealed to me
as being fine as silk. There must be something rare about that young
man."

She did not find it necessary to tell the Angel that for several years
she had known the man who so proudly proclaimed himself Freckles' father
to be a bachelor and a Scotchman. The Bird Woman had a fine way of
attending strictly to her own business.

Freckles turned to the trail, but he stopped at every wild brier to
study the pink satin of the petals. She was not of his world, and
better than any other he knew it; but she might be his Angel, and he was
dreaming of naught but blind, silent worship. He finished the happiest
day of his life, and that night he returned to the swamp as if drawn by
invisible force. That Wessner would try for his revenge, he knew. That
he would be abetted by Black Jack was almost certain, but fear had
fled the happy heart of Freckles. He had kept his trust. He had won the
respect of the Boss. No one ever could wipe from his heart the flood of
holy adoration that had welled with the coming of his Angel. He would do
his best, and trust for strength to meet the dark day of reckoning that
he knew would come sooner or later. He swung round the trail, briskly
tapping the wire, and singing in a voice that scarcely could have been
surpassed for sweetness.

At the edge of the clearing he came into the bright moonlight and there
sat McLean on his mare. Freckles hurried to him.

"Is there trouble?" he inquired anxiously.

"That's what I wanted to ask you," said the Boss. "I stopped at the
cabin to see you a minute, before I turned in, and they said you had
come down here. You must not do it, Freckles. The swamp is none too
healthful at any time, and at night it is rank poison."

Freckles stood combing his fingers through Nellie's mane, while the
dainty creature was twisting her head for his caresses. He pushed back
his hat and looked into McLean's face. "It's come to the 'sleep with one
eye open,' sir. I'm not looking for anything to be happening for a week
or two, but it's bound to come, and soon. If I'm to keep me trust as
I've promised you and m