hem on, and then sped with all his
strength for the Limberlost. To the west, the long, black, hard-beaten
trail lay clear; but far up the east side, straight across the path, he
could see what was certainly a limp, brown figure. Freckles spun with
all his might.

Face down, Sarah Duncan lay across the trail. When Freckles turned her
over, his blood chilled at the look of horror settled on her face. There
was a low humming and something spatted against him. Glancing around,
Freckles shivered in terror, for there was a swarm of wild bees settled
on a scrub-thorn only a few yards away. The air was filled with excited,
unsettled bees making ready to lead farther in search of a suitable
location. Then he thought he understood, and with a prayer of
thankfulness in his heart that she had escaped, even so narrowly, he
caught her up and hurried down the trail until they were well out of
danger. He laid her in the shade, and carrying water from the swamp
in the crown of his hat, he bathed her face and hands; but she lay in
unbroken stillness, without a sign of life.

She had found Freckles' boots so large and heavy that she had gone back
and taken them off, although she was mortally afraid to approach the
swamp without them. The thought of it made her nervous, and the fact
that she never had been there alone added to her fears. She had not
followed the trail many rods when her trouble began. She was not
Freckles, so not a bird of the line was going to be fooled into thinking
she was.

They began jumping from their nests and darting from unexpected places
around her head and feet, with quick whirs, that kept her starting and
dodging. Before Freckles was halfway to the town, poor Mrs. Duncan was
hysterical, and the Limberlost had neither sung nor performed for her.

But there was trouble brewing. It was quiet and intensely hot, with that
stifling stillness that precedes a summer storm, and feathers and
fur were tense and nervous. The birds were singing only a few broken
snatches, and flying around, seeking places of shelter. One moment
everything seemed devoid of life, the next there was an unexpected
whir, buzz, and sharp cry. Inside, a pandemonium of growling, spatting,
snarling, and grunting broke loose.

The swale bent flat before heavy gusts of wind, and the big black
chicken swept lower and lower above the swamp. Patches of clouds
gathered, shutting out the sun and making it very dark, and the next
moment were swept awa