ght now. Riding-boots are far too low.
The day's hot and the walk a good seven miles, sir. Niver!"

As he reached for the outfit he pitched forward and his eyes closed.
McLean stretched him on the moss and applied restoratives. When Freckles
returned to consciousness, McLean ran to the cabin to tell Mrs. Duncan
to have a hot bath ready, and to bring Nellie. That worthy woman
promptly filled the wash-boiler, starting a roaring fire under it. She
pushed the horse-trough from its base and rolled it to the kitchen.

By the time McLean came again, leading Nelie and holding Freckles on her
back, Mrs. Duncan was ready for business. She and the Boss laid Freckles
in the trough and poured on hot water until he squirmed. They soaked and
massaged him. Then they drew off the hot water and closed his pores with
cold. Lastly they stretched him on the floor and chafed, rubbed, and
kneaded him until he cried out for mercy. As they rolled him into bed,
his eyes dropped shut, but a little later they flared open.

"Mr. McLean," he cried, "the tree! Oh, do be looking after the tree!"

McLean bent over him. "Which tree, Freckles?"

"I don't know exact sir; but it's on the east line, and the wire is
fastened to it. He bragged that you nailed it yourself, sir. You'll know
it by the bark having been laid open to the grain somewhere low down.
Five hundred dollars he offered me--to be--selling you out--sir!"

Freckles' head rolled over and his eyes dropped shut. McLean towered
above the lad. His bright hair waved on the pillow. His face was
swollen, and purple with bruises. His left arm, with the hand battered
almost out of shape, stretched beside him, and the right, with no hand
at all, lay across a chest that was a mass of purple welts. McLean's
mind traveled to the night, almost a year before, when he had engaged
Freckles, a stranger.

The Boss bent, covering the hurt arm with one hand and laying the other
with a caress on the boy's forehead. Freckles stirred at his touch, and
whispered as softly as the swallows under the eaves: "If you're coming
this way--tomorrow--be pleased to step over--and we'll repate--the
chorus softly!"

"Bless the gritty devil," muttered McLean.

Then he went out and told Mrs. Duncan to keep close watch on Freckles,
also to send Duncan to him at the swamp the minute he came home.
Following the trail to the line and back to the scent of the fight, the
Boss entered Freckles' study quietly, as if his spirit, ke