f McLean, who was
a power, this had the effect of smoothing Freckles' path in many
directions.

Mrs. Duncan showed him that individual kindness for which his hungry
heart was longing. She had a hot drink ready for him when he came from
a freezing day on the trail. She knit him a heavy mitten for his left
hand, and devised a way to sew and pad the right sleeve that protected
the maimed arm in bitter weather. She patched his clothing--frequently
torn by the wire--and saved kitchen scraps for his birds, not because
she either knew or cared anything about them, but because she herself
was close enough to the swamp to be touched by its utter loneliness.
When Duncan laughed at her for this, she retorted: "My God, mannie, if
Freckles hadna the birds and the beasts he would be always alone. It was
never meant for a human being to be so solitary. He'd get touched in the
head if he hadna them to think for and to talk to."

"How much answer do ye think he gets to his talkin', lass?" laughed
Duncan.

"He gets the answer that keeps the eye bright, the heart happy, and the
feet walking faithful the rough path he's set them in," answered Mrs.
Duncan earnestly.

Duncan walked away appearing very thoughtful. The next morning he gave
an ear from the corn he was shelling for his chickens to Freckles, and
told him to carry it to his wild chickens in the Limberlost. Freckles
laughed delightedly.

"Me chickens!" he said. "Why didn't I ever think of that before? Of
course they are! They are just little, brightly colored cocks and hens!
But 'wild' is no good. What would you say to me 'wild chickens' being a
good deal tamer than yours here in your yard?"

"Hoot, lad!" cried Duncan.

"Make yours light on your head and eat out of your hands and pockets,"
challenged Freckles.

"Go and tell your fairy tales to the wee people! They're juist brash on
believin' things," said Duncan. "Ye canna invent any story too big to
stop them from callin' for a bigger."

"I dare you to come see!" retorted Freckles.

"Take ye!" said Duncan. "If ye make juist ane bird licht on your heid
or eat frae your hand, ye are free to help yoursel' to my corn-crib and
wheat bin the rest of the winter."

Freckles sprang in air and howled in glee.

"Oh, Duncan! You're too, aisy" he cried. "When will you come?"

"I'll come next Sabbath," said Duncan. "And I'll believe the birds of
the Limberlost are tame as barnyard fowl when I see it, and no sooner!"

After th