A wave of scarlet flooded Freckles’ face and he blazed hotly at the insult.

“And the Boss,” continued Duncan, coolly ignoring Freckles’ anger, “he lays back just as cool as cowcumbers an’ says:  ’I’ll give a thousand dollars to ony man that will show me a fresh stump when we reach the Limberlost,’ says he.  Some of the men just snapped him op that they’d find some.  So you see bow the Boss is trustin’ ye, lad.”

“I am gladder than I can ever expriss,” said Freckles.  “And now will I be walking double time to keep some of them from cutting a tree to get all that money!”

“Mither o’ Moses!” howled Duncan.  “Ye can trust the Scotch to bungle things a’thegither.  McLean was only meanin’ to show ye all confidence and honor.  He’s gone and set a high price for some dirty whelp to ruin ye.  I was just tryin’ to show ye how he felt toward ye, and I’ve gone an’ give ye that worry to bear.  Damn the Scotch!  They’re so slow an’ so dumb!”

“Exciptin’ prisint company?” sweetly inquired Freckles.

“No!” growled Duncan.  “Headin’ the list!  He’d nae business to set a price on ye, lad, for that’s about the amount of it, an’ I’d nae right to tell ye.  We’ve both done ye ill, an’ both meanin’ the verra best.  Juist what I’m always sayin’ to Sarah.”

“I am mighty proud of what you have been telling me, Duncan,” said Freckles.  “I need the warning, sure.  For with the books coming I might be timpted to neglect me work when double watching is needed.  Thank you more than I can say for putting me on to it.  What you’ve told me may be the saving of me.  I won’t stop for dinner now.  I’ll be getting along the east line, and when I come around about three, maybe Mother Duncan will let me have a glass of milk and a bite of something.”

“Ye see now!” cried Duncan in disgust.  “Ye’ll start on that seven-mile tramp with na bite to stay your stomach.  What was it I told ye?”

“You told me that the Scotch had the hardest heads and the softest hearts of any people that’s living,” answered Freckles.

Duncan grunted in gratified disapproval.

Freckles picked up his club and started down the line, whistling cheerily, for he had an unusually long repertoire upon which to draw.

Duncan went straight to the lower camp, and calling McLean aside, repeated the conversation verbatim, ending:  “And nae matter what happens now or ever, dinna ye dare let onythin’ make ye believe that Freckles hasna guarded faithful as ony man could.”

“I don’t think anything could shake my faith in the lad,” answered McLean.

Freckles was whistling merrily.  He kept one eye religiously on the line.  The other he divided between the path, his friends of the wire, and a search of the sky for his latest arrivals.  Every day since their coming he had seen them, either hanging as small, black clouds above the swamp or bobbing over logs and trees with their queer, tilting walk.  Whenever he could spare time, he entered the swamp and tried to make friends with them, for they were the tamest of all his unnumbered subjects.  They ducked, dodged, and ambled around him, over logs and bushes, and not even a near approach would drive them to flight.