Веснушки

           Itwasachildren’ssongthathehadledforthelittlefolksattheHomemanytimes,recalledtohismindbytheAngel’sexclamation:

           “Tofairylandwego,

           Withasongofjoy,heigh-o.

           Indreamswe’llstanduponthatshore

           Andalltherealmbehold;

           We’llseethesightssogrand

           Thatbelongtofairyland,

           Itsmysterieswewillexplore,

           Itsbeautieswillunfold.

           “Oh,tra,la,la,oh,ha,ha,ha!

           We’rehappynowaswecanbe,

           Ourwelcomesongwewillprolong,

           Andgreetyouwithourmelody.

           Ofairyland,sweetfairyland,

           Welovetosing——”

           NosongcouldhavegiventheintensesweetnessandrollickingqualityofFreckles’voicebetterscope.Heforgoteverythingbutprideinhiswork.Hewassingingthechorus,andtheAngelwasshiveringinecstasy,whenclip!clip!camethesharplybeatingfeetofaswiftlyriddenhorsedownthetrailfromthenorth.Theybothsprangtowardtheentrance.

           “Freckles!Freckles!”calledthevoiceoftheBirdWoman.

           Theywereatthetrailontheinstant.

           “Boththoserevolversloaded?”sheasked.

           “Yes,”saidFreckles.

           “Isthereawayyoucancutacrosstheswampandreachthechickentreeinafewminutes,andwithlittlenoise?”

           “Yes.”

           “Thengoflying,”saidtheBirdWoman.“GivetheAngelaliftbehindme,andwewillridethehorsebackwhereyoulefthimandwaitforyou.IfinishedLittleChickeninnotimeandputhimback.Hismothercamesoclose,Ifeltsureshewouldenterthelog.