"Stand up!" There was iron in his voice, and he was commanding as an outraged general.

"Anything, you want to be taking off ?" he questioned.
Wessner looked the astonishment he felt.

"Why, no, Freckles," he said.
"Have the goodness to be calling me Mister McLean," snapped Freckles.
"I'm after resarvin' me pet name for the use of me friends! You may stand with your back to the light or be taking any advantage you want." "Why, what do you mean ?" spluttered Wessner.
"I'm manin'," said Freckles tersely, "to lick a quarter-section of hell out of you, and may the Holy Vargin stay me before I leave you here carrion, for your carcass would turn the stummicks of me chickens!" At the camp that morning, Wessner's conduct had been so palpable an excuse to force a discharge that Duncan moved near McLean and whispered, "Think of the boy, sir ?" McLean was so troubled that, an hour later, he mounted Nellie and followed Wessner to his home in Wildcat Hollow, only to find that he had left there shortly before, heading for the Limberlost.

McLean rode at top speed.

When Mrs.Duncan told him that a man answering Wessner's description had gone down the west side of the swamp close noon, he left the mare in her charge and followed on foot.