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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

We'll have supper, and then I will provide you with clean
clothing, wading-boots, the wire-mending apparatus, and a revolver.
The first thing in the morning, I will take you the length of the trail
myself and explain fully what I want done. All I ask of you is to come
to me at once at the south camp and tell me as a man if you find this
job too hard for you. It will not surprise me. It is work that few men
would perform faithfully. What name shall I put down?"
Freckles' gaze never left McLean's face, and the Boss saw the swift
spasm of pain that swept his lonely, sensitive features.
"I haven't any name," he said stubbornly, "no more than one somebody
clapped on to me when they put me on the Home books, with not the
thought or care they'd name a house cat. I've seen how they enter those
poor little abandoned devils often enough to know. What they called me
is no more my name than it is yours. I don't know what mine is, and I
never will; but I am going to be your man and do your work, and I'll be
glad to answer to any name you choose to call me.


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