'"
"Here we are arrived at once."
Freckles' finger followed the line, and he read scraps aloud.
"'Common in the South. Sometimes called Jim Crow. Nearest equivalent to
C-a-t-h-a-r-t-e-s A-t-r-a-t-a.'"
"How the divil am I ever to learn them corkin' big words by mesel'?"
"'--the Pharaoh's Chickens of European species. Sometimes stray north as
far as Virginia and Kentucky----'"
"And sometimes farther," interpolated Freckles, "'cos I got them right
here in Indiana so like these pictures I can just see me big chicken
bobbing up to get his ears boxed. Hey?"
"'Light-blue eggs'----"
"Golly! I got to be seeing them!"
"'--big as a common turkey's, but shaped like a hen's, heavily splotched
with chocolate----'"
"Caramels, I suppose. And----"
"'--in hollow logs or stumps.'"
"Oh, hagginy! Wasn't I barking up the wrong tree, though? Ought to been
looking close the ground all this time. Now it's all to do over, and I
suspect the sooner I start the sooner I'll be likely to find them."
Freckles put away his book, dampened the smudge-fire, without which the
mosquitoes made the swamp almost unbearable, took his cudgel and lunch,
and went to the line.
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