The things we do!

"'Twould be a rare joke on the Boss," he said, "to be stalin' from him
the very thing he's trusted me to guard, and be getting me wages all
winter throwed in free. And you're making the pay awful high. Me to
be getting five hundred for such a simple little thing as that. You're
trating me most royal indade! It's away beyond all I'd be expecting.
Sivinteen cints would be a big price for that job. It must be looked
into thorough. Just you wait here until I do a minute's turn in the
swamp, and then I'll be eschorting you out of the clearing and giving
you the answer."
Freckles lifted the overhanging bushes and hurried to the case. He
unslung the specimen-box and laid it inside with his hatchet and
revolver. He slipped the key in his pocket and went back to Wessner.
"Now for the answer," he said. "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.


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