The things we do!

He told Freckles to ride on a
section of the maple with him, but now the boy asked to enter the swamp
with Duncan.
"I don't see why you want to go," said McLean. "I have no business to
let you out today at all."
"It's me chickens," whispered Freckles in distress. "You see, I was just
after finding yesterday, from me new book, how they do be nesting in
hollow trees, and there ain't any too many in the swamp. There's just a
chance that they might be in that one."
"Go ahead," said McLean. "That's a different story. If they happen to be
there, why tell Duncan he must give up the tree until they have finished
with it."
Then he climbed on a wagon and was driven away. Freckles hurried into
the swamp. He was a little behind, yet he could see the men. Before he
overtook them, they had turned from the west road and had entered the
swamp toward the east.
They stopped at the trunk of a monstrous prostrate log. It had been cut
three feet from the ground, over three-fourths of the way through, and
had fallen toward the east, the body of the log still resting on the
stump.


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