The men found it sufficiently wonderful to
satisfy even Freckles, who had forgotten he was ever sore or stiff, and
coddled over it with every blarneying term of endearment he knew.
Duncan gathered his tools. "Deal's off, boys!" he said cheerfully. "This
log mauna be touched until Freckles' chaukies have finished with it. We
might as weel gang. Better put it back, Freckles. It's just out, and it
may chill. Ye will probably hae twa the morn."
Freckles crept into the log and carefully deposited the baby beside
the egg. When he came back, he said: "I made a big mistake not to be
bringing the egg out with the baby, but I was fearing to touch it.
It's shaped like a hen's egg, and it's big as a turkey's, and the
beautifulest blue--just splattered with big brown splotches, like me
book said, precise. Bet you never saw such a sight as it made on the
yellow of the rotten wood beside that funny leathery-faced little white
baby."
"Tell you what, Freckles," said one of the teamsters. "Have you ever
heard of this Bird Woman who goes all over the country with a camera and
makes pictures? She made some on my brother Jim's place last summer, and
Jim's so wild about them he quits plowing and goes after her about every
nest he finds.
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