For the first time,
his thoughts turned anxiously toward the city and the beginning of his
studies. McLean and the Duncans spoke of him as "the boy," but he was
a man. He must face life bravely and act a man's part. The Angel was a
mere child. He must not allow her to torture him past endurance with her
frank comradeship that meant to him high heaven, earth's richness, and
all that lay between, and NOTHING to her.
There was an ominous growl of thunder, and amazed at himself, Freckles
snatched up his wheel and raced toward the swamp. He was worried to find
his boots lying at the cabin door; the children playing on the woodpile
told him that "mither" said they were so heavy she couldn't walk in
them, and she had come back and taken them off. Thoroughly frightened,
he stopped only long enough to slip them on, and then sped with all his
strength for the Limberlost. To the west, the long, black, hard-beaten
trail lay clear; but far up the east side, straight across the path, he
could see what was certainly a limp, brown figure. Freckles spun with
all his might.
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