Then, brawny,
big Scotswoman though she was, she quietly keeled over again. The
children added their wailing to Freckles' panic.
This time he was so close the cabin that he could carry her into the
house and lay her on the bed. He sent the oldest boy scudding down the
corduroy for the nearest neighbor, and between them they undressed Mrs.
Duncan and discovered that she was not bitten. They bathed and bound the
bleeding wrist and coaxed her back to consciousness. She lay sobbing and
shuddering. The first intelligent word she said was: "Freckles, look at
that jar on the kitchen table and see if my yeast is no running ower."
Several days passed before she could give Duncan and Freckles any
detailed account of what had happened to her, even then she could not
do it without crying as the least of her babies. Freckles was almost
heartbroken, and nursed her as well as any woman could have done; while
big Duncan, with a heart full for them both, worked early and late to
chink every crack of the cabin and examine every spot that possibly
could harbor a snake.
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