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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"


Freckles swayed forward and wrenched at the rope until it cut deeply
into his body.
"Hell!" cried Black Jack. "Who is that? Do you know?"
Freckles nodded.
Jack whipped out a revolver and snatched the gag from Freckles' mouth.
"Say quick, or it's up with you right now, and whoever that is with
you!"
"It's the girl the Bird Woman takes with her," whispered Freckles
through dry, swollen lips.
"They ain't due here for five days yet," said Wessner. "We got on to
that last week."
"Yes," said Freckles, "but I found a tree covered with butterflies and
things along the east line yesterday that I thought the Bird Woman would
want extra, and I went to town to tell her last night. She said she'd
come soon, but she didn't say when. They must be here. I take care of
the girl while the Bird Woman works. Untie me quick until she is gone.
I'll try to send her back, and then you can go on with your dirty work."
"He ain't lying," volunteered Wessner. "I saw that tree covered with
butterflies and him watching around it when we were spying on him
yesterday.


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