"She's just
about where the old king rattler crosses to go into the swamp--the old
buster Duncan and I have been telling you of. I haven't a doubt but it
was the one Mother Duncan met. 'Twas down the trail there, just a little
farther on, that I found her, and it's sure to be close yet."
McLean slid from Nellie's back, led her into the trail farther down the
line, and tied her to a bush. Then he went to examine the otter. It was
a rare, big specimen, with exquisitely fine, long, silky hair.
"What do you want to do with it, Freckles?" asked McLean, as he stroked
the soft fur lingeringly. "Do you know that it is very valuable?"
"I was for almost praying so, sir," said Freckles. "As I saw it coming
up the bank I thought this: Once somewhere in a book there was a picture
of a young girl, and she was just a breath like the beautifulness of the
Angel. Her hands were in a muff as big as her body, and I thought it
was so pretty. I think she was some queen, or the like. Do you suppose
I could have this skin tanned and made into such a muff as that?--an
enormous big one, sir?"
"Of course you can," said McLean.
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