She took me in, and I put her soul, body, red head,
and all, into Sarah Duncan. The lumber and furniture man I combined
in McLean. Freckles was a composite of certain ideals and my own
field experiences, merged with those of Mr. Bob Burdette Black,
who, at the expense of much time and careful work, had done more
for me than any other ten men afield. The Angel was an idealized
picture of my daughter.
"I dedicated the book to my husband, Mr. Charles Darwin Porter, for
several reasons, the chiefest being that he deserved it. When word
was brought me by lumbermen of the nest of the Black Vulture in the
Limberlost, I hastened to tell my husband the wonderful story of
the big black bird, the downy white baby, the pale blue egg, and to
beg back a rashly made promise not to work in the Limberlost. Being
a natural history enthusiast himself, he agreed that I must go; but
he qualified the assent with the proviso that no one less careful
of me than he, might accompany me there. His business had forced
him to allow me to work alone, with hired guides or the help of
oilmen and farmers elsewhere; but a Limberlost trip at that time
was not to be joked about. It had not been shorn, branded, and
tamed. There were most excellent reasons why I should not go there.
Much of it was impenetrable. Only a few trees had been taken out;
oilmen were just invading it. In its physical aspect it was a
treacherous swamp and quagmire filled with every plant, animal, and
human danger known in the worst of such locations in the Central States.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42