He was a strapping redheaded lad with a face full of freckles, and he looked like a tramp when he trudged into the lumber camp in the forest country of Indiana, looking for work. He couldn't, in fact, have been any more desperate than he was -- he had no father or mother, and he'd run away from an orphanage in Chicago. Now, hungry and bone-weary, robbed and beaten on the road, Freckles stood before the lumber camp boss hoping for any work that would put a bit of food into his mouth.

"No use bothering with this fellow," volunteered the cook. "He's only got one hand."

The flush on Freckles' face burned deeply. But the boss heard him out, and hired him to guard the magnificent Limberlost trees from timber thieves. For the first time in his life, his missing hand didn't matter! He had a job to do, and he could do it as well as anyone!

The Limberlost was a dismal swamp several miles from the lumber camp. . . 

From the dust jacket of the Junior Deluxe Edition