Wherein the Angel Locates a Rare Tree and Dines with the Gang From afar Freckles saw them coming. The Angel was standing, waving her hat. He sprang on his wheel and raced, jolting and pounding, down the corduroy to meet them. The Bird Woman stopped the horse and the Angel gave him the bit of print paper. Freckles leaned the wheel against a tree and took the proof with eager fingers.
He never before had seen a study from any of his chickens.
He stood staring. When he turned his face toward them it was transfigured with delight.
"You see!" he exclaimed, and began gazing again. "Oh, me Little Chicken!" he cried. "Oh me ilegant Little Chicken! I'd be giving all me money in the bank for you!"Then he thought of the Angel's muff and Mrs. Duncan's hat, and added, "or at least, all but what I'm needing bad for something else.
Would you mind stopping at the cabin a minute and showing this to Mother Duncan?" he asked.
"Give me that little book in your pocket," said the Bird Woman.
She folded the outer edges of the proof so that it would fit into the book, explaining as she did so its perishable nature in that state. Freckles went hurrying ahead, and they arrived in time to see Mrs. Duncan gazing as if awestruck, and to hear her bewildered "Weel I be drawed on!"Freckles and the Angel helped the Bird Woman to establish herself for a long day at the mouth of Sleepy Snake Creek. Then she sent them away and waited what luck would bring to her.
"Now, what shall we do?" inquired the Angel, who was a bundle of nerves and energy.
"Would you like to go to me room awhile?" asked Freckles.
"If you don't care to very much, I'd rather not," said the Angel.
"I'll tell you. Let's go help Mrs. Duncan with dinner and play with the baby. I love a nice, clean baby."They started toward the cabin. Every few minutes they stopped to investigate something or to chatter over some natural history wonder.
The Angel had quick eyes; she seemed to see everything, but Freckles' were even quicker; for life itself had depended on their sharpness ever since the beginning of his work at the swamp. They saw it at the same time.
"Someone has been making a flagpole," said the Angel, running the toe of her shoe around the stump, evidently made that season.
"Freckles, what would anyone cut a tree as small as that for?""I don't know," said Freckles.
"Well, but I want to know!" said the Angel. "No one came away here and cut it for fun. They've taken it away. Let's go back and see if we can see it anywhere around there."She turned, retraced her footsteps, and began eagerly searching.
Freckles did the same.
"There it is!" he exclaimed at last, "leaning against the trunk of that big maple.""Yes, and leaning there has killed a patch of dried bark," said the Angel. "See how dried it appears?"Freckles stared at her.
"Angel!" he shouted, "I bet you it's a marked tree!""Course it is!" cried the Angel. "No one would cut that sapling and carry it away there and lean it up for nothing. I'll tell you! This is one of Jack's marked trees. He's climbed up there above anyone's head, peeled the bark, and cut into the grain enough to be sure.
Then he's laid the bark back and fastened it with that pole to mark it.
You see, there're a lot of other big maples close around it. Can you climb to that place?""Yes," said Freckles; "if I take off my wading-boots I can.""Then take them off," said the Angel, "and do hurry! Can't you see that I am almost crazy to know if this tree is a marked one?"When they pushed the sapling over, a piece of bark as big as the crown of Freckles' hat fell away.
"I believe it looks kind of nubby," encouraged the Angel, backing away, with her face all screwed into a twist in an effort to intensify her vision.
Freckles reached the opening, then slid rapidly to the ground.
He was almost breathless while his eyes were flashing.
"The bark's been cut clean with a knife, the sap scraped away, and a big chip taken out deep. The trunk is the twistiest thing you ever saw. It's full of eyes as a bird is of feathers!"The Angel was dancing and shaking his hand.
"Oh, Freckles," she cried, "I'm so delighted that you found it!""But I didn't," said the astonished Freckles. "That tree isn't my find; it's yours. I forgot it and was going on; you wouldn't give up, and kept talking about it, and turned back. You found it!""You'd best be looking after your reputation for truth and veracity," said the Angel. "You know you saw that sapling first!""Yes, after you took me back and set me looking for it," scoffed Freckles.
The clear, ringing echo of strongly swung axes came crashing through the Limberlost.
"'Tis the gang!" shouted Freckles. "They're clearing a place to make the camp. Let's go help!""Hadn't we better mark that tree again?" cautioned the Angel.
"It's away in here. There's such a lot of them, and all so much alike. We'd feel good and green to find it and then lose it."Freckles lifted the sapling to replace it, but the Angel motioned him away.
"Use your hatchet," she said. "I predict this is the most valuable tree in the swamp. You found it. I'm going to play that you're my knight. Now, you nail my colors on it."She reached up, and pulling a blue bow from her hair, untied and doubled it against the tree. Freckles turned his eyes from her and managed the fastening with shaking fingers. The Angel had called him her knight! Dear Lord, how he loved her! She must not see his face, or surely her quick eyes would read what he was fighting to hide.
He did not dare lay his lips on that ribbon then, but that night he would return to it. When they had gone a little distance, they both looked back, and the morning breeze set the bit of blue waving them a farewell.
They walked at a rapid pace.
