of his voice, for even as he speak
it's the sweetest sound I ever heard from the throat of a mortal."

"Will you do something for me?" she asked.

"I'll do anything in the world you want me to," said Freckles largely,
"and if I can't do what you want, I'll go to work at once and I'll try
'til I can."

"Good! That's business!" said the Angel. "You go over there and stand
before that hedge and sing something. Just anything you think of first."

Freckles faced the Angel from his banked wall of brown, blue, and
crimson, with its background of solid green, and lifting his face to
the sky, he sang the first thing that came into his mind. It was a
children's song that he had led for the little folks at the Home many
times, recalled to his mind by the Angel's exclamation:

"To fairyland we go,
With a song of joy, heigh-o.
In dreams we'll stand upon that shore
And all the realm behold;
We'll see the sights so grand
That belong to fairyland,
Its mysteries we will explore,
Its beauties will unfold.

"Oh, tra, la, la, oh, ha, ha, ha!
We're happy now as we can be,
Our welcome song we will prolong,
And greet you with our melody.
O fairyland, sweet fairyland,
We love to sing----"

No song could have given the intense sweetness and rollicking quality
of Freckles' voice better scope. He forgot everything but pride in his
work. He was singing the chorus, and the Angel was shivering in ecstasy,
when clip! clip! came the sharply beating feet of a swiftly ridden horse
down the trail from the north. They both sprang toward the entrance.

"Freckles! Freckles!" called the voice of the Bird Woman.

They were at the trail on the instant.

"Both those revolvers loaded?" she asked.

"Yes," said Freckles.

"Is there a way you can cut across the swamp and reach the chicken tree
in a few minutes, and with little noise?"

"Yes."

"Then go flying," said the Bird Woman. "Give the Angel a lift behind me,
and we will ride the horse back where you left him and wait for you. I
finished Little Chicken in no time and put him back. His mother came so
close, I felt sure she would enter the log. The light was fine, so I set
and focused the camera and covered it with branches, attached the long
hose, and went away over a hundred feet and hid in some bushes to wait.
A short, stout man and a tall, dark one passed me so closely I almost
could have reached out and touched t