for
he had been alone so long that he loved the solitude, his chickens,
and flowers. The thought of having a stranger to all his ways come and
meddle with his arrangements, frighten his pets, pull his flowers,
and interrupt him when he wanted to study, so annoyed him that he was
blinded to his real need for help.

With McLean it was a case of letting his sober, better judgment be
overridden by the boy he was growing so to love that he could not endure
to oppose him, and to have Freckles keep his trust and win alone meant
more than any money the Boss might lose.

The following morning McLean brought the wheel, and Freckles took it to
the trail to test it. It was new, chainless, with as little as possible
to catch in hurried riding, and in every way the best of its kind.
Freckles went skimming around the trail on it on a preliminary trip
before he locked it in his case and started his minute examination of
his line on foot. He glanced around his room as he left it, and then
stood staring.

On the moss before his prettiest seat lay the Angel's hat. In the
excitement of yesterday all of them had forgotten it. He went and picked
it up, oh! so carefully, gazing at it with hungry eyes, but touching it
only to carry it to his case, where he hung it on the shining handlebar
of the new wheel and locked it among his treasures. Then he went to the
trail, with a new expression on his face and a strange throbbing in his
heart. He was not in the least afraid of anything that morning. He felt
he was the veriest Daniel, but all his lions seemed weak and harmless.

What Black Jack's next move would be he could not imagine, but that
there would be a move of some kind was certain. The big bully was not a
man to give up his purpose, or to have the hat swept from his head
with a bullet and bear it meekly. Moreover, Wessner would cling to his
revenge with a Dutchman's singleness of mind.

Freckles tried to think connectedly, but there were too many places on
the trail where the Angel's footprints were vet visible. She had stepped
in one mucky spot and left a sharp impression. The afternoon sun had
baked it hard, and the horses' hoofs had not obliterated any part of it,
as they had in so many places. Freckles stood fascinated, gazing at
it. He measured it lovingly with his eye. He would not have ventured a
caress on her hat any more than on her person, but this was different.
Surely a footprint on a trail might belong to anyone who found