he was glad to have them there. Close noon,
McLean placed his men in charge of Duncan, and taking Freckles, drove to
town to see how the Angel fared. McLean visited a greenhouse and bought
an armload of its finest products; but Freckles would have none of them.
He would carry his message in a glowing mass of the Limberlost's first
goldenrod.

The Bird Woman received them, and in answer to their eager inquiries,
said that the Angel was in no way seriously injured, only so bruised
and shaken that their doctor had ordered her to lie quietly for the day.
Though she was sore and stiff, they were having work to keep her in bed.
Her callers sent up their flowers with their grateful regards, and the
Angel promptly returned word that she wanted to see them.

She reached both hands to McLean. "What if one old tree is gone? You
don't care, sir? You feel that Freckles has kept his trust as nobody
ever did before, don't you? You won't forget all those long first days
of fright that you told us of, the fearful cold of winter, the rain,
heat, and lonesomeness, and the brave days, and lately, nights, too, and
let him feel that his trust is broken? Oh, Mr. McLean," she begged,
"say something to him! Do something to make him feel that it isn't for
nothing he has watched and suffered it out with that old Limberlost.
Make him see how great and fine it is, and how far, far better he has
done than you or any of us expected! What's one old tree, anyway?" she
cried passionately.

"I was thinking before you came. Those other men were rank big cowards.
They were scared for their lives. If they were the drivers, I wager you
gloves against gloves they never took those logs out to the pike. My
coming upset them. Before you feel bad any more, you go look and see if
they didn't lose courage the minute they left Wessner and Black Jack,
dump that timber and run. I don't believe they ever had the grit to
drive out with it in daylight. Go see if they didn't figure on leaving
the way we did the other morning, and you'll find the logs before you
reach the road. They never risked taking them into the open, when they
got away and had time to think. Of course they didn't!

"And, then, another thing. You haven't lost your wager! It never will
be claimed, because you made it with a stout, dark, red-faced man who
drives a bay and a gray. He was right back of you, Mr. McLean, when I
came yesterday. He went deathly white and shook on his feet when he saw
thos