dn't! Me bird has too amazing good sinse to go back
when he could be following you," exulted Freckles, exactly as if he did
not realize what the delay had cost him. Then he lay silently thinking,
but presently he asked slowly: "And so 'twas me Little Chicken that was
making you late, Angel?"

"Yes," said the Angel.

A spasm of fierce pain shook Freckles, and a look of uncertainty crossed
his face.

"All summer I've been thanking God for the falling of the feather and
all the delights it's brought me," he muttered, "but this looks as
if----"

He stopped short and raised questioning eyes to McLean.

"I can't help being Irish, but I can help being superstitious," he said.
"I mustn't be laying it to the Almighty, or to me bird, must I?"

"No, dear lad," said McLean, stroking the brilliant hair. "The choice
lay with you. You could have stood a rooted dolt like all the remainder
of us. It was through your great love and your high courage that you
made the sacrifice."

"Don't you be so naming it, sir!" cried Freckles. "It's just the
reverse. If I could be giving me body the hundred times over to save
hers from this, I'd be doing it and take joy with every pain."

He turned with a smile of adoring tenderness to the Angel. She was
ghastly white, and her eyes were dull and glazed. She scarcely seemed to
hear or understand what was coming, but she bravely tried to answer that
smile.

"Is my forehead covered with dirt?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"You did once," he gasped.

Instantly she laid her lips on his forehead, then on each cheek, and
then in a long kiss on his lips.

McLean bent over him.

"Freckles," he said brokenly, "you will never know how I love you. You
won't go without saying good-bye to me?"

That word stung the Angel to quick comprehension. She started as if
arousing from sleep.

"Good-bye?" she cried sharply, her eyes widening and the color rushing
into her white face. "Good-bye! Why, what do you mean? Who's saying
good-bye? Where could Freckles go, when he is hurt like this, save to
the hospital? You needn't say good-bye for that. Of course, we will all
go with him! You call up the men. We must start right away."

"It's no use, Angel," said Freckles. "I'm thinking ivry bone in me
breast is smashed. You'll have to be letting me go!"

"I will not," said the Angel flatly. "It's no use wasting precious time
talking about it. You are alive. You are breathing; and no matter how
badly your