“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.