“Freckles, get up!” It was half command, half entreaty.
“Easy, Angel, easy! Let me rest a bit first!” implored Freckles.
She knelt beside him. He reached his arm around her and drew her closely. He looked at McLean in an agony of entreaty that brought the Boss to his knees on the other side.
“Oh, Freckles!” McLean cried. “Not that! Surely we can do something! We must! Let me see!”
He tried to unfasten Freckles' neckband, but his fingers shook so clumsily that the Angel pushed them away and herself laid Freckles' chest bare. With one hasty glance she gathered the clothing together and slipped her arm under his head. Freckles lifted his eyes of agony to hers.
“You see?” he said.
The Angel nodded dumbly.
Freckles turned to McLean.
“Thank you for everything,” he panted. “Where are the boys?”
“They are all here,” said the Boss, “except a couple who have gone for doctors, Mrs. Duncan and the Bird Woman.”