“This is a shame!” said Freckles. “You'll never be coming here again.”
“Oh yes I shall!” said the Angel. “The Bird Woman says that these birds remain over a month in the nest and she would like to make a picture every few days for seven or eight weeks, perhaps.”
Freckles barely escaped crying aloud for joy.
“Then don't you ever be torturing yourself and your horse to be coming in here again,” he said. “I'll show you a way to drive almost to the nest on the east trail, and then you can come around to my room and stay while the Bird Woman works. It's nearly always cool there, and there's comfortable seats, and water.”
“Oh! did you have drinking-water there?” she cried. “I was never so thirsty or so hungry in my life, but I thought I wouldn't mention it.”
“And I had not the wit to be seeing!” wailed Freckles. “I can be getting you a good drink in no time.”
He turned to the trail.
“Please wait a minute,” called the Angel. “What's your name? I want to think about you while you are gone.” Freckles lifted his face with the brown rift across it and smiled quizzically.
“Freckles?” she guessed, with a peal of laughter. “And mine is——”
“I'm knowing yours,” interrupted Freckles.