He looked again, and it had been a dream. She was not there. Had she been? For his life, Freckles could not tell whether he really had seen the Angel, or whether his strained senses had played him the most cruel trick of all. Or was it not the kindest? Now he could go with the vision of her lovely face fresh with him.
“Thank You for that, oh God!” whispered Freckles. “'Twas more than kind of You and I don't s'pose I ought to be wanting anything else; but if You can, oh, I wish I could know before this ends, if 'twas me mother”—Freckles could not even whisper the words, for he hesitated a second and ended—“IF 'TWAS ME MOTHER DID IT!”
“Freckles! Freckles! Oh, Freckles!” the voice of the Angel came calling. Freckles swayed forward and wrenched at the rope until it cut deeply into his body.
“Hell!” cried Black Jack. “Who is that? Do you know?”
Freckles nodded.
Jack whipped out a revolver and snatched the gag from Freckles' mouth.
“Say quick, or it's up with you right now, and whoever that is with you!”
“It's the girl the Bird Woman takes with her,” whispered Freckles through dry, swollen lips.
“They ain't due here for five days yet,” said Wessner. “We got on to that last week.”
“Yes,” said Freckles, “but I found a tree covered with butterflies and things along the east line yesterday that I thought the Bird Woman would want extra, and I went to town to tell her last night. She said she'd come soon, but she didn't say when. They must be here. I take care of the girl while the Bird Woman works. Untie me quick until she is gone. I'll try to send her back, and then you can go on with your dirty work.”