“It's a white oak,” said Freckles.
“Like those they make dining-tables and sideboards from?”
“Yes.”
“My! How interesting!” she cried. “I don't know a thing about timber, but my father wants me to learn just everything I can. I am going to ask him to let me come here and watch you until I know enough to boss a gang myself. Do you like to cut trees, gentlemen?” she asked with angelic sweetness of the men.
Some of them appeared foolish and some grim, but one managed to say they did.
Then the Angel's eyes turned full on Black Jack, and she gave the most natural little start of astonishment.
“Oh! I almost thought that you were a ghost!” she cried. “But I see now that you are really and truly. Were you ever in Colorado?”
“No,” said Jack.
“I see you aren't the same man,” said the Angel. “You know, we were in Colorado last year, and there was a cowboy who was the handsomest man anywhere around. He'd come riding into town every night, and all we girls just adored him! Oh, but he was a beauty! I thought at first glance you were really he, but I see now he wasn't nearly so tall nor so broad as you, and only half as handsome.”
The men began to laugh while Jack flushed crimson. The Angel joined in the laugh.