Last week he had taken her and the Bird Woman across the swamp over the path he followed in going from his room to the chicken tree. He had told them the night before, that the butterfly tree was on the line close to this path. In figuring on their not coming that day, he failed to reckon with the enthusiasm of the Bird Woman. They must be there for the study, and the Angel had risked crossing the swamp in search of him. Or was there something in his room they needed? The blood surged in his ears as the roar of the Limberlost in the wrath of a storm. 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.” “He ain't lying,” volunteered Wessner. “I saw that tree covered with butterflies and him watching around it when we were spying on him yesterday.” “No, he leaves lying to your sort,” snapped Black Jack, as he undid the rope and pitched it across the room. “Remember that you're covered every move you make, my buck,” he cautioned. “Freckles! Freckles!” came the Angel's impatient voice, closer and closer.