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- Стр. 118/195
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The
Angel
saw
Mrs
.
Duncan
started
;
then
began
her
race
.
Those
awful
miles
of
corduroy
!
Would
they
never
end
?
She
did
not
dare
use
the
wheel
too
roughly
,
for
if
it
broke
she
never
could
arrive
on
time
afoot
.
Where
her
way
was
impassable
for
the
wheel
,
she
jumped
off
,
and
pushing
it
beside
her
or
carrying
it
,
she
ran
as
fast
as
she
could
.
The
day
was
fearfully
warm
.
The
sun
poured
with
the
fierce
baking
heat
of
August
.
The
bushes
claimed
her
hat
,
and
she
did
not
stop
for
it
.
Where
it
was
at
all
possible
,
the
Angel
mounted
and
pounded
over
the
corduroy
again
.
She
was
panting
for
breath
and
almost
worn
out
when
she
reached
the
level
pike
.
She
had
no
idea
how
long
she
had
been
—
and
only
two
miles
covered
.
She
leaned
over
the
bars
,
almost
standing
on
the
pedals
,
racing
with
all
the
strength
in
her
body
.
The
blood
surged
in
her
ears
while
her
head
swam
,
but
she
kept
a
straight
course
,
and
rode
and
rode
.
It
seemed
to
her
that
she
was
standing
still
,
while
the
trees
and
houses
were
racing
past
her
.
Once
a
farmer
’
s
big
dog
rushed
angrily
into
the
road
and
she
swerved
until
she
almost
fell
,
but
she
regained
her
balance
,
and
setting
her
muscles
,
pedaled
as
fast
as
she
could
.
At
last
she
lifted
her
head
.
Surely
it
could
not
be
over
a
mile
more
.
She
had
covered
two
of
corduroy
and
at
least
three
of
gravel
,
and
it
was
only
six
in
all
.
She
was
reeling
in
the
saddle
,
but
she
gripped
the
bars
with
new
energy
,
and
raced
desperately
.
The
sun
beat
on
her
bare
head
and
hands
.
Just
when
she
was
choking
with
dust
,
and
almost
prostrate
with
heat
and
exhaustion
—
crash
,
she
ran
into
a
broken
bottle
.
Snap
!
went
the
tire
;
the
wheel
swerved
and
pitched
over
.
The
Angel
rolled
into
the
thick
yellow
dust
of
the
road
and
lay
quietly
.
From
afar
,
Duncan
began
to
notice
a
strange
,
dust
-
covered
object
in
the
road
,
as
he
headed
toward
town
with
the
first
load
of
the
day
’
s
felling
.
He
chirruped
to
the
bays
and
hurried
them
all
he
could
.
As
he
neared
the
Angel
,
he
saw
it
was
a
woman
and
a
broken
wheel
.
He
was
beside
her
in
an
instant
.
He
carried
her
to
a
shaded
fence
-
corner
,
stretched
her
on
the
grass
,
and
wiped
the
dust
from
the
lovely
face
all
dirt
-
streaked
,
crimson
,
and
bearing
a
startling
whiteness
around
the
mouth
and
nose
.
Wheels
were
common
enough
.
Many
of
the
farmers
’
daughters
owned
and
rode
them
,
but
he
knew
these
same
farmers
’
daughters
;
this
face
was
a
stranger
’
s
.
He
glanced
at
the
Angel
’
s
tumbled
clothing
,
the
silkiness
of
her
hair
,
with
its
pale
satin
ribbon
,
and
noticed
that
she
had
lost
her
hat
.
Her
lips
tightened
in
an
ominous
quiver
.
He
left
her
and
picked
up
the
wheel
:
as
he
had
surmised
,
he
knew
it
.
This
,
then
,
was
Freckles
’
Swamp
Angel
.
There
was
trouble
in
the
Limberlost
,
and
she
had
broken
down
racing
to
McLean
.
Duncan
turned
the
bays
into
a
fence
-
corner
,
tied
one
of
them
,
unharnessed
the
other
,
fastened
up
the
trace
chains
,
and
hurried
to
the
nearest
farmhouse
to
send
help
to
the
Angel
.
He
found
a
woman
,
who
took
a
bottle
of
camphor
,
a
jug
of
water
,
and
some
towels
,
and
started
on
the
run
.
Then
Duncan
put
the
bay
to
speed
and
raced
to
camp
.
