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O
fairyland
,
sweet
fairyland
,
We
love
to
sing
—
—
”
No
song
could
have
given
the
intense
sweetness
and
rollicking
quality
of
Freckles
’
voice
better
scope
.
He
forgot
everything
but
pride
in
his
work
.
He
was
singing
the
chorus
,
and
the
Angel
was
shivering
in
ecstasy
,
when
clip
!
clip
!
came
the
sharply
beating
feet
of
a
swiftly
ridden
horse
down
the
trail
from
the
north
.
They
both
sprang
toward
the
entrance
.
“
Freckles
!
Freckles
!
”
called
the
voice
of
the
Bird
Woman
.
They
were
at
the
trail
on
the
instant
.
“
Both
those
revolvers
loaded
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Freckles
.
“
Is
there
a
way
you
can
cut
across
the
swamp
and
reach
the
chicken
tree
in
a
few
minutes
,
and
with
little
noise
?
”
“
Yes
.
”
“
Then
go
flying
,
”
said
the
Bird
Woman
.
“
Give
the
Angel
a
lift
behind
me
,
and
we
will
ride
the
horse
back
where
you
left
him
and
wait
for
you
.
I
finished
Little
Chicken
in
no
time
and
put
him
back
.
His
mother
came
so
close
,
I
felt
sure
she
would
enter
the
log
.
