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”
Freckles
clipped
the
wires
and
they
drove
through
.
The
Angel
leaned
from
the
carriage
and
held
out
his
revolver
.
Freckles
looked
at
her
in
surprise
.
Her
eyes
were
black
,
while
her
face
was
a
deeper
rose
than
usual
.
He
felt
that
his
own
was
white
.
“
Did
I
shoot
high
enough
?
”
she
asked
sweetly
.
“
I
really
forgot
about
lying
down
.
”
Freckles
winced
.
Did
the
child
know
how
close
she
had
gone
?
Surely
she
could
not
!
Or
was
it
possible
that
she
had
the
nerve
and
skill
to
fire
like
that
purposely
?
“
I
will
send
the
first
reliable
man
I
meet
for
McLean
,
”
said
the
Bird
Woman
,
gathering
up
the
lines
.
“
If
I
don
’
t
meet
one
when
we
reach
town
,
we
will
send
a
messenger
.
If
it
wasn
’
t
for
having
the
gang
see
me
,
I
would
go
myself
;
but
I
will
promise
you
that
you
will
have
help
in
a
little
over
two
hours
.
You
keep
well
hidden
.
They
must
think
some
of
the
gang
is
with
you
now
.
There
isn
’
t
a
chance
that
they
will
be
back
,
but
don
’
t
run
any
risks
.
Remain
under
cover
.
If
they
should
come
,
it
probably
would
be
for
their
saw
.
”
She
laughed
as
at
a
fine
joke
.
Round
-
eyed
,
Freckles
watched
the
Bird
Woman
and
the
Angel
drive
away
.
After
they
were
from
sight
and
he
was
safely
hidden
among
the
branches
of
a
small
tree
,
he
remembered
that
he
neither
had
thanked
them
nor
said
good
-
bye
.
Considering
what
they
had
been
through
,
they
never
would
come
again
.
His
heart
sank
until
he
had
palpitation
in
his
wading
-
boots
.
Stretching
the
length
of
the
limb
,
he
thought
deeply
,
though
he
was
not
thinking
of
Black
Jack
or
Wessner
.
Would
the
Bird
Woman
and
the
Angel
come
again
?
No
other
woman
whom
he
ever
had
known
would
.
But
did
they
resemble
any
other
women
he
ever
had
known
?
He
thought
of
the
Bird
Woman
’
s
unruffled
face
and
the
Angel
’
s
revolver
practice
,
and
presently
he
was
not
so
sure
that
they
would
not
return
.
What
were
the
people
in
the
big
world
like
?
His
knowledge
was
so
very
limited
.
There
had
been
people
at
the
Home
,
who
exchanged
a
stilted
,
perfunctory
kindness
for
their
salaries
.
The
visitors
who
called
on
receiving
days
he
had
divided
into
three
classes
:
the
psalm
-
singing
kind
,
who
came
with
a
tear
in
the
eye
and
hypocrisy
in
every
feature
of
their
faces
;
the
kind
who
dressed
in
silks
and
jewels
,
and
handed
to
those
poor
little
mother
-
hungry
souls
worn
toys
that
their
children
no
longer
cared
for
,
in
exactly
the
same
spirit
in
which
they
pitched
biscuits
to
the
monkeys
at
the
zoo
,
and
for
the
same
reason
—
to
see
how
they
would
take
them
and
be
amused
by
what
they
would
do
;
and
the
third
class
,
whom
he
considered
real
people
.
They
made
him
feel
they
cared
that
he
was
there
,
and
that
they
would
have
been
glad
to
see
him
elsewhere
.
Now
here
was
another
class
,
that
had
all
they
needed
of
the
world
’
s
best
and
were
engaged
in
doing
work
that
counted
.
They
had
things
worth
while
to
be
proud
of
;
and
they
had
met
him
as
a
son
and
brother
.
With
them
he
could
,
for
the
only
time
in
his
life
,
forget
the
lost
hand
that
every
day
tortured
him
with
a
new
pang
.
What
kind
of
people
were
they
and
where
did
they
belong
among
the
classes
he
knew
?
He
failed
to
decide
,
because
he
never
had
known
others
similar
to
them
;
but
how
he
loved
them
!
In
the
world
where
he
was
going
soon
,
were
the
majority
like
them
,
or
were
they
of
the
hypocrite
and
bun
-
throwing
classes
?
