"I'll show you a way to drive almost to the
nest on the east trail, and then you can come around to my room and stay
while the Bird Woman works. It's nearly always cool there, and there's
comfortable seats, and water."
"Oh! did you have drinking-water there?" she cried. "I was never so
thirsty or so hungry in my life, but I thought I wouldn't mention it."
"And I had not the wit to be seeing!" wailed Freckles. "I can be getting
you a good drink in no time."
He turned to the trail.
"Please wait a minute," called the Angel. "What's your name? I want to
think about you while you are gone." Freckles lifted his face with the
brown rift across it and smiled quizzically.
"Freckles?" she guessed, with a peal of laughter. "And mine is----"
"I'm knowing yours," interrupted Freckles.
"I don't believe you do. What is it?" asked the girl.
"You won't be getting angry?"
"Not until I've had the water, at least."
It was Freckles' turn to laugh. He whipped off his big, floppy straw
hat, stood uncovered before her, and said, in the sweetest of all the
sweet tones of his voice: "There's nothing you could be but the Swamp
Angel.
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