Suddenly the Angel cried: "There
comes the Bird Woman!"
Freckles had intended leaving before she came, but now he was glad
indeed to be there, for a warmer, more worn, and worse bitten creature
he never had seen. She was staggering under a load of cameras and
paraphernalia. Freckles ran to her aid. He took all he could carry of
her load, stowed it in the back of the carriage, and helped her in.
The Angel gave her water, knelt and unfastened the leggings, bathed her
face, and offered the lunch.
Freckles brought the horse. He was not sure about the harness, but the
Angel knew, and soon they left the swamp. Then he showed them how to
reach the chicken tree from the outside, indicated a cooler place for
the horse, and told them how, the next time they came, the Angel could
find his room while she waited.
The Bird Woman finished her lunch, and lay back, almost too tired to
speak.
"Were you for getting Little Chicken's picture?" Freckles asked.
"Finely!" she answered. "He posed splendidly. But I couldn't do anything
with his mother.
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