As he rode he sang, while he
sang he worshiped, but the god he tried to glorify was a dim and faraway
mystery. The Angel was warm flesh and blood.
Every time he passed the little bark-covered imprint on the trail he
dismounted, removed his hat, solemnly knelt and laid his lips on the
impression. Because he kept no account himself, only the laughing-faced
old man of the moon knew how often it happened; and as from the
beginning, to the follies of earth that gentleman has ever been kind.
With the near approach of dawn Freckles tuned his last note. Wearied
almost to falling, he turned from the trail into the path leading to the
cabin for a few hours' rest.
CHAPTER XII
Wherein Black Jack Captures Freckles and the Angel Captures Jack
As Freckles left the trail, from the swale close the south entrance,
four large muscular men arose and swiftly and carefully entered the
swamp by the wagon road. Two of them carried a big saw, the third, coils
of rope and wire, and all of them were heavily armed. They left one man
on guard at the entrance.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232