The Angel drew a deep breath and surveyed him rapturously.
"My, but you're tall!" she commented. "Do you suppose I ever will grow
to reach your shoulders?"
She stood on tiptoe and measured the distance with her eyes. Then she
developed timid confusion, while her glance sought the ground.
"I wish I could do something," she half whispered.
Jack seemed to increase an inch in height.
"What?" he asked hoarsely.
"Lariat Bill used always to have a bunch of red flowers in his shirt
pocket. The red lit up his dark eyes and olive cheeks and made him
splendid. May I put some red flowers on you?"
Freckles stared as he wheezed for breath. He wished the earth would open
and swallow him. Was he dead or alive? Since his Angel had seen Black
Jack she never had glanced his way. Was she completely bewitched? Would
she throw herself at the man's feet before them all? Couldn't she give
him even one thought? Hadn't she seen that he was gagged and bound? Did
she truly think that these were McLean's men? Why, she could not! It was
only a few days ago that she had been close enough to this man and angry
enough with him to peel the hat from his head with a shot! Suddenly a
thing she had said jestingly to him one day came back with startling
force: "You must take Angels on trust.
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