" Of course you must! She was his
Angel. She must have seen! His life, and what was far more, her own, was
in her hands. There was nothing he could do but trust her. Surely she
was working out some plan.
The Angel knelt beside his flower bed and recklessly tore up by the
roots a big bunch of foxfire.
"These stems are so tough and sticky," she said. "I can't break them.
Loan me your knife," she ordered Freckles.
As she reached for the knife, her back was for one second toward the
men. She looked into his eyes and deliberately winked.
She severed the stems, tossed the knife to Freckles, and walking to
Jack, laid the flowers over his heart.
Freckles broke into a sweat of agony. He had said she would be safe in
a herd of howling savages. Would she? If Black Jack even made a motion
toward touching her, Freckles knew that from somewhere he would muster
the strength to kill him. He mentally measured the distance to where his
club lay and set his muscles for a spring. But no--by the splendor of
God! The big fellow was baring his head with a hand that was unsteady.
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