"
She turned, retraced her footsteps, and began eagerly searching.
Freckles did the same.
"There it is!" he exclaimed at last, "leaning against the trunk of that
big maple."
"Yes, and leaning there has killed a patch of dried bark," said the
Angel. "See how dried it appears?"
Freckles stared at her.
"Angel!" he shouted, "I bet you it's a marked tree!"
"Course it is!" cried the Angel. "No one would cut that sapling and
carry it away there and lean it up for nothing. I'll tell you! This is
one of Jack's marked trees. He's climbed up there above anyone's head,
peeled the bark, and cut into the grain enough to be sure. Then he's
laid the bark back and fastened it with that pole to mark it. You see,
there're a lot of other big maples close around it. Can you climb to
that place?"
"Yes," said Freckles; "if I take off my wading-boots I can."
"Then take them off," said the Angel, "and do hurry! Can't you see that
I am almost crazy to know if this tree is a marked one?"
When they pushed the sapling over, a piece of bark as big as the crown
of Freckles' hat fell away.
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