"'Tis the gang!" shouted Freckles. "They're clearing a place to make the
camp. Let's go help!"
"Hadn't we better mark that tree again?" cautioned the Angel. "It's away
in here. There's such a lot of them, and all so much alike. We'd feel
good and green to find it and then lose it."
Freckles lifted the sapling to replace it, but the Angel motioned him
away.
"Use your hatchet," she said. "I predict this is the most valuable tree
in the swamp. You found it. I'm going to play that you're my knight.
Now, you nail my colors on it."
She reached up, and pulling a blue bow from her hair, untied and doubled
it against the tree. Freckles turned his eyes from her and managed the
fastening with shaking fingers. The Angel had called him her knight!
Dear Lord, how he loved her! She must not see his face, or surely her
quick eyes would read what he was fighting to hide. He did not dare lay
his lips on that ribbon then, but that night he would return to it. When
they had gone a little distance, they both looked back, and the morning
breeze set the bit of blue waving them a farewell.
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