She was having a happy time, when McLean came back jubilant, from his
trip to the tree. How jubilant he told only the Angel, for he had been
obliged to lose faith in some trusted men of late, and had learned
discretion by what he suffered. He planned to begin clearing out a road
to the tree that same afternoon, and to set two guards every night, for
it promised to be a rare treasure, so he was eager to see it on the way
to the mills.
"I am coming to see it felled," cried the Angel. "I feel a sort of
motherly interest in that tree."
McLean was highly amused. He would have staked his life on the honesty
of either the Angel or Freckles; yet their versions of the finding of
the tree differed widely.
"Tell me, Angel," the Boss said jestingly. "I think I have a right to
know. Who really did locate that tree?"
"Freckles," she answered promptly and emphatically.
"But he says quite as positively that it was you. I don't understand."
The Angel's legal look flashed into her face. Her eyes grew tense with
earnestness. She glanced around, and seeing no towel or basin, held out
her hand for Sears to pour water over them.
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