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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"

In many places the muck had to be filled to
give the horses and wagons a solid foundation over which to haul heavy
loads. It was several days before they completed a road to the noble,
big tree and were ready to fell it.
When the sawing began, Freckles was watching down the road where it met
the trail leading from Little Chicken's tree. He had gone to the tree
ahead of the gang to remove the blue ribbon. Carefully folded, it now
lay over his heart. He was promising himself much comfort with that
ribbon, when he would leave for the city next month to begin his studies
and dream the summer over again. It would help to make things tangible.
When he was dressed as other men, and at his work, he knew where he
meant to home that precious bit of blue. It should be his good-luck
token, and he would wear it always to keep bright in memory the day on
which the Angel had called him her knight.
How he would study, and oh, how he would sing! If only he could fulfill
McLean's expectations, and make the Angel proud of him! If only he could
be a real knight!
He could not understand why the Angel had failed to come.


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