You probably knew that he was not. A little over a year ago I never
had seen him. He joined one of my lumber gangs from the road. He is a
stray, left at one of your homes for the friendless here in Chicago.
When he grew up the superintendent bound him to a brutal man. He ran
away and landed in one of my lumber camps. He has no name or knowledge
of legal birth. The Angel--we have talked of her. You see what she is,
physically and mentally. She has ancestors reaching back to Plymouth
Rock, and across the sea for generations before that. She is an
idolized, petted only child, and there is great wealth. Life holds
everything for her, nothing for him. He sees it more plainly than anyone
else could. There is nothing for the boy but death, if it is the Angel
that is required to save him."
The Angel stood between them.
"Well, I just guess not!" she cried. "If Freckles wants me, all he has
to do is to say so, and he can have me!"
The amazed men stepped back, staring at her.
"That he will never say," said McLean at last, "and you don't
understand, Angel.
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