"
Freckles heaped the pearls with the emeralds. He studied the diamonds a
long time.
"These things are so fascinating like they almost tempt one, though they
ain't quite the proper thing," he said. "I've always dearly loved to be
watching yours, sir. I must get her some of these big ones, too, some
day. They're like the Limberlost in January, when it's all ice-coated,
and the sun is in the west and shines through and makes all you can see
of the whole world look like fire and ice; but fire and ice ain't like
the Angel."
The diamonds joined the emeralds and pearls. There was left a little red
heap, and Freckles' fingers touched it with a new tenderness. His eyes
were flashing.
"I'm thinking here's me Angel's stone," he exulted. "The Limberlost, and
me with it, grew in mine; but it's going to bloom, and her with it, in
this! There's the red of the wild poppies, the cardinal-flowers, and the
little bunch of crushed foxfire that we found where she put it to save
me. There's the light of the campfire, and the sun setting over Sleepy
Snake Creek.
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