"I must be answering," said Freckles, and Jack nodded. "Right here!"he called, and to the men: "You go on with your work, and remember one thing yourselves. The work of the Bird Woman is known all over the world. This girl's father is a rich man, and she is all he has. If you offer hurt of any kind to either of them, this world has no place far enough away or dark enough for you to be hiding in. Hell will be easy to what any man will get if he touches either of them!""Freckles, where are you?" demanded the Angel.
Soulsick with fear for her, Freckles went toward her and parted the bushes that she might enter. She came through without apparently giving him a glance, and the first words she said were: "Why have the gang come so soon? I didn't know you expected them for three weeks yet. Or is this some especial tree that Mr. McLean needs to fill an order right now?"Freckles hesitated. Would a man dare lie to save himself? No.
But to save the Angel--surely that was different. He opened his lips, but the Angel was capable of saving herself. She walked among them, exactly as if she had been reared in a lumber camp, and never waited for an answer.
"Why, your specimen case!" she cried. "Look! Haven't you noticed that it's tipped over? Set it straight, quickly!"A couple of the men stepped out and carefully righted the case.
"There! That's better," she said. "Freckles, I'm surprised at your being so careless. It would be a shame to break those lovely butterflies for one old tree! Is that a valuable tree? Why didn't you tell us last night you were going to take out a tree this morning?
Oh, say, did you put your case there to protect that tree from that stealing old Black Jack and his gang? I bet you did!
Well, if that wasn't bright! What kind of a tree is it?""It's a white oak," said Freckles.
"Like those they make dining-tables and sideboards from?""Yes."
"My! How interesting!" she cried. "I don't know a thing about timber, but my father wants me to learn just everything I can. I am going to ask him to let me come here and watch you until I know enough to boss a gang myself. Do you like to cut trees, gentlemen?"she asked with angelic sweetness of the men.
Some of them appeared foolish and some grim, but one managed to say they did.
Then the Angel's eyes turned full on Black Jack, and she gave the most natural little start of astonishment.
"Oh! I almost thought that you were a ghost!" she cried. "But I see now that you are really and truly. Were you ever in Colorado?""No," said Jack.
"I see you aren't the same man," said the Angel. "You know, we were in Colorado last year, and there was a cowboy who was the handsomest man anywhere around. He'd come riding into town every night, and all we girls just adored him! Oh, but he was a beauty!
I thought at first glance you were really he, but I see now he wasn't nearly so tall nor so broad as you, and only half as handsome."The men began to laugh while Jack flushed crimson. The Angel joined in the laugh.
"Well, I'll leave it to you! Isn't he handsome?" she challenged.
"As for that cowboy's face, it couldn't be compared with yours.
The only trouble with you is that your clothes are spoiling you.
It's the dress those cowboys wear that makes half their attraction.
If you were properly clothed, you could break the heart of the prettiest girl in the country."With one accord the other men looked at Black Jack, and for the first time realized that he was a superb specimen of manhood, for he stood six feet tall, was broad, well-rounded, and had dark, even skin, big black eyes, and full red lips.
"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed the Angel. "I'd just love to see you on horseback. Nothing sets a handsome man off so splendidly.
Do you ride?"
"Yes," said Jack, and his eyes were burning on the Angel as if he would fathom the depths of her soul.
"Well," said the Angel winsomely, "I know what I just wish you'd do.
I wish you would let your hair grow a little longer. Then wear a blue flannel shirt a little open at the throat, a red tie, and a broad-brimmed felt hat, and ride past my house of evenings.
I'm always at home then, and almost always on the veranda, and, oh! but I would like to see you! Will you do that for me?" It is impossible to describe the art with which the Angel asked the question. She was looking straight into Jack's face, coarse and hardened with sin and careless living, which was now taking on a wholly different expression.
The evil lines of it were softening and fading under her clear gaze.
A dull red flamed into his bronze cheeks, while his eyes were growing brightly tender.
"Yes," he said, and the glance he gave the men was of such a nature that no one saw fit even to change countenance.
"Oh, goody!" she cried, tilting on her toes. "I'll ask all the girls to come see, but they needn't stick in! We can get along without them, can't we?"Jack leaned toward her. He was the charmed fluttering bird, while the Angel was the snake.
"Well, I rather guess!" he cried.
The Angel drew a deep breath and surveyed him rapturously.
"My, but you're tall!" she commented. "Do you suppose I ever will grow to reach your shoulders?"She stood on tiptoe and measured the distance with her eyes. Then she developed timid confusion, while her glance sought the ground.
"I wish I could do something," she half whispered.
Jack seemed to increase an inch in height.
"What?" he asked hoarsely.
"Lariat Bill used always to have a bunch of red flowers in his shirt pocket. The red lit up his dark eyes and olive cheeks and made him splendid. May I put some red flowers on you?"Freckles stared as he wheezed for breath. He wished the earth would open and swallow him. Was he dead or alive? Since his Angel had seen Black Jack she never had glanced his way. Was she completely bewitched? Would she throw herself at the man's feet before them all?
