“I don’t exactly see how it comes to be in such splendid fur in summer.  Their coats are always thick in cold weather, but this scarcely could be improved.  I’ll wire Cooper to be watching for it.  They must have it fresh.  When it’s tanned we won’t spare any expense in making it up.  It should be a royal thing, and some way I think it will exactly suit the Angel.  I can’t think of anything that would be more appropriate for her.”

“Neither can I,” agreed Freckles heartily.  “When I reach the city there’s one other thing, if I’ve the money after the muff is finished.”

He told McLean of Mrs. Duncan’s desire for a hat similar to the Angel’s.  He hesitated a little in the telling, keeping sharp watch on McLean’s face.  When he saw the Boss’s eyes were full of comprehension and sympathy, he loved him anew, for, as ever, McLean was quick to understand.  Instead of laughing, he said:  “I think you’ll have to let me in on that, too.  You mustn’t be selfish, you know.  I’ll tell you what we’ll do.  Send it for Christmas.  I’ll be home then, and we can fill a box.  You get the hat.  I’ll add a dress and wrap.  You buy Duncan a hat and gloves.  I’ll send him a big overcoat, and we’ll put in a lot of little stuff for the babies.  Won’t that be fun?”

Freckles fairly shivered with delight.

“That would be away too serious for fun,” he said.  “That would be heavenly.  How long will it be?”

He began counting the time, and McLean deliberately set himself to encourage Freckles and keep his thoughts from the trouble of the past few days, for he had been overwrought and needed quiet and rest.

CHAPTER XV

Wherein Freckles and the Angel Try Taking a Picture, and Little Chicken Furnishes the Subject

A week later everything at the Limberlost was precisely as it had been before the tragedy, except the case in Freckles’ room now rested on the stump of the newly felled tree.  Enough of the vines were left to cover it prettily, and every vestige of the havoc of a few days before was gone.  New guards were patrolling the trail.  Freckles was roughly laying off the swamp in sections and searching for marked trees.  In that time he had found one deeply chipped and the chip cunningly replaced and tacked in.  It promised to be quite rare, so he was jubilant.  He also found so many subjects for the Bird Woman that her coming was of almost daily occurrence, and the hours he spent with her and the Angel were nothing less than golden.

The Limberlost was now arrayed as the Queen of Sheba in all her glory.  The first frosts of autumn had bejewelled her crown in flashing topaz, ruby, and emerald.  Around her feet trailed the purple of her garments, while in her hand was her golden scepter.  Everything was at full tide.  It seemed as if nothing could grow lovelier, and it was all standing still a few weeks, waiting coming destruction.