The Bird Woman cried out sharply for water as she ran to them.  Someone sprang to bring that, and another to break open the case for brandy.  As McLean arose from binding Wessner, there was a cry that Jack was escaping.

He was already far in the swamp, running for its densest part in leaping bounds.  Every man who could be spared plunged after him.

Other members of the gang arriving, were sent to follow the tracks of the wagons.  The teamsters had driven from the west entrance, and crossing the swale, had taken the same route the Bird Woman and the Angel had before them.  There had been ample time for the drivers to reach the road; after that they could take any one of four directions.  Traffic was heavy, and lumber wagons were passing almost constantly, so the men turned back and joined the more exciting hunt for a man.  The remainder of the gang joined them, also farmers of the region and travelers attracted by the disturbance.

Watchers were set along the trail at short intervals.  They patrolled the line and roads through the swamp that night, with lighted torches, and the next day McLean headed as thorough a search as he felt could be made of one side, while Duncan covered the other; but Black Jack could not be found.  Spies were set around his home, in Wildcat Hollow, to ascertain if he reached there or aid was being sent in any direction to him; but it was soon clear that his relatives were ignorant of his hiding-place, and were searching for him.

Great is the elasticity of youth.  A hot bath and a sound night’s sleep renewed Freckles’ strength, and it needed but little more to work the same result with the Angel.  Freckles was on the trail early the next morning.  Besides a crowd of people anxious to witness Jack’s capture, he found four stalwart guards, one at each turn.  In his heart he was compelled to admit that he was glad to have them there.  Close noon, McLean placed his men in charge of Duncan, and taking Freckles, drove to town to see how the Angel fared.  McLean visited a greenhouse and bought an armload of its finest products; but Freckles would have none of them.  He would carry his message in a glowing mass of the Limberlost’s first goldenrod.

The Bird Woman received them, and in answer to their eager inquiries, said that the Angel was in no way seriously injured, only so bruised and shaken that their doctor had ordered her to lie quietly for the day.  Though she was sore and stiff, they were having work to keep her in bed.  Her callers sent up their flowers with their grateful regards, and the Angel promptly returned word that she wanted to see them.