She reached both hands to McLean.  “What if one old tree is gone?  You don’t care, sir?  You feel that Freckles has kept his trust as nobody ever did before, don’t you?  You won’t forget all those long first days of fright that you told us of, the fearful cold of winter, the rain, heat, and lonesomeness, and the brave days, and lately, nights, too, and let him feel that his trust is broken?  Oh, Mr. McLean,” she begged, “say something to him!  Do something to make him feel that it isn’t for nothing he has watched and suffered it out with that old Limberlost.  Make him see how great and fine it is, and how far, far better he has done than you or any of us expected!  What’s one old tree, anyway?” she cried passionately.

“I was thinking before you came.  Those other men were rank big cowards.  They were scared for their lives.  If they were the drivers, I wager you gloves against gloves they never took those logs out to the pike.  My coming upset them.  Before you feel bad any more, you go look and see if they didn’t lose courage the minute they left Wessner and Black Jack, dump that timber and run.  I don’t believe they ever had the grit to drive out with it in daylight.  Go see if they didn’t figure on leaving the way we did the other morning, and you’ll find the logs before you reach the road.  They never risked taking them into the open, when they got away and had time to think.  Of course they didn’t!

“And, then, another thing.  You haven’t lost your wager!  It never will be claimed, because you made it with a stout, dark, red-faced man who drives a bay and a gray.  He was right back of you, Mr. McLean, when I came yesterday.  He went deathly white and shook on his feet when he saw those men probably would be caught.  Some one of them was something to him, and you can just spot him for one of the men at the bottom of your troubles, and urging those younger fellows to steal from you.  I suppose he’d promised to divide.  You settle with him, and that business will stop.”

She turned to Freckles.  “And you be the happiest man alive, because you have kept your trust.  Go look where I tell you and you’ll find the logs.  I can see just about where they are.  When they go up that steep little hill, into the next woods after the cornfield, why, they could unloose the chains and the logs would roll from the wagons themselves.  Now, you go look; and Mr. McLean, you do feel that Freckles has been brave and faithful?  You won’t love him any the less even if you don’t find the logs.”

The Angel’s nerve gave way and she began to cry.  Freckles could not endure it.  He almost ran from the room, with the tears in his eyes; but McLean took the Angel from the Bird Woman’s arms, and kissed her brave little face, stroked her hair, and petted her into quietness before he left.

As they drove to the swamp, McLean so earnestly seconded all that the Angel had said that he soon had the boy feeling much better.