When they stood ready to lift him, the Angel bent over him in a passion of tenderness.

“Dear old Limberlost guard, we’re going to lift you now,” she said.  “I suspect you will faint from the pain of it, but we will be as easy as ever we can, and don’t you dare forget your promise!”

A whimsical half-smile touched Freckles’ quivering lips.

“Angel, can a man be remembering a promise when he ain’t knowing?” he asked.

“You can,” said the Angel stoutly, “because a promise means so much more to you than it does to most men.”

A look of strength flashed into Freckles’ face at her words.

“I am ready,” he said.

With the first touch his eyes closed, a mighty groan was wrenched from him, and he lay senseless.  The Angel gave Duncan one panic-stricken look.  Then she set her lips and gathered her forces again.

“I guess that’s a good thing,” she said.  “Maybe he won’t feel how we are hurting him.  Oh boys, are you being quick and gentle?”

She stepped to the side of the cot and bathed Freckles’ face.  Taking his hand in hers, she gave the word to start.  She told the men to ask every able-bodied man they met to join them so that they could change carriers often and make good time.

The Bird Woman insisted upon taking the Angel into the carriage and following the cot, but she refused to leave Freckles, and suggested that the Bird Woman drive ahead, pack them some clothing, and be at the station ready to accompany them to Chicago.  All the way the Angel walked beside the cot, shading Freckles’ face with a branch, and holding his hand.  At every pause to change carriers she moistened his face and lips and watched each breath with heart-breaking anxiety.

She scarcely knew when her father joined them, and taking the branch from her, slipped an arm around her waist and almost carried her.  To the city streets and the swarm of curious, staring faces she paid no more attention than she had to the trees of the Limberlost.  When the train came and the gang placed Freckles aboard, big Duncan made a place for the Angel beside the cot.

With the best physician to be found, and with the Bird Woman and McLean in attendance, the four-hours’ run to Chicago began.  The Angel constantly watched over Freckles; bathed his face, stroked his hand, and gently fanned him.  Not for an instant would she yield her place, or allow anyone else to do anything for him.  The Bird Woman and McLean regarded her in amazement.  There seemed to be no end to her resources and courage.  The only time she spoke was to ask McLean if he were sure the special would be ready on the Pittsburgh road.  He replied that it was made up and waiting.

At five o’clock Freckles lay stretched on the operating-table of Lake View Hospital, while three of the greatest surgeons in Chicago bent over him.  At their command, McLean picked up the unwilling Angel and carried her to the nurses to be bathed, have her bruises attended, and to be put to bed.