Веснушки

           Why,ofallmornings,wasshelateonthis?

           McLeanhadriddentotown.Ifhehadbeenthere,Freckleswouldhaveaskedthattheydelaythefelling,buthescarcelylikedtoaskthegang.Hereallyhadnoauthority,althoughhethoughtthemenwouldwait;butsomewayhefoundsuchembarrassmentinframingtherequestthathewaiteduntiltheworkwaspracticallyended.Thesawwasout,andthemenwerecuttingintothefellingsideofthetreewhentheBossrodein.

           HisfirstwordwastoinquirefortheAngel.WhenFrecklessaidshehadnotyetcome,theBossatoncegaveorderstostopworkonthetreeuntilshearrived;forhefeltthatshevirtuallyhadlocatedit,andifshedesiredtoseeitfelled,sheshould.Asthemensteppedback,astiffmorningbreezecaughtthetop,thattoweredhighaboveitsfellows.Therewasanominousgrindingatthebase,ashiverofthemightytrunk,thendirectlyinlineofitsfallthebushesswungapartandthelaughingfaceoftheAngellookedonthem.

           Agroanofhorrorburstfromthedrythroatsofthemen,andreadingtheagonyintheirfaces,shestoppedshort,glancedup,andunderstood.

           “South!”shoutedMcLean.“Runsouth!”

           TheAngelwashelpless.Itwasapparentthatshedidnotknowwhichwaysouthwas.Therewasanotherslowshiverofthebigtree.Theremainderofthegangstoodmotionless,butFrecklessprangpastthetrunkandwentleapinginbigbounds.HecaughtuptheAngelanddashedthroughthethicketforsafety.Theswayingtrunkwashalfoverwhen,foraninstant,anear-bytreestayeditsfall.