Someone else, in taking out a bush, had found a daintily built and lined little nest, fresh as when made.
She held up her treasures and greeted McLean, "Good morning, Mr.Boss of the Limberlost!" The gang shouted, while he bowed profoundly before her.
"Everyone listen!" cried the Angel, climbing a roll of canvas.

"I have something to say! Freckles has been guarding here over a year now, and he presents the Limberlost to you, with every tree in it saved; for good measure he has this morning located the rarest one of them all: the one in from the east line, that Wessner spoke of the first day--nearest the one you took out.

All together! Everyone! Hurrah for Freckles!" With flushing cheeks and gleaming eyes, gaily waving the grass above her head, she led in three cheers and a tiger.

Freckles slipped into the swamp and hid himself, for fear he could not conceal his pride and his great surging, throbbing love for her.
The Angel subsided on the canvas and explained to McLean about the maple.

The Boss was mightily pleased.