His hat was awry, his bright hair rampant, his breast heaving with excitement, while he yet gripped the bulb with every ounce of strength in his body.
"Do you think we were for getting it ?" he asked.
The Angel could only nod.

Freckles heaved a deep sigh of relief.
"Well, if that ain't the hardest work I ever did in me life!" he exclaimed.

"It's no wonder the Bird Woman's for coming out of the swamp looking as if she's been through a fire, a flood, and a famine, if that's what she goes through day after day.

But if you think we got it, why, it's worth all it took, and I'm glad as ever you are, sure!" They put the holders in the case, carefully closed the camera, set it in also, and carried it to the road.
Then Freckles exulted.
"Now, let's be telling the Bird Woman about it!" he shouted, wildly dancing and swinging his hat.
"We got it! We got it! I bet a farm we got it!" Hand in hand they ran to the north end of the swamp, yelling "We got it!" like young Comanches, and never gave a thought to what they might do until a big blue-gray bird, with long neck and trailing legs, arose on flapping wings and sailed over the Limberlost.
The Angel became white to the lips and gripped Freckles with both hands.
He gulped with mortification and turned his back.
To frighten her subject away carelessly! It was the head crime in the Bird Woman's category.

She extended her hands as she arose, baked, blistered, and dripping, and exclaimed: "Bless you, my children! Bless you!" And it truly sounded as if she meant it.
"Why, why----" stammered the bewildered Angel.
Freckles hurried into the breach.
"You must be for blaming it every bit on me.