crane tried not to show the bitterness he felt as he saw his hope of winning the favor of miss moyne fading rapidly out, but now and again a cloud of irresistible melancholy fell upon him.
at such times it was his habit to lean upon the new fence that circumscribed hotel helicon and dreamily smoke a cigar. he felt a blind desire to assassinate somebody, if he could only know who. of course not peck, for peck, too,[82] was disconsolate, but somebody, anybody who would claim the place of a successful rival.
one morning while he stood thus regaling himself with his tobacco and his misery, tolliver rode up, on a handsome horse this time, and, lifting his broad hat, bowed picturesquely and said:
“good mornin,’ kyernel, how’re ye this mornin’?”
“good morning,” growled crane.
tolliver looked off over the valley and up at the sky which was flecked with tags of fleece-cloud.
“hit look like hit mought rain in er day er two,” he remarked.
“yes, i don’t know, quite likely,” said crane, gazing evasively in another direction.
“ever’body’s well, i s’pose, up ther’ at the tavern?” inquired tolliver.
“i believe so,” was the cold answer.
tolliver leaned over the pommel of his saddle-tree and combed his horse’s mane with his sinewy fingers. meantime the expression in his face was one of exceeding embarrassment blent with cunning.
“kyernel, c’u’d ye do a feller a leetle yerrent what’s of importance?” he asked with peculiar faltering.
“do what?” inquired crane lifting his eye-brows and turning the cigar in his mouth.
“jest a leetle frien’ly job o’ kindness,” said tolliver, “jest ter please ask thet young leddy—thet miss crabb ’at i fotch up yer on er mule[83] tother day, ye know; well, jest ax her for me ef i moughtn’t come in an’ see ’er on pertic’lar an’ pressin’ business, ef ye please, sir.”
by this time the mountaineer’s embarrassment had become painfully apparent. any good judge of human nature could have seen at once that he was almost overcome with the burden and worry of the matter in hand. his cheeks were pale and his eyes appeared to be fading into utter vacancy of expression. crane told him that there was no need to be particularly formal, that if he would go in and ask for miss crabb she would see him in the parlor.
“but, kyernel, hit’s er private, sort er confidential confab ’at i must hev wi’ ’er, an’——”
“oh, well, that’s all right, you’ll not be interrupted in the parlor.”
“air ye pine blank shore of it, kyernel?”
“certainly.”
“dead shore?”
“quite, i assure you.”
crane had become interested in tolliver’s affair, whatever it might be. he could not keep from sharing the man’s evident intensity of mood, and all the time he was wondering what the matter could be. certainly no common-place subject could so affect a man of iron like tolliver. the poet’s lively imagination was all aglow over the mystery, but it could not formulate any reasonable theory of explanation.
miss crabb appeared in the parlor promptly and met tolliver with a cordiality that, instead[84] of reassuring him, threw him into another fit of embarrassment from which he at first made no effort to recover. his wide-brimmed hat, as he twirled it on his knees, quivered convulsively in accord with the ague of excitement with which his whole frame was shaking. he made certain soundless movements with his lips, as if muttering to himself.
miss crabb at first did not notice his confusion, and went on talking rapidly, reiterating thanks for the kindness he had shown her in her recent mishap, and managing to put into her voice some tones that to him sounded very tender and sweet.
“you don’t know—you can’t imagine, mr. tolliver, what i suffered during that awful night,” she said, turning her head to one side and drawing her chin under until it almost disappeared in the lace at her throat. “it was horrible.”
tolliver looked at her helplessly, his mouth open, his eyes dull and sunken.
“how did you happen to discover me up there, anyway, mr. tolliver?” she demanded, leaning toward him and laughing a little.
“the dog he treed ye, an’ then i seed ye settin’ up ther’ er writin’ away,” he managed to say, a wave of relief passing over his face at the sound of his own voice.
“it was perfectly ridiculous, perfectly preposterous,” she exclaimed, “but i’m mighty thankful that i was not hurt.”
“yes, well ye mought be, miss crabb,” he[85] stammered out. “wonder ye wasn’t scrunched inter pieces an’ scattered all eround ther’.”
she slipped out her book, took a pencil from over her ear and made a note.
tolliver eyed her dolefully. “how do you spell scrunched, mr. tolliver, in your dialect?” she paused to inquire.
his jaw fell a little lower for a moment, then he made an effort:
“s—q—r—u—” he paused and shook his head, “s—q—k—no thet’s not hit—s—k—q—r—dorg ef i ken spell thet word—begging yer parding, hit air ’tirely too hard for me.” he settled so low in his chair that his knees appeared almost as high as his head.
“all right,” she cheerily exclaimed, “i can get it phonetically. it’s a new word. i don’t think either craddock or johnson uses it, it’s valuable.”
there was a silence during which miss crabb thoughtfully drummed on her projecting front teeth with the end of her pencil.
tolliver nerved himself and said:
“miss crabb i—i, well, ye know, i—that is, begging yer parding, but i hev something’ i want er say ter ye, ef ye please.” he glanced furtively around, as if suspecting that some person lay secreted among the curtains of a bay window hard by. and indeed, dufour was there, lightly indulging in a morning nap, while the mountain breeze flowed over him. he was in a deep bamboo chair behind those very curtains.
“oh, certainly, certainly, mr. tolliver, go on, i shall be delighted, charmed indeed, to hear what you have to say,” miss crabb responded, turning a fresh leaf of her note-book and putting on a hopeful look.
“i hope ye’ll stick ter thet after i’ve done said it ter ye,” he proceeded to say, “but dorg on me ef i know how ter begin sayin’ it.”
“oh, just go right on, it’s all right; i assure you, mr. tolliver, i am very anxious to hear.”
“mebbe ye air, i don’t dispute yer word, but i feel mighty onery all the same.”
“onery is a western word,” mused miss crabb, making a note.
“proceed, mr. tolliver,” she continued after a pause, “proceed, i am listening with great interest.”
“what i’m ergwine ter state ter ye mought mek ye mad, but hit can’t be holp, i jest hev ter say it—i air jest erbleeged ter say it.”
his voice was husky and he was assuming a tragic air. miss crabb felt a strange thrill creep throughout her frame as a sudden suspicion seemed to leap back and forth between her heart and her brain.
“no, i assure you that i could not be angry with you, mr. tolliver, under any circumstances,” she murmured, “you have been so very kind to me.”
“hit air awful confusin’ an’ hit mek a feller feel smaller ’n a mouse ter speak it right out, but then hit air no foolishness, hit air pine blank business.”
“of course,” said miss crabb pensively, “of course you feel some embarrassment.”
he hitched himself up in his chair and crossed his legs.
“ef ye don’t like w’at i say, w’y i won’t blame ye a bit. i feel jest as if i wer a doin’ somethin’ ’at i hadn’t orter do, but my mammy she say i must, an’ that do everlastin’ly settle it.”
“yes, your mother’s advice is always safe.”
“safe, i shed say so! hit’s mighty onsafe fer me not ter foller it, i kin tell ye. she’d thump my old gourd fer me in ermazin’ style ef i didn’t.”
“thump my old gourd,” repeated miss crabb, making a note. “go on, mr. tolliver, please.”
“s’pose i mought as well, seein’ ’at it has ter be said.” he paused, faltered, and then proceeded: “well, beggin’ yer parding, miss crabb, but ever sence ye wer’ down ther’ ter we all’s cabin, hit’s been a worryin’ my mammy and me, an’ we hev’ talked it all over an’ over.”
“yes,” sighed miss crabb.
“hit’s not the cost of them beads, miss crabb, they air not wo’th much, but they was guv ter mammy by her aunt mandy ann bobus, an’ she feel like she jest can’t give ’em up.”
miss crabb looked puzzled.
“ef ye’ll jest erblige me an’ hand them beads over ter me, i’ll never say er wo’d ter nobody ner nothin.”
“mr. tolliver, what in the world do you[88] mean?” cried miss crabb, rising and standing before him with a face that flamed with sudden anger.
“ye mought er tuck ’em kinder accidentally, ye know,” he suggested in a conciliatory tone, rising also.
“mr. tolliver!” she almost screamed.
“ther’ now, be still, er ye’ll let ever’body know all erbout it,” he half whispered. “hit’d be disgraceful.”
“mr. tolliver!”
“sh-h-h! they’ll hear ye!”
“get right out of this room, you—”
just then dufour, who had been slowly aroused from his nap and who while yet half asleep had overheard much of what had been said, stepped forth from behind the curtains and stood looking from one to the other of the excited actors in the little drama.
“what’s up?” he, demanded bluntly.
“he’s accusing me of stealing beads!” cried miss crabb. “he’s insulting me!”
“what!” exclaimed dufour, glaring at tolliver.
“i feel mighty onery a doin’ it,” said tolliver, “but hit air pine blank mighty suspicious, kyernel, hit air for a fac’.”
dufour looked as if he hardly knew which he should do, laugh boisterously, or fling tolliver out of the window, but he quickly pulled himself together and said calmly:
“you are wrong, sir, and you must apologize.”
“certingly, certingly,” said tolliver, “thet air jest what i air a doin’. i beg parding er thousan’ times fer sayin’ what i hev, but, kyernel, hit air a lor’ a mighty’s truth, all the same, le’ me tell ye. them beads was ther’ w’en she come, an’ they was gone w’en she was gone, an’—”
“stop that! take back those words or i’ll throw you—”
dufour took a step towards tolliver, but stopped suddenly when the latter drew a huge revolver with one hand and a long crooked bowie-knife with the other and said:
“no yer don’t, kyernel, not by er good deal. jest ye open yer bread-trap ergain an’ i’ll jest clean up this ole shanty in erbout two minutes.”
it may not be inferred how this bit of dramatic experience would have ended had not a lean, wizzen-faced mountain lad rushed in just then with a three-cornered piece of paper in his hand upon which was scrawled the following message:
“i hev fown them beeds. they wus in mi terbacker bag.”
tolliver read this and wilted.
the boy was panting and almost exhausted. he had run all the way up the mountain from the tolliver cabin.
“yer mammy say kum home,” he gasped.
“hit air jest as i ’spected,” said tolliver. “mammy hev made a pine blank eejit of me again.” he handed the message to dufour as[90] he spoke. his pistol and knife had disappeared.
a full explanation followed, and at the end of a half-hour tolliver went away crest-fallen but happy.
as for miss crabb she had made a number of valuable dialect notes.
dufour promised not to let the rest of the guests know what had just happened in the parlor.
