"Well, do you knock under?" he inquired, still carelessly fumbling the trigger. "Great mind ter say yes," was the shivering response. "Oh, take your time to consider, I'm in no hurry," said Dufour. If the man in the water could have known how the supple but of late untrained arms of the man on shore were aching, the outcome might have been different; but the bath was horribly cold and the gun's muzzle kept its bearing right on the bather's eye. "I give in, ye've got me, stranger," he at last exclaimed. Dufour was mightily relieved as he put down the gun and watched his dripping and shivering antagonist wade out of the cold pool. The men looked at each other curiously. "Ye're the dog gone'dest man 'at ever I see," remarked the mountaineer; "who air ye, anyhow?" "Oh, I'm a pretty good fellow, if you take me on the right tack," said Dufour. The other hesitated a moment, and then inquired: "Air ye one o' them people up at the tavern on the mounting?" "Yes." "A boardin' there?" "Yes." "For all summer?" "Possibly." Again there was a silence, during which the water trickled off the mountaineer's clothes and ran over the little stones at his feet. "Goin' ter make fun o' me when ye git up thar?" the catechism was at length resumed. Dufour laughed. "I could tell a pretty good thing on you," he answered, taking a sweeping observation of the stalwart fellow's appearance as he stood there with his loose jeans trousers and blue cotton shirt clinging to his shivering limbs. "See yer, now," said the latter, in a wheedling tone, and wringing his light, thin beard with one sinewy dark hand, "see yer, now, I'd like for ye not ter do thet, strenger." "Why?" "Well," said the mountaineer, after some picturesque hesitation and faltering, "'cause I hev a 'quaintance o' mine up ther' at thet tavern." "Indeed, have you? Who is it?" "Mebbe ye mought be erquainted with Miss Sarah Anna Crabb?" "No." "Well, she's up ther', she stayed all night at our house las' night an' went on up ther' this mornin'; she's a literary woman an' purty, an' smart, an' a mighty much of a talker." "Ugh!" "Jest tell her 'at ye met me down yer, an' 'at I'm tol'ble well; but don't say nothin' 'bout this 'ere duckin' 'at ye gi' me, will ye?" "Oh, of course, that's all right," Dufour hastened to say, feeling an indescribable thrill of sympathy for the man. "Yer's my hand, strenger, an' w'en Wesley Tolliver gives a feller his hand hit means all there air ter mean," exclaimed the latter, as warmly as his condition would permit, "an' w'en ye need er friend in these parts jest come ter me." He shouldered his gun, thereupon, and remarking that he might as well be going, strode away over a spur of the mountain, his clothes still dripping and sticking close to his muscular limbs. Dufour found his rod broken and his reel injured, by having felt the weight of Wesley Tolliver's foot, and so he too turned to retrace his steps.