"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 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."