Valiant sniffed with satisfaction. “I’m getting so confoundedly spoiled,” he said, “that I’m tempted to stay sick and do nothing but eat. By the way, Uncle Jefferson, where did Rickey come from? Does she belong here?” “No, suh. She come f’om Hell’s-Half-Acre.” [Pg 200] “What’s that?” “Dat’s dat ornery passle o’ folks yondah on de Dome,” explained Uncle Jefferson. “Dey’s been dah long’s Ah kin recommembah—jes’ er ramshackle lot o’ shif’less po’-white trash whut git erlong anyways ’t all. Ain’ nobody boddahs erbout dem ’less’n et’s er guv’ment agint, fo’ dey makes dey own whisky, en dey drinks et, too.” “That’s interesting,” said Valiant. “So Rickey belonged there?” “Yas, suh; nebbah’d a-come down heah ’cep’n fo’ Miss Shirley. She de one whut fotch de li’l gal outen dat place, en put huh wid Miss Mattie Sue, three yeah ergo.” A sudden color came into John Valiant’s cheeks. “Tell me about it.” His voice vibrated eagerly. “Well, suh,” continued Uncle Jefferson, “dey was one o’ dem low-down Hell’s-Half-Acrers, name’ Greef King, whut call hese’f de mayah ob de Dome, en he went on de rampage one day, en took ahtah his wife. She was er po’ sickly ’ooman, wid er li’l gal five yeah ol’ by er fus’ husban’. He done beat huh heap o’ times befo’, but dis time he boun’ ter finish huh. Ah reck’n he was too drunk fo’ dat, en she got erway en run down heah. Et was wintah time en dah’s snow on de groun’. Dah’s er road f’om de Dome dat hits de Red Road clost’ ter Rosewood—dat ar’s de Dandridge place—en she come dah. Reck’n she wuz er pitiful-lookin’ obstacle. [Pg 201]’Peahs lak she done put de li’l gal up in de cabin lof’ en hid de laddah, en she mos’ crazy fo’ feah Greef git huh. She lef’ he huntin’ fo’ de young ’un when she run erway. Dey was on’y Mis’ Judith en Miss Shirley en de gal Em’line at Rosewood, ’case Ranston de butlah en de yuddahs gone ter disstracted meetin’ down ter de Cullud Mefodis’ Chu’ch. Well, suh, dey wa’nt no time ter sen’ fo’ men. Whut yo’ reck’n Miss Shirley do? She ain’ afeahd o’ nuffin on dis yerf, en she on’y sebenteen yeah ol’ den, too. She don’ tell Mis’ Judith—no, suh! She run out ter de stable en saddle huh hoss, en she gallop up dat road ter Hell’s-Half-Acre lak er shot outen er shovel.” Valiant brought his hands together sharply. “Yes, yes,” he said. “And then?” “When she come ter Greef King’s cabin, he done foun’ de laddah, en one er he foots was on de rung. He had er ax in he han’. De po’ li’l gal was peepin’ down thoo’ de cracks o’ de flo’, en prayin’ de bestes’ she know how. She say arterwuhds dat she reck’n de Good Lawd sen’ er angel, fo’ Miss Shirley were all in white—she didn’ stop ter change huh close. She didn’ say nuffin, Miss Shirley didn’. She on’y lay huh han’ on Greef King’s ahm, en he look at huh face, en he drop he ax en go. Den she clumb de laddah en fotch de chile down in huh ahms en take huh on de hoss en come back. Dat de way et happen, suh.” [Pg 202]