"THE BLOW LANDED WITH A SMACK THAT JARRED THE VERY MARROW OF HIS BONES AND KEELED HIM OVER THE EDGE OF THE PORCH TO THE GROUND."
When Pearline recovered her breath she dropped flat upon the ground at her feet and howled like a Comanche until the going down of the sun.
Plaster did not attempt to console or quiet her. When he spoke again, he reached out and touched the bawling woman with his foot.
"Git up idjit!" he exclaimed. "Marse John expecks us to come an' repote to him an' git dese here handcuffs tuck off."
Sheriff John Flournoy was waiting for them as they came across his lawn to the porch where he sat.
Then for half an hour he listened to a tirade of crimination and recrimination which crackled with profane expletives like thorns under a pot. When Plaster paused to breathe, Pearline took up the complaint. When Pearline stopped from exhaustion, Plaster resumed his lamentations.
When the storm of vituperation subsided, Flournoy sat in his chair like a man who had been pounded over the head with a brick. It was some time before he could formulate his ideas. Then he spoke with difficulty.
"I judge from what I have heard that your three days' experience together has convinced you that your tastes are entirely dissimilar and your natures incompatible."