"Won't sit down!" he babbled, reaching about for her blindly. "I love you an' I'm gonta have you!"
"You're out of your head! Sit down again! Please, now." Her tone changed to a soothing note. "You're—I'm afraid you're drunk."
He was groping for her, staggering toward a threatening outcropping of rock. With a rapid leap she closed in on him unexpectedly, heaved desperately to the right and left, and threw him flat on his back. Then she scrambled on top of his knees as he strove to rise again.
"Now, looky-here, mister," she warned, "you've gone just about far enough! In a second I'll get that bee-smoker and put you out of business. Please—please, now, be good!"
He seemed partially stunned by the fall, for he lay now without a move, eyes closed, his mind wandering dreamily. And thus he lay for half an hour longer, when he suddenly raised his head and looked at her, still propped up on his knees, with eyes that were sane.
"Golly!" he breathed.
"Golly is right," she agreed drolly. "Were you drunk or crazy?"
"Both, I guess. I'm—mighty sorry." His face was red as fire.
"Do you wish to get up?"
"If you please."