"So you're not going to knock out my brains after all?"
"Naw, I ain't no murderer."
"Too bad," and the surveyor gave a deep sigh. "It's very disappointing."
Abner was now completely bewildered, and he knew not what to do. For once in his life he was unable to make any reply. If the young man had shown the least sign of fear, or had even argued, it would have been different. But to see him so calm and unconcerned was what puzzled him. He was mad, and yet it did no good. The more excited he became, the cooler seemed the surveyor. What was he to do? He did not wish to leave the fellow and go back to the house, as that would be an acknowledgment of defeat.
Happening to glance away to the left, he was much relieved to see Jess walking across the field carrying a dish of wild strawberries she had just picked.
"Hi thar, Jess," he called. "Come here. I want ye."
At these words the surveyor turned his head. Seeing the girl approaching, he suddenly straightened himself up from his listless attitude, while an expression of interest dawned in his eyes.
Jess was certainly fair to look upon as she drew near to where the two men were standing. It was little wonder that the surveyor's heart suddenly thrilled, and his hand touched his hat. Her trim lithe figure was clad in a simple white dress, open at the throat. Her arms were bare to the elbows, and her fingers bore the crimson stains of the strawberries she had recently picked. Beneath her broad-rimmed hat tresses of wavy dark-brown hair drifted waywardly and temptingly over her sun-browned neck, cheeks and forehead. Her eyes expressed surprise as she glanced at the young man, then at her father, and finally at the grounded gun.
"What's the matter, daddy?" she enquired. "You look dangerous."
"An' I feel dangerous," Abner retorted. "But that's as fer as I kin git, blamed if it ain't."