The two young men from Atlanta were paralysed with horror. When Uncle Jake Norris ran up the mountain to alarm Poteet, the witch-like figure of the woman sprang from the bushes and fell upon Woodward with a loud outcry. The whole occurrence, so strange, so unnatural, and so unexpected, stripped the young men of their power of reasoning; and if the rocks had opened and fiery flames issued forth, their astonishment and perplexity and terror could have been no greater.
But if they had been acquainted with the history of this wild-eyed woman,—if they had known that for weeks she had been wandering over the mountain bereft of reason, and seeking an opportunity to avenge with her own hands the murder of Ab Bonner, her son,—they would have been overcome by pity. Uncle Jake Norris understood at once that Ab Bonner's mother had shot Woodward, and he forgot to be merciful.
"Woe unto you, woman, ef you have done this deed! Woe unto you an' your'n, Rachel Bonner, ef you have murdered this innocent!"
"That he wuz innocent!" exclaimed the woman, swaying back and forth and waving her hands wildly. "The unborn babe wan't no innocenter than little Ab!"
"Woe unto you, Sister Bonner!" Uncle Jake went on, examining Woodward and speaking more calmly when he found him breathing regularly. "Woe unto you, and shame upon you, Sister Bonner, to do this deed of onjestifiable homicide, ez I may say. Let flesh an' min' rankle, but shed no blood."
"Oh, my little Ab! I uv kilt 'im ag'in!"
"You may well sesso, Sister Rachel Bonner," said Uncle Jake, turning Woodward over and examining him with the crude skill of an old soldier; "you may well sesso. Drap down where you is, an' call on the Lord not to give you over to a reprobate min' for to do the things that were unconvenient, ez St. Paul says. Let tribulation work patience, lest you git forsook of hope, Sister Jane Bonner. Come, Cap," he went on, addressing himself to Woodward, "Teague'll be a drappin' on us, thereckly, an' it twon't never do in the roun' worl' for to be a-makin' faces at 'im frum the groun'. Roust up, roust up."
Woodward did rouse up. In fact his unconsciousness was only momentary, but he had been making a vain effort to trace his surroundings, disordered as they were by the wild cribs of the woman, to a reasonable basis.
By the time he had been helped to his feet, and had discovered that the bullet from Mrs. Bonner's rifle had merely grazed the fleshy part of his shoulder, Teague and a number of his friends had arrived upon the scene. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done, except to move up the mountain to Poteet's.
"Ah, pore woman!" exclaimed Uncle Jake. "Pore mizerbul creetur! Come wi' us, Sister Jane Bonner, come wi' us. Ther's a warm place at Teague's h'a'th fer sech ez you."