Early in the morning following his trip to North Wilkesboro’ Uncle Dick Siddon rode off to Pleasant Valley, there to prosecute his sentimental labors for the pleasuring of the Widow Brown. Alvira fared abroad on some errand to a neighboring cabin. Plutina, her usual richness of coloring dimmed by a troubled night, was left alone. In the mid-forenoon she was sitting on the porch, busy over a pan of beans, which she was stringing for dinner. As she chanced to raise her eyes, she saw Dan Hodges coming up the path. At sight of the evil lowering face, repulsion flared hot in the girl. The instinct of flight was strong, but her good sense forbade it. She felt a stirring of unfamiliar terror in the presence of the man. She scorned herself for the weakness, but it persisted. Her very fear dictated the counsels of prudence. She believed that in dissimulation lay her only possibility of safety. The thought of any intercourse with the moonshiner was unspeakably repugnant, yet she dared not risk needless offense. Nevertheless, the first effect of her resolve was a self-contempt that moved her to wrath, and made her opening speech more venomous even than it had been otherwise.

“Howdy, my little honey?” Hodges called out as he shambled to a halt before her. His coarse features writhed in a simper that intensified their ugliness. His coveting of this woman was suddenly magnified by sight of her loveliness, flawless in the brilliant light. The blood-shot eyes darted luxuriously over the curving graces beneath the scant homespun garment.

The girl sensed the insult of the man’s regard. It, rather than the insolent familiarity of address, provoked her outburst.

“Shet yer mouth, Dan Hodges,” she snapped. “I’ve done told ye afore, ye kain’t ‘honey’ me. If ye wants to pass the time o’ day, jest don’t fergit as how hit’s Miss Plutiny fer you-all.”

Hodges gaped bewilderedly under the rebuke. Then he growled defiantly.

“Wall, I’ll be dogged! Quite some spit-fire, hain’t ye? Reckon I know what’s a-bitin on ye. Ye’re mad kase Uncle Dick tuk the mounting land ye gals look to heir to, to bail me and Ben.” He stared at the girl ominously, with drawn brows. His voice was guttural with threatening. “So be ye moût hev to eat them words o’ your’n. Mebby, when I’ve done tole ye a thing er two, ye’ll be a-askin’ of me to call ye ‘honey.’ Mebby, ye’ll want to hover yer olé ‘hon,’ arter I let’s ye know a thing or two ‘bout the doin’s o’ you-all an’ thet damned little runt, thet reportin’ dawg sweetheart o’ your’n Zeke Higgins.”

The girl was stricken. She understood the outlaw’s reference. Somehow he had gained certain knowledge of Zeke’s part in saving the Quaker-school-teacher spy. She realized that the criminal gang would not hesitate at the murder of one who had thus foiled them. For the moment, she gave no heed to the danger that menaced herself as well. Her whole concern was for her lover. The single comfort came from the fact of his absence. Much as she had been longing for his coming, her prayer now was that he should not return until these men were imprisoned.

With a fierce effort toward bravery in the face of catastrophe, Plutina stood up, and drew herself proudly erect. Her dark eyes flashed wrathfully. She spoke with disdain:

“Ye wouldn’t dast say that to Zeke Higgins’ teeth. Mebby, he hain’t so thick through as you-all, and he hain’t so thick-headed, nuther. An’ he hain’t no runt, as ye’d find quick ’nuf, if so be’s ye dast stand up to him, man to man, ‘stid o’ with a gun from the laurel. He’s a man what you-all hain’t. He hain’t the kind to layway from the bushes, ner to be a-stealin’ his neighbor’s cattle an’ hawgs. An’ what’s more Dan Hodges, ef ye say as how Zeke ever reported ary still, ye’re a hell-bustin’ liar!”

Her jibes were powerless against the coarse-fibered brute. He grinned malevolently as he jeered at her.

“Thar, now! Hain’t it a pity to have a sweetheart what hain’t brave ’nuf to stand ‘is ground, an’ runs off, an’ leaves ’is gal to fit fer ’im.” Then, abruptly, the moonshiner’s expression changed to one meant to be ingratiating. “Wall, now, Miss Plutiny, I shore likes the way ye stan’s up fer the pore cuss. But, arter all, hes’ done up and left ye. An’ he hain’t comin’ back. Hit wouldn’t be healthy fer him to come back,” he added, savagely. “An’ what’s more, ye hain’t a-gwine to jine ‘im whar he’s at. The Hodges’ crowd won’t stan’ fer no sech! He’s been writ, Zeke Higgins has, with the sign o’ the skull an’ the cross the hull thing. Ye know what thet means, I reckon.”

Plutina blenched, and seated herself again, weakly. It was true, she knew the fantastic rigmarole, which made absurd the secret dictates of these illiterate desperadoes. But that absurdity meant death, none the less death for the one she loved. In her misery, she listened almost apathetically as Hodges went on talking in his heavy, grating voice.

“Zeke Higgins knows as how the Allens give us the word ’bout ’is crossin’ Bull Head with the spy. He knows thet, if ’e shows up in this-hyar kentry ag’in, the Devil’s Pot’ll have ‘im fer a b’ilin’. An’ thet’s ’nuf fer Zeke’s case. Now, we’ll jest chin a mite ’bout your’n.”

There was a little interval of silence, in which the girl stared unseeingly toward the splendors of the blossoming rhododendrons that fringed the clearing. The apathy had passed now, and she listened intently, with self-control to mask the despair that welled in her heart. It seemed to her that here was the need for that dissimulation she had promised herself need of it for life’s sake, however hateful it might be, however revolting to her every instinct. So she listened in a seeming of white calm, while the flames shriveled her soul.

The man straightened his great bulk a little, and regarded the girl with new earnestness. Into his speech crept a rude eloquence, for he voiced a sincere passion, though debased by his inherent bestiality.

“Plutiny Siddon, I’ve knowed ye, an’ I’ve craved ye, this many year. Some way, hit just seemed as how I couldn’t he’p hit. The more ye mistreated me, the more I wanted ye. Hit shames me, but hit’s true as preachin’. An’ hit’s true yit even arter seein’ yer bare futprint tracks thar on the Branch, alongside them of a man with shoes the damned revenuer what got us. Ye showed ’im the place, Plutiny Siddon cuss ye, fer a spy!... An’ I craves ye jest the same.... An’ I’ll have ye right soon!”

At this saying, terror mounted high in the girl. The thing she so dreaded was come to pass. She forgot, for a few moments, the threats against her lover. Despair crushed her in the realization of discovery. Her treachery was known to the man she feared. The peril she had voluntarily risked was fallen upon her. She was helpless, at the mercy of the criminal she had betrayed and she knew that there was no mercy in him. She shrank physically, as under a blow, and sat huddled a little, in a sudden weakness of body under the soul’s torment. Yet she listened with desperate intentness, as Hodges went on speaking. She cast one timid glance toward him, then dropped her gaze, revolted at the grotesque grimaces writhen by the man’s emotions.

“Harkin to me, Miss Plutiny!” he pleaded, huskily. “Harkin to me! I knows what I’m a-doin’ of. They hain’t nothin’ ye kin do to stop me. Kase why? Wall, if ye love yer gran’pap, ye’ll hold yer tongue ’bout all my talk. Yep! He’s done pledged his land to keep me an’ Ben out o’ the jail-house till cote. If ye tells ‘im I’m a-misusin’ o’ ye, he’d cancel the bond, an’ try to deliver me up. I knows all thet. But he wouldn’t cancel no bond, an’ no more he wouldn’t do any deliverin’ o’ me up. Kase why? Kase he’d jest nacherly die fust. Thet’s why. The land’d be good fer the bond jest the same till Fall. Thet’d give me an’ Ben a heap o’ time to git ready to light out o’ this-hyar kentry. They hain’t nary pusson a-goin’ to bother us none. They knows hit’s healthier a-mindin’ their own business. I been dodgin’ revenuers fifteen year, an’ I’ll dodge ag’in, an’ take my savin’s along, too. An’ they’s quite some savin’s, Plutiny.”

Hodges paused, as if to give greater impressiveness to the conclusion of his harangue. His voice as he continued held a note of savage finality.

“So, ye understand, Plutiny, I hain’t afeared none arter what I done told ye’ll happen, if so be ye talk. I knows ye love yer gran’pap, an’ hain’t a hankerin’ fer ’im to be murdered. Now, I’m gwine to leave ye till t’-morrer, to git kind o’ used to the idée as how ye’re gwine to leave this-hyar kentry with me arter I pays yer gran’pap the money fer the bail. If you-all is so plumb foolish as to say no, hit ’ll jest leave yerself an’ yer kin in the hands o’ we boys to reckon with. Do as I’m a-sayin’ on, an’ I’ll shore fergit ‘bout yer reportin’ the still. I’ll jest ‘low to myself as how ye was only a gal, an’ used damn’ poor jedgment. I hold hit were powerful unkind o’ you-all, seein’ as how we-uns hain’t never wronged ye none. I suspicion ye had hit figgered out as how Zeke could come back ’ere a’gin if ye had me kotched. Wall, little missy, Dan Hodges air jest a mite too cunnin’ fer ye.” The boaster gloated over his cowering victim, malice sparkling in his lustful eyes.

It seemed to the girl that she was in truth hopelessly ensnared by fate. Her harried thoughts ran in a circle, dizzily. She could find no loophole for escape from the net. The mesh of the outlaw’s deviltry was strong; her flutterings were feeble, futile. She found one ray of comfort in Zeke’s absence. She forgot it in distress for the danger to her grandfather. Then, horror for herself beat upon her spirit. But a memory of her first resolve came to her. From stark necessity, she put her whole reliance on an effort to temporize. She felt that her only recourse in this emergency must lie in deceiving the ruffian who thus beset her. Much as she abhorred him, she had no choice. There was none to whom she could appeal for succor. She must depend absolutely upon her ability to beguile him. She must hide the revulsion inspired by his mere presence. She must arm herself with the world-old weapons of her sex, and by wiles blind him to the truth of her feeling, gain time for something, anything! At least here was room for hope, uncertain, absurd even, yet hope. A little color crept to her pallid cheeks. If she could but manage the deceit to secure delay until the Fall.

She raised her eyes furtively toward the adversary, an appraising glance, as if to judge his gullibility. The brutish passion of the man showed in the pendulous lower lip, thrust forward a little, in the swinish lifting of the wide-flaring nostrils, in the humid glowing of the inflamed eyes. A nausea of disgust swept over her. She fought it down. Then, with hypocrisy that amazed herself, she met his ardent stare boldly, though with a pretense of timidity. She spoke with a hesitant, remonstrant voice, as if in half-hearted protest,

“Hit’s dangerous to talk hyar, Dan,” she said. She assumed a pose of coquetry. “If I agrees to save Gran’pap an’ ‘is land, an’ takes ye, have ye got money ’nough fer us to git along among the furriners down below?” A pleased smile showed. “An’ could ye buy me purty clo’s an’ sech-like? Don’t ye dast lie to me, Dan Hodges, fer a woman wants plenty o’ nice fixin’s. An’ if ye means hit all, like ye says, I’ll meet ye at Holloman Gate t’-morrer at twelve, an’ give ye yes er no.”

The moonshiner received with complacence this evidence of yielding on the girl’s part. He had, indeed, the vanity that usually characterizes the criminal. It was inconceivable to his egotism that he must be odious to any decent woman. Plutina’s avaricious stipulation concerning money pleased him as a display of feminine shrewdness. He was in nowise offended. The women of his more intimate acquaintance did not scruple to bargain their charms. From such trollops, he gained his estimate of the sex. The sordid pretense by Plutina completed his delusion. The truckling of familiars had inflated conceit. He swelled visibly. The finest girl in the mountains was ready to drop into his arms! Passion drove him toward her.

Plutina raised her hand in an authoritative gesture. She could feign much, but to endure a caress from the creature was impossible. Somehow, by some secret force in the gesture, his advance was checked, he knew not why.

“Not now, Dan,” she exclaimed, sharply. She added a lie, in extenuation of the refusal: “Alviry’s in the house. Besides, I got to have time to think, like ye said. But I’ll be at the gate t’-morrer.”

Hodges accepted her decree amiably enough. He was still flattered by her complaisant attitude toward his wooing.

“Ye’re talkin’ sense, Plutiny the kind I likes to hear. I’ll be thar, waitin’ fer ye, ye kin bet on thet.” Then his natural truculence showed again in a parting admonition: “An’ don’t you-all try fer to play Dan Hodges fer a fool. If so be ye does, ye’ll wish to God ye hadn’t.”

With the threat, he turned and went lumbering down the path, to vanish quickly within the shadows of the wood.