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,