d. 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.

CHAPTER XIII

After his day of toil in Pleasant Valley, Uncle Dick Siddon sprawled
at ease on the porch, smoking his pipe, and watching with mildly
sentimental eyes the rosy hues of the cloud masses that crowned Stone
Mountain. His mood was tranquilly amorous. The vial in his pocket was
full of golden grains. Presently, he would fashion a ring. Then,
hei