about the spot. A
delicate medley of birds' songs throbbed from out the thickets; a tiny
stream purled over its pebbled bed in the ravine that entrenched the
trail. Plutina gave no heed. She saw and she heard, but, in this hour,
she was without response to any charm of sight or of sound. Yet, that
she was alert was proven presently, for her ear caught the faint
crackle of a twig snapping. It was a little way off--somewhere along
the line of the brush-grown fence, on the same side of the trail. She
peered steadily in the direction of the noise. When her eyes became
accustomed to the shadows, she made out the figure of a man, crouched
in a corner of the fence, behind the screen of a bush. He was no more
than three or four rods from her. She was sure even that she
recognized him--Gary Hawks, one of the most vicious of the Hodges
gang, but notorious for cowardice. She was puzzled for only a moment
by the presence of the fellow. Then, she realized that he doubtless
was acting under his leader's orders. It was another menace against
her own safety. The fingers of her hand went once again for
encouragement to the holster beneath her arm.

Plutina gave no sign that she had discovered the lurking man's
presence. But, after a minute, she retraced her steps a little way
along the trail, until she came to a point where there was a clear
space on either side, which was out of hearing from the fence line.
She had scarcely reached the place, when Hodges appeared, his bare
feet trudging swiftly. His head, too, was bare. In the hollow of his
left arm lay the long rifle. He was approaching from the east, and
halted at the gate, without having observed the girl beyond it. He
whistled a soft note as a signal if she should be anywhere about.

Plutina called out softly in answer.

"Hyar, Dan!" As he looked toward her, she beckoned him to approach.

Hodges shook his head in dissent, and, by a gesture, bade her come to
him. But, when she showed no sign of obeying, he moved forward,
scowling, ferociously. The girl seemed undaunted. She spoke curtly in
rebuke:

"'Pears to me, Dan Hodges, like ye hain't very prompt, seein' as how
I've been a-waiting hyar a quarter-hour fer ye. When a man loves a
gal, he gen'rally gits to the place sot ahead o' her. Ye hain't
a-startin' right to win me, Dan, an' so I'm a-tellin' ye fair."

"You-all orter have more sense than hang out hyar in the sun. Come
back to the gate, under the shade o' the sarvis bush