on that lawless
character. The humiliation to which he had been subjected had indeed
filled him with vicious rage, but, too, it had inflamed his passion
for the girl. Her scorn and her fierce mastery of him had made her
more than ever desirable. He was fascinated by the strength and
courage she had displayed. Brutal and evil as he was, Hodges was
strong physically, and, in his own wicked way, strong of will. Because
he was stronger than his fellows, he ruled them. Strength was, in
fact, the one thing that he could admire. The revelation of it in
Plutina at once set her apart from all other women, and gave to his
craving for her a clumsy sort of veneration. But that veneration was
strangely modified by resolve to be avenged for the insult she had put
upon him. Thus, it had come about that he planned to satisfy his
varied feelings toward the girl by the abduction. He swore to master
her, to change her insolence to fawning submission, to abject
fondness.

Hodges wasted no time. His sluggish brain began its scheming the
moment a turn in the trail hid him from view, after the ignominious
march from the Holloman Gate. At sunrise, next morning, he was lurking
on the borders of the Siddon clearing, spying on the movements of the
family. He even witnessed Plutina's confession to her grandfather, of
which he guessed the purport, and at which he cursed vilely beneath
his breath. When Plutina set forth for the Cherry Lane post-office, he
followed, slinking through the forest at a safe distance from the
trail. He was not quite certain as to where or when he should attack
the girl, but he meant to seize the first favorable opportunity,
whether it came sooner or later. It came, as a matter of fact, very
soon, and it was given by Plutina herself.

There at the fallen poplar, the girl found a comfortable nook on the
big trunk, where her back was supported by a limb. The serenity of the
scene soothed her over-wrought nerves. The sense of relief that had
come from confession to her grandfather was less vivid now. In its
stead was a blessed peacefulness. She watched lazily the visible
details of forest life around about her. Her attention centered
finally on a yellow-hammer, which was industriously boring the trunk
of a dead chestnut. From the nest near-by, the callow young thrust
naked heads, with bills gaping hungrily. Then, in a twinkling, birds
and forest vanished, and she was standing on the mist-strewn steeps
of Stone Mountain, an