is-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 sai