ry truth, the way to freedom, and
she pushed frantically at the obstacle until utterly exhausted.

It was when evening drew down that, at last, there sounded the noise
of a writhing body within the tunnel, and, from her point of refuge
close to the crevice, she saw the outlaw crawl out of the passage, and
stand before her like a demon of the darkness, leering at her
fatuously.

"You-all is shore makin' quite a visit," he remarked, with heavy
sarcasm.

"An' it kain't he'p ye none, Dan," Plutina retorted. "I hates ye, an'
yer keepin' me hyar hain't goin' to do ye no good. If ye goes fer to
lay a finger on me, I'll go over the cliff. I'm worse scairt o' yer
touchin' me than I be o' the rocks down thar, Dan." Her voice was
colorless, but an undertone of finality ran in it.

The outlaw regarded her sharply from his inflamed eyes. It may be that
her sincerity impressed him. Yet, he betrayed no feeling as he
answered, carelessly:

"Hain't no call fer ye to be so damned ornery. I hain't a-goin' to
tech ye--yit. We'll be together quite a spell, I reckon--till I gits
sick o' havin' ye round. If I wanted ye I could jump ye easy from
hyar. I'm some spry, if I be big. But ye needn't be skeered, I'm
tellin' ye. I hain't a-goin' to tech ye--yit."

The final monosyllable was charged with sinister import, but the man's
assurance of her present safety was, somehow, convincing, and she
accepted it with the emotional gratitude of one sentenced to death who
receives a reprieve. She sank down on the stone bench near the
crevice, and watched her jailer with unwavering attention, while he
produced a candle from his pocket, and lighted it, and had recourse
again to the stone jug of whiskey, which had remained by the bed of
boughs.

To-night, the fiery drams made him garrulous, and he discussed his
affairs, his hopes, and plans, with a freedom that showed how complete
was his expectation of retaining the girl in his power. Thus, Plutina
learned of the search being made for her, which was now the active
cause in changing the outlaw's purpose in the immediate disposal of
his prisoner.

"I was aimin' to lay low with ye right hyar," he explained, after his
fourth sup of the spirits. "But I reckon hit's a goin' to be a heap
safer to skedaddle. I ain't a-wantin' no damned dawgs fer to chaw me
up. So I'm goin' to mosey over Bull Head t'-morrer. You-all 'll go
'long, nice an' peaceable--er ye'll be drug." He spoke with a snarl
now. "Ye'll kn