air with
surprising quickness. Presently, she came to the brim of the little
cliff, and lying outstretched, cautiously looked down. Already, a
hideous idea had entered her mind, but she had rejected it with
horror. What she now saw confirmed the thought she had not dared to
harbor.

Within this bend of the brook, the lessening volume of the channel had
left a patch of rich soil, heavily overgrown with lush grasses and
clusters of flowering weeds. A faint trace of passing steps ran across
the bit of dry ground, the path of those that followed the stream's
course. Fair in this dim trail, near the center of the plot, a stake
had been driven deep. At the moment, Hodges was driving into the
ground a similar stake, a yard further down. It was evident that the
stakes had been previously left here in readiness, since he had not
carried them in his descent, and the iron rings bound to them must
have been attached in a forge. The two massive traps were lying
half-hidden in the luxuriant growth close by. As Plutina watched with
affrighted intentness, the man finished driving the second stake. He
lifted one of the traps, and carried it to the upper stake. With the
aid of a stone for anvil, he succeeded in clumsily riveting the trap's
length of chain to the ring on the stake. The like was done with the
other trap at the lower stake. Then, the man undertook the setting of
the traps. The task was accomplished very quickly for both, though the
strength of the jaws taxed his muscles to their utmost. Finally, he
strewed leaves, and bent grass, until no least gleam of metal betrayed
the masked peril of the trail. Plutina, sick with the treacherous
deviltry of the device, heard the grunt of satisfaction with which
Hodges contemplated his finished work. Forthwith, he picked up his
rifle, thrust the ax-helve within his belt, and set off up the gulch.

CHAPTER VII

There could be no doubt. Those massive traps, with their cruel teeth
of steel, meant by the makers for the holding of beasts, had been set
here by Hodges for the snaring of men. The contrivance was fiendishly
efficient. From her coign of vantage on the cliff top, Plutina could
see, on a height above, the brush-covered distillery. A thin, blue
column of smoke rose straight in the calm air, witness that the kettle
was boiling over hickory logs, that a "run" of the liquor was being
made. Plutina recalled that, in a recent raid against Hodges, the
still had been captured an