Quail," she said, slowly. "I don't jest
know yet how far I kin go; but anyways I'll promise to find out who thet
prisoner up at the Still kin be. Then, mebbe I mout think it over, an'
reckon as it's jest like ye sez, an' he's shore be'n punished enuff.
Thet's all I'll tell ye right now."

"Well, it's mighty fine of you to say as much as that, Polly, and I want
you to know I appreciate it more than I can tell you," the Southern boy
went on, his dark handsome face radiant with renewed hope, as his heart
beat high in the belief that his loftiest dreams might after all come
true.

"I hope that foot won't keep you from walking?" Thad thought to remark
just then.

This caused Bob to remember that he had a chum near by, and he hastened
to say:

"This is one of my best friends, Thad Brewster, Polly. We belong to the
troop of Boy Scouts encamped down below. Perhaps you have heard your
father speak of them? He was in our camp more than an hour last night,
and my chum here seemed to interest him a heap in telling all about what
scouts aim to do in the world."

"Yep, I heerd 'bout hit," the girl replied, as she gave Thad a short
nod; "an' he shore was takin' sum stock in wat he done heerd. My dad, he
allers liked boys better'n he did gals. Lost three on 'em, he did, an'
every one died with his boots on! But ye needn't git skeered 'bout this
hyar foot ahurtin' me none. We knows what kin' o' stuff to put on a
sprain, as'll take ther swellin' down right smart. See, I kin walk jest
as good as I ever cud. An' I'll find out fur ye 'bout thet man up to the
Still, sure I will, Bob."

"When can I see you again, Polly?" Bob asked, anxiously. "You know time
is worth a heap to me right now. Say soon, please; sometime to-night, if
you can; and it'll help a lot. I'll never be able to sleep a wink now
till I know the truth."

"Mout as well put her through on ther lightnin' express as not," she
replied. "I reckons I kin promise ye to-night. An' I knows whar yer camp
lays, 'case I arsked my dad. Thort I mout happen thet way, an' see what
boys looked like as was dressed in smart close. It's gwine to be a hard
job, seems like, an' mebbe I carn't git 'roun' till late, but I'll be
thar, Bob Quail! Ye done ther right thing by me, an' Polly Dady don't
forgit."

Then turning her back on the two boys, the mountain girl swung herself
along the rough face of the hillside with a perfect confidence in her
ability to keep her footing that only a cha