e'll keep her word with you. When a girl like Polly says
she'll do a thing, you can just make up your mind she will, unless the
heavens fall."

"That's right peart o' you, suh," said a soft voice close by; and they
heard a rustling sound, as though some one might be coming out from
amidst the dense foliage just beyond the three oaks. "Here's Polly, be'n
awaitin' this half hour fur you-uns to kim along. An' she's agettin'
right sleepy, let me tell yuh."

Thad felt his chum quivering with eagerness as the mountain girl made
her way carefully down to where they awaited her coming. What sort of
news Polly could be bringing neither of them could so much as guess; but
it would not be long now ere Bob knew the best, or the worst.

CHAPTER XXV.

BOB GETS HIS REWARD.

NEARER came the rustling. They could not yet see Polly, on account of
the darkness, but the sound of her voice had reassured them.

Presently a moving figure crept close up to the waiting boys; which they
knew must be the queer mountain girl. Polly was far from dainty looking;
she had coarse black hair that possibly seldom knew a comb; and her
voice was rather harsh; but nevertheless Thad believed she had a heart
under this forbidding exterior, and that the spirit of gratitude was
transforming her, greatly to their advantage.

"I'm right glad yuh kim, even if 'twar late," she said, as she reached
their side.

"We started as soon as we could, Polly," said Bob, wondering if the girl
really felt hurt because she had been kept waiting. "You see, I had to
cross the valley, and talk with my cousin, Bertha. It was very important
that I should see her, for she had news to give me, news that we hope
will end in taking her away from that cruel old miser, and giving her
over to the keeping of my own dear mother."

Polly grunted, as though she felt that she had to exhibit some sign of
displeasure; but she said no more on that subject.

"I done found the Still," she remarked, simply.

"That's good, Polly," Bob said, warmly.

"Caus I'd be'n thar afore, but 'twas a long time ago," she went on, as
if in apology for any difficulty she may have run across in finding the
secret workshop of her father.

"Yes," Bob went on, encouragingly, as she stopped.

"Yuh see, they don't want gals er wimen ahangin' 'round thar. An' ever
since they begun ter keep a prisoner ter work ther mash, I reckons as
how never one hes be'n up ter thet place."

"But you hadn't forgot