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 and destroyed though the gang had escaped.
Such loss was disastrous, for the new copper and worm and fermenters
meant a cost of a hundred dollars, a sum hard to come on in the
mountain coves. Usually, the outfit is packed on the men's backs to
hiding in the laurel, afterward shifted to another obscure nook by
running water. It was plain that Hodges had grown more than ever
venomous over the destruction of his still, and had no scruples as to
the means he would employ to prevent a repetition of such
catastrophe. No need now to fear lest sentinels be not alert. The
natural path to the still was along the course of the stream. The
unwary passer over the tiny stretch of greensward on which the girl
looked down, would follow the dim trail of footsteps, and so
inevitably come within the clutch of the great jaws, which would hurl
themselves together, rending and crunching the flesh between. The
victim's shrieks of anguish under the assault would be a warning to
the lawless men above. They would make ready and flee with their
possessions, and be lost in the laurel once again. Yes, the device was
simple, diabolically simple, and adequate. It required only that its
executant should be without bowels of compassion.
Plutina, strong-nerved as she was, found herself shuddering as she
realized the heinousness of this thing. The soft bloom of the roses in
her cheeks faded to white; the dark radiance of the eyes was dimmed
with horror; the exquisite lips were compressed harshly against their
own quivering weakness. For Plutina, despite strength of body and sane
poise of soul, was a gentle and tender woman, and the brutal project
spread before her eyes was an offense to every sensibility. Then, very
soon, the mood of passive distress yielded to another emotion: a lust
for vengeance on the man who would insure his own safety thus,
reckless of another's cost. A new idea came to the girl. At its first
advent, she shrank from it, conscience-stricken, for it outraged the
traditions of her people. But the idea returned, once and again. It
seemed to her that the evil of the man justified her in any measure
for his punishment. She had been bred to hate and despise a spy, but
it was borne in on her now that duty required of her to turn informer
against Dan Hodges. There was more even than the inflicting of
punishment on the outlaw; there was the necessity of safeguarding the
innocent from the menace of those hidden man-traps. Any "furriner"
from down below might wander here, whipping the stream; or any one of
the neighborhood might chance on the spot. The Widow Higgins' heifers
sometimes strayed; the old woman might come hither, seeking them.
Plutina shuddered again, before the terrible vision of the one who was
like a mother to her, caught and mangled by the pointed fangs waiting
amid the grasses below.
The question as to her right conduct in the affair remained with the
girl, as she descended from the cliff, and made her way slowly
homeward. She temporized by a precautionary measure. At the widow's
cabin, she secured the old woman's promise not to go beyond the
clearing in quest of the cattle. But the difficulty as to her course
was not abated. Inclination urged her to advise the authorities
concerning the locations of still and traps, and inclination was
reinforced by justice. Yet, over against this, there were the powerful
influence of her upbringing, the circumstances of her environment, the
tragedy of her father's death, the savage resentment of her
grandfather, already virulent against her lover--all forces to inspire
enmity against the representatives of a law regarded as the violation
of inalienable rights. True, there was growing an insidious change in
the sentiment of the community. Where all had once been of accord, the
better element were now becoming convinced that the illicit
liquor-making cursed the mountains, rather than blessed. Undoubtedly,
some effect of this had touched the girl herself, without her
knowledge, else she had never thought to betray even such a miscreant
as Hodges. There was, however, an abiding hate of the informer here,
as always among decent folk, though along with it went reprobation of
the traffic in moonshine. Plutina felt that she could never justify
her action in the sight of her people, should she bring the revenue
men into the mountain. Her own grandfather would curse her, and drive
her forth. His feeling had been shown clearly in the case of Zeke. So,
in her period of uncertainty and stress, there was none of whom the
girl could take counsel. But, in the end, she decided that she must
give warning to the United States marshal. The task demanded care. On
absolute secrecy depended, in all likelihood, her very life.
The trove of honey had come opportunely, since the sale of a portion
afforded Plutina plausible excuse for her trip to Joines' store.
There, a telephone had been recently installed, and it was the girl's
intention to use this means of communication with the marshal. That
the danger of detection was great, she was unhappily aware, but, she
could devise no plan that seemed less perilous. So, early in the
morning of the day following her discovery, she made her way along the
North Wilkesboro' road, carrying twenty pounds of the sour-wood honey.
At the store, she did her trading, and afterward remained loitering,
as is the custom of shoppers in the region. The interval of waiting
seemed to her interminable, for trade was brisk. There was always
someone near enough the telephone to overhear, for it was unprotected
by a booth. But, finally, the customers lessened. The few remaining
were in the front of the store, at a safe distance from the instrument
which was on a shelf at the back. Plutina believed that her
opportunity was come. She knew the amount of the toll, and had the
necessary silver in her hand to slip into the box. Then, just as she
was about to take down the receiver, her apprehensive glance, roving
the room, fell on Ben York, who entered briskly, notwithstanding his
seventy years, and came straight toward her. Plutina's lifted hand
fell to her side, and dread was heavy on her. For Ben York was the
distiller in Hodges' gang.
The old man had a reputation almost as notorious as that of Hodges
himself. The girl felt a wave of disgust, mingled with alarm, as she
caught sight of the face, almost hidden behind a hoary thicket of
whiskers. The fellow was dirty, as always, and his ragged clothes only
emphasized the emaciation of his dwarfed form. But the rheumy eyes had
a searching quality that disturbed the girl greatly. She knew that the
man was distinguished for his intelligence as well as for his general
worthlessness. In the experience of years, he had always escaped the
raiders, nor had they been able ever to secure any evidence against
him. He was, in fact, as adroit of mind as he was tough of body. He
had lived hard all his days, either in drunken carouse or lying out in
the laurel to escape the summons of the courts. Where, alas! a holier
man might have been broken long ago, the aged reprobate thrived, and
threatened to infest the land for years to come. Now, he greeted the
girl casually enough, made a purchase, and took his departure. He
seemed quite unsuspicious, but Plutina felt that his coming on her
thus was an evil omen, and, for a moment, she faltered in her
purpose.
A hand went to her bosom, and touched the tiny leather bag that hung
from a cord about her neck inside the gown. Within it was the fairy
crystal. The touch of it strengthened her in some subtle fashion. It
was as if to her weakness there came miraculously something vital,
something occultly helpful in her need, from the distant lover. The
superstition, begotten and nourished always in the fastnesses of the
heights, stirred deeply within her, and comforted her. Of a sudden,
courage flowed back into her. She took down the receiver.
After all, nothing was accomplished. The marshal was not in his
office, but absent somewhere in the mountains. Plutina would not risk
giving information to any other than the officer himself, whom she
knew, and respected. Disconsolate, she abandoned the attempt for the
time being, and set out to get a bag of wheat flour from the mill
close by, on the other side of Roaring River.
As Plutina, with the bag of flour on shoulder, was making her way back
from the mill, across the big sycamore trunk that serves as a foot
bridge, a horse splashed into the ford alongside. The girl looked up,
to see the very man she sought. Marshal Stone called a cheery
greeting, the while his horse dropped its head to drink.
"Howdy, Plutina?"
"Howdy, Mr. Stone," she answered. Her free hand went again to the
talisman in her bosom. Surely, its charm was potent!
"All's well as common, at home?" Stone continued. His critical eyes
delighted in the unconscious grace of the girl, as she stood poised
above the brawling stream, serene in her physical perfection; and
above the delicately modeled symmetry of form was the loveliness of
the face, beautiful as a flower, yet strong, with the shining eyes and
the red lips, now parted in eagerness. The marshal wondered a little
at that eagerness. He wondered still more at her hurried speech after
one quick glance to make sure that none could overhear:
"I mustn't be seed talkin' to ye, but I got somethin' to say 'll he'p
ye arn yer pay. Kin ye meet me in an hour by the sun, at the ole gate
on the east end o' Wolf Rock?"
The marshal's answer wasted no words:
"Go on, gal--I'll be there."
Wolf Rock, a huge, jutting mass of barren cliff, though tiny beside
the bulk of Stone Mountain, which overshadows it, lies between Garden
Creek and Thunder Branch, a little to the north of where these streams
flow into Roaring River. Its situation, nearly midway between the mill
and the Siddon Cabin, made it a convenient point for the meeting
between Plutina and the officer. Its loneliness lessened the element
of danger. Both were prompt to the rendezvous. Well under the hour,
man and girl were standing together within a bower of newly blossoming
rhododendrons. Above them, the naked rock bent sharply, its granite
surface glistening in the hot noonday sun. They had withdrawn some
score of yards from the old wooden gate that barred the lane here,
lest a chance passer-by see them together. Plutina opened her mind
without hesitation. The decision once made, she had no thought of
drawing back.
"I 'low I kin trust ye, Mister Stone," she said simply, and the
sincerity of the lustrous eyes as they met his confirmed her words.
"Afore you-all's time in the revenue service, raiders done kilt my
daddy. I kain't never fergive them men, but they's out o' the service
now, er I wouldn't have come to ye. Gran'pap says they's a better lot
o' revenuers now 'n what used to be an' he says as how Marshal Stone
don't do no dirt. Thet's why I'm a-trusting ye, so's ye kin kotch the
pizen-meanest white man a-makin' likker in the hull Stone Mountain
country--him an' his gang an' his still."
The marshal's eyes sparkled.
"I reckon you're talking about Dan Hodges," he interjected.
Plutina nodded her head in somber acquiescence.
[Illustration:
_Clara Kimball Young under the direction of Lewis J. Selznick._
JOINES' MILL.]
"Then you needn't have any scruples about giving information," Stone
continued, urgently. "He and his gang are a menace to the peace of the
settlement. I'll keep you out of it, of course, to save you
embarrassment."
"Ye'd better," Plutina retorted, "to save my life. I don't know's I
mind bein' embarrassed so much, but I don't feel called to die yit."
"No, no; there won't be anything like that," the marshal exclaimed,
much disconcerted. "I'll see no trouble comes to you. Nobody'll know
your part."
"'Cept me!" was the bitter objection. "If 'twas anybody but that
ornery galoot, I wouldn't say a word. Ye know that."
"I know," Stone admitted, placatingly.
In his desire to change her mood, he blundered on:
"And there's the reward for getting the 'copper'--twenty dollars for
you Plutina. If we get Hodges, I'll give you another fifty out of my
own pocket. That'll buy you a nice new dress or two, and a hat, and
some silk stockings for those pretty legs of yours."
Plutina flared. The red glowed hot in her cheeks, and the big eyes
flashed. The mellow voice deepened to a note of new dignity, despite
her anger.
"I hain't come hyar to gas 'bout rewards, an' money outten yer pocket,
Mister Stone, or 'bout my clothes an' sech. I'm an engaged woman.
When I wants to cover my legs with stockin's Zeke Higgins' money'll do
the payin', an' he won't need no he'p from no damned revenuer."
Stone, realizing too late the error in his diplomacy, made what haste
he could to retrieve it. His smile was genial as he spoke. He seemed
quite unabashed, just heartily sympathetic, and his manner calmed the
girl's irritation almost at once.
"Oh, you little mountain hornet! Well, you are telling me news now.
And it's the kind to make any old bachelor like me weep for envy.
Lucky boy, Zeke! I guess he knows it, too, for he's got eyes in his
head. About the money--why, you've a right to it. If Dan Hodges and
his gang ain't rounded up quick, they'll be killing some good
citizen--like me, perhaps."
Plutina had recovered her poise, but she spoke no less firmly:
"No, suh, I won't tech the money. I kin show ye how to kotch the hull
gang, but not fer pay, an not fer love o' no revenuer, neither. Hit's
jest fer the good o' this country hyarbout. Dan Hodges has done sot
b'ar-traps to kotch you-all. An' anybody might walk plumb into 'em,
but not if I kin he'p hit."
Forthwith, she made the situation clear to her eager listener.
"Kin you-all meet me, an hour by the sun in the mornin', on the trail
to Cherry Lane post-office jest beyond the Widder Higgins' clearin'?
I'll take ye to the place, whar ye kin see the still, an' the traps."
"I'll have to move lively," the marshal answered, with a somewhat
rueful laugh. "Twenty miles' ride to North Wilkesboro', and back. But
I'll do it, of course. I wouldn't miss it for a good deal. I'll have
my men waiting at Trap Hill. If things shape right, I'll make the raid
to-morrow night."