While her grandfather was still on the porch, and her sister was out
of the house, Plutina possessed herself of the new revolver, with its
holster, which, after slipping down her gown from the shoulder, she
attached under the left arm-pit. The looseness of the ill-fitting
garment concealed the weapon effectually enough. For ready access, the
upper buttons to the throat were left unfastened, in seeming relief
against the heat of midday. Thus equipped, the girl stole out through
the back way, unobserved by her relations, to keep tryst with the
desperado.
As she followed a blind trail that shortened the distance between the
Siddon cabin and the Holloman Gate to a short two miles, Plutina was
torturing a brain already overtaxed in the effort to devise some means
whereby she might wreck the projects of the villain, without at the
same time bringing ruin on herself, or those she loved. Always,
however, her thoughts went spinning toward the same vortex of
destruction. She could, indeed, contrive nothing better than the
policy of cajolery on which she had first determined, and to this
course, as it seemed to her, she must cling, though her good sense was
well advised of its futility. She knew that a scoundrel of Hodges
unrestrained passions could not long be held from his infamous
purposes by any art of hers. At the best, she might hope perhaps to
delay the catastrophe only by hours. In her discouraged state, she
admitted that it would be quite impossible to restrain him until the
law should come to her aid. She was determined none the less to employ
every resource at her command, in order to postpone decisive action.
One thing was at once her chief reliance and her chief source of fear:
the outlaw's passion for her. In his brutal fashion, the man loved
her. That fact gave her power over him, even while it exposed her to
the worst peril at his hands.
The presence of the revolver comforted her mightily. From time to
time, she moved her right hand stealthily across her bosom, to
reassure a failing courage by feeling the stiff leather of the holster
under the gown. She was experienced in the use of weapons. Her rifle
had often contributed to the cabin larder. Muscles that knew no tremor
and a just eye had given her a skill in marksmanship much beyond the
average, even in this region where firearms were forever in the hands
of the men, and familiar to the women. Once, her moving fingers felt
the little bag hanging from its leathern thong about her neck, in
which was the fairy crystal. The hardness of her expression vanished
on the instant, and in its stead was a wonderful tenderness. A world
of yearning shone in the dark lustres of the eyes, and the curving
lips drooped in pathetic wistfulness. Her soul went out toward the
distant lover in a very frenzy of desire. She felt the longing well in
her, a craving so agonized that nothing else mattered, neither life
nor death. Had the power been hers then, she would have summoned him
across the void. The loneliness was a visible, tangible monster,
beating in upon her, crushing her with hideous, remorseless strength.
Her man must come back!
It was the mood of a moment, no more. Even as she thrilled with the
anguished longing she lifted her eyes, and halted, aghast at the scene
before her. There, close at hand to the southeast, Stone Mountain
upreared its huge and rugged bulk. It loomed implacable, with the
naked cliffs staring grotesquely. It overhung her like immutable fate,
silent, pitiless. There was sinister significance in its aspect, for
just before her lay the cavernous shadows of the Devil's Cauldron. The
girl's gaze went to the verge of the precipice far above. It followed
down the wild tumblings of the little stream, fed from lofty springs.
It descended in the last long leap of the waters into the churning
pool. And she had a vision of the man she loved, bound, and
helpless--dead perhaps, shot from behind--and now thrust out from the
verge into the abyss, to go hurtling into the mist-wreathed depths....
No, Zeke must not come back. The hardness crept again into her face,
as she went forward. She held her eyes averted from that gruesome
cavern high in the mountain's face.
The girl came soon to the Holloman Gate, which swung across the trail
near the west end of the mountain. Tall poplars and spruce made an
ample shade, but a glance toward the sun showed it at the zenith. She
was prompt to the rendezvous; it was the lover who was laggard. She
wondered a little at that, but with no lightening of her mood. She was
sure that he would come all too speedily. She stood waiting in misery,
leaning listlessly against the fence, her gaze downcast. The geranium
blossoms touched the sward richly with color; the rhododendrons
flaunted the loveliness of their flowering round about the spot. A
delicate medley of birds' songs throbbed from out the thickets; a tiny
stream purled over its pebbled bed in the ravine that entrenched the
trail. Plutina gave no heed. She saw and she heard, but, in this hour,
she was without response to any charm of sight or of sound. Yet, that
she was alert was proven presently, for her ear caught the faint
crackle of a twig snapping. It was a little way off--somewhere along
the line of the brush-grown fence, on the same side of the trail. She
peered steadily in the direction of the noise. When her eyes became
accustomed to the shadows, she made out the figure of a man, crouched
in a corner of the fence, behind the screen of a bush. He was no more
than three or four rods from her. She was sure even that she
recognized him--Gary Hawks, one of the most vicious of the Hodges
gang, but notorious for cowardice. She was puzzled for only a moment
by the presence of the fellow. Then, she realized that he doubtless
was acting under his leader's orders. It was another menace against
her own safety. The fingers of her hand went once again for
encouragement to the holster beneath her arm.
Plutina gave no sign that she had discovered the lurking man's
presence. But, after a minute, she retraced her steps a little way
along the trail, until she came to a point where there was a clear
space on either side, which was out of hearing from the fence line.
She had scarcely reached the place, when Hodges appeared, his bare
feet trudging swiftly. His head, too, was bare. In the hollow of his
left arm lay the long rifle. He was approaching from the east, and
halted at the gate, without having observed the girl beyond it. He
whistled a soft note as a signal if she should be anywhere about.
Plutina called out softly in answer.
"Hyar, Dan!" As he looked toward her, she beckoned him to approach.
Hodges shook his head in dissent, and, by a gesture, bade her come to
him. But, when she showed no sign of obeying, he moved forward,
scowling, ferociously. The girl seemed undaunted. She spoke curtly in
rebuke:
"'Pears to me, Dan Hodges, like ye hain't very prompt, seein' as how
I've been a-waiting hyar a quarter-hour fer ye. When a man loves a
gal, he gen'rally gits to the place sot ahead o' her. Ye hain't
a-startin' right to win me, Dan, an' so I'm a-tellin' ye fair."
"You-all orter have more sense than hang out hyar in the sun. Come
back to the gate, under the shade o' the sarvis bushes." He turned
away, but paused as the girl made no movement to follow. "What in
hell's the matter on ye?" he demanded, angrily. "This place in the rud
hain't fitten fer talk, nohow."
"Hit's fitten 'nough fer me," Plutina retorted, quietly. A mellow
laugh sounded. "Seems to me this-hyar bright sunshine orter warm yer
love up some, Dan. We'll stay hyar, I reckon. I'm afeared o' snakes
an' eavesdroppers an' sech critters thar in the shade."
The man was racked by many emotions. He had come swiftly under the hot
sun, and the haste and the heat had irritated him. The sight of the
girl moved him to fierce passion of desire. He was aflame with
eagerness to take her within his arms, there where were the cool
shadows. Her indifference to his command exasperated him; her final
refusal infuriated him. In the rush of feeling he lost what little
judgment he might otherwise have had. He had meant to placate her by a
temporary gentleness, to be offset by future brutalities. Now, in his
rage, he forgot discretion under the pricking of lawless impulse. He
reached out and dropped a huge hand on Plutina's shoulder, and twisted
her about with a strength she was powerless to resist. The clutch of
his fingers cut cruelly into her flesh, firm though it was, and she
winced. He grinned malevolently.
"Git back thar as I done tol' ye," he rasped; "afore ye git wuss."
With a deft twist of the body, Plutina stood free. The face, which had
paled, flushed darkly. The eyes blazed. The head was uplifted in
scorn. Her aspect awed the man, and he hesitated, gaping at her. Yet
her voice was very soft when she spoke. The tone surprised her
listener, rendered him strangely uneasy, for some reason he could not
understand.
"Thet ten minutes ye was late was more'n I had need fer, Dan Hodges,"
she said. "I promised ye yer answer hyar, an' I'm a-goin' to give hit
to ye right now."
She lifted an arm, and pointed to where the Devil's Cauldron blotched
the cliffs of the mountainside ... It was her left arm that she
lifted.
"Look, Dan! See thet-thar big hole in the wall. I been a-lookin' at
hit, Dan. I 'low you-all don't dast look at hit. Mebby ye're afeared
o' seein' the bones o' them hit holds--bones o' dead men--what you-all
an' yer gang hev kilt an' slid into the pot, to lie hid till Jedgment.
Hit's thar ye're aimin' to put my Zeke. Why, a haar o' his head's wuth
more'n the hull caboodle of sech murderers as yew be."
She stepped closer to the outlaw, and spoke with unleashed hate. He
flinched at the change.
"I was skeered o' ye back thar on the piazzy yist'-day, an' I lied to
ye, kase I was skeered. I wasn't a-likin' the look in them pig eyes o'
your'n. An' I was a-feared o' Gran'pap's hearin' how I reported the
still. Wall, now I hain't skeered no more. I promised ye yer answer at
the gate. We'll move over thar, an' I'll keep my promise."
Before he could guess her purpose, before he could shift the rifle
from the hollow of his arm, the fingers of Plutina's right hand had
slipped within the open bodice. The Colt's flashed in the sunlight.
The level barrel lay motionless, in deadly readiness. For the girl,
though not yet quite sure, was almost sure that she would kill Dan
Hodges.
The idea had not come to her until this meeting. In all the racking
hours of thought, this simple solution of the difficulty had never
entered her mind. Now, at its coming, she welcomed it with infinite
relief. It offered a means of escape so simple and so sure--escape for
herself and for those she loved. It was the touch of the man that had
wrought the miracle of revolt. She had felt herself polluted by the
contact. On the instant, the hypocrisy of cajoling was no longer
possible. But there was more in the effect than that. The savagery of
the outlaw aroused the savagery in her. She became, in the twinkling
of an eye, the primitive woman. There was little in the sentiment of
her people to dam the outburst. Her kin had followed the lex talionis.
They had killed their fellows for the sake of their proper pride. The
blood-feud was familiar to her, and she knew no shame in it. Why
should she not slay this creature who outraged her self-respect, who
threatened her every hope? Her finger on the trigger of the revolver
tensed ever so slightly.
The man felt the vibration of her impulse and cringed. He was in a
daze before this violence of attack, where he had expected only supine
yielding. In his creed, the beating of women marked manliness. The
drabs he had caressed crept and fawned under his blows, like whipped
curs. He could not realize this challenge by the girl with his own
method of might. But he saw clearly enough through the haze of fear
that the blue barrel was trained exactly upon him, that the slim hand
held it rigid, and he knew that, in this instant, he was very, very
close to death. The red of his face changed to a mottled purple. He
felt himself trembling.
Plutina perceived the abject terror of the man. It mitigated her wrath
with scorn, and so saved him for the moment. She cried out to him
fiercely, her voice rough with abhorrence.
"To the gate fer yer answer, ye cowardly houn'. Move quick, er I'll
drap ye in yer tracks, ye murderin' wolf. Do as I say!"
She moved another step toward him. Her voice rose shrill:
"Drap thet rifle-gun!"
The weapon slipped from Hodges' nerveless fingers, and fell on the
turf with a soft thud.
"Put up yer han's!"
Cowed, the man thrust his long arms to their length above his head.
"Now, turn round, an' march to the gate!"
There was no faltering in the obedience.
The hulking bully knew that he was in mortal peril. For his life's
sake, he dared neither word nor gesture of resistance to the girl's
will. His only hope was that the hidden ally might somehow come to his
aid. But the hope was feeble. He knew the other's craven spirit.
Plutina, too, knew it. As she drove her captive to the gate, she
peered, and saw the crouching figure still in the shadows behind the
bush. The Colt's cracked. Even as Hodges shuddered, imagining the
tearing of the bullet through his own flesh, there came a shriek of
pain from beyond him. The hidden man leaped forth, his right arm
dangling clumsily. He scrambled into the cover of the spruces and
vanished. The noises of his flight lessened, died.
"I've scotched a snake," Plutina said, malignantly. "Hit's about time
to kill the dawg, I reckon. Turn round." Then, when he had obeyed, she
went on speaking. "Now, hyar at the gate, I'll tell ye somethin'.
You-all 'lowed ye could git me with money. If ye had all they is in
the world, hit wouldn't be enough. An' ye thought I tuk money fer
reportin' the still. Wall, I didn't. I reported thet-thar still o'
your'n kase I seed ye a-settin' b'ar-traps fer humans, an' hit made
me hate ye even wuss 'n I done hated ye afore."
Somehow, the flame of her fury was dying. The girl felt this, and
bitterly resented it, yet she was powerless. It seemed to her that
with all the strength of her nature she was desirous of killing this
enemy. He stood cowering before her in dread. Her finger on the
trigger needed only the slightest flexing to speed the death he
merited. And, for some occult reason, the will to slay failed her. She
was enraged against her own weakness of resolve. Nevertheless, she was
helpless. Her mood had reached its climax in the impulsive wounding of
the other man. Now, her blood was losing its fever. With the slowing
pulse, the softer instincts prevailed to thwart her purpose. Despite
an anguished eagerness, she could not kill this trembling wretch. She
loathed her frailty, even as she yielded to it. She must let him go
unscathed, a foe the more dangerous after this humiliation. Of no use
to threaten him, to extort promises. There was no truth in him. He
must be left free to work what evil he would. Oh, if only the wrath in
her had not died too soon!
"Put yer han's down, an' march up the trail," she commanded,
presently. Her voice was lifeless. The man drew new hope from the
quality of it. He ventured no resistance to the command, but went
padding softly through the dust. Behind him, Plutina followed, her
bare feet padding an echo. Her right hand hung at her side, but it
retained the revolver, ready for instant use. As she came to Hodges'
rifle, she picked it up, and threw it far down into the ravine. At the
clattering noise of its fall, the outlaw started, but he did not pause
in his stride, or turn. The girl's whole soul was convulsed with
longing that he should make some effort of revolt--anything. Then, she
would shoot and kill--oh, so gladly!
But the instinct to live guided the man. He trudged meekly. There was
no excuse against him. So, they came at last near to the Siddon
clearing, where a little path ran through the wood toward the house.
Here, Plutina paused, without a word. She was ashamed of herself,
grievously ashamed of this softness of fiber that had spared a life.
Without a word, she watched him pass along the trail, up the slope,
and out of sight beyond. Her face was drawn and white, and the great
eyes were brooding with bitterness, when, finally, she stirred, and
moved forward in the path. She slipped the revolver into its holster.
Then, her fingers went to the bag that held the fairy cross to her
breast. She fondled it tenderly. She was longing as never before for
the giver of the talisman.