"Harkin to me, Miss Plutiny!" he pleaded, huskily. "Harkin to me! I knows what I'm a-doin' of. They hain't nothin' ye kin do to stop me. Kase why? Wall, if ye love yer gran'pap, ye'll hold yer tongue 'bout all my talk. Yep! He's done pledged his land to keep me an' Ben out o' the jail-house till cote. If ye tells 'im I'm a-misusin' o' ye, he'd cancel the bond, an' try to deliver me up. I knows all thet. But he wouldn't cancel no bond, an' no more he wouldn't do any deliverin' o' me up. Kase why? Kase he'd jest nacherly die fust. Thet's why. The land'd be good fer the bond jest the same till Fall. Thet'd give me an' Ben a heap o' time to git ready to light out o' this-hyar kentry. They hain't nary pusson a-goin' to bother us none. They knows hit's healthier a-mindin' their own business. I been dodgin' revenuers fifteen year, an' I'll dodge ag'in, an' take my savin's along, too. An' they's quite some savin's, Plutiny."
Hodges paused, as if to give greater impressiveness to the conclusion of his harangue. His voice as he continued held a note of savage finality.
"So, ye understand, Plutiny, I hain't afeared none arter what I done told ye'll happen, if so be ye talk. I knows ye love yer gran'pap, an' hain't a hankerin' fer 'im to be murdered. Now, I'm gwine to leave ye till t'-morrer, to git kind o' used to the idee as how ye're gwine to leave this-hyar kentry with me arter I pays yer gran'pap the money fer the bail. If you-all is so plumb foolish as to say no, hit 'll jest leave yerself an' yer kin in the hands o' we boys to reckon with. Do as I'm a-sayin' on, an' I'll shore fergit 'bout yer reportin' the still. I'll jest 'low to myself as how ye was only a gal, an' used damn' poor jedgment. I hold hit were powerful unkind o' you-all, seein' as how we-uns hain't never wronged ye none. I suspicion ye had hit figgered out as how Zeke could come back 'ere a'gin if ye had me kotched. Wall, little missy, Dan Hodges air jest a mite too cunnin' fer ye." The boaster gloated over his cowering victim, malice sparkling in his lustful eyes.
It seemed to the girl that she was in truth hopelessly ensnared by fate. Her harried thoughts ran in a circle, dizzily. She could find no loophole for escape from the net. The mesh of the outlaw's deviltry was strong; her flutterings were feeble, futile. She found one ray of comfort in Zeke's absence. She forgot it in distress for the danger to her grandfather. Then, horror for herself beat upon her spirit. But a memory of her first resolve came to her. From stark necessity, she put her whole reliance on an effort to temporize. She felt that her only recourse in this emergency must lie in deceiving the ruffian who thus beset her. Much as she abhorred him, she had no choice. There was none to whom she could appeal for succor. She must depend absolutely upon her ability to beguile him. She must hide the revulsion inspired by his mere presence. She must arm herself with the world-old weapons of her sex, and by wiles blind him to the truth of her feeling, gain time for--something, anything! At least here was room for hope, uncertain, absurd even, yet hope. A little color crept to her pallid cheeks. If she could but manage the deceit to secure delay until the Fall.