"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 They had withdrawn some score of yards from the old wooden gate that barred the lane here, lest a chance passer-by see them together.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.
"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."