It was, in truth, tragically simple, yet not so simple as the outlaw had anticipated. From dreams of tenderness, Plutina was suddenly started to hateful realization by the scarcely perceptible touch of this being so repugnant to her every instinct. She was confused, indeed, but not too confused for frantic resistance. It needed no more than recognition of the man's brutal face so close to hers to inspire her. She fought him with every ounce of her strength. The left hand was useless, held down by his on the thong, with the noose drawn taut about the wrist. But the outlaw, though he contrived to get the other noose over her right hand, failed somehow to tighten it at once. She was able to strike at him again and again. Her blows fell on his face, and they were sturdy blows. Hodges made no effort to avoid them, nor struck back--only busied himself with the effort to tighten the noose. It was evident that he disdained her attack. A certain virile pride forbade defense against this onslaught of a girl. Finally, he brought his left hand to aid in adjusting the second noose. In the few seconds of liberty, Plutina abandoned blows, and resorted to savage clawing at the evil face. Her ten nails streaked the coarse features with blood. But still he seemed absolutely indifferent to such wounds as she could inflict. Then, the noose slipped to tightness. The girl's hands were brought close together behind her back, where she stood beside him. He knotted the slack of the leash, and holding the loop, grinned triumphantly at his captive. His bloody face was a mask of malice. "Ye damned little wildcat," he growled, yet with an unmistakable note of admiration in his voice, "if I sarved ye 'cordin' to yer earnin's, I'd shorely tap ye over thet-thar purty haid o' your'n, an' pitch ye over into the Devil's Kittle, to wait fer yer runt lover to come arter ye." He twisted her about viciously. Despite her strength, unusual in a woman, Plutina was powerless in his grip. Holding her close, face to face, he contemplated the girl's pitiable distress with gloating eyes in which there was no faintest suggestion of pity. The prisoner met the malignant gaze for an instant. Then, her eyes fell, and she stood trembling. She was panting, partly from terror, partly from the violence with which she had struggled. Hodges chuckled, well content over the impression he had made. He would show her how a woman should be tamed! But the thing must be done in full accord with a plan he had made. Now that the captive had duly learned her first lesson in submissiveness, he might relax a little from his severity for a time. Besides, too much fright might leave her helpless on his hands, which would be highly inconvenient, since there was a rough journey on foot before them. When he next spoke, he tried, without much success, to make his voice conciliatory.