"Thet's the ticket!" Hodges exclaimed, with a jovialty meant to be winning. He went behind her, and loosened the knot he had last tied, so that her wrists, although still fast bound, had a little play. The length of the loop allowed him to move by her side with it over his arm. "You-all jest mosey acrost to thet-thar birch clump," he directed, pointing. "I got a rifle-gun yender, what I kain't noways do without." Plutina walked obediently at his side in the direction indicated, and stood passively while he picked up the weapon. Then, in response to his command, she set off with him through the tortuous forest paths to the southward. For the time being, Plutina's dominant emotion was a vast depression. It bore down on her like a physical burden, under which she had hardly the power to go forward with slouching steps. It was as if the end of the world were come, with the loss of everything good and clean and happy. The only reality was this foul creature to whom she was bound, from whom there was no escape, who had but to speak and she must obey, who had the authority to compel obedience. She was sick with horror of the man's nearness. She felt defilement from the avid eyes, which moved over her in wanton lingering from head to foot, and back again. But she had no resource against him. She could only endure for the present, awaiting the return of strength. She could see no glimmer of hope anywhere. Yet, she strove numbly against this enveloping despair. She told herself again and again that, somehow, relief would come before the dreaded crisis. The words were spiritless; they brought no conviction. Nevertheless, she kept repeating them mutely to herself, as she trudged drearily beside Hodges toward Stone Mountain. "I'll git clar o' him somehow--I will, I will! Gran'pap'll kill 'im! Zeke'll come! He will!" It was incredible that her lover could come, that he could even know of the evil, until too late to save her. Yet, the thought of his coming subtly cheered her. It persisted in defiance of all reason. And the affrighted girl clung to it with desperate tenacity, as a drowning man to the life line. She kept repeating to herself, "Zeke'll come! He will, he will!" as if the phrases were a spell for the soothing of terror. She wished that her hands were free to touch the fairy crystal in her bosom.