Raucous snores told the girl that the man slept, that again she had passed through the ordeal in safety. And now, at last, she knew the cause of her escape thus far. The mystery that had baffled her was a mystery no longer. Out of the creature's own mouth had come the explanation. Driven on by gusty passion as he was, a yet stronger emotion triumphed over lust. Of imagination he had little, but he had seen a man hanged. His memory of that death had been her salvation, for such is the punishment meted to the violator of a woman in North Carolina. In Dan Hodges, that master emotion, lust, had met a mightier--fear. Because he was a coward, he had not ventured even the least caress, lest passion seize him and make him mad--forgetful of how that other man died so horribly. She had been spared because between him and her a scaffold loomed. CHAPTER XXI The full-throated baying of a hound. Men, far in the valleys below Stone Mountain, looked up, and listened, wondering. But those on the mountain heard and understood: Dan Hodges was being run to earth. The clew offered by the wet place on the cliff had sufficed for the three men who accompanied the stag-hound. They had marked the spot carefully in memory by its distance from a certain stunted pine growing above it and a rift in the precipice to one side. Then they had ascended a furlong to the north, where the ascent was gradual and broken. When they had made sure that they were at the proper level, they searched for an approach to the desired ledge. The dog found the scent by the tunnel, but Brant did not loose the animal. Stone's eyes caught traces of where a bowlder had been moved. A little more searching revealed the opening covered by the stone, which they rolled aside. "But he's not there, now," Brant declared, as he restrained the eager dog. "Jack is wild to be off, and he wouldn't take a back track." Uncle Dick, eager to make sure, would have attempted the passage, but Stone interposed. "I'll go," he declared. "It's my right--my prisoner, you know. Anyhow, it'll be a snug-enough fit for me, and I'm smaller than you, Uncle Dick." The old man grudgingly admitted the fact, and made way for the marshal. In five minutes, Stone was back. "Nobody there," he announced. "Then it's up to Jack," Brant exclaimed, and slipped the leash. The hound shot forward in full cry. The men hurried after at top speed. Almost immediately, the dog vanished among the thickets. There came a clatter of sliding stones, as the big beast went galloping up the rise toward the crest of the mountain. The men followed as best they might, guided by the baying. Uncle Dick listened with bloodthirsty hopefulness for the crack of Zeke's rifle, which he would recognize.