The pilot laughed aloud, and Gail joined him. “So the prominent bootlegger is peace officer, eh?” chortled Hemingwood. “That’s what I call a real tight corporation.” “He’s pretty good at the job, aside from the moonshine, too,” the girl told him. The stars winked into being, and before long a thin moon rose above the mountains. They talked casually of many things, with an undercurrent of friendly understanding that seemed like the result of long acquaintance. Hemingwood learned that his estimate of her was correct. She had finished college the year before and was spending a year in East Point because of the ill health of her aunt and likewise because her own rather drawn condition as a result of hectic college years. “I tried to study all day and dance all night and it didn’t work,” she admitted. “But I had a good time! I haven’t minded it so much up here, but I’ll be glad to get back. Week-ends in Louisville once or twice a month have been about all that kept me from dying of dry rot this winter. Flyers don’t drop in every day.” “They don’t know you’re here,” he told her. “After I spread the news they’ll be flying in here in coveys.” Apperson came back and disappeared into the tent. Hemingwood was to take the first watch. At nine o’clock Gail got to her feet and announced that she must be going. Hemingwood walked over to the fence with her. Pegasus was tethered there. As their hands clasped in parting and he looked down into her upturned face he obeyed an irresistible impulse and leaned over to kiss her. She slipped away, laughing. “We’re getting along wonderfully, but not that well,” she chuckled, and swung aboard Pegasus. “Good night. And if you have any more fights I hope you win them!” He stood and watched her as Pegasus ambled along the moonlit road. Just before they entered the deep shadow of the trees she turned in the saddle and threw him a parting smile and waved. She seemed, at that moment, like some little goddess disappearing from mortal eyes into the impenetrable darkness of the forest. He walked back to the ship slowly and sat in the cockpit. His Colt was ready to his hand, and the shadowed mountains clustering around him seemed doubly mysterious, even menacing, under the blanket of the night. They seemed to be whispering with all the bloody legends of the mountain country and to be vibrant with some of the passion and untamable wildness of the people whom they sheltered. And yet George Arlington Hemingwood, a lonely watchman in the midst of all-pervading silence, was thinking, not of what might happen with his enemies, but rather of what the future might hold forth for himself and Gail Morgan. CHAPTER IV According to instructions, Apperson awakened him at eight o’clock. At nine they had consumed coffee and bread, and were ready to take off.