“Oh, Pole, Pole, Pole! I don't want you to go,” she cried. “You know why. If you get whar any liquor is now, you--you may go off again. Stay with me, Pole! I'll give you some strong coffee. I'll do anything ruther than have you out o' my sight now that you are safe at home. You won't spile all my happiness by goin' off again. Will you, darlin'?” He caught her wrist with his left hand and held his right steadily upward. “I'll swear to you, Sally, before God, that I won't tetch a single drop, and that I'll be back inside of an hour. You kin trust me now, Sally. You never heard me speak this way before.” Their eyes met. “Yes, I kin trust you when you talk that away,” she said. “Don't be gone longer than an hour, Pole. I'll set right here on the porch and wait for you.” “All right. I'll keep my word, Sally.” Out at the gate he passed, moving away, his head down, his long arms swinging disconsolately at his sides. When out of sight of the cottage he quickened his step. He must not be late. They must not, under any circumstances, come nearer to his house than the spring, and he must try to secure their promise not to let his degradation reach the ears of his wife and children. He could not stand that. XXIII REACHING the appointed place, he sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree to wait. By-and-by he heard voices in the distance, and then the tramp, tramp of footsteps. A dark blur appeared in the moonlight on the road. It was a body of men numbering between twenty-five and thirty. They were all afoot, and, by way of precaution against identification, they wore white caps over their heads, with holes for the eyes. In their mouths they had stuffed wads of cotton to muffle and disguise their voices. “Well, I see you've acted sensible, Baker,” said a man who seemed in the lead. “Some o' the boys 'lowed you'd cut an' shoot; but you hain't armed, are you, Pole?” “No, I hain't armed, Joe Dilworthy.” “Huh, you think you know me!” the speaker said, with a start. “Yes, I know you,” answered Pole. “I'd know you anywhar in the world by yore shape an' voice.” “Well, you may _think_ I'm anybody you like,” returned the masked man. “That's neither here nur thar. I've been app'inted to do the talkin' to-night, Pole, an' I want to say, at the start, that this is the most disagreeable job that this association ever tackled. Yore case has been up before our body time after time, an' some'n' always throwed it out, fer you've got stacks an' stacks o' friends. But action was finally tuck, an' here we are. Pole, do you know any valid reason why you shouldn't be treated 'ike other malefactors in these mountains?” There was silence. Pole's head was hanging down. They could not see his face in the moonlight.