"Thet's right, Bob Quail," returned the girl of the mountains sturdily. "Reckons as how it'd on'y be fair. What ye want me to do?"
"First of all, please don't whisper it to anybody around here that I have come back," the boy asked in his earnest tones; "and least of all to your father. You know he used to feel right sore against all my family, because my father in trying to do his sworn duty by the Government, ran up against the moonshine boys."
"Oh! thet's easy promised, Bob Quail," she replied, readily enough; "I kin keep a close tongue atween my teeth, ef I happens to be on'y a gal. But I kin see thet ain't all yer gwine to ask o' me."
"But everything else hinges on that, Polly," returned Bob; "and I'm glad you'll forget that you saw one of the Quail family. They're not in any too good odor in this part of the country. Now, you're wondering, I reckon, why I ever dared come back, after two years. Well, there were reasons that pulled me into the danger zone, Polly. One of them was—Bertha, my little cousin."
Polly smirked, and nodded her wise head.
"I cud a guessed thet, Bob Quail," she remarked. "Sumbody must a ben tellin' ye thet she ain't as happy as she mout be, thet's it. The old miser, he's cross as a bear with a sore head; an' I seen Bertha with red eyes more'n a few times. I don't blame ye 'bout wantin' to do somethin'; though I reckons ye'll find it a up-hill job, w'en ye tackle thet old fox."
"But there's a way to get him in a hole, and I believe I've found it," said Bob. "Only, if I'm chased out of the country before I can carry my plans through, you see, all my coming here wouldn't amount to a row of beans. That's one reason why I asked you to keep my secret. But there's another, Polly."
"Yep, they's another," she repeated after him, with her dark eyes fixed on his face, as though she might be able to read what was passing in his mind, and in this way was prepared to hear his new disclosure.
Thad knew what his comrade meant to say. It was a big risk, but he believed it could be carried through. This girl was no ordinary creature; she had latent possibilities slumbering beneath the surface in her nature, that, as yet, had never been called upon to show themselves. Besides, the girl was grateful to them for what they had done.
"You haven't forgotten what happened here some years ago, Polly," Bob went on. "My father led a party of revenue men into these mountains, meaning to destroy the secret Stills. He never came back. Those who were with him said that he had been shot down in a fierce fight with the moonshiners; and that he had died almost instantly. You haven't forgotten that terrible time, Polly, have you?"