The girl sensed the insult of the man's regard. It, rather than the insolent familiarity of address, provoked her outburst.

"Shet yer mouth, Dan Hodges," she snapped. "I've done told ye afore, ye kain't 'honey' me. If ye wants to pass the time o' day, jest don't fergit as how hit's Miss Plutiny fer you-all."

Hodges gaped bewilderedly under the rebuke. Then he growled defiantly.

"Wall, I'll be dogged! Quite some spit-fire, hain't ye? Reckon I know what's a-bitin on ye. Ye're mad kase Uncle Dick tuk the mounting land ye gals look to heir to, to bail me and Ben." He stared at the girl ominously, with drawn brows. His voice was guttural with threatening. "So be ye mout hev to eat them words o' your'n. Mebby, when I've done tole ye a thing er two, ye'll be a-askin' of me to call ye 'honey.' Mebby, ye'll want to hover yer ole 'hon,' arter I let's ye know a thing or two 'bout the doin's o' you-all an' thet damned little runt, thet reportin' dawg sweetheart o' your'n--Zeke Higgins."

The girl was stricken. She understood the outlaw's reference. Somehow he had gained certain knowledge of Zeke's part in saving the Quaker-school-teacher spy. She realized that the criminal gang would not hesitate at the murder of one who had thus foiled them. For the moment, she gave no heed to the danger that menaced herself as well. Her whole concern was for her lover. The single comfort came from the fact of his absence. Much as she had been longing for his coming, her prayer now was that he should not return until these men were imprisoned.