The officer was at pains to use every precaution to avoid being observed while in company with the girl, whom he duly met at the appointed place while the sun was yet low on the eastern horizon. The two made their way with what quiet they could through devious paths to Luffman's Branch. The dew lay heavy on the laurel leaves of the thickets, and the breeze was perfumed with the penetrant fragrance of many blossoms. The day was thrilling with the matins of the birds. The balsamic air was a wine of life. The rugged mountain peaks seemed to stand as an impregnable barrier against the confusions and evils of the larger world. But the man and the girl recked nought of these things as they went forward, with cautious steps and watchful eyes. They knew that the tranquil scene masked wickedness close by them, which would not hesitate to destroy. The discovery of the marshal in that vicinity would mean for him the bullet of an assassin from out the screen of leaves, and the same fate--or worse--for his companion. The corpses would be lost in the Devil's Cauldron. Men would whisper grim surmises, and whisper low lest the like come upon them. And that would be all.
They reached the cliff top overlooking the little cañon, and Plutina pointed out the location of the traps on the strip of dry ground below, and the huddles of brush that disguised the buildings of the still. Then, the girl went her way. She had done her part. The man remained to study the scene above for hours through his glasses, and to map out the night's campaign into the enemy's country.
A delicate moonlight fell over the mountains, when, in the evening, Stone led his men from the rendezvous at Trap Hill. The six were heavily armed and well mounted. Their course at the outset led them along the Elkin road to Joines' store, where they swung into the trail over which Zeke and Plutina had walked the day of their parting. The cavalcade rode swiftly. There was no conversation; only the pounding of hoofs and the jangling of accoutrements. When, at last, they reached the edge of the Widow Higgins' clearing, they turned sharply to the eastward, following the path toward the Cherry Lane post-office. Presently, at a low word of command from the leader, they halted and dismounted. The horses were left to the care of one man in a near-by thicket, and the remainder of the party continued the advance on foot.
The marshal, during his watch on the still that day, had planned his attack in every detail. He hoped to make his capture of the gang without unnecessary casualties, for in this particular he had achieved an enviable record, on which he prided himself. At first, he had thought of ascending along the course of Luffman's Branch, after springing the traps, but had given over the plan as one offering more chance of the raiders being discovered prematurely. Instead, he had decided on taking his men up the mountainside by a round-about route, likely to be free from watchers. His men were already instructed in every point, so now they followed him rapidly and almost noiselessly, as he forced his way through the thick growths of the wooded slopes. The darkness added to the difficulties of the progress, but the posse were inured to hardships, and went onward and upward resolutely. Despite the necessities of the detour, they came surprisingly soon to a height from which they looked across a small ravine to the level space where the still perched by the stream. A few whispered words from the leader, and the company crept with increased care across the ravine. From the ridge beyond, three of the men passed forward to make ambush--one above, and one below, and one on the far side of the still. Stone and a single companion remained, hiding behind the clumps of rhododendrons.