"Eight o'clock," she said, absently, her gaze bent anxiously on the
figures of two men leaning over the barn-yard fence in the thickening
shadows. "Who is that father is talking to, Uncle John?" she asked,
with a frown.

"It's Gid Sebastian," Webb said. "I saw 'im back on the mountain road
lookin' for your pa as I come home."

"That's who it is," Dolly said, dejectedly, a soft sigh escaping her
lips. The man had changed his position, and even in the twilight the
broad-brimmed hat, sinister features, and dark sweeping mustache were
observable. "Uncle John, you know Gid is a moonshiner, don't you?"
"Folks says he is," Webb smiled. "An' fellers that like good corn
mountain-dew ought to know who makes it. I reckon Gid is about the
only moonshiner that has escaped jail up to date. Somehow he knows how
to cover his tracks an' let his men git caught an' take the
punishment."

Dolly held her pencil to her lips, and, still frowning, looked at the
blank manuscript paper. "Uncle John," she faltered, "I want you to--to
tell me what he comes to see father so often about?"

Webb's face waxed a trifle more serious. "I don't know--never give it
much thought," he said. "I don't know but what your pa once in a while
sells Gid some corn to help out his still in a pinch when the
authorities are watchin' his movements too close for comfort. I've
seed the pile in our crib sink powerful in a single night. You
remember the time your ma thought some niggers had broke in an' stole
a lot that was shelled? Well, I noticed that your pa kicked powerful
agin sendin' for the sheriff an' his dogs, an' you know in reason that