The boy saw he had touched a tender spot, and he would have turned the
conversation in another channel, but she was started, and she went on
swiftly:

"What right has ther gover'ment to take away anybody's honest means o'
earnin' a livin'? What right has ther gover'ment to send spies up har
ter peek an' pry an' report on a man as is makin' a little moonshine ter
sell that he may be able ter git bread an' drink fer his fam'ly? What
right has ther gover'ment ter make outlaws an' crim'nals o' men as
wouldn't steal a cent that didn't b'long ter them if they was starvin'?"

Frank knew well enough the feeling of most mountain folks toward the
revenue officers, and he knew it was a useless task to attempt to show
them where they were in the wrong.

Kate went on, passionately.

"Yes, I has good right to hate ther revenues, an' I do! Didn't they
pester my pore old daddy fer makin' moonshine! Didn't they hunt him
through ther maountings fer weeks, an' keep him hidin' like a dog! An'
didn't they git him cornered at last in Bent Coin's old cabin, an' when
he refused ter come out an' surrender, an' kep' 'em off with his gun,
didn't they shoot him so he died three days arter in my arms! Hate 'em!
Wal, I've got good reason ter hate 'em!"

Kate was wildly excited, although she held her voice down, as if she did
not wish her mother to hear what she was saying. Frank was sitting so
near that he felt her arm quivering against his.

"Hate 'em!" continued the girl. "I has more than that to hate 'em fer!
Whar is my brother Rufe, ther best boy that ever drored a breath? Ther
revenues come fer him, an' they got him. Thar war a trial, an' they
proved ez he'd been consarned in makin' moonshine. He war convicted, an'
he's servin' his time. Hate 'em! Wal, thar's nuthin' I hate wuss on this
earth!"

"You have had hard luck," said Frank, by way of saying something. "It's
lucky for us that we're not revenues."

"Yer right thar," she nodded. "I didn't know but ye war at first, but I
changed my mind later."

"Why?"

"Wal, ye're young, an' you-uns both has honest faces. Revenues is
sneaks. They show it in their faces."

"I don't suppose they have been able to check the making of
moonshine--that is, not to any extent?"

She laughed harshly.

"Wal, I judge not! Did ye ever hear o' Muriel?"

"Who is he?"

"A moonshiner."

"What of him?"

"He makes more whiskey in a week than all ther others in this region
afore him made in a month."