credit go. He was
much too young to hear the rumble of the distant drum. Sometimes he was
sure that there wasn't a drum, anyway.

He was particularly blue one afternoon when Carl rushed into the room
and urged him to go to Hastings, a town five miles from Haydensville.

"Jim Pearson's outside with his car," Carl said excitedly, "and he'll
take us down. He's got to come right back--he's only going for some
booze--but we needn't come back if we don't want to. We'll have a drink
and give Hastings the once-over. How's to come along?"

"All right," Hugh agreed indifferently and began to pull on his baa-baa
coat. "I'm with you. A shot of gin might jazz me up a little."

Once in Hastings, Pearson drove to a private residence at the edge of
the town. The boys got out of the car and filed around to the back door,
which was opened to their knock by a young man with a hatchet face and
hard blue eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Pearson," he said with an effort to be pleasant. "Want some
gin?"

"Yes, and some Scotch, too, Pete--if you have it. I'll take two quarts
of Scotch and one of gin."

"All right." Pete led the way down into the cellar, switching on an
electric light when he reached the foot of the stairs. There was a small
bar in the rear of the dingy, underground room, a table or two, and
dozens of small boxes stacked against the wall.

It was Hugh's first visit to a bootlegger's den, and he was keenly
interested. He had a high-ball along with Carl and Pearson; then took
another when Carl offered to stand treat. Pearson bought his three
quarts of liquor, paid Pete, and departed alone, Carl and Hugh having
decided to have another drink or two before they returned to
Haydensville. After a second high-ball Hugh did not care how many he
drank and was rather peevish when Carl insisted that he stop with a
third. Pete charged them eight dollars for their drinks, which they
cheerfully paid, and then warily climbed the stairs and stumbled out
into the cold winter air.

"Brr," said Carl, buttoning his coat up to his chin; "it's cold as
hell."

"So 'tis," Hugh agreed; "so 'tis. So 'tis. That's pretty. So 'tis, so
'tis, so 'tis. Isn't that pretty, Carl?"

"Awful pretty. Say it again."

"So 'tis. So 'tish. So--so--so. What wush it, Carl?"

"So 'tis."

"Oh, yes. So 'tish."

They walked slowly, arm in arm, toward the business section of Hastings,
pausing now and then to laugh joyously over something that appealed to
them as inordin