t right?"

"That's right," nodded Casey and he added, grinning more foolishly,
"Darn right, that's right! Back-action kick--bet your life."

Joe pushed the gun inside his waistband and crooked his finger at
Casey, beckoning mysteriously. "C'mon an' I'll show yuh how it's
made," he invited with heavy enthusiasm. "Yore a judge uh hootch all
right--I can see that. I'll show yuh how we do it. Best White Mule in
Nevada. Ain't that right? Ain't that the real hootch?"

"'S right, all right," Casey agreed earnestly. "Puttin' the hoot in
hootch--you fellers. You can ask anybody if that ain't right."

Joe laughed hoarsely. "Puttin' the hoot in hootch--that's right. I
knowed you was all right. Didn't I say you was? I told Hank an' Pap
you wasn't no Federal officer. They know it, too. I was foolin' back
there. I knowed you didn't need no gun pulled on yuh t' make yuh put
away the hootch. Lapped it up like a thirsty hound. I knowed yuh
would--I was kiddin' yuh, runnin' that razoo with the gun. Ain't that
right?"

"Darn right, that's right! I knew you was foolin' all along. You knew
Casey Ryan's all right--sure, you knowed it!" Casey laid his good hand
investigatively against his stomach. "Pretty hot hootch--you can ask
anybody if it ain't! Workin' like an air drill a'ready."

He blinked inquisitively at Joe, who stared back inquiringly. "Who's
your friend?" Casey demanded pugnaciously. "He sneaked in on yuh. I
never seen 'im come in."

Joe turned slowly and looked behind him at the blank boards of the
unpainted door. Just as slowly he turned back to Casey. A slow grin
split his leathery face.

"Ain't nobody. It's the hootch. Told yuh, didn't I? Gittin' the best
of yuh, ain't it? C'mon--I'll show yuh how it's made."

"Take a barr'l t' git the besta--Casey Ry'n," Casey boasted, his words
blurring noticeably. "Where's y'r White Mule? Let 'er kick--Casey
Ry'n can lead 'er an' tame 'er--an' make'r eat outa 's hand!"
Following Joe, Casey stepped high over a rock no bigger than his fist.

With a lurch he straightened and tried to pull his muddled wits out of
the fog that was fast enveloping them. Dimly he sensed the importance
of this discovery which Joe had forced upon him. In flashes of normalcy
he knew that he must see all he could of their moonshine operations.
He must let them think he was drunk until he knew all their secrets.
He assured himself vaguely that he must, above all things, keep his