. No
decent, bang-up burglar ever does it. I don't suppose there is a more
self-respectin' sort of man in the world than a high-grade burglar. And
it's the same with a preacher. He can't any more preach a good sermon
when he is lit up than a burglar can crack a safe or jimmy a window if
he tanks up beforehand. The parson seemed surprised when I put it right
up to him like that. He said he'd never thought of it in that light
before. Of course, says he, a minister of the gospel ain't even supposed
to know what licker tastes like, and I says to him that's where we have
the advantage of him. We know what it tastes like, and we like it,
and we leave it alone because it cramps our style. He leaves it alone
because it's the style for preachers to leave it alone, and because
they'd go to hell if they drank like ordinary men. The only place a
burglar goes to if he boozes is jail.

"Well, as I was sayin', this here Sancho wasn't soused when he committed
that crime, and it all goes to prove that these temperance cranks are
off their base. Most of the crime that's committed in this world is
committed because the feller wants to commit it. When I was up in Sing
Sing once,--sort of by accident, you might say,--there was a lot of talk
about prison reform, and pattin' the crooks on the back, and tellin'
them they could be just as good as anybody else if they had a chance.
The only chance them guys want, and keep lookin' for night and day, is
a chance to lift something when nobody's lookin'. That's all they're
thinkin' about while they're in the pen, and God knows they're as sober
as judges all the time they're there. Crime is crime and you can't
always lay it to booze. It's human nature with some people. I'm not
sayin' the world wouldn't be better off if there wasn't any licker to
drink. It stands to reason that there wouldn't be half so much bunglin'
if people kept sober, 'specially when it comes to crime. Now, if this
guy Sancho had had a couple of pints in him, everybody would be going
around preachin' about the horrible effects of booze, and--What say?"

"I said you make me tired," said Buck Chizler, repeating his remark. "I
never did anything wrong in my life except when I was half-soused."

"Sure," agreed Soapy. "But you'd have done it right if you'd been sober,
my boy. That's the principal trouble with booze. It never gives a feeler
a chance to do anything right." Whereupon, with a slow wink for the
other members of the group,