ks and along the brinks of chasms where
the sand shelved with treacherous looseness.

The rider, a man weather-rusted to a drab monotone, slouched in his
saddle with an apathetic droop which was almost stupor, permitting his
reins to flap loosely. His face, under an unclean bristle of beard,
wore a sleepy sneer and his eyes were bloodshot from white whiskey.

As he rode, unseeing, through the magnificent beauty of the Cumberlands
his glance was sluggish and his face emotionless. But at last the
horse halted where a spring came with a crystal gush out of the
rhododendron thickets, and then Ratler Webb's stupefaction yielded to
a semi-wakefulness of interest. He rubbed a shoddy coat-sleeve across
his eyes and straightened his stooped shoulders. The old horse had
thrust his nose thirstily into the basin with evident eagerness to
drink. Yet, after splashing his muzzle about for a moment he refused
refreshment and jerked his head up with a snort of disgust. A leering
smile parted the man's lips over his yellow and uneven teeth:

"So ye won't partake of hit, old Bag-o'-bones, won't ye?" he inquired
ironically. "Ye hain't nobody's brag critter to look at, but I reckon
some revenue fellers mought be willin' to pay a master price fer ye. Ye
kin stand at ther mouth of a spring-branch an' smell a still-house
cl'ar up on hits headwaters, kain't ye?"

For a while Webb suffered the tired horse to stand panting in the creek
bed, while his own eyes, lit now with a crafty livening, traveled up
the hillside impenetrably masked with verdure, where all was silence.
Somewhere up along the watercourse was the mash-vat and coil which had
contaminated this basin for his mount's brute fastidiousness: an
illicit distillery. This man clad in rusty store clothes was not
inspired with a crusading ardor for supporting the law. He lived among
men whose community opinion condones certain offenses--and pillories
the tale-bearer. But above the ethical bearing of local standards and
Federal Statutes, alike, loomed a matter of personal hatred, which
powerfully stimulated his curiosity. He raised one hand and
thoughtfully stroked his nose--recently broken with workman-like
thoroughness and reset with amateurish imperfection.

"Damn thet Bear Cat Stacy," he muttered, as he kicked his weary mount
into jogging motion. "I reckon I'll hev my chance at him yit. I'm jest
a-waitin' fer hit."

A half-mile further on, he suddenly drew rein and remained in an