Blue Ridge Mountains -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
It was with huge satisfaction that the marshal recognized Hodges
himself, plainly revealed by the firelight. The "kettle" was running
at full blast. The seasoned hickory logs, in the rough stone furnace
beneath the kettle, were burning fiercely, and the blue and gold of
their flames lighted all the scene into vivid relief against the
background of shadows. Stone, even at his distance, could see
distinctly the tiny stream of colorless mountain-corn whiskey, as it
flowed out from the worm into the keg placed to receive it. The leader
of the gang was seated at ease on a stool just outside the brush
enclosure that masked the buildings. The villain was evidently in a
mood of contentment, untainted by remorse over the havoc his traps
might wreak on any passing through the gorge below. Rather, doubtless,
the memory of those sinister sentinels gave him a sense of safety, on
which his serenity was founded. In his lap was a banjo which he
thrummed vigorously, with rhythmic precision, if no greater musical
art, and head and body and feet, all gave emphasis to the movement. At
intervals, his raucous voice rumbled a snatch of song. It was evident
that the moonshiner was mellow from draughts of his own potent
product.
Others of the gang were busied here and there, bulking grotesquely as
they moved about the fire, seeming disheveled demons of the pit. Like
some master imp torturing a pigmy over the flames, old Ben York was
kneeling close beside the blaze, holding to the coals a hickory stick,
which served as spit for the roasting of a squirrel. The brilliance
shone full on the frowsy gray whiskers, and, above them, the blinking,
rheumy eyes, so intent on the proper browning of the game. None of the
outlaws had a weapon in his grasp--a fact noted with satisfaction by
the chief of the raiders, who knew that these men would not scruple
against bloodshed to escape arrest. There were arms at hand, of
course; Hodges' rifle was visible, leaning against a ground pine
within his reach. But Stone hoped that the surprise would be such that
the gang could not avail themselves of their weapons.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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