The two men stepped quickly to the wagon and took out a couple of rifles. Then they stood motionless behind the wagon and horse. Westerfelt heard the regular step of some one coming up the road. "Hello thar!" cried one of the men at the wagon. "Hello!" was the answer. "Stand in yore tracks! What's the password?" "Joe Dill's good 'nough pass-word fer me; I don't try to keep up with all the pop-doodle you fellers git up." "Joe Dill will do in this case, bein' as yore a good liquor customer. What'll you have, Joseph?" "A gallon o' mash--this jug jest holds that amount up to the neck. Gi'me a swallow in a cup, I'm as dry as powder. What do you-uns mean by bein' in the business ef you cayn't send out a load oftener'n this? I'll start to 'stillin' myse'f. I know how the dang truck's made; nothin' but corn-meal an' water left standin' till it rots, an'--" "Revenue men's as thick through heer as flies in summer-time," broke in the man at the faucet. "Sh! what's that?" Westerfelt's horse had stepped on a dry twig. There was silence for a moment, then Dill laughed softly. "Nothin' but a acorn drappin'. You fellers is afeerd o' yore shadders; what does the gang mean by sendin' out sech white-livered chaps?" The only sound for a moment was the gurgling of the whiskey as it ran into the jug. "How's Toot like his isolation?" concluded Dill, grunting as he lifted the jug down from the wagon. "It's made a wuss devil 'n ever out'n 'im," was the answer. "He don't do a blessed thing now but plot an' plan fer revenge. He's beginnin' to think that hotel gal's gone back on 'im an' tuk to likin' the feller he fit that day. My Lord, that man'll see the day he'll wish he'd never laid eyes on Wambush." "I hain't in entire sympathy with Toot." It was Dill's voice. "That is to say, not entire!" "Well, don't say so, ef you know what's good fer you." "Oh, it's a free country, I reckon." "Don't you believe it!" "What's Toot gwine to do?" "I don't know, but he'll hatch out some'n." Westerfelt's horse had been standing on the side of a little slope, and the soft earth suddenly gave way beneath his hind feet, and in regaining a firm footing he made a considerable noise. There was nothing now for Westerfelt to do but to put a bold face on the matter. "Get up," he said, guiding his horse down towards the men. "Halt!" commanded one of the moonshiners. All three of them were now huddled behind the wagon. "Hello!" answered Westerfelt, drawing rein; "I'm lookin' for an iron gray, flea-bitten horse that strayed away from the livery-stable this morning; have you fellows seen anything of him?" "No, I hain't." This in a dogged tone from a slouched hat just above a whiskey barrel. There was a pause. "I don't think anybody could have taken him," continued Westerfelt, pleasantly. "Hain't seed 'im." The speaker struck the wagon-bed with his rifle as he was trying to put it down behind the barrels without being seen.