One afternoon, walking alone through the woods, Bear Cat Stacy stooped at the edge of a "spring branch" to quench his thirst, and as he knelt he saw floating past him yellow and broken grains of corn. Cautiously and invisibly he followed the stream upward, worming himself along until he lay looking in upon the tiny plant of a typical illicit still. Its fire was burning under the mash kettle and back far enough to escape the revealing light was a bark roofed, browse-thatched retreat in which sat an old man, reflectively smoking. As Bear Cat looked on, a startled surprise came into his expression and his face worked spasmodically as if in pain. He wished he might not have seen the floating evidence which had brought him here and confronted him with the hardest tug-of-war between sincerity and blood-loyalty that he had yet encountered. The man huddled there in his rabbit-warren retreat was old Turner Stacy, brother of Bear Cat's father and the uncle for whom he had himself been named. Bear Cat had not even suspected that this kinsman was operating such a plant. The elder Turner Stacy was a fierce and close-mouthed fellow whose affairs were confided to no one. Bracing himself for an ordeal, Bear Cat emerged from his concealment and walked forward. At sight of an unannounced visitor the old man's hand went quickly out toward the rifle lying at his side, but as he recognized the face, he rose without it and stood silently glowering. "Uncle Turner," began the nephew seriously, "I hain't hardly willin' ter use fo'ce erginst ye--but ye knows what hit would sound like fer folks ter fling hit up erginst me thet I'm favorin' my own blood. I wants thet ye give me yore hand ter quit." For a moment the aged face worked with passion, its white beard bristling and its eyes flaming. "Who do ye think ye air--God Almighty?" came the angry question. "Who give ye license ter come brow-beatin' yore elders? Yore own paw's in jail now because somebody betrayed him.... I wonder war hit _you_!" The young man recoiled as though an unexpected blow in the face had stunned him. "My God," he exclaimed in a low voice, "I didn't never expect ter hear a kinsman charge me with sich infamy. I reckon I've got ter look over hit though. Ye're my father's brother an' ye're right aged." He paused and then his voice changed to one crisp and peremptory. "I reckon ye knows I've got ther power ter compel ye as I've compelled others. Does ye aim ter destroy thet thing yoreself,--now,--or does ye want thet I brings fo'ce?" There ensued a half hour of storm, but at its end the older Stacy bowed to necessity. He, too, knew of the black army, and though he swore like a baffled pirate into his beard he capitulated. Bear Cat left a demolished place, carrying with him a fresh trophy, but he went with a heavy heart. It would have surprised him had he known that, left alone, his uncle's wrath had turned suddenly to amusement for some private joke of his own.