"We've got some gentlemen heer we're gwine to jail till mornin'."
"All right. I'll slide open the doors as soon as I git my shoes on. I
wus in bed."
"We'll have to leave these barrels o' rotgut with you."
"All right. Plenty o' room." Westerfelt came down-stairs just as
Washburn opened the big doors.
"Hello!" said the revenue officer who had addressed him on the
mountain; "you see we made quick time; we found 'em right whar you left
'em."
"I see."
Washburn, who was under the skirt of a saddle unbuckling a girth,
glanced at Westerfelt in surprise as he lifted the saddle from the
horse and carried it into the stable. The two moonshiners exchanged
quick glances and sullenly muttered something to each other.
Westerfelt, intent on getting the business over that he might go to
bed, failed to observe these proceedings. When the officers had taken
their prisoners on towards the jail, Washburn, who, with a lantern, was
putting the horses into stalls, turned to Westerfelt.
"My Lord! Mr. Westerfelt," he said, "I hope you didn't give them
fellers away.
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